Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
drive one a whit madder than the drone of a bagpipe drives a turnspit
dog.--Give a howl and have done with it, Sir Richard."
"I will tell you what, Dighton," said Richard de Ashby; "you men wear
away all your feelings as the edge of a knife on a grindstone----"
"That sharpens," interrupted Dighton.
"Ay, if held the right way," replied Richard, "but you have never known
hate such as I feel."
"Perhaps not," answered Dighton, with a look of indifference, "for I
always put a friend out of the way before I hate him heartily.--It is
better never to let things get to a head. If on the first quarrel which
you have with a man, you send him travelling upon the long road which
has neither turning nor returning, you are sure never to have a
difference with him again, and I have found that the best plan."
"But suppose you cannot?" asked Richard de Ashby. "You may be weaker
less skilful, may not have opportunity--suppose you cannot, I say?"
"Why then employ a friend who can!" replied the bravo. "There are
numbers of excellent good gentlemen who are always ready, upon certain
considerations, to take up any man's quarrel; and it is but from the
folly of others who choose to deal with such things themselves, that
they have not full employment. Here is Ellerby tolerably good, both at
lance and broadsword; and I," he continued, looking down with a
self-sufficient air at the swelling muscles of his leg and thigh--"and
I do not often fail to remove an unpleasant companion from the way
of a friend. Then if secrecy be wanting, we are as wise as we are
strong--are we not, Ellerby?"
"To be sure," answered Ellerby, in the same swaggering manner, "we are
perfect in everything, and fit for everything--as great statesmen as De
Montfort, as great soldiers as Prince Edward, as great generals as
Gloucester, as great friends as Damon and Pythias."
"And as great rogues," added Richard de Ashby, who was not to be taken
in by swagger--"and as great rogues, Ellerby, as--But no, I will not
insult you by a comparison. You are incomparable in that respect at
least, or only to be compared to each other."
"Very complimentary, indeed," said Ellerby, "especially when we come
here to do you a favour."
"Not without your reward present and future," replied Richard de Ashby;
"You come not to serve me without serving yourselves too."
"Well, well," cried Dighton, who carried the daring of his villany to a
somewhat impudent excess--"we must not fall out, lest certain other
people should come by their own. There's an old proverb against
it"--for the proverb was old even in his day. "But to overlook your
matter of spleen, dearly beloved Richard, and forgetting this
Monthermer affair, let us take the affair up where Ellerby was
beginning. We have thought well of the business you have in hand, and
judge it very feasible indeed. We are willing to undertake it. If we
can get the old man once to come out of sight of his people alone, we
will ensure that he shall never walk back into Lindwell gates on his
own feet. However, there is a thing or two to be said upon other
affairs;--but speak you, Ellerby--speak! You are an orator. I, a mere
man of action."
"Well, what is the matter?" asked Richard de Ashby; "If you can do the
deed, the sooner it is done the better."
"True," said Ellerby, "but there is something more, my beloved friend.
The doing the deed may be easier than getting the reward. When this old
man is gone, there still stands between you and the fair lands of Ashby
a stout young bull-headed lord, called Alured, who having ample fortune
and fewer vices, is likely to outlive you by half a century, and
bequeath the world a thriving race of younkers to succeed to his
honours and his lands."
"Leave him to me," replied Richard; "his bull-head, as you call it,
will soon be run against some wall that will break it, as I shall
arrange the matter."
"But even if such be the case," rejoined Ellerby, "how can we be sure
that Richard Earl of Ashby will not turn up his nose at us, his poor
friends--as is much the mode with men in high station--refuse us all
reward but that small sum in gold which he now gives, and dare us to do
our worst, as we cannot condemn him without condemning ourselves
likewise? We must have it under your hand, good Richard, that you have
prompted us to this deed, and promise us the two thousand pounds of
silver as our reward."
Richard de Ashby looked at him with a sneering smiles though his heart
was full of wrath, and he answered--
"You must think me some boy, raw from the colleges, and ready to play
against you with piped dice. No, no, Dighton! Ellerby, you are
mistaken! Being all of us of that kind and character of man who does
not trust his neighbour, we must have mutual sureties, that is clear.
Now hear me:--I will make over to you by bond, this day, my castle in
Hereford, with all the land thereunto appertaining.--You know it
well.--In the bond there shall be a clause of redemption; so that if I
pay you two thousand pounds of silver before this day two years, the
castle shall be mine again. Such is what I propose. But, in the
meantime, you shall give me a covenant, signed with your hand, to do
the deed that we have agreed upon. Then shall we all be in the power
of each other."
"And pray what are we to have?" asked one of the two inferior men, who
had followed the others into the room, and who seemed to have been
almost forgotten by the rest.
"What you were promised," replied Richard de Ashby; "each of you fifty
French crowns of gold this night, when the deed is done!"
"Ay," cried the spokesman; "but we must have a part of that two
thousand pounds of silver."
But Dighton took him by the breast, in a joking manner, saying, "Hold
thy tongue, parson! I will settle with thee about that. If thou art not
hanged before the money is paid, we will share as officer and soldier.
