Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
not so full as when we began."
Richard de Ashby declared that there would be quite enough of both for
him, and summoning the host to provide him with fresh wine, he
proceeded with his meal, from time to time asking such questions as
might best lead his companions to tell him all they knew of what was
taking place at the English Court.
"Gay doings, I find," he said,--"gay doings, I find, between Eltham and
Leicester. Why, the whole country rings with it!"
"Well may it ring," replied the other gentlemen; "well may it ring, and
rejoice too, to see such sights. I have never beheld the like, since I
followed the Court of England. But during all that time, it is true, we
have had nothing but civil wars, or the rule of grim De Montfort; so it
is no wonder things have gone sadly."
"They will be merrier now, I trust," said Richard de Ashby. "It is high
time, however, that my own affairs should go a little more merrily; and
surely I have every right to expect it, for to me the Prince owes his
liberty. Ay! and to me, they owe the first seeds of dissension sown
amongst De Montfort's people. It is but fair that my claim should be
heard."
"On my life," cried the gentleman to whom he spoke, while Richard de
Ashby filled himself a cup of wine and drained it off; "on my life, our
good King and Prince seem fonder of their enemies than their friends.
Here is this young Monthermer, one of the chief favourites of the
Court."
A malevolent scowl passed over the dark face of Richard de Ashby, but
as the host was coming in at that moment with more wine, he remained
silent, hewing the meat before him with his knife, but without tasting
it. When the landlord was gone, however, he composed his countenance,
and exclaimed, with an affected laugh--"A pretty favourite,
indeed!--But tell me what bright ladies follow the Court? I hear there
never was a fairer train."
"You have heard true, Sir Richard," said the same gentleman who had
hitherto spoken to him, the others being busily engaged in a
conversation of their own--"you have heard true; a bevy of lovelier
dames has seldom been seen. There is the Countess of Pembroke, and
Mortimer's wife; but she is ugly enough, Heaven knows! Then there is
the young lady, De Veux, and Lord Audley's daughter; and chief of all,
Hugh de Monthermer's lady-love, your fair cousin, Lucy de Ashby."
There was a certain touch of malice in his tone as he spoke, for it is
wonderful how soon men discover any weak point in their fellow-men, and
still more extraordinary how much pleasure they derive from saying
things that may give pain to others, without producing the slightest
benefit whatever to themselves. Perhaps the courtier, Sir Harry Grey,
who now spoke with Richard de Ashby, had in view to provoke him to one
of those outbursts of passion which to our corrupt hearts generally
afford matter of merriment rather than commiseration; but if he did so,
he was disappointed.
A momentary expression of intense wrath convulsed the features of
Richard de Ashby, but he uttered not a word in reply. He paused
thoughtfully, filled another cup of wine, but did not drink it, gazed
down upon the edge of his knife, and then turning round to his
companion, said, "How warm it is! How can you all sit here with the
casement closed?"
"The boys of the village were staring in," answered Sir Harry Grey,
"looking at us like wild beasts in a cage, so we were forced to close
the casement and draw the curtain. They are gone now--you can open
it.--But you do not tell me what you think of this coming alliance. He
is very wealthy, handsome, renowned; we all think it will answer very
well.
"Do you?" said Richard de Ashby, drily. "Why, I rather think, Sir
Harry, it is no business either of yours or mine; although, to speak
the truth, I believe you are mistaken, and that there is no such
alliance toward."
"Oh, but it is the talk of the whole court!" cried the other. "He is
ever with her, or with the Lord of Ashby, and besides, the Earl has
been known to say--" and he went on to repeat some twenty rumours of the
day concerning the marriage of Hugh de Monthermer and Lucy de Ashby,
not one of which contained a word of truth.
Still, however, Richard de Ashby remained unmoved--at least, to all
appearance; and after merely asking who else was at the court, and
receiving a somewhat lengthened answer, giving him the names of fifteen
or sixteen ladies in whom he had no interest whatsoever, he arose,
saying, "I must to bed, for I depart at daybreak to-morrow."
"What! do you not visit the King?" demanded one of the other gentlemen,
who had not yet spoken.
"No, no," replied he, "I go on to Nottingham to meet him. I have
business of importance. Good night--good night;" and he left the room.
"You galled him, Grey," said Sir Andrew Geary--"You galled him hard
about that marriage."
"I know I did," answered Sir Harry Grey; "once let me know a man's
folly, and I will pink you him to the quick, if his skin be as thick
and hard as a German gambesoon.--Not that he thinks of marrying fair
Lucy himself; but it is his hatred to the Monthermers touches him."
"Faith, you're mistaken," rejoined Sir Andrew Geary, who was one of
those keen-sighted men who seem intuitively to see into men's motives,
under whatsoever specious disguises they may endeavour to conceal
them--"faith, you are mistaken. This Richard de Ashby is one of more
ambition than you believe. He knows right well, that in the many
accidents of the day the good Lord Alured may find his way to the
kingdom of Heaven, and then--though he be now but the poor kinsman,
treated not so well as many a worthy retainer of the house--he becomes
heir presumptive to the title, though to none of the lands, except the
small estate of Ashby. It would suit him but little to see Hugh of
Monthermer, as the husband of the heiress, sweep up the whole wealth of
the house. What he will try," added Sir Andrew, musing, "I do not know;
but be sure he will do something to break the marriage--if there be any
truth in the story at all."
