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diff --git a/old/17012.txt b/old/17012.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..535f9ba --- /dev/null +++ b/old/17012.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10557 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The House of Walderne, by A. D. Crake + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The House of Walderne + A Tale of the Cloister and the Forest in the Days of the Barons' Wars + +Author: A. D. Crake + +Release Date: November 5, 2005 [EBook #17012] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE *** + + + + +Produced by Martin Robb + + + + + +THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE + +A Tale of the Cloister and the Forest in the Days of the Barons' Wars + +by the Reverend A. D. Crake + + + +Preface. +Prologue. +Chapter 1: The Knight And Squire. +Chapter 2: Michelham Priory. +Chapter 3: Kenilworth. +Chapter 4: In the Greenwood. +Chapter 5: Martin Leaves Kenilworth. +Chapter 6: At Walderne Castle. +Chapter 7: Martin's First Day At Oxford. +Chapter 8: Hubert At Lewes Priory. +Chapter 9: The Other Side Of The Picture. +Chapter 10: Foul And Fair. +Chapter 11: The Early Franciscans. +Chapter 12: How Hubert Gained His Spurs. +Chapter 13: How Martin Gained His Desire. +Chapter 14: May Day In Lewes. +Chapter 15: The Crusader Sets Forth. +Chapter 16: Michelham Once More. +Chapter 17: The Castle Of Fievrault. +Chapter 18: The Retreat Of The Outlaws. +Chapter 19: The Preaching Friar. +Chapter 20: The Old Man Of The Mountain. +Chapter 21: To Arms! To Arms! +Chapter 22: A Medieval Tyrant. +Chapter 23: Saved As By Fire. +Chapter 24: Before The Battle. +Chapter 25: The Battle Of Lewes. +Chapter 26: After The Battle. +Epilogue. +Notes. + + + +Preface. + + +It is not without pleasure that the author presents this, the +twelfth of his series of historical novelettes, to his friends and +readers; the characters, real and imaginary, are very dear to him; +they have formed a part of his social circle for some two years +past, and if no one else should believe in Sir Hubert of Walderne +and Brother Martin, the author assuredly does. It was during a +pleasant summer holiday that the plan of this little work was +conceived: the author was taking temporary duty at Waldron in +Sussex, during the absence of its vicar--the Walderne of our story, +formerly so called, a lovely village situated on the southern slope +of that range of low hills which extends from Hastings to Uckfield, +and which formed the backbone of the Andredsweald. In the depths of +a wood below the vicarage he found the almost forgotten site of the +old Castle of Walderne, situate in a pathless thicket, and only +approachable through the underwood. The moat was still there, +although at that time destitute of water, the space within +completely occupied by trees and bushes, where once all the bustle +and life of a medieval household was centred. + +The author felt a strong interest in the spot; he searched in the +Sussex Archaeological Collections for all the facts he could gather +together about this forgotten family: he found far more information +than he had hoped to gain, especially in an article contributed by +the Reverend John Ley, a former vicar of Waldron. He also made +himself familiar with the topography of the neighbourhood, and +prepared to make the old castle the chief scene of his next story, +and to revivify the dry dust so far as he was able. + +In a former story, the Andredsweald, a tale of the Norman Conquest, +he wrote of "The House of Michelham," in the same locality, and he +has introduced one of the descendants of that earlier family, in +the person of Friar Martin, thinking it might prove a link of +interest to the readers of the earlier story. + +He had intended to incorporate more of the general history of the +time, but space forbade, so he can only recommend his readers who +are curious to know more of the period to the Life of Simon de +Montfort, by Canon Creighton {1}, which will serve well to +accompany the novelette. And also those who wish to know more of +the loving and saintly Francis of Assisi, will find a most +excellent biography by Mrs. Oliphant, in Macmillan's Sunday +Library, to which the author also acknowledges great obligations. + +If it be objected, as it probably may, that the author's +Franciscans are curiously like the early Wesleyans, or in some +respects even like a less respectable body of modern religionists, +he can only reply "so they were;" but there was this great +difference, that they deeply realised the sacramental system of the +Church, and led people to her, not from her; the preacher was never +allowed to supersede the priest. + +But, on the other hand, it may reasonably be objected that Brother +Martin only exhibits one side of the religion of his period; that +there is an unaccountable absence of the popular superstitions of +the age in his teaching; and that, more especially, he does not +invoke the saints as a friar would naturally have done again and +again. + +Now, the author does not for a moment deny that Martin must have +shared in the common belief of his time; but such things were not +of the essence of his teaching, only the accidental accompaniments +thereof. The prominent feature of the preaching of the early +Franciscans was, as was that of St. Paul, Jesus Christ and Him +crucified. And in a book intended primarily for young readers of +the Church of England, it is perhaps allowable to suppress features +which would perplex youthful minds before they have the power of +discriminating between the chaff and the wheat; while it is not +thereby intended to deny that they really existed. The objectionable +side of the teaching of the medieval Church of England has been +dwelt upon with such little charity, by certain Protestant writers, +that their youthful readers might be led to think that the religion +of their forefathers was but a mass of superstition, devoid of all +spiritual life, and therefore the author feels that it is better +to dwell upon the points of agreement between the fathers and the +children, than to gloat over "corruptions." + +In writing the chapters which describe medieval Oxford, the author +had the advantage of an ancient map, and of certain interesting +records of the thirteenth century, so that the picture of +scholastic life and of the conflicts of "north and south," etc. is +not simply imaginary portraiture. The earliest houses of education +in Oxford were doubtless the religious houses, beginning with the +Priory of Saint Frideswide, but schools appear to have speedily +followed, whose alumni lodged in such hostels as we have described +in "Le Oriole." The hall, so called (we are not answerable for the +non-elision of the vowel) was subsequently granted by Queen Eleanor +to one James de Hispania, from whom it was purchased for the new +college founded by Adam de Brom, and took the name of Oriel +College. + +Two other points in this family history may invite remark. It may +be objected that the Old Man of the Mountain is too atrocious for +belief. The author can only reply that he is not original; he met +the old man and all his doings long ago, in an almost forgotten +chronicle of the crusades, especially he noted the perversion of +boyish intellect to crime and cruelty. + +Lastly, in these days of incredulity, the supernatural element in +the story of Sir Roger of Walderne may appear forced or unreal. But +the incident is one of a class which has been made common property +by writers of fiction in all generations; it occurs at least thrice +in the Ingoldsby Legends; Sir Walter Scott gives a terrible +instance in his story of the Scotch judge haunted by the spectre of +the bandit he had sentenced to death {2}, which appears to be +founded on fact; and indeed the present narrative was suggested by +one of Washington Irving's short stories, read by the writer when a +boy at school. + +Whether such appearances, of which there are so many authentic +instances, be objective or subjective--the creation of the +sufferer's remorse--they are equally real to the victim. + +But the author will no longer detain the reader from the story +itself, only dedicating it to the kind friends he met at Waldron +during his summer holiday in eighteen hundred and eighty-three. + + + +Prologue. + + +It was an ancient castle, all of the olden time; down in a deep +dell, sheltered by uplands north, east, and west; looking south +down the valley to the Sussex downs, which were seen in the hazy +distance uplifting their graceful outlines to the blue sky, across +a vast canopy of treetops; beneath whose shade the wolf and the +wildcat, the badger and the fox, yet roamed at large, and preyed +upon the wild deer and the lesser game. It bore the name of +Walderne, which signifies a sylvan spot frequented by the wild +beasts; the castle lay beneath; the parish church rose on the +summit of the ridge above--a simple Norman structure, imposing in +its very simplicity. + +Behind, the ground rose gradually to the summit of the ridge--which +formed a sort of backbone to the Andredsweald. The ridge was then, +as now, surmounted by a windmill, belonging then to the lords of +the castle, where all his tenants and retainers were compelled to +grind their corn. It commanded a beautiful view of sea and land; a +hostelry stood near the summit, it was called the Cross in Hand, +for it was once the rendezvous of the would-be crusaders, who, from +various parts of the Weald, took the sacred badge, and started for +the distant East via Winchelsea or Pevensey. + +In the deep dark wood were many settlements and clearings; Walderne +was perhaps the wildest, as its name implies; around lay +Chiddinglye, once the abode of the Saxon offspring of Chad or Chid; +Hellinglye (Ella-inga-leah), the home of the sons of Ella, of whom +we have written before; Heathfield and Framfield on opposite sides, +open heaths in the wood, covered with heather and sparsely peopled; +Mayfield to the north, once the abode of the great Saint Dunstan, +and the scene of his conflicts with Satan; Hothly to the south, +where, at the date of our tale, lived the Hodleghs, an Anglo-Norman +brood. + +The Lord of Walderne was Ralph, son of Sybilla de Dene (West Dean) +and Robert of Icklesham (near Winchelsea). He was blessed, or +cursed, as the case might be, with three children; Roger, Sybil, +and Mabel. + +The old man came of a stern fighting stock: what wonder that his +son inherited his character in this respect. He was a wilful yet +affectionate lad of strong passions, one who might be led but never +driven: unfortunately his father did not read his character aright, +and at length a crisis arose. + +Roger wooed the daughter of the neighbouring Lord of Hothly, but +found a rival in a cousin, one Waleran de Dene, a favourite of his +father, and a constant visitor at Walderne Castle. In those rude +days the solution of the difficulty seemed simple--to fight the +question out. The dead man would trouble neither lad nor lass any +more, the living lead the fair bride to church; and, sooth to say, +there were many misguided maidens who were proud to be fought for, +and quite willing to give their hand to the victor. + +So Roger challenged his cousin to fight when he met him returning +from a visit to Edith de Hodlegh, and the challenge being readily +accepted, the unhappy Waleran de Dene bit the dust. The old lord, +grieving sore over the death of his sister's son, drove Roger from +home and bade him never darken his doors