Such events as we have described in the last chapter were by no means uncommon in the fairs and merry-makings of England at the period of history in which our tale is laid. The sunshiny gaiety of the morning, in the April day of states and societies, is too often changed into sorrow and clouds ere night.
The sports were not resumed upon the village green; and all the amusements and occupations with which a May-day generally closed--the fresh dances by the moonlight, on the delights of which old Fitz Stephen so fondly dwells, the parting of the garlands, the gifts of flowers, the light song, and the gay tale amongst the young; with the merry jest, the wassail cup, and the game of chance amongst the elder, were all forgotten. The villagers and country people dispersed each to their several homes, and the inn, with such conveniences as it could afford, was given up to the nobles and their train. Arrangements were made for accommodating all the men of high degree with chambers, if not suitable to their rank, at least possessing some degree of comfort. Truckle beds were found for pages and squires, and straw was laid down for the yeomen, who were accustomed to lie across the doors of their masters' rooms. Much bustle and confusion was of course created by all these proceedings; horses had to be taken care of as well as men; and the voice of the good host was heard frequently shouting aloud for his daughter Kate, or grumbling low at her giddy idleness in being absent at such a moment as that.
"Ay, Master Greenly, Master Greenly!" said the tapster--"it is May-day evening, remember. Pretty Kate has twenty lads courting her by this time, if you could but see. I should not wonder if she and young Harland were kissing and making-up behind the church, at this moment."
"Not they," replied the host; "it will take her a fortnight to get over that matter. Kate's a silly girl, she could'nt do better for herself than young Harland. Why his father, old Ralph, is as rich as an abbey, and as hospitable as a county knight; his table is never without a pie or a pasty from ten in the morning till vespers, and there's ale for whoever chooses to draw it. I would sooner be a franklin in these days than a baron by half. Run out, Bessy, and see if you can find Kate anywhere."
In the meanwhile, after some conversation on the green at the door of the inn, the lords had taken possession of the little room of common reception, while their chambers were prepared for sleeping; and a cook, who had been brought with the party, established himself in the kitchen, and, aided by his own particular assistant, or knave, as he called him, together with two women belonging to the household of John Greenly, was preparing a supper for his masters from all that he could lay hands on in the place, in addition to a large body of capons, young ducks, and pigeons, which, as well as spices and other rich condiments, had been brought thither on two sumpter horses. The scanty number of personages assembled in the little hall, indeed, did not justify the great profusion of good things which the cook was so busily concocting, but he very prudently considered that he himself was to be fed as well as the host, to whom, in case of civility and obedience, he made a point of extending his bounties, and that all the chief servants of the different gentlemen present, with his special favourites and friends in the retinue of his own master, would also expect to be regaled, at least as well as their several lords.
To that master and his companions, however--amounting, in the whole, to the number of ten personages--we must now turn; but it is only of four, out of the whole party, that we shall give any particular description, having already said enough of Richard de Ashby, and the five others being gentlemen, whose history, though mixed up in some degree with the fate of those we are most interested in, did not affect it so immediately as to require us to present a minute portrait of each to the eye of the reader.
The Earl of Ashby himself was a man considerably past the prime of life, and of what was then called a choleric temperament, which does not alone mean that he was hot in temper and disposition, but that he was constitutionally so. Age, indeed, had in some degree tamed his fiery blood; and a good deal of indulgence in the pleasures of the table, with no great distaste for good old wine of any country, had tended to enfeeble him more than even time had done.
He had still a great opinion of his own importance, however, and looked upon his skill in arms, wisdom in council, and judgment in matters of taste, as by no means inferior to the first in the land; and, to say the truth, when once upon his horse's back, and armed at all points, he would bide a blow, or lead a charge, with any man, although his knees bent somewhat under him when on foot, and he was glad enough to be freed from the weight of his armour as soon as possible. His judgment, too, was a sound one when not biassed by passion, though there was a certain degree of wavering unsteadiness in his character, proceeding more from temper than from weakness of mind, which rendered him an insecure ally in trying circumstances. He piqued himself much upon being just, too, but like many other people who do so, his justice had almost always a tinge of prejudice in it, and was in fact but a perception of specious arguments in favour of the side that he espoused.
