Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
without delay, whatever proofs may be in their hands. 'Tis probable
that other things may arise to strengthen our conviction. When we see
what they can furnish us with, our course will be soon decided. If
there be anything like fair evidence that Richard de Ashby has done
this deed, I will stop the combat, and proclaim his guilt; but unless I
am sure, I must not pretend to do so, lest I bring upon myself the
charge of base ingratitude. He it was, Hugh, who furnished me with the
swift horse, whereon I fled from Hereford; and though I own that I
would have chosen any other man in all England to aid in my deliverance
rather than him, yet I must not show myself thankless. And 'tis but
yesterday that I moved my father to give him the lands of Cottington as
his reward."
"The very act, my lord," replied Hugh, "which merits your gratitude,
was one of treachery to the party which he pretended to serve. For that
I will not blame him, however; but he is a dark and deceitful man, and
the proof can be made clear, I do not doubt. I will send instantly, as
you direct. All that I gain in way of proof I will give into your hand,
my lord, and let you rule and direct my conduct. It is so terrible a
choice which lies before me, that my brain seems bewildered when I
think of it."
"It is sad, indeed!" replied Edward. "I have put it to my heart,
Monthermer, how I should act, were I placed as you are, and I know how
painful would be the decision. Whatever happens in the lists--whoever
lives, whoever dies--you must be the loser. If you are vanquished--if,
by a hesitating heart or unwilling hand, you give the victory to your
adversary, you lose not only renown, but honour and esteem with all
men; you lose not only life but reputation. If you conquer--if you win
honour, and maintain your innocence--your love and happiness is gone
for ever. 'Tis a hard fate, Monthermer; and whatever can be done to
avert it shall be done by me;--but I must leave you now. You will of
course be present at the King's supper. Bear, I beseech you, a calm and
steady countenance, that your enemies may not triumph. Your accuser is
gone back to Lindwell; and Edward's friend must not seem cast down."
Thus saying, he rose to quit the chamber; but before he went, he bent
his head, adding, in a lower voice, "Doubtless you know your lady-love
is here--ay, here, in Nottingham Castle, with the Princess Eleanor. Of
course, in these days of mourning, she mingles not with the court; but
if it be possible, I will contrive that you shall see her. Methinks the
laws of chivalry require it should be so."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Hugh, clasping his hands--"wherever she were, I
would demand to see her; and no one bearing knightly sword and spur
would venture to refuse me. Have I not to tell her how my heart is
wrung?--Have I not to show her that this is no deed of mine?--Have I
not to prove to her that I am but a passive instrument in the hands of
fate?--that the death which he calls upon his head, is her brother's
own seeking; and that I am no more answerable for it than the lance
that strikes him?--Oh yes, my lord, I must see her!"
"You shall, you shall," replied Edward, "but it must not be to-night.
Farewell, for the present;" and thus saying, he quitted the room.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
It was evening; but one day remained to pass away before the arrival of
that appointed for the wager of battle; and all Nottingham had been in
hurry and confusion with the excitement of the approaching spectacle.
The residence of the King in the Castle had already filled the town
fuller than it was ever known to be before; but now a still greater
influx of people poured into it from all the country round, to witness
a transaction, which combined all the splendor and display of one of
the military pageants of the day with the interest of a deep tragedy.
The citizens had flocked out of the town during the morning, to see the
preparation of the lists; parties of pleasure had been made to the spot
where the deadly struggle was to take place; and mirth and merriment
had surrounded the scene, where two fellow-creatures were soon to
appear armed for mutual destruction--where bright hopes and fair
prospects were to be blighted, and death and sorrow to share the
victory.
No tidings had been received by Hugh de Monthermer from his forest
friends. No circumstance had transpired which could aid him in proving
his innocence, or could fix the guilt upon another. Prince Edward was
evidently anxious and uneasy; and the only person who seemed pleased
with the whole affair was the King himself, who, affecting a dignified
grace and calmness and declaring that he assumed the young Lord of
Monthermer to be innocent till he was proved guilty, treated him with
courtesy, and even with distinction. It was the pampering of a
gladiator before sending him into the arena; for the secret of Henry's
good humour was, that he was pleased at the excitement, and satisfied
with those who contributed to it.
Not to show favour, however--as one of the most favourite-ridden
monarchs that ever lived thought fit to term it, he sent expressly to
invite the young Earl of Ashby to repair with his train to Nottingham
Castle, and partake of the royal hospitality before the combat; and
Alured had already arrived, and taken possession of the apartments
prepared for him.
He had twice met with Hugh de Monthermer, once in the hall, when many
others were present, and once in the court when they were nearly alone.
Their meeting had been watched by the frivolous and malicious, always
so numerous in courts, who hoped and expected to see some outburst of
angry feeling, which might afford amusement for the passing hour. But
in this they were altogether disappointed--the two adversaries saluted
each other with grave courtesy; and it was particularly remarked, that
Alured's fierce impetuosity and somewhat insolent pride were greatly
softened down and moderated. Nay, more, when his eyes lighted upon Hugh
de Monthermer, the expression was more sad than stern, and some thought
that there was hesitation in it also.