again, till he had made +reparation by a pilgrimage or a crusade; and Roger departed, +mourned by his sisters and all the household, and was heard of no +more during his father's lifetime. + +But more grief was in store for the stern old lord of Walderne. The +third child, Mabel, the youngest daughter, fell in love with a +handsome young hunter, a Saxon outlaw of the type of Robin Hood, +who delivered her from a wild boar which would have slain or +cruelly mangled her. The old father had inspired no confidence in +his children: she met her outlaw again and again by stealth, and +eventually became the bride of Wulfstan, last representative of the +old English family who had possessed Michelham before the Conquest +{3}. + +The remaining child, Sybil, alone gladdened her old father's heart +and closed his eyes, weary of the world, in peace; after which she +married Sir Nicholas de Harengod, and became Lady of Icklesham, by +the sea, and Walderne up in the Weald. + +The castle was originally one of those robber dens which were such +a terror to their vicinities in the days of King Stephen; it +escaped the general destruction of such holds under Henry +Plantagenet, and became the abode of law-abiding folk. + +It had long ceased to be a source of terror to the neighbourhood +when it came into the possession of the Denes--to whom it was a +convenient hunting seat; fortified, as a matter of course, by royal +permission, which ran thus: + +"Know that we have granted, on behalf of ourselves and our heirs, +to our beloved Ralph de Dene that he may hold and keep his houses +of Walderne fortified with moat and walls of stone and lime, and +crenellated, without any let or hindrance from ourselves or our +heirs." + +This permission was made necessary in the time of the great +Plantagenet, in order to prevent the multiplication of fortified +places of offence as well as defence by tyrannical barons or other +oppressors of the commonwealth; for in the days of Stephen, as we +have remarked already, many, if not most, of such holds had been +little better than dens of robbers, as the piteous lament which +concludes the "Anglo-Saxon Chronicle" too well testifies. + +The space enclosed by the moat and outer walls of Walderne Castle +was about 150 feet in diameter. + +The old lord died in the arms of his remaining daughter Sybil, +without seeking any reconciliation with his other children--in fact +Roger was lost to sight--upon her head he concentrated the +benediction which should have been divided amongst the three. + +She married Sir Nicholas of Harengod, near the sea, and was happy +in her choice. She built a chapel within the castle precincts, and +her prayer for permission to do so yet remains recorded: + +"That it may be allowed me to have a chapel in my castle of +Walderne, at my own expense, to be served by the parish priest as +chaplain; without either font or bell." + +It was granted upon the condition that to avoid any appearance of +schism, she should attend the parish church in state with her whole +household thrice in the year. + +Six Hundred Years Ago: they have all been dead and buried these six +centuries; a dense wood, within which the moat can be traced, +covers the site of Sybil's castle and chapel, yet in these old +records they seem to live again. A sojourner for a brief summer +holiday amidst their former haunts--the same yet so changed--the +writer has striven to revivify the dry bones, and to make the +family live again in the story he now presents to his readers. + + + +Chapter 1: The Knight And Squire. + + +The opening scene of our tale is a wild tract of common land, +interspersed with forest and heath, which lies northward at the +foot of the eastern range of the Sussex downs. The time is the year +of grace twelve hundred and fifty and three; the month a cold and +seasonable January. The wild heath around is crisp with frost and +white with snow, it appears a dense solitude; away to the east lies +the town of Hamelsham, or Hailsham; to the west the downs about +Lewes; to the south, at a short distance, one sees the lofty towers +and monastic buildings of a new and thriving community, surrounded +by a broad and deep moat; to the north copse wood, brake, heath, +dell, and dense forest, in various combinations and endless +variety, as far as the lodge of Cross in Hand, so called from the +crusaders who took the sacred sign in their hands, and started for +the earthly Jerusalem not so many years agone. + +Across this waste, as the dark night was falling, rode a knight and +his squire. The knight was a man of some fifty years of age, but +still strong, tall, and muscular; his dark features indicated his +southern blood, and an indescribable expression and manner told of +one accustomed to command. His face bore the traces of scars, +doubtless honourably gained; seen beneath a scarlet cap, lined with +steel, but trimmed with fur. A flexible coat of mail, so cunningly +wrought as to offer no more opposition to the movements of the +wearer than a greatcoat might nowadays, was covered with a thick +cloak or mantle, in deference to the severity of the weather; the +thighs were similarly protected by linked mail, and the hose and +boots defended by unworked plates of thin steel. In his girdle was +a dagger, and from the saddle depended, on one side, a huge +two-handed sword, on the other a gilded battle axe. + +It was, in short, a knight of the olden time, who thus travelled +through this dangerous country, alone with his squire, who bore his +master's lance and carried his small triangular shield, broad at +the summit to protect the breast, but thence diminishing to a +point. + +"Dost thou know, my Stephen, thy way through this desolate country? +for verily the traces of the road are but slight." + +"My lord, the night grows darker, and the air seems full of snow. +Had we not better return and seek shelter within the walls of +Hamelsham? I fear we have lost the way utterly, and shall never +reach Michelham Priory tonight." + +"Nay, the motives that led me forth to face the storm still press +upon me, I must reach Michelham tonight." + +An angry hollow gust of wind almost impeded his further progress as +he spoke, and choked his utterance. + +"An inhospitable reception England affords us, after an absence of +so many years. Methinks I like Gascony the better in regard to +climate." + +"For five happy years have I followed thy banner there, my lord." + +"Yet I love England better, foreign although my blood, or I had +thought more of the French king's offer." + +"It was a noble offer, my lord." + +"To be regent of an unquiet realm while my revered suzerain and +friend, Louis, went upon his crusade--mark me, Stephen, England has +higher destinies than France; this land is fated to be the mother +of a race of freemen such as once ruled the world from Rome of old. +The union of the long hostile races, Norman and English, is +producing a people which shall in time rule the world; and if I can +do aught to help to lay the foundation of such a polity as befits +the union, please God, I shall feel well repaid: in short, +Leicester is a dearer name to me than Montfort; England than +France." + +"Thy noble father, my lord, adorned the latter country." + +"God grant he has not left an inheritance of judgment to his +children; the cries of the slaughtered Albigenses ever rang in my +poor mother's ears, and ring too often in mine." + +"I have never heard the story fairly told." + +"Thou shalt now. The land where they spoke the language of Oc, +thence called Langue-d'oc, was hardly a part of France; it had its +own government, its own usages, as well as its own sweet tongue. It +was lovely as the garden of the Lord ere the serpent entered +therein; the soil was fruitful, the corn and wine and oil abundant. +The people were unlike other people; they cared little for war, +they wrote books and made love on the banks of the Rhone and +Garonne. + +"Well had they stopped here, and not taken liberties" (here the +knight crossed himself) "with the Church. Intercourse with +Mussulmen and Greeks--who alike came to the marts--corrupted them, +and they became unbelievers, so that even the children in their +play mocked at the Church and Sacraments. In short, it was said +they were Manicheans." + +"What is that?" + +"People who believe that the powers of good and evil are co-equal +and co-eternal, that both God and the devil are to be worshipped. +At least this was laid to their charge; I know not if it be all +true. + +"Well, the Church appealed for help to the chivalry of France; she +declared the goods and possessions of this unfortunate people +confiscate to them who should seize them, and offered heaven to +those who died in battle against them. Now these poor wretches +could write love songs and were clever at all kinds of art, but +they could not fight. My father was chosen to head the new crusade; +and even he was shocked at the murderous scenes, the massacres, the +burnings, which followed--God forbid I should ever witness the +like--they were blotted out from the earth." + +The storm which had been gathering all this time now burst in its +full violence upon our travellers. Blinding flakes of snow, borne +with all the force of the wind, seemed to overwhelm them; soon the +tracks which alone marked the way became obliterated, and the +riders wandered aimlessly for more than an hour. + +"What shall we do, Stephen? I have lost every trace of the way; my +poor beast threatens to give up." + +"I know not, my lord." + +"Ah, the Saints be praised, there is a light close at hand. It +shines clear and distinct--now it is shut out." + +"A door or window must have been opened and closed again." + +"So I deem, but this is the direction," said the knight as he +turned his horse's head northwards. + +Let us precede knight and squire and see what awaited them. + +Upon a spot of firm ground, free from swamp, and clear for about +the area of a couple of acres, stood a few primitive buildings: +there was a barn, a cow shed, a few huts in which men slept but did +not live, and a central building wherein the whole community, when +at home, assembled to eat the king's venison, and wash it down with +ale, mead, and even wine--the latter probably the proceeds of a +successful forage. + +Darkness is falling without and the snowflakes fall thicker and +thicker--it yet wants three hours to curfew--but the woods are +quite buried in the sombre gloom of a starless night. The central +building is evidently well lighted, for we see the firelight +through many chinks in the ill-built walls ere we enter, although +they have daubed the interstices of the logs whereof it is composed +with clay and mud almost as adhesive as mortar. Let us go in--the +door opens. + +A huge fire burns in the centre of the building, and the smoke +ascends in clouds through an opening in the roof, directly above, +down which the snowflakes descend and hiss as they meet their death +in the ruddy flames. Three poles are suspended over the fire, and +from the point where they unite descends an iron chain, suspending +a large caldron or pot. + +Oh, what a savoury smell! the woods have been ransacked, that their +tenants, who possess succulent and juicy flesh, may contribute to +appease the hunger of the outlaws--bird and beast are there, and +soon will be beautifully cooked. Nor are edible herbs wanting, such +at least as can be gathered in the woods or grown in the small plot +of cultivated ground around the buildings; which the men leave +entirely, as do all semi-savage