His son, Alured de Ashby, resembled his father in many points; but many of his mother's qualities entered into his character likewise. The old Earl had married a foreigner, a sister of the King of Minorca--kingdoms being, in those days, very often but small things. Her dowry had been in proportion to her brother's territory; but to her husband she brought an accession of dignity, and increased his pride by her own. That pride was, perhaps, her only bad quality, for a strong and pertinacious determination of character, which she also possessed, was, of course, good or bad according to the direction in which it was guided. She, herself, being of a fine mind, and a high-spirited though tender heart, had employed the resolute firmness of which we speak to struggle against the misfortunes that beset her father and her brother during her early years, and to give them support and strength in resisting a torrent which seemed destined to sweep them away.
Her son, however, nurtured in prosperity, and pampered by praises and indulgence, possessed her pride in its full force, without the mitigating influence of her kindness and tenderness of heart; and, neither having so good a judgment, nor such high motives, as herself, what was firmness in her became obstinacy in him--an obstinacy of a harsh and unpleasant kind. He was by no means without talents, indeed,--was as stout a man-at-arms as ever sat in the saddle, had a natural taste and genius for war, and had distinguished himself in many of the expeditions, or chevauchées, of the time. He was a high and honourable man, too, kept his word strictly, wronged no one but through pride, and was generous and liberal of his purse. Thus he was esteemed and respected more than liked, and was more popular with his inferiors than with his equals.
One knightly quality, it is true, he wanted. He cared little for love, there being only one person in the world, after his mother's death, for whom he ever felt anything like real tenderness. That person was his sister. She was nine years younger than himself; he had held her on his knee when she was an infant; she had been a plaything to him in her childhood, and an object of interest during her whole life. Perhaps the reason that he so loved her was, that she was the very reverse of himself in all respects: gentle, yet gay, and lively almost to wildness; tenderhearted, clinging, and affectionate, yet with a spice of saucy independence withal, which often set rules and regulations at defiance, and laughed at anger which she knew would fall but lightly on her head.
As we shall have to speak more of her hereafter, however, we will now turn to another of our group, and talk of the good Earl, whose trusty man, Blawket, we have already introduced to the reader's notice. Hugh, Lord of Monthermer, or Mo'thermer, as it was generally pronounced--and whom, as his name is not a very musical one, we shall more frequently call "the Earl"--was in the fifty-ninth or sixtieth year of his age; and--as he had seen many perils by land and sea, had been in wars against the heathen, both in Spain and Palestine, and had spent the greater part of his life in the tented field, and on the battle plain--his frame was somewhat worn and shaken, though he had once well merited the name which had been bestowed upon him in early years, when people, from the hardships which he endured unshrinkingly, had called him Iron Monthermer. He was still strong and powerful, however--though gaunt and meagre; a brown tint of health was upon his face, and the light of clear and strong intelligence was in his eye. His features were aquiline, and somewhat harsh, his chin prominent, his brow strongly marked, and his forehead high and capacious, with his white hair lying lightly upon it, like snow upon a mountain. Notwithstanding several defects in point of beauty, and a sternness of outline in almost every feature, there was something uncommonly pleasing, as well as striking, in the whole expression of his countenance, and one read there kindness of heart, as well as firmness and decision of character. He was habited richly enough, but not gorgeously so; and, though not what was considered armed in those days, he carried more weapons, but of a different sort, about his person than is required for any modern trooper.