"Then Monthermer will cut his throat," replied Sir Harry Grey, "and
there will be an end of it. But now what say you to the dice, Geary?
let us try a cast or two."
"Not I," answered Sir Andrew Geary; "I am not in the mood. I am not
well to-night, and shall betake me to my rest."
"I will throw with you, Grey," cried a young man from the other side of
the room. "Geary's wings are drooping like a sick hen's. Don't you see?
So let him go and carry himself to the isle of pipkins, and seek some
stewed prunes for his queasy stomach. I am with you till cock crow, if
your purse be long enough, and the wine good."
CHAPTER XXVI.
Richard de Ashby mounted the stairs with a slow step, paused at the
first landing-place and grasped his forehead with his extended hand,
then turned upon his steps; and, descending to the kitchen, in which
were seated an immense number of various classes, he beckoned to one of
his servants, who was near the fire-place.
The man started up, and came to him at the door, when his master said,
in a low tone, "You must take your horse as soon as he is fed, and
speed across the country as if for life and death, to bear a letter
from me to the Lord Alured, in Cumberland.--Have every thing ready in
an hour."
"What! to-night, sir?" demanded the servant.
"Ay, to-night, villain!" replied his master; "to-night, I say!--Do you
grumble?" and without waiting for any further answer, he turned, and
once more ascended the stairs.
The inn was a rude old building, having a square court in the centre.
It consisted of two stories above the ground-floor; and two ranges of
open galleries ran round the whole yard, the chambers having no screen
between them and the free air of heaven but the single door by which
one entered or went out of each.
It was to the highest of the galleries that Richard de Ashby now
directed his steps, for arriving late, it had been with difficulty he
had found lodging at all. He had no light with him; but finding his way
by the dim glare of some lanterns in the court, he stopped at the last
chamber on the right hand side: and, after another halt of more than a
minute passed in stern meditation, he threw, open the door and went in.
The room was a large one, forming the corner of the building, and
having windows either way. There was a wide chimney, in which was a
blazing log of wood, lighted to dispel the damp which the chamber might
have contracted by disuse; and gazing at the changing aspect of the
flame, sat fair, but unhappy, Kate Greenly, with her head resting on
her hand, and her eyes full of deep and sorrowful thought.
"Get thee to bed," cried Richard de Ashby, in a rude and angry tone, as
soon as he saw her; "did I not bid thee get to bed before?"
"I have had many things to think of," answered the girl. "I wish thou
hadst left me behind thee, Richard. I love not going so near what was
once my home."
"It was my will," replied he; "that must be enough for thee. Get thee
to bed, I say.--I have to write and think."
Kate took a step away from him, but then looked round, and said, "Tell
me first, Richard, art thou taking me back, wearied of her you used to
love, to the once happy dwelling from which you brought me not six
months ago?--If so, I will not go with you any farther."
"Thou wilt do what I order," he answered, sternly; "I am in no mood
either for squabbling or jesting to-night.--Thou wilt go no farther,
ha! By heaven thou wouldst make me resolve to take thee back by force,
or send thee with a billet like some packet of goods.--But no, I will
not send thee," he added, "I will not take thee; and knowest thou why?
Not that I love thee--not that I care for thee more than for the flower
that was yesterday in my breast, and is now cast away into the dust.
But they have asked me to send thee back--they have ordered me; and
therefore I will not! There is no power on earth shall tear thee from
me; but I will take care to make thee serviceable, too. Get thee to
bed, I say, and importune me no more.--What! send thee back to please
Hugh de Monthermer!"
"He is a noble gentleman," answered Kate, "and in good sooth wished me
well, though I knew it not."
"Thou art a fool!" cried Richard, violently; and, at the same moment,
he took a step forward and struck her a blow on the cheek with his
extended hand, adding, "Get thee to bed, minion, and let me hear thy
tongue no more."
Kate's flashing eyes glared at him as if she could have stabbed him
where he stood; but the instant after she darted towards the bed, cast
herself upon her knees beside it, and, hiding her weeping face upon the
coverings, she murmured forth some rapid and eager words, which her
base seducer neither heard nor cared to hear.
Seating himself by a table on which stood a lamp, he took forth the
materials for writing from some large leathern bags which lay near; but
ere he commenced the letter which he proposed to send, he passed a full
half hour in deep meditation. Once during the time he looked round,
apparently to see if the poor girl he had treated so basely was still
up; but she had retired to bed; and, hearing her breathing deep and
slow, he concluded that, like a child, she had wept herself to sleep.
He then turned himself to meditate again, and we must look into his
bosom, and give the turbulent words which were uttered in his inmost
heart as if they had been spoken aloud.
"Ay," he thought, "if Alured had been here this mischief would not have
occurred. The old fool is in his dotage! I wonder how it happened, when
many a brave, strong man fell at Evesham, ere the battle had raged
half-an-hour, this feeble old wiseacre went through the whole day