races, to the care of the women. + +There is plenty of room to sit round this fire, and several men, +besides women and boys, are basking in its warmth--some sit on +three-legged stools, some cross-legged on the floor--and amidst +them, with a charming absence of restraint, are many huge-jawed +dogs, who slobber as they smell the fumes from the pot, or utter an +impatient whine from time to time. + +Their chieftain, a man of no small importance judging from his +dress and manner, sits on the seat of honour, a species of chair, +the only one in the building, and is perhaps the most notable man +of the party. He is tall of stature, his limbs those of a giant, +his fist ponderous as a sledge hammer; a tunic of skins confined +around the waist by a belt of untanned leather, in which is stuck a +hunting knife, adorns his upper story: short breeches of skin, and +leggings, with the undressed fur of a fox outside, complete his +bedecking. + +A loud barking of dogs was heard, then a trampling of horses; some +looked astonished, others rose to their feet, and opening the door +looked out into the storm. + +"What folk hast thou got there, Kynewulf?" + +"Some travellers I met outside as I was returning home from the +chase, having got caught in the storm myself," replied a gruff +voice; "they had seen our light, but were trying in vain to get +into our nest." + +"How many?" + +"Two, a knight and a squire." + +"Bring them in, in God's name; all are welcome tonight. + +"But for all that," said he, sotto voce, "it may be easier to get +in than out." + +A brief pause, the horses were stabled, the guests entered. + +"We have come to crave your hospitality," said the knight. + +"It is free to all--sit you down, and in a few minutes the women +will serve the supper." + +They seated themselves--no names were asked, a few remarks were +made upon that subject which interests all Englishmen so deeply +even now--the weather. + +"Hast travelled far?" asked the chieftain. + +"Only from Pevensey; we sought Michelham, but in the storm we must +have wandered miles from it." + +"Many miles," said a low, sweet voice. + +The knight then noticed the woman for the first time--he might have +said lady--who sat on the right of this grim king. Her features and +bearing were so superior to her surroundings that he started, as +men do when they spy a rich flower in a garden of herbs. By her +side was a boy, evidently her son, for he had her dark features, so +unlike the general type around. + +"How came such folk here?" thought De Montfort. + +The meal was at length served, the stew poured into wooden bowls; +no spoons or forks were provided. The fingers and the lips had to +do their work unaided, in that day, at least in the huts of the +peasantry. Bread, or rather baked corn cakes, were produced; herbs +floated in the soup for flavouring; vegetables, properly so called, +were there none. + +Many a time had our travellers partaken of rougher fare in their +campaigns, and they were well content with their food; so they ate +contentedly with good appetite. The wind howled without, the snow +found its way in through divers apertures, but the warmth of the +central fire filled the hovel. Their hosts produced a decoction of +honey, called mead, of which a little went a long way, and soon +they were all quite convivial. + +"Canst thou not sing a song, Stephen, like a gallant troubadour +from the land of the sunny south, to reward our hosts for their +entertainment?" + +And Stephen sang one of the touching amatory ballads which had +emanated so copiously from the unfortunate Albigenses of the land +of Oc. The sweet soft sounds charmed, although the hosts understood +not their meaning. + +"And now, my lad, have not thy parents taught thee a song?" said +the knight, addressing the boy. + +"Sing thy song of the Greenwood, Martin," added the mother. + +And the boy sang, with a sweet and child-like accent, a song of the +exploits of the famous Robin Hood and Little John: + +Come listen to me, ye gallants so free, +All you that love mirth for to hear; +And I will tell, of what befell, +To a bold outlaw, in Nottinghamshire. + +As Robin Hood, in the forest stood, +Beneath the shade of the greenwood tree, +He the presence did scan, of a fine young man, +As fine as ever a jay might be. + +Abroad he spread a cloak of red, +A cloak of scarlet fine and gay, +Again and again, he frisked over the plain, +And merrily chanted a roundelay. + +The ballad went on to tell how next day Robin saw this fine bird, +whose name was Allan-a-dale, with his feathers all moultered; +because his bonnie love had been snatched from him and was about to +be wed to a wizened old knight, at a neighbouring church, against +her will. And then how Robin Hood and Little John, and twenty-four +of their merrie men, stopped the ceremony, and Little John, +assuming the Bishop's robe, married the fair bride to Allan-a-dale, +who thereupon became their man and took to an outlaw's life with +his bonny wife. + +"Well sung, my lad, but when thou shalt marry, I wish thee a better +priest than Little John; here is a guerdon for thee, a rose noble; +some day thou wilt be a famous minstrel. + +"And now, my Stephen, let us sleep, if our good hosts will permit." + +"There is a hut hard by, such as we all use, which I have devoted +to your service; clean straw and thick coverlets of skins, warriors +will hardly ask more." + +"It was but an hour since I thought the heath would have been our +couch, and a snowball our pillow; we shall be well content." + +"It is wind proof, and thou mayst rest in safety till the horn +summons all to break their fast at dawn: thou mayst sleep meanwhile +as securely as in thine own castle." + +And the outlaws rose with a courtesy one would hardly have expected +from these wild sons of the forest; while Kynewulf showed the +guests to their sleeping quarters, through the still fast-falling +snow. + +The hut was snug as Grimbeard (for such was the chieftain's +appropriate name) had boasted, and tolerably wind proof, although +in such a storm snow will always force its way through the tiniest +crevices. It was built of wattle work, cunningly daubed with clay, +even as the early Britons built their lodges. + +And here slept the great earl, whose name was known through the +civilised world, the brother-in-law of the king, the mightiest +warrior of his time, and, amongst the laity, the most devout +churchman known to fame. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +In the dead hour of the night, when the darkness is deepest and +sleep the soundest, they were both awakened by the opening of the +door, and the cold blast of wind it produced. The earl and his +squire started up and sat upright on their couches. + +A woman stood in the doorway, who held a boy by the hand; the eyes +of both were red with weeping. + +"Lady, thou lookest sad; hath aught grieved thee or any one injured +thee? the vow of knighthood compels my aid to the distressed." + +It was the woman they had noted at the fireside. + +"Thou art Simon de Montfort," she said. + +"I am; how dost thou know me?" + +"I have met thee before, under other guise. Is liberty dear to +thee?" + +"Without it life is worthless--but who or what threatens it?" + +"The outlaws, amongst whom thou hast fallen." + +"They will not harm me. I have eaten of their salt." + +"Nay, but they will hold thee to ransom, and detain thee till it is +brought: I heard them amerce thee at a thousand marks." + +"In that case, as I do not wish to winter here, I had better up and +away; but who will be my guide?" + +"My son; but thou must do me a service in return--thou must charge +thyself with his welfare, for after guiding thee he can return here +no more." + +"But canst thou part with thine own son?" + +"I would save him from a life of penury and even crime, and I can +trust him to thee." + +"Oh, mother!" said the boy, weeping silently. + +"Nay, Martin, we have often talked of this and longed for such a +chance, now it is come--for thine own sake, my darling, the apple +of mine eye; this good earl can be trusted." + +"Earl Simon," she said, 'I know thee both great and a man who fears +God; yes, I know thee, I have long watched for such an opportunity; +take this boy, and in saving him save yourself from captivity." + +"Tell me his name." + +"Martin will suffice." + +"But ere I undertake charge of him I would fain learn more, that I +may bring him up according to his degree." + +"He is of noble birth, on both sides; how fallen from such high +estate this packet--entrusted in full confidence--will tell thee. +Simon de Montfort, I give thee my life, nay, my all; let me hear +from time to time how he fareth, through the good monks of +Michelham--thou leavest a bleeding heart behind." + +"Poor woman! yet it is well for the boy; he shall be one of my +pages, if he prove worthy." + +"It is all I ask: now depart ere they are stirring. It wants about +three hours to dawn, the moon shines, the snow has ceased, so that +thou wilt reach Michelham in time for early mass. I will take thee +to thine horses." + +She led them forth; the horses were quietly saddled and bridled. No +watch was kept; who could dread a foe at such a time and season? +She opened the gateway in an outer defence of osier work and ditch +which encompassed the little settlement. + +One maternal kiss--it was the last. + +And the three, earl, squire, and boy, went forth into the night, +the boy riding behind the squire. + + + +Chapter 2: Michelham Priory. + + +At the southern verge of the mighty forest called the Andredsweald, +or Anderida Sylva, Gilbert d'Aquila, last of that name, founded the +Priory of Michelham for the good of his soul. + +The forest in question was of vast extent, and stretched across +Sussex from Kent to Southampton Water; dense, impervious save where +a few roads, following mainly the routes traced by the Romans, +penetrated its recesses; the haunts of wild beasts and wilder men. +It was not until many generations had passed away that this tract +of land, whereon stand now so many pretty Sussex villages, was even +inhabitable: like the modern forests of America, it was cleared by +degrees as monasteries were built, each to become a centre of +civilisation. + +For, as it has been well remarked, without the influence of the +Church there would have been in the land but two classes--beasts of +burden and beasts of prey--an enslaved serfdom, a ferocious +aristocracy. + +And such an outpost of civilisation was the Priory of Michelham, on +the verge of the debatable land where Saxon outlaws and Norman +lords struggled for the mastery. + +On the southern border of this sombre forest, close to his Park of +Pevensey, Gilbert d'Aquila, as almost the last act of his race in +England {4}, built this Priory of Michelham upon an island, +which, as we have told in a previous tale, had been the scene of a +most sanguinary contest, and sad domestic tragedy, during the +troubled times of the Norman Conquest; the eastern embankment, +which enclosed the Park of Pevensey and kept in the beasts of the +chase for the use of Norman hunters, was close at hand. + +The priory buildings occupied eight acres of land, surrounded by a +wide and deep moat full forty yards across, fed by the river +Cuckmere, and abounding in fish for fast-day fare. Although it had +proved (as described in our earlier tale) incapable of a prolonged +defence, yet its situation was quite such as to protect the priory +from any sudden violence on the part of the "merrie men" or nightly +marauders, and when the