The fourth person, of whose appearance we shall now give some account, was the young man who had ridden forward to speak with Ralph Harland, Hugh de Monthermer by name, but commonly called by all who knew him, "The Lord Hugh." He was the only nephew of the Earl, and presumptive heir to his title and estates. At the same time, however, he was altogether independent of his uncle, being the son of that James de Monthermer, who was summoned to parliament in the first year of the reign of Henry the Third, as Baron Amesbury, having married the heiress of that ancient house. His father had long been dead; and as he had received his military education under his uncle, he still attached himself to that nobleman--respecting him as a parent, and treated by him as a son. He was some four or five years younger than Alured de Ashby, but had nevertheless gained considerable renown in arms, both under his uncle, and in service, which he had taken for a time with the King of Castile, in order to win his knightly spurs with honour. In person, he somewhat resembled the Earl, though he was taller, and his features were both softened by youth, and were smaller in themselves. His complexion was of a dark, warm brown, his hair short and curling, his hazel eyes full of light and fire, and a frank, but somewhat sarcastic smile, playing frequently about his well-cut lip. On the whole, it is seldom that a handsomer face meets the eye, and his countenance well expressed the spirit within, which was gay and cheerful, but none the less thoughtful and imaginative. There might be a slight touch of satirical sharpness in his disposition, which often prompted a laugh or a jest at any of the many follies that an observing eye, in all ages, and all states of society, must meet at every turn. But a kind heart and a well regulated mind taught him to repress, rather than to encourage such a disposition, and it seldom broke forth unless the absurdity was very gross.
In those ages it was rare to find a man in his station who possessed even a very low degree of learning. To read and write was an accomplishment, and anything like elegance of composition, or a knowledge of classical lore, was hardly, if ever, dreamt of. In these respects, however, circumstances had given Hugh de Monthermer an advantage over many of his contemporaries. Various foreign languages he had acquired in following his uncle; and having been crushed and nearly killed, by his horse falling in one of the passes of the Taurus, he had been left for several months in a convent amongst the mountains, while broken bones were set, and health restored, by the skill of the monks. There, some of the friars, more learned than the rest, had taken a pleasure in solacing his weary hours, by communicating to him what was then considered a rich store of knowledge. With a quick and intelligent mind, he had thus gained, not only much information at the time, but a taste for reading, which in after years excited some envy, and called forth many a scoff from others, who had themselves no inclination for any exercises but those of the body.
Amongst these was Alured de Ashby, who affected to hold his military talents cheap, and called him a book-worm; but, nevertheless, Hugh de Monthermer quietly pursued his course, although, to say the truth, for reasons of his own, he was not a little anxious to gain the friendship of the house of Ashby, which during many years had been separated from his own by one of those fierce and bloody feuds that so often existed in those days between the noble families of the land. The reconciliation of the two houses had been but lately effected, and could scarcely yet be called cordial, though the bond of party feeling brought them frequently into long and intimate communication with each other.
The dress of the young Lord was not so homely as that of his uncle; there might, indeed, be a little foppery in it; for though the colours were dark, yet the embroidery which appeared in every part was rich and costly, and the long and hanging sleeves of the loose coat he wore, was in itself one of the distinguishing marks of a petit maître of that day. Into the extreme, however, he did not go: there was no long and braided hair, there were no devils, and angels, and cupids, hanging over his head on a fanciful hood; but instead of that most ugly part of our ancient garments, he wore a cap or hat, a mode then common in Flanders and in Italy, with a long feather crossing from right to left, and nearly touching his shoulder. With the exception of the loose tunic, or gown, all the rest of his dress fitted as closely as possible, leaving nothing to embarrass the free action of his limbs, except, indeed, the long points of his shoes, which, though very moderate for that period, were certainly not less than twenty inches longer than necessary.
The rest of the party was composed of several noblemen, wealthy and powerful, but of less distinction than the two Earls we have mentioned, and evidently looking up to them as to their leaders; and besides these, was a distant cousin of the Earl of Monthermer, brought, as it were, to balance the presence of Richard de Ashby, though, to say the truth, if he more than outweighed that gentleman in wealth and respectability, he was very much his inferior in cunning and talents.