You and Dicky Keen shall have a fourth part between you, and we two the
rest."
This promise appeared to satisfy perfectly his worthy coadjutor, who
seemed to rely upon the old proverb, that "there is honour amongst
thieves," for the performance of the engagement. Such, however, was not
the base with Richard de Ashby and the two superior cutthroats, who
proceeded to draw up the two documents agreed upon for their mutual
security.
The bond of Richard de Ashby was soon prepared, and the only difficulty
that presented itself regarded the written promise he had exacted from
his two friends; for Dighton boldly avowed that he could not write any
word but his own name, and Ellerby was very diffident of his own
capacity, though either would have done mortal combat with any man who
denied that they were gentlemen by birth and education. Richard de
Ashby, for his part, positively declined to indite the document
himself, even upon the promise of their signature; and at length
Ellerby, after much prompting and assistance, perpetrated the act with
various curious processes of spelling and arrangement.
"And now," said Richard de Ashby, when this was accomplished, "all that
remains is to lure the old man from the castle, which we had better set
about at once; for if Alured were to return, our plan were marred."
"But upon what pretence," asked Dighton, "will you get him to come
forth?"
"I have one ready," answered Richard de Ashby; "one that will serve my
purpose in other respects, too. But who we shall get, to bear the
letter, is the question."
"Why not the woman you have with you?" said Ellerby. "We could dress
her up as a footboy."
"No," replied Richard de Ashby, thoughtfully, "no!--I did buy her a
page's dress to employ her in any little things that might require
skill and concealment, for she is apt and shrewd enough; but in this
matter I dare not trust her. When the old man and the note were found
she would tell all.--She needs some further training yet, and she shall
have it; but at present we must deal by other hands.--You must get some
rude peasant boy as you go along, and only one of you must show himself
even to him. But I will write the note and come along with you myself.
There is no time to spare."
Richard de Ashby then--who was, as we have hinted, a skilful
scribe--sat down and composed the fatal letter to his kinsman which was
to draw him from his home and give him to the hands of the murderers:
and, knowing well the Earl's character, he took care so to frame the
epistle as to insure its full effect. The handwriting, too, he
disguised as much as might be; though never having seen that of the
person whose name he assumed, he endeavoured to make it as much like
the hand of a clerk or copyist as possible. The note was to the
following effect:--
"To the most noble and valiant Lord the Earl of Ashby, greeting.
"Dear and well-beloved Lord,
"A false, cruel, and horrible accusation having been brought against
me, and I having been doomed to death unheard by the ears of justice
and clemency, have been compelled to seek my own safety by flight from
the castle of Nottingham, leaving my fair fame and character
undefended. Now I do adjure you, as one who has ever been held the
mirror of chivalry, and the honour of arms and nobility, to meet me
this day at the hour of three, by what is called the Bull's Hawthorn;
which you, my lord, know well, and which is but one poor mile from your
manor of Lindwell. I will there give to you, my lord, the most
undoubted proofs of my perfect innocence, beseeching you to become my
advocate before the King and the Prince, and to defend me as none but
one so noble will venture to do. Lest you should think that I seek to
entangle you more on my behalf, I hereby give you back all promises
made to me regarding the Lady Lucy, your daughter, and declare them
null and void, unless at some future time you shall think fit to
confirm them. It is needful, as I need not say, that you should come
totally alone, for even the chattering of a page might do me to death.
"HUGH DE MONTHERMER."
Richard de Ashby mentioned to none of his companions what the letter
contained; but folding it, he tied it with a piece of yellow silk and
sealed it, stamping it with the haft of Ellerby's dagger.
"Now," he cried--"now all is ready; let us be gone.--Are your horses
below?"
"They are at the back of the house," said Dighton.
"Quick, then, to the saddle!" cried their companion. "I will get mine,
and join you in a minute, to ride with you some way along the road; for
I must have speedy tidings when the deed is done."
"By my faith," said Ellerby, walking towards the door, "you are growing
a man of action, Richard!--But keep us not waiting."
"Not longer than to come round," replied Richard de Ashby, descending
the stairs with them; and in a minute after, the heavy door of the
house banged to behind the party of assassins.
Scarcely were they gone, when poor Kate Greenly ran into the room, and
snatched up a large brown wimple which lay in the window, casting it
over her head as if to go forth. Her eyes were wild and eager, her face
pale, her lips bloodless, and her whole frame trembling. She seemed
confused, too, as well as agitated, and muttered to herself, "Oh,
horrible! Where can I find help?--What can I do?--I will seek these
men; but it will be too late if I go afoot. I will take the page's
dress again, and hire a horse."
She paused, and thought for an instant, adding, "But the mere is far
from Lindwell,--'tis the other way. It will be too late! it will be too
late!"
Her eyes fixed vacantly on the window, and a moment after she uttered a
slight scream, for she saw a head gazing at her through the small
panes. Shaken and horrified, the least thing alarmed her, so that she
caught at the back of a tall chair for support, keeping her eyes fixed,