"It is clear enough," said Sir Harry Grey to Sir William Geary--"it is
clear enough, he doubts the truth of the charge he has made--he does
not think the Monthermer guilty."
"He knows that some one must be guilty," answered the other, "and that
is generally enough for an Ashby, to make him vent his rage upon the
first thing near."
"But what has become of his good cousin Dickon?" demanded Grey. "I have
not seen him all day, nor yesterday either."
"I suppose be keeps at Lindwell," replied Sir William Geary, "or else
has gone to his new manor of Cottington. People look cold on him--I
know not why."
"There are two or three reasons why," said Sir Harry Grey. "First, it
is evident that this charge is of his hatching, and yet he puts the
fighting part upon his cousin."
"And very wise, too!" exclaimed Sir William Geary. "First, because Hugh
de Monthermer would break his neck, as a man does a rabbit's with his
little finger; next, because there is but one between him and the
Earldom of Ashby, and a good lance and a fair field is very likely to
diminish the number."
"Is it just possible," said Grey, "that he may have taken means to
diminish the number already?"
Sir William Geary shrugged his shoulders significantly, but made no
other answer, and the conversation dropped.
Such as it was, however, it was a fair specimen of many others that
took place in Nottingham that day. But Richard de Ashby heard them not,
for he was many miles away, deep in conference with his companion,
Ellerby, who remained to watch the progress of events, hidden in the
wild and mountainous parts of Derbyshire.
Nevertheless, that night towards seven o'clock, when every one in
Nottingham had returned home from the sight-seeing and amusements of
the day, and all was profoundly quiet, both in the castle and the town,
two armourers, who sat burnishing a magnificent hauberk in the outer
chamber of the young Earl of Ashby's apartments in Nottingham Castle,
were interrupted by some one knocking at the door. In a loud voice they
bade the visitor come in; and in a moment after, the brown face and
head of an old woman were thrust into the room, asking to see the Earl
of Ashby.
The two men had been going on merrily with their work, giving no
thought or heed to the bloody purposes which the weapons under their
hands were to be applied to, nor of the danger that their lord ran,
should that linked shirt of mail prove insufficient to repel the lance
of an enemy. They looked up then as cheerfully as if the whole were a
matter of sport, and one of them replied, "He will not receive you,
good dame, seeing you are old and ugly. Had you been young and pretty,
by my faith, you would have found admission right soon.--What is it
that you wish?"
"I wish to tell him," answered the old woman, "that he is wanted
immediately down at the house of Sir Richard de Ashby."
"Well--well," cried the man, "I will tell him. Get thee gone, and close
the door after thee, for the night wind is cold."
Thus saying, he went on with his work, and seemed to have no
inclination to break off, for the purpose of carrying any messages
whatsoever.
"Come--come!" cried his companion, "you must tell my lord."
"Pooh, that will do an hour hence," he replied; "to-morrow morning will
be time enough, if I like it. What should Richard de Ashby want with my
lord:--Borrow money, I dare say. Some Jew has got him by the throat,
and wont let him go. There let him stay--nasty vermin!"
"Nay--nay, then I will go," said his brother armourer, rising, and
proceeding into another chamber, where several yeomen and a page were
sitting, to the latter of whom he delivered the message, and then
returned to his work.
The young Earl of Ashby was seated in an inner room, with but one
companion, when the old woman's commission was at length executed.
"Ay! I am glad to hear he has returned," he said, as the page closed
the door. "I wonder he comes not hither! but I will go and speak with
him. My mind misgives me, Sir Guy--my mind misgives me! And what you
say does not convince me. My sister knows better--Lucy is truth itself.
Remember, sir, I have to swear that my quarrel is just--that I believe,
so help, me, God! that my charge is true. I doubt it, Guy de Margan--I
doubt it. If you can give new proof--speak! But 'tis useless to repeat
over and over again what I have heard before, and what has been
refuted."
"It may be that your cousin, my lord, can furnish you with new proof,"
said Guy de Margan. "'Tis on that account, perhaps, he has sent for
you."
"I will go directly," cried the Earl, starting up--"I will go
directly!--But where does he live in Nottingham?--I thought he was in
the castle with the rest, or at our lodging in the town.--Down at the
house of Sir Richard de Ashby!--Where may that be, I wonder?"
"I can show you, my lord," answered Guy do Margan--"'tis half-a-mile
hence or more."
"Tell me--tell me," replied the Earl; "I will go by myself."
"I will put you in the way, my lord," said his companion, "and leave
you when you are in the street.--You will never find it by yourself."
Giving him but little thanks for his courtesy, the young Earl strode
into the ante-room; and with none but a page to carry his sword, and
Guy de Margan by his side, issued forth into the court of the castle,
and thence through the gates into the dark streets of Nottingham.
"Had you not better have a torch, my lord?" said Guy de Margan.
"No--no," replied the Earl, "'tis but that our eyes are not accustomed
to the obscurity, We have no time to wait for torches; the hour of
supper will be here anon."