As a matter of course, the events which had just taken place upon the green formed the first subject of conversation with the personages assembled in the inn. The younger men only laughed over the occurrence. "You must get some fair lady to darn the hole in your hood, Richard," said the Lord Alured.
"I wonder," added another of the young noblemen, "that the arrow did not carry away one of those soft tresses."
"It might well have been called Scathelock, then," observed a third.
"It only disturbed a little of the perfume," rejoined Alured. The elder gentleman, however, treated the matter more seriously. The Earl of Ashby rated his kinsman with an angry brow for his licentiousness, and represented to him with great justice the evil of nobles bringing themselves into bad repute with the people.
"Do you not know," he said, "that at the present moment, between the king and his foreign minions on the one hand, and the people on the other, the English noblemen have to make their choice?--and, of course, it is by the people that we must stand. They are our support, and our strength, and we must avoid in all things giving them just cause of complaint. Scathelock?--Scathelock?--I have heard that name."
"You must have heard if often, my father," said Alured de Ashby. "It is the name of one of our good forest outlaws of Sherwood. I have seen the man twice in the neighbourhood of our own place, and though I did not mark this fellow with the arrow much, he has the same look and air."
"Seen him twice, and did not arrest him?" cried Richard de Ashby, with marked emphasis.
"Heaven forefend!" exclaimed Alured laughing. "What, arrest a good English yeoman, on account of a taste for the King's venison! If Harry would throw open his forests to us, and not give to proud Frenchmen and Spaniards rights that he denies to his English nobles, we might help him in such matters; but as it is, no free-forester shall ever be arrested by our people, or on our land."
The Earl of Monthermer and his nephew had both been silent, leaving the rebuke of Richard de Ashby to his own relations; for they well knew the jealousy of the nobles with whom they were leagued, and were anxious to avoid every matter of offence. The poor kinsman, however, had established a right to sneer even at the proud Earl of Ashby and his no less haughty son, upon grounds which at first sight would seem to afford no basis for such a privilege. His poverty and partial dependence upon them had taught them to endure much at his hands which they would have borne from no other man on earth; and he, keen-sighted in taking advantage of the higher as well as the lower qualities of all those he had to do with, failed not to render their forbearance a matter of habit, by frequently trying it as far as he dared to venture.
"Forgive an old proverb, Alured," he replied, "but you know, it is said, that 'fowls of a feather flock together.' Perhaps, as you love forest thieves so well, you have no distaste for the King's venison yourself?"
"An unlucky proverb for you, Richard," said the young lord, while his father's cheek got somewhat red; "if what we have heard be true, the fowls you flock with are not quite those that suit our present purposes."
"What you have heard!" exclaimed Richard de Ashby, turning somewhat pale. "If you have heard aught against me," he added, after an instant's thought, turning at the same time towards Hugh de Monthermer, and bowing low, "I know to what noble hands I may trace it."
"You are mistaken, sir," said Hugh, sternly. "Respect for these two noble lords, your kinsmen, has made me eager that no charge should be brought against you by any of our people. Of this they are well aware."
"And they are aware also," added the Earl, "that both I and my nephew declared from the first that we believe you utterly innocent of all knowledge of the fact, even if it should prove to be true."
"What fact?" demanded Richard, in a low tone, and with a wandering eye, which did not produce a very favourable impression on the minds Of those who observed his countenance. "What fact, my lord?--but any charge brought by a Monthermer, or one of a Monthermer's followers, against an Ashby; should be viewed with some slight caution, methinks."
"Certainly!" said Alured de Ashby, in a marked tone.