drawbridge was up, the gateway closed, the +good brethren slept none the less soundly for feeling how they were +protected. + +Within this secure entrenchment stood their sacred and domestic +buildings, their barns and stables; therein slept their thralls, +and the teams of horses which cultivated their fields, and the +cattle and sheep on which they fed on feast days. A fine square +tower (still remaining) arose over the bridge, and alone gave +access by its stately portals to the hallowed precincts; it was +three stories high, the janitor lived and slept therein; a winding +stair conducted to the turreted roof and the several chambers. + +At the time of our story Prior Roger ruled the brotherhood; a man +of varied parts and stainless life. He was not without monastic +society: fifteen miles east was the Cluniac priory of Lewes, +fifteen miles west the Benedictine abbey of Battle, three miles +south under the downs the "Alien" priory of Wilmington. + +But wherever a monastery was built roads were made, marshes +drained, and the whole country rose in civilisation, while for the +learning of the nineteenth century to revile monastic lore is for +the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang. + +Here the wayfarer found a shelter; here the sick their needful +medicine; here the children an instructor; here the poor relief; +and here, above all, one weary of the incessant strife of an evil +world might find PEACE. + +On the morning succeeding the arrival of the great Earl of +Leicester, that doughty guest was seated in the prior's chamber, in +company with his host. The day was most uninviting without, but the +fire blazed cheerfully within. The snow kept falling in thick +flakes, which narrowed the vision so that our friends could hardly +see across the moat, but the fire crackled on the great hearth +where five or six logs fizzed and spluttered out their juices. + +"My journey is indeed delayed," said the earl, "yet I am most +anxious to reach London and present myself to the king." + +"The weather is in God's hands; we may pray for a change, but +meanwhile we must be patient and thankful that we have a roof over +our heads, my lord." + +"And it gives me full time to hear particulars about the boy whom I +left in your care--a wilful, petted urchin, ten years of age he was +then." + +"The lad is docile; he has scant inclination towards the Church, +but he shows the signs of his high lineage in a hundred different +ways." + +"High lineage?" said the earl, with a smile and a look of inquiry. + +"We had supposed him of thy kindred; he bears every sign of +noblesse and does not disgrace it," said the prior, himself of the +kindred of the "lords of the eagle." + +"He is the son of a brother crusader." + +"The father is not living?" + +"No, he fell in Palestine, within sight of the earthly Jerusalem, +and I trust has found admittance into the Jerusalem which is above; +he committed the boy to my care-- + +"But let them bring young Hubert hither." + +The prior tinkled a silver bell, which lay upon the table, and a +lay brother appeared, to whom he gave the necessary order. A knock +at the door was soon heard, and a lad of some fourteen years +entered in obedience to the prior's summons, and stood at first +abashed before the great earl. + +Yet he was not a lad wanting in self confidence; he was tall and +slender, his features were regular, his hair and eyes light, his +face a shapely oval; there was a winning expression on the +features, and altogether it was a persuasive face. + +"Dost thou remember me, my son?" asked the earl, as the boy knelt +on one knee, and kissed his hand gracefully. + +"It seems many years since thou didst leave me here, my lord." + +"Ah! thy memory is good--hast thou been happy here? hast thou done +thy duty?" + +"It is dull for an eaglet to be brought up in a cave." + +"Art thou the eaglet then, and this the cave? fie! Hubert." + +"My father was a soldier of the cross." + +"And wouldst thou be a soldier too, my boy? the paths of glory +often lead to the grave; thou art safer far as an acolyte here; +thou wilt perhaps be prior some day." + +"I covet not safety, my lord. If my father loved thee, and thou +didst love him, take me to thy castle and let me be thy page. There +are no chivalrous exercises here, no tilt yard, only the bell which +booms all day long; matins and lauds; prime, terce and sext; +vespers and compline; and masses between whiles." + +"My son, be not irreverent." + +The boy lowered his eyes at the reproof. + +"Thou shalt go with me. But, my boy, blame me not if some day thou +grieve over the loss of this sweet peace." + +"I love not peace--it is dull." + +"How wonderful it is that the son should inherit the father's +tastes with his form," said the earl to the prior. "When this lad's +sire and I were young together he had just the same ideas, the same +restless craving for excitement, and it led him at last to a +soldier's grave. Well, what is bred in the bone will out in the +flesh. + +"Hubert, thou shalt go with me to Kenilworth, but it will be a hard +and stern school for thee; there are no idlers there." + +"I am not an idler, my good lord." + +"Only over his books," said the prior. + +"That is because I prefer the lance and the bow to pot hooks and +hangers on parchment." + +The boy spoke out fearlessly, almost pertly, like a spoiled child. +Yet he had a winning manner, which reconciled his elders to his +freedom. + +"Now, go back to thy pot hooks and hangers, my boy, for the +present," said the earl; "and tomorrow, perchance, I may take thee +with me, if the storm abate. + +"And now," said the earl, when Hubert was gone, "send for the other +lad; the waif and stray from the forest." + +So Hubert retired and Martin appeared. It was by no means an +uninteresting face, that which the earl now scanned, but quite +unlike the features of Hubert--a round face, contrasting with the +oval outlines of the other--with twinkling eyes and curling hair; a +face which ought to be lit up with smiles, but which was sad for +the moment. Poor boy! he had just parted from his mother. + +"Art thou willing to go away with me, my child?" + +"Yes," said he sadly, "since she told me to go; but I love her." + +"Thy name is Martin?" + +"Yes; they call me so now." + +"What is thy other name?" + +"I know not. I have no other." + +"Wouldst thou fear to return to the green wood?" + +"Yes, for they might call me a traitor, and serve me as they served +Jack, the shoe smith, when he betrayed their plans." + +"And how was that?" + +"Tied him to a tree and shot him to death with arrows. How he did +scream!" + +"What! didst thou see such a sight, a young boy like thee?" + +"Yes," said Martin innocently; "why shouldn't I?" + +There was a pause. + +"Poor child," said the prior. + +"My boy, thou should say 'my lord,' when addressing a titled earl." + +"I did not know, my lord. I beg pardon, my lord, if I have been +rude, my lord." + +"Nay, thou hast already made up the tale of 'my lords.'" + +"You will not let them get me again, my lord?" + +"They couldn't get in here, and tomorrow, if the storm cease, I +shall take thee away with me. Fear not, my poor boy. If thou hast +for a while lost a mother, thou hast found a father." + +The boy sighed. Affection is not so easily transferred; and the +earl quite comprehended that sigh; as a strange interest, almost +unaccountable, he thought, sprang up in his manly breast for the +little nestling, thrown so strangely upon his protection and care. + +Brave as a lion with the proud, gentle as a lamb with the weak and +defenceless, such was Simon de Montfort, an embodiment of true +greatness--the union of strength with love. Both Martin and Hubert +were fortunate in their new lord. + +"There sounds the vesper bell. Wilt thou with me to the chapel?" +said the prior. + +Thither both earl and prior proceeded. It was Wednesday evening; +the psalms were then apportioned to the days of the week, not of +the month, and the first this night was the one hundred and +twenty-seventh: + +Except the Lord build the house, +their labour is but vain that build it. +Except the Lord keep the city, +the watchman watcheth but in vain. + +And again: + +Lo, children and the fruit of the womb +are an heritage and gift that cometh of the Lord. + +The two boys whom he had so strangely adopted came to the mind of +the earl; they were not of his blood, yet they might be "an +heritage and gift of the Lord." And as the psalms rose and fell to +the rugged old Gregorian tones--old even then--their words seemed +to Simon de Montfort as the voice of God. + +Oh! how rough, yet how grand that old psalmody was! Modern ears +call its intervals harsh, its melodies crude, but it spoke to the +heart with a power which our sweet modern chants often fail to +exercise over us, as we chant the same sacred lays. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +Nightfall--night hung like a pall over the island, over the moat, +over the silent heath and woods; the snow kept falling, falling; +the fires kept blazing in the huge hearths; and the bell kept +tolling until curfew time, by the prior's order, that if any were +lost in the wild night they might be guided by its sound to +shelter. + +The earl slept soundly in his little monastic cell that night, and +in the morning he perceived the light of a bright dawn through the +narrow window; anon the winter's sun rose, all glorious, and the +frost and snow sparkled like the sheen of diamonds in its beams. +The bell was just ringing for the Chapter Mass, the mass of +obligation to all the brotherhood, and the only one sung--during +the day--in contradistinction to the low, or silent, masses--which +equalled the number of the brethren in full orders, of whom there +were not more than five or six. + +The earl, his squire, and the two boys were there. The prior was +celebrant. The manner of Hubert showed his distraction and +indifference: it was like a daily lesson in school to him, and he +gave it neither more nor less attention. But to Martin the +mysterious soothing music of the mass, like strains from another +world, so unlike earthly tunes, came like a new sense, an +inspiration from an unknown realm, and brought the unbidden tears +to his young eyes. + +It must not be supposed that he was totally ignorant of the +elements of religion; even the wild inhabitants of the forest crave +some form of approach to God, and from time to time a wandering +priest, an outlaw himself of English birth, ministered to the +"merrie men" at a rustic altar, generally in the open air or in a +well-known cavern. The mass in its simplest form, divested of its +gorgeous ceremonial but preserving the general outline, was the +service he rendered; and sometimes he added a little instruction in +the vernacular. + +What good could such a service be to men living in the constant +breach of the eighth commandment? the Normans would ask. To which +the outlaws replied, we are at open war with you, at least as +honourable a war as you waged at Senlac. + +And his mother saw that little Martin was taught the simple truths +and precepts of Christianity; more she asked not; nor at his age +did he need it. + +But here was a soil ready for the good seed. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +The weather continued fine, so after mass the earl and his squire +started for Lewes, taking the two boys with him, Hubert and Martin. +That night they were the guests of John, Earl of Warrenne {5}, +who, although he did not agree with the politics of Simon de +Montfort, could not refuse the rites of hospitality. + +On the morrow, resuming their route, they left the towers of Lewes +behind them as they pursued the northern road. Once or twice the +earl turned and looked behind him, at the castle and the downs +which encircled the old town, with a puzzled and serious expression +of face. + +"Stephen," he said to his squire; "I cannot tell what ails me, but +there is an impression on my mind which I cannot shake off." + +"My lord?" + +"That yon castle and those hills, which I seem to have seen in a +dream, are associated with my future fate, for weal or woe." + + + +Chapter 3: Kenilworth. + + +The chief seat of the noble Earl of Leicester, as of a far less +worthy earl of that name, three centuries later, was the Castle of +Kenilworth. It had been erected in the time of Henry the First by +one Geoffrey de Clinton, but speedily forfeited to the Crown, by +treason, real or supposed. The present Henry, third of that name, +once lived there with his fair queen, and beautified it in every +way, specially adorning the chapel, but also strengthening the +defences, until men thought the castle impregnable. + +Well they might, for our Martin and Hubert beheld on their arrival +a double row of ramparts, looking over a moat half a mile round, +and sometimes a quarter of that distance broad: and the old +servitors still told how the sad and feeble king had built a +fragile bark, with silken hangings and painted sides, wherein he +and his newly-married bride oft took the air on the moat. The +buildings of the castle were most extensive; the space within the +moat contained seven acres; the great hall could seat two hundred +guests. The park extended without a break from the walls of +Coventry on the northeast to the far borders of the park of the +great Earl of Warwick on the southwest--a distance of several +miles. + +And here, in the society of a score of other boys of their own age, +our Hubert and Martin were to receive their early education as +pages. + +Education--ah, how unlike that which falls to the lot of the +schoolboy of the nineteenth century. As a rule, the care of the +mother was deemed too tender and the paternal roof too indulgent +for a boy after his twelfth year, so he was sent, not exactly to a +boarding school, but to the castle of some eminent noble, such as +the one under our observation; and here, in the company of from ten +to twenty companions of his own age, he began his studies. + +We have previously described this course of education in a former +tale, The Rival Heirs, but for the benefit of those who have not read +the afore-said story we must be pardoned a little recapitulation. + +He was daily exercised in the use of all manner of weapons, +beginning with such as were of simple character; he was taught to +ride, not only in the saddle, but to sit a horse bare-backed, or +under any conceivable circumstances which might occur. He had to +bend the stout yew bow and to wield the sword, he had to couch the +lance, which art he acquired with dexterity by the practice at the +quintain. + +He had also to do the work of a menial, but not in a menial spirit. +It was his to wait upon his lord at table, to be a graceful cup +bearer, a clever carver, able to select the titbits for the ladies, +and then to assign the other portions according to rank. + +It was his to follow the hounds, to learn the blasts of the horn, +which belonged to each detail of the field; to track the hunted +animal, to rush in upon boar or stag at bay, to break up or +disembowel the captured quarry. + +It was his to learn how to thread the pathless forests, like that +of Arden; by observing the prevalent direction of the wind, as +indicated by the way in which the trees threw their thickest +branches, or the side of the trunk on which the mosses grew most +densely; to know the stars, and to thread the murky forest at +midnight by an occasional glimpse of that bright polar star, around +which Charley's Wain revolved, as it does in these latter days. + +It was his to learn that wondrous devotion to the ladies, which was +at the foundation of chivalry, and found at last its reductio ad +absurdum in the Dulcinea of Don Quixote; but it was not a bad thing +in itself, and softened the manners, nor suffered them to become +utterly ferocious. + +He was taught to abhor all the meaner vices, such as cowardice or +lying--no gentleman could live under such an imputation and retain +his claim to the name. But it must be admitted that there were +higher duties practised wheresoever the obligations of chivalry +were fully carried out: the duty of succouring the distressed or +redressing wrong, of devotion to God and His Church, and hatred of +the devil and his works. + +Alas! how often one aspect of chivalry alone, and that the worst, +was found to exist; the ideal was too high for fallen nature. + +To Hubert the new life which opened before him was full of promise +and delight; he seemed to have found a paradise far more after his +own heart than Eden could ever have been: but it was otherwise with +Martin. + +They had not been unkindly received by their companions, although, +as the other pages were nearly all the sons of nobles, there was a +marked restraint in the way in which they condescended to boys who +had only one name {6}. Still, the earl's will was law, and +since he had willed that the newcomers should share the privileges +of the others, no protest could be made. + +And as for Hubert there was no difficulty; he was one of nature's +own gentlemen, and there was something in his brave winning ways, +in which there was neither shyness nor presumption, which at once +found him friends; besides, his speech was Norman French, and he +was au fait in his manners. + +But poor little Martin--the lad from the greenwood--surely it was +a great mistake to expose him to the jeers and sarcasms of the lads +of his own age, but of another culture; every time he opened his +mouth he betrayed the Englishman, and it was not until the +following reign that Edward the First, by himself adopting that +designation as the proudest he could claim, redeemed it from being, +as it had been since the Conquest, a term of opprobrium and +reproach. + +The day always began at Kenilworth Castle with an early mass in the +chapel at sunrise; then, unless it were a hunting morning, the +whole bevy of pages was handed over to the chaplain for a few brief +hours of study, for the earl was himself a literary man, and would +fain have all under him instructed in the rudiments of learning +{7}. + +Hubert did not show to advantage, for he regarded all such studies +as a degrading remnant of his life at Michelham, yet none could +read and write so well as he amongst the pages, and he had his +Latin declensions and conjugations well by heart, while he could +read and interpret in good Norman French, or indifferent English, +the Gospels in the large illuminated Missal; but the silly lad was +actually ashamed of this, and would have bartered it all for the +emptiest success in the tilt yard. + +On the contrary, little Martin, who could not yet read a line, was +throwing the whole deep earnestness of an active intellect into the +work. + +"Courage! little friend," said the chaplain, "and thou wilt do as +well as the wisest here, only be not impatient or discouraged." + +And to Hubert he said one day: + +"This hardly represents your best work, my son, you did better even +yesterday." + +Hubert tossed his head. + +"Martin cares only for books--I want to learn better things; he may +be a monk, I will be a soldier." + +His literary acquirements, unusual in the time, increased his +influence and reputation. + +"And dost thou know," said a deep voice, "what is the first duty of +a soldier?" + +It was the stern figure of the earl who stood unobserved in the +doorway of the library. + +Hubert hung his head. + +"Obedience!" + +"And know this," added the speaker, "that learning distinguishes +the man from the brute, as religion distinguishes him from the +devil." + +The two medieval boys, with the story of whose lives this veracious +chronicle concerns itself, were indeed singularly unlike in their +tastes and dispositions. + +Martin seemed destined by nature for the life of the cloister, the +home of learning and contemplation in those days, wherein alone +were libraries to be found, and peaceful hours to devote to their +perusal. He learned his lessons with such avidity as to surprise +and delight his teacher, his leisure hours were spent in the +library of the castle--for Kenilworth had a library of manuscripts +under Simon de Montfort--a long low room on an upper floor, one end +of which was boarded off as a chamber for the chaplain, who was of +course also librarian. And again, he evinced a joy in the services +of the castle chapel which sufficiently marked his vocation. The +earl was both devout and musical, and the solemn tones of the +Gregorian Church Modes were rendered with peculiar force by the +deep voices of the men, for which they seemed chiefly designed. As +Martin listened, he became aware of sensations and ideas which he +could not express--he wept for joy, or trembled with emotion like +Saint Augustine of old {8}. + +Then again, Sunday by Sunday, the chaplain was like a living oracle +to him, as to many others. The ascetic face became beautiful with a +beauty not of this earth--"his pallor," said they, "became of a +fair shining red" when he spoke of Christ or holy things, while +anon his thunder tones awoke an echo in the heart of many as he +testified against cruelty and wrong, of which there was no lack in +those days. + +Under his influence Martin was becoming moulded like pliant wax, +the boy of the greenwood was losing all his rusticity, and yet, +retaining his keen love of nature, was learning to look beyond +nature to nature's God. At times Martin was very weary of +Kenilworth, and almost wished himself back in the greenwood again, +so little was he in sympathy with the companions whom he had found. + +But one day the earl called him aside, and with a tenderness one +could not have expected from that great statesman and mighty +warrior, broke the sad tidings to the poor boy of the death of his +ill-fated mother. It had arrived from Michelham; an outlaw had +brought the news to the priory, with the request that the monks +would send the tidings on to young Martin, wherever he might be. +The death of his poor mother at last severed the ties which bound +Martin to the greenwood; he longed after it no more; save that he +often had daydreams wherein, as a brother of Saint Francis, he +preached the glad tidings of the grace of God to his kindred after +the flesh in the green glades of the Sussex woods. + +One thing he had yet to subdue--his temper; like that of most +people of excitable temperament it would some times flash forth +like fire; his companions soon found this out, and the elder pages +liked to amuse themselves in arousing it--a sport not quite so safe +for those of his own age. + +Altogether of a different mould was the bright joyous son of an +ill-fated father; Hubert, son of Roger of Icklesham and Walderne. A +boy, a typical boy, a brave free-hearted noble one: + +With his unchecked, unbidden joy, +His dread of books, and love of fun. + +He was rapidly acquiring ease and dexterity in all the sports of +the tilt yard; the quintain had now no terrors for him, and he was +quite at home on horseback already. Naturally he was rising fast in +favour with his fellows, the only lad who seemed to stand aloof +from him