Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
canvas was drawn back on either side, in order to admit what fresh air
could be found in a sultry night of summer, and at one end of a table,
round which the assembled nobles were seated, appeared a man, dusty
with travelling and dressed in the garb of a Yorkshire forester.
"Here is a letter for you, my Lord Hugh," said De Montfort, "enclosed
in one to myself;" and he handed a small packet to Hugh de Monthermer,
tied, as was then customary, and fastened with yellow wax.
Hugh took it, but before he broke the seal or cut the silk, he advanced
to the table and examined the outside of the letter carefully by the
light of one of the lamps.
"Something seems to strike you as extraordinary," said De Montfort.
"What is the matter?"
"I will tell your lordship presently," replied Hugh; and severing the
silk with his dagger, he read the contents.
"This is good news as far as it goes," he said at length in a low tone;
"I find that my good friend Ralph Harland is on his road to join us,
together with a certain forest friend of ours," he added, turning
towards his uncle, "with some seven hundred bold yeomen and foresters
of York and Nottingham, and more will follow. They are already far
advanced on their way in Staffordshire.--But I cannot help thinking, my
good lord," he added, raising his voice, "that this letter has been
opened and read before it reached my hands."
As the young nobleman spoke he fixed his eyes on the messenger, who was
somewhat pale before, but became paler still when he heard the last
words.
"I will swear upon the blessed rood!" he cried, "that I have never
opened the packet, but brought it safely hither, as I was told."
"Who told you to bring it?" asked De Montfort, fixing his stern eyes
upon him.
The man hesitated a moment, and then replied, "Robin of Barnesdale."
"What makes you think it has been opened, Hugh?" demanded the Earl of
Monthermer.
"Why, my dear uncle," answered the young nobleman, "this wax is yellow,
but at the side of it is a stain of green, as if at first it had been
sealed with another colour."
"Can our friend Robin write?" inquired De Montfort.
"Yea!" cried a shrill voice from behind Hugh de Monthermer, "as well as
a Florentine reed or a turkey's quill in the hand of an Oxford clerk."
"We shall soon know more, my lord," said Hugh de Monthermer; "but this
letter is not Robin's writing, this is from Ralph Harland the
franklin."
"But this," replied the Earl, laying his hand upon another
letter--"this purports to be from the bold forester, praying me to send
you with some men-at-arms to reinforce them as they come, seeing that
Gloucester threatens them, and they are afraid to proceed."
"That shows it to be a forgery at once," said Hugh, in a low voice to
Leicester; "Robin never seeks aid of any man. There is treachery
somewhere, my lord; but we have means at hand of convicting this
fellow.--Now, sir," he continued, "tell me, and tell me true, who sent
you hither; and, beware! for if you deceive me, it may cost your life."
"I have told you already," answered the man, doggedly.
"Well then, stand forward, my little magician," cried Hugh, laying his
hand upon Tangel's head. "We hear of Eastern talismans, my lord,
whereby truth and falsehood are discovered, as gold and alloy by the
touchstone; and in this boy I have such a human talisman, who will soon
tell us how much verity there is in the fellow's tale. Now, Tangel,
look at him well, and say if he came from Robin Hood?"
"No," answered the dwarf, well pleased with the importance of his
functions, and entering fully into the spirit of his master's figure of
speech--"Hark! I hear Robin deny him, and say he never yet set eyes
upon him." Then tugging the young nobleman's sleeve he whispered the
words, "Go on!--ask me more!"
"And now, Tangel," continued Hugh, "can you tell me whose man he is?"
"Right well," replied the dwarf, fixing his keen gaze upon the pale
face of the messenger; and then speaking slowly, he added, "He is
Prince Edward's."
A slight smile came upon the man's countenance for a moment; but Tangel
went on almost without a pause, watching him keenly as he spoke. "He is
Prince Edward's by the Earl of Gloucester, and the Earl of Gloucester's
by Richard de Ashby. Ha! ha! ha! I hear them laughing, when they think
how they will take in De Montfort, and lead the Lord Hugh into a
trap--and he hears them, too! Look at his face--look at his face!"
Certainly that face was now as bloodless as the visage of the dead.
"Take him away!" said De Montfort, in a stern tone--"take him away, and
hang him on the first tree!"
"I will confess--I will confess," cried the man, falling upon his
knees. "Spare my life, and I will confess!"
"It is your only hope of safety," replied the Earl; "tell the whole
truth, and you shall be spared--out with it at once, and without
hesitation!"
"Well, then," said the detected impostor, in a whining tone, "I confess
I am Sir Richard de Ashby's man!" and he went on to tell how a jolly
monk, passing through a village in the neighbourhood of Worcester, and
making merry with some soldiers, had been recognised by one of the
servants of Richard de Ashby, and instantly arrested. On searching him
strictly, the letter from Ralph Harland to Hugh de Monthermer had been
found, wrapped in leather, between his sandal and the sole of his foot,
and a plan was instantly formed, both for cutting off the party of the
young franklin and Robin Hood, and also for leading Hugh de Monthermer
into an ambuscade. "The Earl of Gloucester and Roger Mortimer," he
said, "had been made acquainted with the plot, but not the Prince."