But to the surprise of both, the Earl of Monthermer added likewise, "Certainly!--Old feuds, even after they are happily laid at rest," he continued, calmly, "will leave rankling suspicions, especially in the minds of the low and the uneducated, and such I doubt not may be, in some degree at least, the origin of a charge to which I would not have listened for a moment, if it had not been that my good lord and friend here, who was present when it was made this morning, insisted that it should be inquired into.--The charge is this, sir, that you have with you, disguised as one of your servants, a spy of the King's. This accusation was brought by my good yeoman, Blawket, who vows he saw that man with you when I sent him to meet you and others here but a few days ago.--Sir, you seem agitated, and I know that such a charge must necessarily affect any gentleman deeply; but my Lord of Ashby here present is well aware that, from the first, I declared my conviction of your innocence of all share in the transaction."
"I assure you, my lord,--on my honour, gentlemen believe me," cried Richard de Ashby, hesitating, "it is not true--the man is a liar!"
"No, Sir Richard, no," said Hugh de Monthermer at once, "the man is no liar, but as honest a yeoman as ever lived. You may have been deceived, Sir Richard," he added, with a slight smile curling his lip; "we are all of us subject to be deceived, occasionally. Blawket may have been deceived, too; but that I should say may soon be proved, for he declares that the leopards of Henry of Winchester will be found upon the breast of your servant, Richard Keen."
"Fool!" muttered Richard de Ashby to himself, but at the same moment his kinsman, the Earl, exclaimed, "Let him be sent for--let him be sent for!"
"I will call him immediately," said Richard de Ashby, turning towards the door; "but I declare, so help me Heaven! if this man have ever been in the King's service, it is more than I know."
"Stay, stay, Richard!" exclaimed the Lord Alured. "Let some one else go and call him, and let no word be said to him of the matter in hand."
"Do you doubt me, my lord?" demanded his kinsman, turning upon him with a frowning brow. "If I am to have no support from my own relations----"
"An honest man needs no support, sir, but his own honesty," said Lord Alured, interrupting him. "Not that I doubt thee, Richard," he continued; "but I would fain have thee tell me how that fellow came into thy service, while some one else calls him hither. Sir Charles Le Moore, I pr'ythee bid them send hither this Richard Keen. Now, good cousin, tell us how this man came to thee, for he is not one of our own people born, that is evident. Richard Keen! I never heard the name."
"How he came to me, matters not much to the question," replied Richard de Ashby. "I hired him in London. I was told he was a serviceable knave, had been in France and Almaine, and--but here comes Sir Charles Le Moore. Have you not found him?"--and as he spoke he fixed his eyes eagerly, but with a dark smile, upon the face of the gentleman who entered, as if some anticipations of triumph had crossed his mind.
"The people have gone to seek him," said Sir Charles; "he is somewhere about the green, and it is growing dark; so I let them go, as I know not the place."
A moment or two elapsed, but before the conversation could be generally renewed, one of the attendants of the Earl of Ashby appeared at the door, bringing intelligence that Richard Keen was nowhere to be found, and that his horse and saddle-bags had disappeared also.
The kinsman of the Earl of Ashby affected to be furious at the news--"The villain has robbed me of the horse," he said, "and, doubtless, of other things also. My lord," he continued, tuning to the Earl of Monthermer, "I beg your pardon; doubtless your servant was right, and this man has fled, having obtained same intimation of the charge against him. Did any of you see him go?" he added, addressing the servant who had appeared.
"No, sir," replied the yeoman. "We were all upon the green, for it must have been, while these noble lords were talking with you, before they came in, that he went away. The host saw him go toward the stable, just before the arrow was shot that stuck in your hood."
Richard de Ashby frowned, for the man's tone was certainly not the most respectful. But before any observation could be made, a noise and bustle was heard without, which suspended the reply upon the lips of the Earl's kinsman; and the next moment, the landlord himself, with his full round face on fire with anger and grief, pushed his way into the room, exclaiming--"Noble lords and gentlemen, I claim justice and help. They have taken away my daughter from me--they have corrupted and carried off my poor Kate.--You, sir, you are at the bottom of this!" he continued, turning furiously to Richard de Ashby. "I have seen your whisperings and your talkings!--My good lords and gentlemen, I claim justice and assistance."
