Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
disposing of Ellerby also by some similar means, and leaving none but
the two inferior ruffians, whom he might easily attach to himself, and
render serviceable in the future. Crimes are gregarious beings, and are
seldom, if ever, met with single.
His horse was fleet; the distance was not great; and in the space of
about a quarter of an hour, he saw the towers of Lindwell rising over
the woody slopes around. He then checked his speed, in some degree,
going on at a quick, but still an easy canter, knowing that there was
always some one on the watchtower, who might remark the furious gallop
at which he came, unless he slackened his pace.
He had soon reached the open space--he had soon mounted the hill. The
drawbridge was down, the doors of the barbican were open, one of the
warders sitting quietly on a bench in the sun, two or three stout
yeomen and armed men were amusing themselves between the two gates, and
all turned to salute their master's kinsman as he passed, without
giving the slightest indication that anything was known amiss within
the walls of Lindwell.
Dismounting at the inner gate, and giving his horse to one of the
grooms, Richard de Ashby was upon the point of asking for his cousin
Lucy, but recollecting his part again, he inquired if the Earl were
there, adding, "I thought to have met him between this and Nottingham."
"No, Sir Richard," replied the porter, moving slowly back the great
gate of the hall; "my lord had ordered his horses and train to be ready
for Nottingham by noon, but news came from the city, which stopped him;
and then the son of old Ugtred, the swine-driver, brought a letter, on
which my lord went out on foot and alone. He would not even have his
page, but carried his sword himself."
"Methinks that was rash," said Richard de Ashby; "these are not times
to trust to. Can I speak with the lady Lucy? Know you where she is?"
"In her own chamber, I fancy, poor lady," replied the porter. "Go, Ned,
and tell her, that Sir Richard is in the hall, and would fain see her."
Richard de Ashby was a hypocrite--he was a hypocrite in everything.
Though a man of strong passions and of fierce disposition, it was not
when he seemed most furious or most angry that he really was so, any
more than when, as on the present occasion, he seemed most gay and
light-hearted, that he was in reality cheerful. While the page went to
seek for his fair cousin, he walked up and down the hall, humming a
light tune, and seemingly occupied with nothing but those dancing
phantasms of imagination which serve a mind at ease to while away a few
idle minutes. The only thing which, during the whole time he was kept
waiting, could have betrayed even to eyes far more keen and
scrutinizing than those which now rested upon him, that there were more
deep and anxious thoughts within, was a sudden start that he gave on
hearing some noise and several persons speaking loudly in the court;
but the sounds quickly passed away, and the next minute Lucy herself
entered the hall.
She was pale, and her countenance seemed thoughtful; but her demeanour
was calm; and though she had never loved the man that stood before her,
she addressed him in a kind tone, saying, "I give you good day,
Richard; we have not seen you for a long time."
"No, fair cousin," he replied, "and I rode here in haste from
Nottingham, thinking I might be the bearer of good tidings to you; but
I fancy from your look you have heard them already."
"What may they be?" said Lucy, the colour slightly tinging her cheek.
"Why," answered Richard de Ashby, "they are that a certain noble lord,
a dearer friend of yours than mine, fair cousin, who lay in high peril
in Nottingham Castle, has made his escape last night."
"So I have heard," replied Lucy, her eyes seeking the ground; "people
tell me they had condemned him to death without hearing him."
"Not exactly so," said Richard de Ashby; "they heard him once, but
then----"
"Oh, lady! oh, lady!" cried one of the servants, running into the hall,
with a face as pale as ashes, and, a wild frightened look, "here's a
yeoman from Eastwood who says he has seen my lord lying murdered in the
pit under the Bull's hawthorn!"
Lucy gazed at the man for a moment or two, with her large dark eyes
wide open, and a vacant look upon her countenance, as if her mind
refused to comprehend the sudden and horrible news she heard; but the
next moment she turned as pale as ashes, and fell like a corpse upon
the pavement.
"Fool! you have killed her!" cried Richard de Ashby, really angry; "you
should have told her more gently.--Call her women hither."
The man remarked not, in his own surprise and horror, that Richard de
Ashby was less moved by the tidings he had given, than by the effect
they produced upon Lucy. All was now agitation and confusion, however;
and in the midst of it, the poor girl was removed to her own chamber.
The peasant, who had brought the news, was summoned to the presence of
the murdered man's kinsman; and informed him that, in passing along, at
the top of the bank, he had been startled by the sight of fresh blood,
and at first thought some deer had been killed there, but, looking over
the hedge, he had seen a human body lying under the bank, and, on
getting down into the pit, had recognised the person of the Earl.
He was quite dead, the man, said, with a cut upon the head, and a
dagger still remaining in a wound on his right side. Instantly coming
away for help to bear him home, he had found by the way, not far from
the pit, the murdered man's sword, which he picked up and brought with
him. On examination, the blade was found to be bloody, so that the Earl
had evidently used it with some effect, but the peasant had found no
other traces of a conflict, and had come on with all speed for aid.