"Take him away!" said De Montfort, after the story was told--"Take him
away, and guard him strictly! We may have occasion to account with
these gentlemen at some future time.--Now here is an opportunity," he
continued, as soon as the pretended yeoman was removed, "which some men
would seize, for cutting off whatever troops the rebels may detach in
execution of their pitiful schemes, but I think, my good lords, we must
not waste our strength upon skirmishes. At any moment, we may have to
act suddenly with our whole force, and therefore we must cast away the
occasion that now presents itself of lopping off a limb from our enemy.
Nevertheless, we must not forget the safety of our friends; some
faithful messenger must be sent at once to meet the reinforcement from
Nottingham and Yorkshire, and give them notice to take a circuit
through Shropshire. Shrewsbury is ours, and all the country round; so,
on that road, they will be safe. Have you any one you can send?"
Hugh looked at the dwarf, and the boy clapped his hands gladly,
exclaiming, "Let me go--let me go!"
"So be it, then!" said Hugh, "I will provide him with the means at
once, my lord. He had better have no letter but a purse well-filled,
and a swift horse. He will not fail a word of the message----
"Hark!" cried De Montfort, "there is a sound of galloping from the
other side of the river! The messengers, at length, I trust.--Do you
know your errand, boy?"
"Right well, great man," answered the dwarf, "and I will not fail
either in speed or truth."
"What, ho!--stand!--who goes there?" demanded the sentinels, who were
placed about fifty yards from De Montfort's tent.
"A friend!" was the reply.
"Stand, friend, and dismount!" cried the sentinel.
"Letters," answered the other voice--"letters from the Lord Simon de
Montfort, to his father, the most noble Earl of Leicester."
"Ha!" exclaimed Leicester, starting up, with his whole face beaming
with satisfaction, "At length!--Let him advance!" he shouted--"Let him
advance!" and a moment after, coming forward to the opening of the
tent, a man, pale, haggard, and worn, presented himself, bearing a
small packet in his hand.
"This is to your lordship, from your son," he said; "I left him well,
at Oxford, not many hours ago, with thirty thousand men in arms, all
ready to defy the world, on behalf of De Montfort."
Too eager to make any reply, the Earl of Leicester took the packet,
tore it open, and read--"All is right!" he cried at length, rising
with a well pleased smile, and turning to the gentlemen on his right.
"Now, my good lords--now, the moment for action has come. To you,
Monthermer--to you, Le Despenser, thanks--many thanks, for those wise
and prudent counsels which have cast cool patience upon my own somewhat
too impetuous nature, and enabled me to resist my own inclination to
advance. Here have we amused these rebel lords, and the infatuated
Prince, in needless marches and counter-marches, while my son has
raised the country behind them, and is already at Oxford with an
overwhelming force. He, on the one side,--and I on the other, we have
them in a net; or, even if they escape from the toils that are around
them, our forces united will be irresistible, and we will drive them to
fight, to surrender, or to flee the land. Let every noble lord give
instant orders in his own quarter of the camp, to make ready for our
advance an hour before daylight; and you, my Lord Hugh, must now direct
your messenger to lead our friends from Nottingham, by Clebury and
Wire Forest, on towards Worcester, keeping a keen look-out for the
enemy; but, doubtless, ere they arrive we shall have cleared the
country.--You have brought me good tidings," he continued, addressing
the messenger, "go to my steward, let him provide for you, and
to-morrow a hundred marks shall be your reward.---Now, for a few hours,
my lords, good night--good night!"
By daybreak the next morning, every tent was struck, and the main body
of the army had passed the Lug. De Montfort still advanced with great
care and caution, throwing out scouts in all directions, and never
making a movement which exposed any part of his force to sudden attack.
But not an enemy Wad now to be met with. The whole country, as he
advanced towards Worcester, was clear, and it seemed evident to all
that Edward had become aware of his danger, and was endeavouring to
escape from it.
On the evening of St. Peter's day, in the year 1265, De Montfort
reached a magnificent country palace of the Bishop of Worcester,
called, in the language of the time, "Kemestoia, or Kematow," from
which, in all probability, the name Kemsey is derived. It was
surrounded by an extensive park, reserved for the chase; and therein,
or in a small neighbouring village, the army lodged during the night,
while the head-quarters of the general and his royal prisoner were in
the manor, or palace of the bishop. The distance from Worcester was
only three miles, but still no tidings reached the army of Prince
Edward's movements.
About seven o'clock, however, a letter was received by De Montfort
from his eldest son, who was at the head of the large body of men,
marching from Oxford to reinforce him; but when he opened it and read
the date, his brow became clouded, and he muttered to himself,
"Kenilworth--Kenilworth! That is a great mistake! What does he in
Kenilworth?"
On reading on, he found that the letter had been written just after a
long night's watching in the fields to intercept the army of Prince
Edward, which was said to be flying from Worcester, and that the young
nobleman proposed to march on to join him on the Friday following,
concluding that the Prince had made his escape.
De Montfort mused, after he had perused the letter twice, and then
murmured, "There is no help for it--there is no help for it! We must
onward to Evesham, with all speed--Edward flying, with a large force at
his command, Worcester in his power, Gloucester garrisoned by his
troops--Dean Forest near! No, no, no! That is not likely! Edward was
not made to fly.--We must guard against surprise--there is something