"How now!" cried Richard de Ashby, in as fierce a tone as his own, but not quite so natural a one. "Dare you say that I have anything to do with this? Your light-o'-love daughter has made mischief enough to-night already. Let us hear no more of her. Doubtless you will find her in some cottage, if not in the woods, with her lover, trying to make up by courtesies for her fickle conduct of this morning."
"No, sir--no, no, no!" replied the host, vehemently; "she is in neither of those places! She was seen, some half an hour ago, going out at the end of the village with your servant beside her; and a boy says that he found a black mare tied to a tree not a quarter of a mile along the road. Gentlemen, I pray you do me right, and suffer not my child to be taken from me in this way by any one, be he gentle or simple."
"Was your daughter going willingly!" demanded the Earl of Ashby.
"I know not, sir--I know not!" cried the host, wringing his hands; "all I know is, they have taken her, and I am sure this is the man who has caused it to be done."
"I know nothing of her, fellow!" replied Richard de Ashby. "You must hold your daughter's beauty very high to suppose that I would take the trouble of having her carried off."
"Why, Richard, you are not scrupulous," said his cousin.
"London and Winchester," cried another gentleman, with a laugh, "are indebted to him for many a fair importation, I believe."
"His taste lies amongst country wenches," added a third. And notwithstanding the misery of the injured father, a great deal of merriment and jesting was the first effect produced by the complaint of the host.
"If this tale be true," said Hugh de Monthermer, who had been looking down with a frowning brow, "I would strongly advise Sir Richard de Ashby to mount his horse, put his spurs to the flanks, and not draw a rein till he is safe in Nottingham. There be people about this neighbourhood who are likely to render such a course expedient."
"I shall do no such thing, sir," replied Richard de Ashby; "this good man's suspicions are false as far as they regard me, though it is not at all improbable that the knave, Keen, who has, it seems, deceived me--and is a good-looking varlet, moreover has played the fool with a buxom light-headed country wench, whose cheek I may once or twice have pinched for lack of something better to do."
"Such being the case, my Lord of Ashby," said the Earl, drily, "as your kinsman has nought to do with the affair, and as this servant of his has cheated and robbed him, injured this good man, and is suspected of being a spy--by your leave, I will send some of my people after him without farther delay. Without there! Is Blawket to be found?"
"Here, my lord," replied the man, standing forward as upright as a lance and as stiff as a collar of brawn, from amidst a group of six or seven servants, who were all discussing as vehemently on the one side of the door the events which had just taken place as their masters were on the other.
"Mount in a minute," said the Earl of Monthermer. "Take with you three of your fellows whose horses are the freshest; follow this Richard Keen, from the best information you call get, and bring him hither with all speed, together with the girl he has carried off."
"Shall I beat him, my lord?" asked the yeoman.
"Not unless he resists," replied the Earl; "but bring him dead or alive, and use all means to get information of his road."
"I will bring him, my lord," replied Blawket, and retired, followed by the host, who ceased not, till the man was in the saddle, to give him hints as to finding his daughter, mingled with lamentations over fate and praises of the house of Monthermer.
"Now," said the Earl, when they were alone, "let us speak of more important things;" but it being announced that supper was well-nigh ready, the Earl of Ashby, who had an affection for the good things of this life, proposed that any farther conversation should be put off till after that meal. The other Earl, knowing that his placability depended much upon the condition of his stomach, agreed to the suggestion; and after the ceremony of washing hands had been performed, the supper was served and passed over as such proceedings usually did in those days, with huge feeding on the part of several present, and much jesting on the part of the younger men. A good deal of wine was also drank, notwithstanding a caution from the Earl of Monthermer to be moderate. But moderation was little known at that time. Malvoisie was added to Bordeaux, and the spiced wine, then called claret, succeeded the Malvoisie; a cup of hippocras was handed round to sweeten the claret, and the Earl of Ashby fell asleep at the very moment the conference should have begun.
