Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times
Tears, prayers, entreaties, appeals to conscience and to honour, are
all in vain with him: he will die, but yield no jot of what he thinks
his fame requires. He would not withdraw the accusation if an angel
told him it were untrue. But Hugh is not so stern and cruel, lady; he
will listen to reason and to right. He told me himself that he would
have laid down his battle hand, would but the King have named a few
days later; for he is as sure as of his own life, to prove the guilt
upon another man. Oh, lady! in that long, sad interview, he was as much
shaken as I, a poor weak girl. Yet what could I say, what could I do,
so long as my brother maintained the charge in all its virulence? Now,
however, now I will hie to him--ay, lady," she continued, "even to his
chamber! I will beseech him, for mercy's sake, for my sake, for our
love's sake, to avoid this unholy encounter; for the peace, for the
comfort throughout life of the lady that he loves, to quit this place
ere morning's dawn to-morrow."
"He will not do it," answered Eleanor, sadly; "you will but wring his
heart, and break your own.--He will not do it."
"I will soften him with my tears!" said Lucy vehemently, "I will kneel
to him on the ground; I will cover his hand with my kisses and water it
with my eyes--"
Eleanor shook her head.
"I will offer to go with him!" said Lucy, in a low and thrilling tone,
fixing her eyes, with a look of doubt and inquiry, on the Princess's
face.
"Ha!" cried Eleanor, starting, while, for a moment, the colour mounted
into her cheek. But the next instant she cast her arms round Lucy, and
bent her head towards her with a smile, saying--"And thou wilt
conquer!--Dear, devoted girl, I dare not altogether approve and
sanction what you do; yet, I will add, hard were the heart, and
discourteous were the lip, to blame thee. The object is a mighty one;
no common means will reach it; and, surely, if thou dost succeed in
saving thy brother both from a great crime and a great danger, and
proving thy lover innocent, without risking his renown, thou shalt
deserve high praise and honour, and no censure, even in this
foul-tongued world in which we live. But stay yet awhile, Edward will
soon be here, and perchance this letter itself may render the trial
needless. You say that it contains proofs of your lover's innocence?"
"So my brother told me!" replied Lucy--"proofs that have shaken even
his stern spirit; but, lady, you must not betray my secret to the
Prince, for he will stop our departure."
"If I tell him," answered Eleanor, "my promise shall bind both; but,
doubtless, the King, if there be any clear proofs here, in these
papers, will order the wager of battle to be delayed. But go--get thee
ready for thy task, dear Lucy; when Edward comes, I will send for thee
again."
CHAPTER XL.
About an hour before the return of the young Earl of Ashby from his
ride towards Leicester, his cousin Richard had presented himself in his
ante-chamber, expecting to find him within. He was no favourite of the
servants of the house, and a feeling of doubt and distrust towards him
had become general amongst them. A cold look from the armourers, and a
saucy reply from a page--importing that the Earl was absent, and that
no one could tell when he would come back--was all the satisfaction
which Richard de Ashby could obtain; and, returning into the court, he
paced slowly across towards the gate where he had left his horses.
Sir William Geary passed him just at that moment, but did not stop,
merely saying, with his cold, supercilious look, "Ha, Dickon! thou art
in the way to make a great man of thyself, it seems!"
"Stay, Geary, stay!" cried Sir Richard, not very well pleased either
with his tone or his look.
But Sir William walked on, replying, "I can't at present, Dickon. For
once in my life, I am busy."
"They all look cold upon me," muttered Richard de Ashby, as he walked
slowly on; "can anything have been discovered?" His heart sunk at the
thought, and the idea of flying crossed his mind for a moment. But he
was, as we have shown, not without a dogged sort of courage, and he
murmured, "No, I will die at the stake sooner. I must find out,
however, what has taken place, that I may be prepared."
He somewhat quickened his pace, and had already put his foot in the
stirrup, to mount his horse, when he heard a voice calling him by name,
and turning round with a sudden start, he beheld Guy de Margan coming
after him with rapid steps.
"I saw you from my window," said the courtier, hastening up, "and have
much matter for your ear. But let us go down by the back way into the
town, and let your horses follow."
In a moment, Richard de Ashby had banished from his countenance the
look of anxiety and thought which it had just borne, not choosing that
one, who was already somewhat more in his confidence than he liked,
should see those traces of painful care, which might, perhaps, lead
him, joined with the knowledge he already possessed, to a suspicion of
those darker deeds which had not been communicated to him.
"Well, Guy!" he said, as they walked on, "how flies the crow now? I
find my noble cousin, the Earl, has gone out to take an afternoon
ride--not the way, methinks, that men usually spend the last few hours
before a mortal encounter. But he does it for bravado; and, if he do
not mind, his life and his renown will end together in to-morrow's
field."
"Perhaps 'twere better they did," answered Guy de Margan, shortly; and
then--replying to a look of affected wonder which Richard de Ashby
turned upon him, he continued, "I know not your plans or secrets,
Dickon; but I fear you will find your cousin Alured less easy to deal
with than even Hugh de Monthermer. He doubts the truth of the charge he
has brought!"
"Then he should not have brought it!" said Richard de Ashby. "What have
I to do with that?"