One of the flat boards, which in that day, placed upon trestles, served
as dining-tables in the castle hall, was now carried out by a large
party of the Earl's servants and retainers, in order to bring in the
corpse. Richard de Ashby put himself at their head, and by his
direction they all went well armed, lest, as he said, there should be
some force of enemies near. It was now his part to assume grief and
consternation; and as they advanced towards the well-known spot, he
felt, it must be acknowledged, his heart sink, when he thought of the
first look of the dead man's face. But he was resolute, and went on,
preparing his mind to assume the appearance of passionate sorrow and
horror, calculating every gesture and every word.
The old hawthorn tree, which was a well-known rendezvous for various
sylvan sports, was soon in sight, and a few steps more brought them to
the bloody spot, near the edge of the pit, where both the green grass
and the yellow sand were deeply stained with gore in several places.
Many an exclamation of grief and rage burst from the attendants, and
Richard de Ashby, with a shudder, cried, "Oh, this is terrible!"
"Hallo! but where's the body?" cried a man, who had advanced to the
side of the pit.
"Don't you see it?" said the peasant who had brought the news, stepping
forward to point it out. "By the Lord, it is gone!"
Richard de Ashby now became agitated indeed.
"Gone!" he exclaimed, looking down, "Gone!--The murderers have come
back to carry it off!" and, running round to a spot where a little path
descended, after the manner of a rude flight of steps, into the
sandpit, he made his way down, followed by the rest, and searched all
around.
The spot where the body had lain was plainly to be seen, marked, both
by some blood which must have flowed after the fall from above, and
also by a fragment of the Earl's silken pourpoint, which had been
caught and torn off by a black thornbush, as he fell.
"They cannot be far off," said the peasant, "for the poor gentleman was
a heavy man to carry, and there seemed nobody near when I was here."
"Pshaw!" cried Richard de Ashby, "there might have been a hundred
amongst the bushes and trees without your seeing them. However," he
continued, eagerly, "let us beat the ground all round. Some one, run
back to the castle for horses; if we pursue quickly, we may very likely
find the murderers with the corpse in their hands."
"It may be, Sir Richard," said one of the attendants, "that some of the
neighbouring yeomen, or franklins, coming and going from Eastwood to
Nottingham market, which falls today, may have chanced upon the body,
and carried it to some house or cottage near."
"Well, we must discover it at all events," said Richard de Ashby, who
feared that one-half of his purpose might be frustrated if the letter,
which he had written under the name of Hugh de Monthermer, was not
actually found upon the corpse. "Spread round! spread round! Let us
follow up every path by which the body could be borne, shouting from
time to time to each other, that we may not be altogether separated.
But here come more men down from the castle; we shall have plenty now.
Let six or eight stay here till the horses arrive, then mount, and
pursue each horse-road and open track for some two or three miles; they
cannot have gone much farther."
All efforts, however, were vain. Not a trace could be found of the
body, or of those who had taken it; and, although Richard de Ashby at
first had entertained no doubt that they would find it in the hands of
some of the neighbouring peasantry, and only feared that the important
letter might be by any chance lost or destroyed, he soon became
anxious, in no ordinary degree, to know what had become of the body
itself.
Had it been found, he asked himself, by those bold tenants of Sherwood,
whose shrewdness, determination, and activity he well knew? and if so,
might not the dagger, which Ellerby had left in the wound, and with the
haft of which he himself had sealed the letter, prove, at some after
period, a clue to the real murderers? His heart was ill at ease.
Apprehension took possession of him again; and, towards nightfall, he
returned to the castle, accompanied by a number of the men who by that
time had rejoined him, with a spirit depressed and gloomy, and a heart
ill at ease indeed.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
The grey twilight hung over the world when Richard de Ashby re-entered
the outer court of the castle at Lindwell; but still he could perceive
horses saddled and dusty, attendants running hither and thither, armed
men standing in knots, as if resting themselves for a moment after a
journey, and every indication of the arrival of some party having taken
place during his absence. His first thought was, that the corpse must
have been found and brought back by some of the small bodies of Prince
Edward's troops, which were moving about in all directions; but he soon
saw that such an event was impossible, as he himself, or some of those
about him, must have met any party which had passed near the scene of
the murder. The next instant, in going by one of the little groups of
soldiers we have mentioned, he recognised the face of some of the
retainers of the house of Ashby, and exclaimed, "What! has the Lord
Alured returned?"
"Not half an hour ago, Sir Richard," replied a soldier; and Richard de
Ashby hurried like lightning into the hall. There was a coldness at his
heart, indeed, as he thought of meeting the man whose father's blood
was upon his hand, and against whose own life he was devising schemes
as dark as those which had just been executed. But he was most anxious
nevertheless to meet his cousin, ere he had conversed long with Lucy,
and to give those impressions regarding the causes of the bloody deed
which best suited his purposes.
Alured de Ashby was not in the great hall, but Richard, without a
moment's delay, mounted the great staircase to the upper chamber, where