being Drogo de Harengod. + +Drogo was about a year older than Hubert, tall and dark, of a +haughty and intolerant disposition, and very "masterful," but, as +the old saw says: + +Mores puerorum se detegunt inter ludendum. + +So we will draw no more pen and ink sketches, but leave our +characters to show themselves by their deeds. + +It was a pleasant evening in early autumn, and the scene was the +park of Kenilworth, some few months after the arrival of our two +pages at the castle. Half a dozen of the youthful aspirants to +chivalry, amongst whom were Drogo, Hubert, and Martin, gathered +under an oak occupying an elevated site in the park: they had +evidently just left the forest, for hares and rabbits were lying on +the ground, the result of a little foray into the cover. + +"What a view we have here; one can see the towers of Warwick, over +the woods." + +"And there is the line of hills over Keinton and Radway {9}." + +"And there Black Down Hill." + +"And there the spires of Coventry." + +"Yes," said Drogo, "but it is not like the view from my uncle's +castle in the Andredsweald, over a far wilder forest than this of +Arden, with the great billowy downs for a southern bulwark. There +be wolves, yea, boars, and for lesser beasts of prey wildcats, +badgers, and polecats; while the deer are as plentiful as sheep." + +"And where is that castle?" said Hubert. + +"At Walderne; my uncle is Nicholas de Harengod, and some day the +castle will be mine." + +Martin looked up with strange interest. + +"What! Walderne Castle yours!" + +"Yes, have you heard of it?" + +"And seen it." + +"Seen it?" + +"Yes, afar off," said the lad dreamily, for Hubert gave him a +warning look. + +"Even as a cat may look at a king's palace." + +"But those woods are full of outlaws," said another lad, Louis de +Chalgrave. + +"All the better; it will be rare sport to hunt them out." + +"Easier said than done," muttered Martin, but not so low that his +words were unheard. + +"What is easier said than done?" cried Drogo. + +"I mean the hunting out those outlaws. Ever since you Normans came, +in the days of the usurper you call the Conqueror, it has been +talked about but never done." + +"Usurper we call the Conqueror, pretty words these for the park of +Kenilworth," said several voices. "They suit the descendants of the +men who let themselves be beaten at Hastings." + +"In any place but this Kenilworth they would cost a fellow his +ears." + +"Yes, but Earl Simon loves the English." + +"Or he wouldn't degrade us by bringing louts from the greenwood +amongst us--boys whom our fathers would have disdained to set to +mind their swine," said Drogo. + +"Probably your ancestor himself was a swineherd in Normandy, while +mine were Thanes in England, and their courteous manners have +descended to you," retorted Martin; whereupon Drogo laid his +bowstring about his daring junior. + +Forgetting all disparity of age, the youngster flew at him, and +struck him full between the eyes with his clenched fist; the other +boys, instead of interfering, laughed heartily at the scene, and +watched its development with interest, thinking Martin would get a +good switching. But they forgot one thing, or rather did not know +it. Boxing was not a knightly exercise, not taught in the tilt +yard, and Drogo could only use his natural weapons as a French boy +uses his now. But in the greenwood it was different, and young +Martin had been left again and again, as a part of a sound +education, to "hold his own" against his equals in age and size, by +aid of the noble art of fisticuffs; what wonder then that Drogo's +eyes were speedily several shades darker than nature had designed +them to be, of which there was no obvious need, and that victory +would probably have decked the brows of the younger combatant had +not the elders interfered. + +"This is no work for a gentleman." + +"If fight you must, run a course against each other with blunted +spears, since they won't grant us sharp ones, more's the pity." + +"The youngster should learn to govern his temper." + +"Nay, he did not begin it." + +The last speaker was Hubert. + +Martin had walked away into the wood, as if he neither expected nor +asked justice from his companions, and Hubert followed him. + +"There they go together." + +"Two boys, each without a second name." + +"But after all," said Louis, 'I like Hubert better for standing up +for his friend." + +"They are queer friends, as unlike as light and darkness," said +Drogo. + +"Talking of darkness reminds one of your eyes, they are--" + +"Hold your tongue." + +And a new quarrel commenced, which we will not stop to behold, but +follow the two into the woods; "older, deeper, grayer," with oaks +that the Druids might have worshipped beneath. + + + +Chapter 4: In the Greenwood. + + +While they were in sight of the other boys Martin's pride kept him +from displaying any emotion, but when they were alone in the +recesses of the woods, and Hubert, putting his hand on the other's +shoulder bade him "not mind them," his bosom commenced to heave, +and he had great difficulty in repressing his tears. It was not +mere grief, it was the sense of desolation; he felt that he was not +in his own sphere, and but for the thought of the chaplain would +willingly have returned to the outlaws in the greenwood. No boy at +a strange school feels as out of place as he, and the worst was, he +did not get acclimatised in the least. + +He had not found his vocation. Then again, he had been sweetly +lectured upon his temper by Father Edmund, and had promised to +control it. Still, was he to be switched by Drogo? He knew he never +could bear it, and didn't quite feel that he ought to do so. + +"Hubert," he said at last, "I don't think I can stay here." + +"Why, it is a very pleasant place. I love it more every day, and +they are not such bad fellows." + +"You are like them in your tastes, and I am not." + +"But tell me, Martin, how were you brought up; were you always with +the outlaws? You almost let out the secret today." + +"Yes, I was born in the woods." + +"Then you are not of gentle blood?" + +"That depends upon what you mean by gentle blood. I am not of +Norman blood by my father's side, although my mother may be, from +whom I get my dark features: my father was descended from the old +English lords of Michelham, who lived on the island for ages before +the Conquest; my mother's family is unknown to me." + +"Indeed! what became of your English forbears?" + +"Robert de Mortain contrived their ruin, but dearly did his race +pay for it in the justice of God. His ghost, or that of his son, +still haunts Pevensey: but all that is past and gone. Earl Simon +sometimes says (you heard him perhaps the other day) that the +English are of as good blood as the Normans, and that he should be +proud to call himself an Englishman. + +"He is worthy of the name," said Martin, and Hubert smiled; 'but it +is not that--I want to be a scholar, and by and by a priest." + +"The very thing they wanted to make me, and I wouldn't for the +world; what a pity we could not change places. Ah! what is that?" + +A crushing of brambles and parting of bushes was heard, and lo! a +deer, with a little fawn by its side, came across the glade, +looking very frightened. The mother was restraining her own speed +for the sake of the little one, but every moment got ahead, +involuntarily, then stopped, and strove by piteous cries to urge +the fawn to do its best. + +What did it mean? The mystery was soon explained, the deep bay of a +hound was heard close behind. + +Martin's deep sympathies with the animal creation were aroused at +once, and he stood in the opening the deer had made, his short +hunting spear in hand. + +"Take care--what are you about!" cried Hubert. + +The next instant the deerhound came in sight, and in a few leaps +would have attained his prey had not Martin been in the way; but +the boy knelt on one knee, presenting his spear full at the dog, +who, springing down a bank through the opening, literally impaled +itself upon it. + +"Good heavens!" said Hubert, "to kill a hound, a good hound like +this." + +"Didn't you see the poor fawn and its mother? I wasn't going to let +the brute touch them. I would have died first." + +Just then the voices of men came from the wood. + +"See, they follow upon the track of the deer; let us run, we are in +for it else." + +"I am not ashamed of my deed," said Martin, and would sooner face +it out; if they are good men they will not blame me." + +"They will hang thee, that's all--fly." + +"Too late; you go, leave me to pay the penalty of my own deed, if +penalty there be." + +"What, forsake a comrade in distress? Nay, I would die first, that +is a thing I would die for, but for a brute--never." + +A tall hunter, a man of most commanding appearance and stature, +stood upon the scene. Two attendants followed behind. + +"THE EARL OF WARWICK," whispered Hubert, awe struck. + +The earl looked astonished as he saw the dog. + +"Who has done this?" he said, in a voice of thunder. + +But Martin did not tremble as he replied: + +"I, my lord." + +"And why? did the hound attack thee?" + +"It was to save the poor doe and her fawn; the mother would not +leave her little one, and both would have been killed together." + +The indignation of the two woodsmen was almost indecorous, but they +did not speak before their dread master. + +"And didst thou have aught to do with it?" said the earl, +addressing Hubert. + +"Nay, my lord, I did it all with this spear; he tried to stop me," +said Martin. + +"Then thou shalt hang for it. + +"Here, Ralph, Gilbert, have you a rope between you?" + +Ralph, the gamekeeper, unwound one from his waist. It was too often +needed, and had our Martin been a peasant lad, he would have +speedily swung from a branch of the oak above, but--Hubert came +bravely forward. + +"My Lord of Warwick, we knew not we were on your ground; we are +pages from Kenilworth." + +The men who had seized Martin stood motionless at this, still, +however, holding him, and awaiting further orders. + +"Can this be true?" growled the Lord of the Bear and Ragged Staff. + +"Yes, my lord, you see the crest of the Montforts on our caps." + +In his fury the earl had ignored the fact. + +"Your names?" + +"Martin." + +"Hubert." + +"'Martin,' 'Hubert,' of what? have you no 'de,' no second names?" + +"We are not permitted to bear them." + +"Doubtless for good reason. And now, what shall prevent me from +hanging such nobodies, and burying you both beneath this oak, +without anybody being the wiser?" + +"The fact that you are a gentleman," said Hubert boldly. + +The earl seemed struck by the answer. + +"Boy," said he, "thou bast answered well, and second name or not, +thou hast the right blood in thee; nor is the other lad wanting in +courage. But you must both answer for this. Tomorrow I visit +Kenilworth, and will see your lord. + +"Release them, my men. + +"Fare ye well till tomorrow. + +"My poor Bruno!" + +And the lads hastened home. + +They told no one of their adventure, save Father Edmund, who not +only did not chide them, but promised to plead for them if +complaint were made to Earl Simon. + +And very shortly, even the next day, the Earl of Warwick with an +attendant squire rode up the approach to the barbican gate, and was +admitted. The boys had not long to wait in suspense: they were soon +summoned from their tasks into the presence of their dread yet kind +lord, and his visitor. + +As they were ushered along the passage of that mighty castle, both +felt a sinking of heart, Hubert