Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
"Down the first flight of steps, my lord," said Guy de Margan, "let us
not miss the mouth of the alley--Oh, 'tis here!" and hurrying on with a
quick step, the two gentlemen and their young attendant descended to
the lower part of the town, and entered the street in which Richard de
Ashby had hired the house we have so often mentioned.
When they had proceeded some way down it, the young Earl asked, with
even more than his usual impatience--"Are we not near it yet?"
"Yes, my good lord," replied Guy de Margan; "you can now find it for
yourself, I doubt not. 'Tis the first small house standing back between
two large ones, with eaves shooting far over into the street."
"I shall find it!--I shall find it!" cried Alured de Ashby, "Good
night, and thanks, Sir Guy. We shall meet again to-morrow."
With this short adieu, he took his way forward, and in his quick,
impetuous haste, had well-nigh passed the house which he was seeking,
but the boy pulled him by the sleeve, saying, "This must be it, my
lord;" and looking round, he plunged into the dark, retreating nook in
which it stood, and feeling for the door, struck sharply upon it with
the hilt of his dagger.
For near a minute there was no sound, and the young Earl was about to
knock again, when a light, shining through the chinks, shewed him that
somebody was coming. He drew back a step; and a moment after, the door
was opened with a slow and deliberate hand, which suited ill with the
young nobleman's impatient mood. The sight that he beheld, however,
when his eyes recovered from the first glare of the light, struck him
with surprise, and calmed him also, by the effect of gentler feelings
than those which had lately agitated his bosom.
It was the form of fair Kate Greenly that presented itself--it was her
face that the rays of the lamp shone upon; but oh, what a change had
been wrought in that face, even within the last three days! Still more
terrible was the alteration since the Earl had last seen it, when he
jested for a moment with his cousin's leman some months before in
Hereford. Then it had been bright and blooming, full of life and
eagerness, with much of the loveliness which then characterized it
depending upon youth and high health. Now, though beauty still
lingered, and the fine line of the features could not be altered, yet
the face was sharp and pale and worn, the lips bloodless; and the
bright, dark eyes, though shining, with almost preternatural lustre,
had a fixed, stern look, no longer wild and sparkling, but full of
intense thought, and strong, yet painful purpose. The form, too, seemed
shrunk and changed; the grace indeed remained, but the rounded contour
of the limbs was withered and gone.
"Why, Kate," exclaimed the Earl--"why how now--what is this? You seem
ill."
"I seem what I am, my lord," replied Kate Greenly. "I am glad you are
come; your presence is much wanted."
"Where?" demanded the Earl. "What do you mean, my poor girl? Some new
mishap, I warrant you. Where is my presence wanted, Kate?"
"I will show you, my lord," replied Kate Greenly, "if you will follow
me;" and she led the way up the stairs.
At the end of the first flight, the Earl paused, saying, "Is not Dickon
here, that he comes not forth?"
Kate gave him no direct answer, merely replying, "This way, my
lord--this way, sir."
"He must be ill," thought the Earl, "and she, too, is ill, that is
clear. 'Tis some fever, belike. I have heard there is one in
Nottingham."
At the top of the next flight, the girl laid her hand upon the latch of
a rough door, formed of unsmoothed wood, holding the lamp so as to give
the Earl light in his ascent. The moment after, she opened the door and
entered, leading the way towards the foot of a small bed, by which was
burning a waxen taper.
The Earl followed, murmuring, "This is a poor place," but raised his
eyes as he approached the foot of the bed, and to his surprise, beheld
the ghastly face of a dead man, stretched out, with a sprig of holly
resting on his breast.
"Good Heaven!" he exclaimed.--"Who is this?"
"The murderer of your father!" replied Kate Greenly, without adding a
word more.
Alured de Ashby clasped his hands, with deep and terrible emotion. His
mind at the moment paused not to inquire whether the tale were true or
false; but flashing at once through, his heart and brain came the
feeling of wrath, even at the inanimate mass before him, for the deed
that had been done, mingled with grief and anxiety at having charged it
upon another, and the memory of all the embarrassments which that
charge must produce.
"The murderer of my father!" he said, "The murderer of my father--Is
that the murderer of my father!--Then Monthermer is innocent!"
"As innocent as yourself," replied Kate Greenly. "This is one of those
who did the deed; but there were more than one, Hugh de Monthermer,
however, was many a mile away, and there lies the man who struck the
first blow. Look here!" she cried, and partly drawing down the sheet,
she pointed to the wound upon the dead man's breast, saying, "There
entered your father's sword; for the old man died gallantly, and sent
one at least to his account."
"Ay, I remember," replied the Earl, thoughtfully, "they found his sword
naked and bloody--But how is this?" he continued, turning towards Kate,
and gazing on her face. "You seem to know it all, as if you had been
present.--Now I perceive what makes you haggard and pale."
"'Tis seeing such sights as this," replied Kate Greenly--"ay, and many
another sad cause besides. But you ask, how I know all this? I will
tell you, Earl of Ashby: by taking down from that man's own lips, in
his dying moments, the confession of his crime. The priest adjured him
to make full avowal of the truth, not only to the ear of the confessor,
which could but benefit his own soul, but for the ear of justice, that
the innocent might not be punished for the guilty. Such confession as
he did make, I myself wrote down, he signed it with his dying hand, and
I and Father Mark were the witnesses thereunto. Here is the paper--read
and satisfy yourself! The priest I have sent for--he will soon be
here."