"Nothing, perhaps," replied Guy de Margan, "but he loves not any of
those whose reports induced him to make it. I found that, myself, while
I was sitting with him last night. He was strangely uncivil to me; but
you are foremost on the list, Dickon!"
"Pooh!" cried the other. "Let him but conquer in to-morrow's lists, and
the pride of having done so will make him love us all dearly again. I
know Alured well, De Margan, and there is no harm done, if that be
all!"
"But it is not all!" said Guy de Margan. "While I was sitting with him,
an old woman--a withered old woman, the servants told me after--came up
to call him to your house, bearing a message, as if from you."
"'Twas false! I was far away--Did he go?" exclaimed Richard de Ashby,
now moved indeed.
"That did he immediately," answered his companion. "I walked down with
him, and saw him in."
"Why, in the name of hell, did you not stop him?" cried Richard de
Ashby. "Old woman! I have no old woman there!"
"Perhaps he went to see the young one you have there," said Guy de
Margan, in a careless tone.
"Curse her! if she have--" exclaimed Richard de Ashby; and then
suddenly stopped himself, without finishing his sentence.
"Yes!" proceeded Guy de Margan, with the same affected indifference of
tone; "yes, he did go down, and went in, and stayed for more than an
hour, for I was at the King's banquet, and saw him come back; and I
spoke with his henchman, Peter, afterwards, who told me that he was
mightily affected all that night, and brought with him, from your
house, a paper, which he sealed carefully up. Look to it, Dickon--look
to it!"
They had now come to a flight of steps which led them down over one of
the rocky descents which were then somewhat more steep than they are
now in the good town of Nottingham, and Richard de Ashby, pausing at
the top, ordered the horses to go round, while he with Guy de Margan
took the shorter way. He said nothing till he reached the bottom; but
there, between two houses, neither of which had any windows on that
side, he stopped suddenly, and grasping his companion's arm, regarded
him face to face with a bent brow and searching eye.
"What is it you mean, Guy de Margan?" he asked. "You either know or
suspect something more than you say."
"I know nothing," replied Guy de Margan, "and I wish to know nothing,
my good friend. So tell me nothing. I am the least curious man in all
the world. What I suspect is another affair. But now listen to me. The
death of Hugh de Monthermer, sweet gentleman though he be, would not be
unpleasant to me; the death of the Earl, though you would have to wear
mourning for your Earldom, would not, I have reason to believe, be very
inconvenient or unpleasant to you. Now mark me, Dickon; if these two
men meet to-morrow, your cousin Alured, doubting the justice of his
cause, and shaken by foolish scruples, will fall before the lance of
Hugh de Monthermer as sure as I live. Every one of the court sees it,
and knows it. That would suit your purpose well, you think? But you
might be mistaken even there. Nothing but dire necessity will drive
Monthermer to take the Earl's life. The Prince is to be judge of the
field, and he will drop his warder on the very slightest excuse. Thus
you may be frustrated, and both you and I see our hopes marred in a
minute.--But there is something more to be said: I do not choose that
your purpose should be served, and not my own."
"Why, Guy de Margan," exclaimed his companion, in a bitter tone; "you
do not think that I am tenderly anxious for Monthermer's life?"
"No, nor I for Alured de Ashby's," answered de Margan; "but either both
shall die or both shall live, Richard de Ashby. Your cousin's mind is
now in that state, that but three words from me, turning his suspicions
in another channel, will make him retract his charge, and offer amends
to him he has calumniated.--Ay, and worse may come of it than that. Now
I will speak these words, Richard de Ashby, in plain terms--I will
prevent this conflict, unless you assure me that both shall fall."
"But how can I do that?" demanded Richard de Ashby, gazing upon him
with evident alarm. "How is it possible for me to insure an event which
is in the hand of fate alone?"
"In the hand of fate!" cried Guy de Margan, with a scoff. "To hear thee
speak, one would think that thou art as innocent as Noe's dove. Art
thou not thy cousin's godfather in the list to-morrow?"
"Ay, so he said," replied Richard de Ashby.
"Then instruct him how to slay his adversary," rejoined Guy de Margan.
"Tell him not to aim at shield or helmet, but at any spot; his
shoulder--his arm--his throat--his hip, where he can see the bare
hauberk."
"Alured knows better," said Richard. "He will drive straight upon him
with his lance; and then the toughest wood--the firmest seat--the
steadiest hand--the keenest eye, will give the victory."
"Nay, but tell him," answered Guy de Margan, in a lower tone,
"that you know what is passing in his mind, the doubts, the
hesitation, and that the conflict on foot is that wherein alone he
can hope to win the day. Ask him if he ever saw Hugh de Monthermer
unhorsed by a straight-forward stroke of a lance whoever was his
opponent? But show him that, by striking him at the side, and turning
him in the saddle, he may be brought to the ground without a doubt."
"But still what is this to me?" asked Richard, impatiently; "the one or
the other must win the day."
"No--no!" cried Guy de Margan. "I will show you a means by which, if
you can ensure that Alured de Ashby's lance dips but its point in Hugh
de Monthermer's blood, it shall carry with it as certain a death
as if it went through and through his heart; a scratch--a simple
scratch--will do it.--When I was in the land of the old Romans--now
filled with priests and sluggards, who have nought on earth to do but