more than Martin, for the latter +had far more moral courage than his lithesome companion. + +"Martin, we are in bad case." + +"I am not afraid." + +"Do own you were wrong." + +"I cannot, for I do not think I was." + +"Say so at all events. What is the harm?" + +"My tongue was given me to express my thoughts, not to conceal +them." + +"Then you will be beaten." + +"And bear it; it was all my doing." + +At that moment the heavy doors swung open, and they stood in the +presence of the two mightiest earls of the Midlands. They stood as +two culprits, Hubert very sheepish, with his head cast down, Martin +with a comical mixture of resignation and apprehension. + +"How is this?" said the Earl Simon. "I hear that you two killed the +good deerhound of my brother of Warwick." + +"It was I, my lord, not Hubert." + +"They were both together," whispered the Earl of Warwick. "I saw +not who did the deed." + +"We may believe Martin." + +"So thou dost take all the blame upon thyself, Martin." + +"All the blame, if blame there was, my lord." + +"If blame there was! Surely thou art mad, boy! and thy back will +verify the force of Solomon's proverb, a rod for the fool's back, +unless thou change thy tone and ask pardon of my good brother." + +"My Lord of Warwick, I am very sorry that I was forced to kill your +good hound, and hope you will forgive me." + +"Forced to kill!" + +"If I had not, he would have killed the poor doe and her fawn +together, and I could not have seen that, if I had to hang for it, +as the noble earl threatened I should." + +"Tell me the whole story," said the Earl of Leicester. + +"Pardon me, my good brother, I want to hear how he defends +himself." + +And Martin began: + +"We were in the woods, when we heard a great rustling, and saw a +doe crossing the path, very frightened, but for all that she kept +stopping and looking back, and we saw a little fawn by her side, +who couldn't keep up; then we heard the hound baying behind, and +the poor mother trembled and started, but wouldn't leave her little +one, but bleated piteously to the wee thing to make haste. I never +saw an animal in such distress before, and I could not bear it, so +I stood in the track to stop the dog, and he rushed upon my spear. +I was very sorry for the good hound, but I was more sorry for the +doe and her fawn." + +"And thou wouldst do the same thing again, I suppose?" said the +Earl of Leicester. + +"I couldn't help it." + +"And what didst thou do, Hubert?" + +"I tried to stop him, but I couldn't." + +"Thou didst not feel the same pity, then, for the deer?" + +"No, my lord, because I thought dogs were made to hunt deer, and +deer to be hunted." + +"Thou art quite right, my lad," said he of Warwick, "and the other +lad is a simpleton--I was going to say a chicken-hearted simpleton, +but he was brave enough when his own neck seemed in danger, nor +does he fear much for his back now-- + +"What dost thou say, boy?" + +"My lord, if I have offended you, I refuse not to pay with my +back." + +"Get ready for the scourge, then," said the earl his lord, half +smiling, and evidently trying his courage, "unless thou wilt say +thou art sorry for thy deed." + +"I am ready, my lord. I would say anything I could say without +lying, rather than offend thee, but what am I to do? Let me bear +what I have to bear." + +"Nay," said the earl, "it may not be. My brother of Warwick, canst +thou not forgive him? I will send thee two good hounds in the place +of poor Bruno. Dost thou not see the lad has sat in the school of +Saint Francis, who pitied and loved everything, great and small, as +Adam de Maresco, my good friend at Oxford, tells me, and so all +God's creatures loved him, and came at his call--the birds, nay, +the fishes?" + +"Dost thou believe all this, my boy?" said he of Warwick. + +"Yes, it is all true, is it not? It is in the Flores Sancti +Francisci." + +The earl smiled. + +"Come, my boy, I forgive thee. + +"My good brother of Leicester, the lad is made for a Franciscan; +don't spoil a good friar by making him a warrior." + +"And Franciscan he shall be. + +"Say, my boy, wouldst thou like to go to Oxford and study under my +worthy friend, Adam de Maresco?" + +Martin's eyes sparkled with delight. + +"Oh yes, my lord. + +"Thank you, my Lord of Warwick." + +"Thy punishment shall then be exile from the castle; thou may'st +cease from the sports of the tilt yard, which thou hast never +loved, and Father Edmund shall take thee seriously in hand." + +"Oh, thanks, my lord, O felix dies." + +"See how he takes to Latin, like a duck to the water. + +"Hubert, thou must go with him." + +Hubert's countenance fell. + +"Oh no, no, my lord, I want to be a soldier like my father; please +don't send me away. + +"Oh, Martin, what a fool thou art!" + +"Fool! fie! for shame! thou forgettest in whose company thou art. +Each to his own liking; thou to make food for the sword, Martin +perhaps to suffer martyrdom on a gridiron, like Saint Lawrence, +amongst the heathen." + +"He is the stuff they make martyrs from," muttered he of Warwick. + +"No, Hubert, you may stay and work out your own destiny, and Martin +shall go to Oxford." + +"Oh, Martin, I am so sorry." + +But Martin was rapturous with joy. + +And so, more soberly, was another person joyful--even the chaplain, +for he saw the making of a valiant friar of Saint Francis in +Martin. That wondrous saint, Francis of Assisi {10}, whose +mission it was to restore to the depraved Christianity of the day +an element it seemed losing altogether, that of brotherly love, was +an embodiment of the sentiment of a later poet: + +He prayeth best who loveth best, +All things both great and small, +For the dear God, who loveth us, +He made and loveth all. + +And wondrous was his power over the rudest men and the most savage +animals in consequence. All things loved Francis--the most timid +animals, the most shy birds, all alike flocked around him when he +appeared. + +The brotherhood he had founded was unlike the monastic orders; its +members were not to retire from the world, but to live in it, and +devote themselves entirely to the good of mankind; they were to +renounce all worldly wealth, and embrace chastity, poverty, and +obedience--theirs was not to be the joy of family life, theirs no +settled abode. Wandering from place to place they were to live +solely on the alms of those to whom they preached the gospel of +peace. + +Established only at the beginning of the century of our tale, it +had already extended its energies throughout Europe. They came to +England in 1224, only four clergy and five laymen. Already they +numbered more than twelve hundred brethren in England alone; and +they were found where they were most needed, in the back slums of +the undrained and crowded towns, amongst the hovels of the serfs +where plague was raging, where leprosy lingered--there were the +Franciscans in this the heroic age of their order, before they had +fallen from their first love, and verified the proverb--Corruptio +optimi est pessima. Under their teaching a new school of theology +had arisen at Oxford; the great Bishop of Lincoln, Robert +Grosseteste, was its first lecturer, the most enlightened prelate +of the day; and now Adam de Maresco, a warm friend of Earl Simon, +was at its head. To his care the earl determined to commend young +Martin. + + + +Chapter 5: Martin Leaves Kenilworth. + + +Martin was henceforth relieved of his customary exercises in the +tilt yard and elsewhere, which had become distasteful to him in +proportion as the longing for a better life had grown upon his +imagination. Of course the other boys treated him with huge +contempt; and sent him metaphorically "to Coventry," the actual +spires of which august medieval city, far more beautiful then than +now, rose beyond the trees in the park. + +But the chaplain saw this, and with the earl's permission lodged +the neophyte in a chamber adjacent to his own "cell," where he gave +himself up to his beloved books, only varying the monotony by an +occasional stroll with his friend Hubert, who never turned his back +upon his former friend, and endured much chaffing and teasing in +consequence. + +Most rapidly Martin's facile brain acquired the learning of the +day--Latin became as his mother tongue, for it was then taught +conversationally, and the chaplain seldom or never spoke to him in +any other language. + +And after a few months his zealous tutor thought him prepared for +the important step in his life, and wrote to the great master of +scholastic philosophy already mentioned, Adam de Maresco, to +bespeak admission into one of the Franciscan schools or colleges +then existing at Oxford. There was no penny or other post--a +special messenger had to be sent. + +The answer came in due course, and at the beginning of the Easter +term Martin was told to prepare for his journey to the University. +He was not then more than fifteen, but that was a common age for +matriculation in those days. + +The morning came, so long looked for, and with a strange feeling +Martin arose with daybreak from his couch, and looked from his +casement upon the little world he was leaving. A busy hum already +ascended from beneath as our Martin put his head out of the window; +he heard the clank of the armourer's hammer on mail and weapon, he +heard the clamorous noise of the hungry hounds who were being fed, +he heard the scolding of the cooks and menials who were preparing +the breakfast in the hall, he heard the merry laughter of the boys +in the pages' chamber. But soon one sound dominated over all--boom! +boom! boom! came the great bell of the chapel, filling hill and +dale, park and field, with its echoes. Father Edmund was about to +say the daily mass, and all must go to begin the day with prayer +who were not reasonably hindered--such was the earl's command. + +And soon the chaplain called, "Martin, Martin." + +"I am ready, sire." + +"Looking round on the home thou art leaving, thou wilt find Oxford +much fairer." + +"But thou wilt not be there." + +"My good friend Adam will do more for thee than ever I could." + +"Nay, but for thee, sire, I had fallen into utter recklessness; +thou hast dragged me from the mire. + +"Sit Deo gloria, then, not to a frail man like thyself; thou must +learn to lean on the Creator, not the creature. Come, it is time to +vest for mass. Thou shalt serve me as acolyte for the last time." + +People sometimes talk of that olden rite, wherein our ancestors +showed forth the death of Christ day by day, as if it had been a +mere mechanical service. It was a dead form only to those who +brought dead hearts to it. To our Martin it was instinct with life, +and it satisfied the deep craving of his soul for communion with +the most High, while he pleaded the One Oblation for all his +present needs, just entering upon a new world. + +The short service was over, and Martin was breakfasting in the +chaplain's room with him and Hubert, who had been invited to share +the meal. They were sitting after breakfast--the usual feeling of +depression which precedes a departure from home was upon them--when +a firm step was heard echoing along the corridor. + +"It is the earl," said the chaplain, and they all rose as the great +man entered. + +"Pardon my intrusion, father. I am come to say farewell to this +wilful boy." + +They all rose, Martin overwhelmed by the honour. + +"Nay, sit down. I have not yet broken my own fast and will crack a +crust with you." + +And the earl ate and drank that he might put them all at their +ease. + +"So the scholar's gown and pen