Alured de Ashby took the paper, and, by the light of the lamp held by
Kate Greenly, read the few words that it contained:--
"I do publicly acknowledge and confess," so ran the writing, which
followed exactly the broken words of the dying man; "that I, Ingelram
Dighton, did, on the afternoon of Tuesday last, together with three
others--no, I will not mention their names--who had come down with me
the day before from the good city of London, lay wait for the Earl of
Ashby, at a place called the Bull's Hawthorn. I struck at him first,
but only wounded him; whereupon he drew his sword and plunged it into
my side, from which I am now dying. The Lord have mercy upon my soul!
El----, but no, I will not mention his name--another man then stabbed
him behind, and we threw him into the pit. The Lord Hugh de Monthermer
had nothing to do with the deed. We used his name, because the person
that set us on wanted the charge to fall on him, and a letter was
written, as if from him, asking the old Earl to see him alone, at the
place of the murder; but he never wrote it, or knew of it. I have never
seen him or spoken to him in my life, but only heard that morning that
he had escaped from prison. This has been read over to me now dying, at
the house of Sir Richard de Ashby; and I swear by the Holy Sacrament
and all the Saints, that it is true, so help me God!"
It was signed, with a shaking hand, "Ingelram Dighton," and below were
the names of Kate Greenly and the priest, as witnesses.
The young Earl read and re-read it, and then looking upon his companion
somewhat sternly, he asked, "Why did you not produce this before?"
"For many reasons," replied Kate Greenly, calmly:--"first, because I
had not the means. Do you suppose that the cruel and deceitful villain
into whose power I have fallen leaves me to roam whither I please? 'Tis
but when he is absent that I dare quit the house. In the next place,
you were at Lindwell; and in the next, I wished, ere I brought forward
even so much as this, to have the whole in my hands; to be able not
only to say, 'This man is innocent,' but also, 'That man is guilty!' I
tell you, Earl, I would not now have told you what I have, but that you
must not risk your own life in a false quarrel, nor bring upon yourself
the guilt of slaying another for deeds that he did not commit. Knowing
as much as you do now know, it is your task and duty to sift this
matter to the bottom, and to discover the instigator of this murder;
for he who now lies there, and his companions, were but tools. I am
ready and willing to speak all I know, when the time and place is
fitting. Yet you must be neither too quick nor too slow: for if you are
slow, I shall not be here--my days are numbered, and are flying fast;
and if you are hasty, the guilty one will escape you."
"And who is the guilty one?" demanded Alured de Ashby, bending his
brows sternly upon her--"Who is the guilty one? Name him, girl, I
adjure thee--name him! Name him, if ever thou hast had the feelings of
a child towards a father!"
Kate gave a low cry, as if from corporeal pain, and then, shaking her
head mournfully, she said, "I have had the feelings of a child towards
a father, Earl of Ashby; and for the sake of your false cousin, I tore
those feelings from my heart in spite of all the agony--for his sake, I
brought disgrace upon that father's house--for his sake, I strewed
ashes upon a parent's head--for his sake, I poured coals of fire upon
my own; and how has he repaid me! But you ask me, who is the man? I
will not be his accuser till all other means fail. I must not be
accuser and witness too. You have the clue in your hands; use it wisely
and firmly, and you will soon discover all you seek to know."
The Earl gazed in her face for a minute with a keen and searching
glance, then turned his look once more upon the corpse, took a step or
two nearer, and examined the features attentively.
"Give me the lamp," he said; and taking it from her hand, he bent down
his own head, and seemed to scan every lineament, as if to fix them on
his mind for ever. But his thoughts were in reality turning to the
past, not the future; and raising himself to his full height again; he
added, aloud, "I have seen that face before, though where I cannot
tell. The memory will return, however. How came he here?--Who brought
him here to die?"
"Those who took him hence to slay," answered Kate Greenly.
"Didst thou ever see him before that day?" demanded the Earl.
"Twice," was the reply.
"Hark! there is the curfew," exclaimed the Earl. "I must away."
"Stay till the priest comes!" cried Kate, eagerly. "He will be here ere
long."
"I cannot," answered Alured de Ashby; "I am expected at the castle even
now. But fear not that I will forget this business. I will find out the
truth, even if I have to cut it from the hearts of those that would
conceal it; and I will be calm, too--tranquil, and calm, and cautious."
"Go, then!" said Kate. "Yet tell me--But no, you will not dream of
it!--You have no thought of meeting in arms an innocent and blameless
man upon a false and unholy charge? Promise me--promise me!"
"I will make no promise!" answered the Earl. "You seem to feel some
deep interest in this Monthermer?"
"I never saw his face but twice!" replied Kate, solemnly. "I never
heard his voice but once--I have no interest in him; but, weak and
fallen and disgraced as I am, I have still an interest in right and
truth! Neither would I see you fall before his lance--for fall
assuredly you will, if you go forth to meet him! Nay, look not proud,
Earl of Ashby, before a dying girl, who knows nought of these haughty