suit thee better than the coat of +mail and the sword, master Martin!" + +"Oh, my good lord!" + +"Nay, my boy, thou wast exiled from home in my cause, and I may owe +thee a life for all I can tell." + +"They would not have harmed thee, not even they, had they known." + +"But you see they did not know, and all was fish that came to their +nets. Martin, don't thou ever think of them." + +"Hubert, thou hadst better go, and come back presently," whispered +the chaplain, who felt that there were certain circumstances of +which the boy might be better left ignorant, which nearly concerned +his companion. + +"Nay," said Martin, 'there are no secrets between us. He knows +mine. I know his." + +"But no one else, I trust," said the earl, who remembered a certain +prohibition. + +"No, my lord, only Hubert. He already knew so much, I was forced to +tell him all." + +"Then thou hast not forgotten thy kindred in the greenwood?" + +"I can never forget my poor mother." + +"Thou hast already told me all that thou dost know, and that thy +fathers once owned Michelham." + +"So the outlaws said, the merrie men of the wood. Oh if my father +had but lived." + +"He would have made thee an outlaw, too." + +"It might well have been, but my poor mother would have been happy +then." + +"But I think Martin has a scheme in his head," said Hubert shyly. + +"What is it, my son?" said the earl. + +"The chaplain knows." + +"He thinks that when he has put on the cord of Saint Francis he +will go and preach the Gospel to them that are afar off in the +woods." + +"But they are Christians, I hope." + +"Nominally, but they know nought of the Gospel of love and peace. +Their religion is limited to a few outward observances," said the +chaplain, "which, separated from the living Spirit, only fulfil the +words: 'The letter killeth, but the Spirit giveth life.'" + +"Ah, well, my boy, God speed thee on thy path, and preserve thee +for that day when thou shalt come as a messenger of peace to them +that sit in darkness," said the earl. + +"Thine," he continued, 'is a far nobler ambition than that of the +warrior, thine the task to save, his to destroy. + +"What sayest thou, Hubert?" + +"I would fain be a soldier of the Cross, like my father, and cut +down the Paynim." + +"Like a godly knight I once knew, who, called upon to convert a +Saracen, said the Creed and told him he was to believe it. The +Saracen, as one might have expected, uttered some words of scorn, +and the good knight straight-way clove him to the chine." + +"It was short and simple, my lord; I should like to convert them +that way best." + +The chaplain sighed. + +"Oh, Hubert!" said Martin. + +The earl listened and smiled a sad smile. + +"Well, there is work for you both. Mine is not yet done in the busy +fighting world; rivers of blood have I seen shed, nay, helped to +shed, and I must answer to God for the way in which I have played +my part; yet I thank Him that He did not disdain to call one whose +career lay in like bloody paths 'the man after His own heart.'" + +"It is lawful to draw sword in a good cause, my lord," said the +chaplain. + +"I never doubted it, but I say that Martin's ambition is more +Christ-like--is it not?" + +"It is indeed." + +"Yet should I be called to lay down my life in some bloody field, +if it be my duty, the path to heaven may not be more difficult than +from the convent cell." + +These last words he said as if to himself, but years afterwards, on +an occasion yet to be related, they came back to the mind of our +Martin. + +Upon a horse, which he had learned at length to manage well; with +two attendants in the earl's livery by his side, Martin set forth; +his last farewells said. Yet he looked back with more or less +sadness to the kind friends he was leaving, to tread all alone the +paths of an unknown city, and associate with strangers. + +As they passed through Warwick, the gates of the castle opened, and +the earl of that town came forth with a gallant hunting suite; he +recognised our young friend. + +"Ah, Martin, Martin," he said, 'whither goest thou so equipped and +attended?" + +"To Oxenford, to be a scholar, good my lord." + +"And after that?" + +"To go forth with the cord of Saint Francis around me." + +"Ah, it was he who taught thee to kill my deerhound. Well, fare +thee well, lad, and when thou art a priest say a mass for me, for I +sorely need it." + +He waved his hand, and the cavalcade swept onward. + +They rode through a wild tract of heath land. Cultivated fields +there were few, tracts of furze--spinneys, as men then called small +patches of wood--in plenty. The very road was a mere track over the +grass, and it seemed like what we should now call riding across +country. + +At length they drew near the old town of Southam, where they made +their noontide halt and refreshed themselves at the hostelry of the +"Bear and Ragged Staff," for the people were dependants of the +mighty Lord of Warwick. + +Then through a dreary country, almost uninhabited, save by the +beasts of the chase, they rode for Banbury. Twice or thrice indeed +they passed knots of wild uncouth men, in twos or threes, who might +have been dangerous to the unattended traveller, but saw no +prospect of aught but good sound blows should they attack these +retainers of Leicester. + +And now they reached the "town of cakes" (I know not whether they +made the luscious compound we call Banbury cakes then), and passed +the time at the chief hostelry of the town, sharing the supper with +twenty or thirty other wayfarers, and sleeping with some of them in +a great loft above the common room on trusses of hay and straw. + +It was rough accommodation, but Martin's early education had not +rendered him squeamish, neither were his attendants. + +The following day they rode through Adderbury, where not long +before an unhappy miscreant, who counterfeited the Saviour and +deluded a number of people, had been actually crucified by being +nailed to a tree on the green. Then, an hour later, they left +Teddington Castle, another stronghold of the Earl of Warwick, on +their right: they were roughly accosted by the men-at-arms, but the +livery of Leicester protected them. + +Soon after they approached the important town of Woodstock, with +its ancient palace, where a century earlier Henry II had wiled away +his time with Fair Rosamond. The park and chase were most extensive +and deeply wooded; emerging from its umbrageous recesses, they saw +a group of spires and towers. + +"Behold the spires of Oxenford!" cried the men. + +Martin's heart beat with ill-suppressed emotion--here was the +object of his long desire, the city which he had seen again and +again in his dreams. Headington Hill arose on the left, and the +heights about Cumnor on the right. Between them rose the great +square tower of Oxford Castle, and the huge mound {11} thrown +up by the royal daughter of Alfred hard by; while all around arose +the towers and spires of the learned city, then second only in +importance to London. + +The first view of the Eternal City (Rome)--what volumes have been +written upon the sensations which attend it. So was the first view +of Oxford to our eager aspirant for monastic learning and +ecclesiastical sanctity. Long he stood drinking in the sight, while +his heart swelled within him and tears stood in his eyes; but the +trance was roughly broken by his attendants. + +"Come, young master. We must hurry on, or we may not get in before +nightfall, and there may be highwaymen lurking about the suburbs." + + + +Chapter 6: At Walderne Castle. + + +The watcher on the walls of Walderne Castle sees the sun sink +beneath the distant downs, flooding Mount Caburn and his kindred +giants with crimson light. In the great hall supper is preparing. +See them all trooping in--retainers, fighting men, serving men, all +taking their places at the boards placed at right angles to the +high table, where the seats of Sir Nicholas de Harengod and his +lady are to be seen. + +He enters: a bluff stern warrior, in his undress, that is, without +his panoply of armour and arms, in the long flowing robe affected +by his Norman kindred at the festal board. She, with the comely +robe which had superseded the gunna or gown, and the couvrechef +(whence our word kerchief) on the head. + +The chaplain, who served the little chapel within the castle, says +grace, and the company fall upon the food with little ceremony. We +have so often described their manners, or rather absence of +manners, that we will not repeat how the joints were carved in the +absence of forks, nor how necessary the finger glasses were after +meals, although they only graced the higher board. + +Wine, hippocras, mead, ale--there was plenty to eat and drink, and +when the hunger was satisfied a palmer or pilgrim, who had but +recently arrived from the Holy Land, sang a touching ballad about +his adventures and sufferings in that Holy Land: + +Trodden by those blessed feet +Which for our salvation were +Nailed unto the holy rood. + +He sang of the captivity of Jerusalem under her Saracen rulers; of +the Holy Places, nay, of the Sepulchre itself, in the hands of the +heathen. That song, and kindred songs, had already caused rivers of +blood to be shed; men were now getting hardened to the tale, albeit +the Lady Sybil shed tears. + +For she thought of her brother Roger, who had taken the Cross at +that gathering at Cross-in-Hand when labouring under his sire's +dire displeasure, and who had fallen yet more deeply under the ban, +owing to events with which our readers are but partially +acquainted. + +And now, where Roger sat, she saw her own husband--well +beloved--yet had he not effaced the memory of her brother. And she +longed to see that brother's son, of whom she had heard, recognised +as the heir of Walderne. + +The palmer sang, and his song told of one, a father stern, who bade +his son wash off the guilt of some grievous sin in the blood of the +unbeliever--how that son went forth, full of zeal--but went forth +to find his efforts blasted by a haunting, malignant fiend he had +himself armed with power to blast; how at length, conquering all +opposition, he had reached the holy shore, and embarked on every +desperate enterprise, until he was laid out for dead, when-- + +At this moment the chapel bell rang for the evening prayers, which +were never later than curfew, for as men then rose with the sun it +was well to go to bed with him, so they all flocked to the chapel. +The office commonly called Compline was said, and the little +sanctuary was left again vacant and dark save where the solitary +lamp twinkled before the altar. + +But the Lady Sybil did not seek her couch. She remained kneeling in +devotion before the altar, which her wealth and piety had founded. +Nor was she alone. The palmer yet knelt on the floor of the +sanctuary. + +When they had been left alone together for some minutes, and all +was still save the wind which howled without she rose and said: + +"Tell me who thou art, O mysterious man: thy voice reminds me of +one long dead." + +"Dead to the world, yet living in the flesh. Sybil, I am thy +brother Roger, at least what remains of him; thou hast not +forgotten me." + +"But why hast thou been silent so long? Thy brother in arms, the +great Earl of Leicester, himself said he saw thee fall fighting +gloriously against the fell Paynim." + +"And he spake sooth, but he did not see me rise again. I was +carried off the field for interment by the good brethren of Saint +John, when, just as they were about to lower me with the dead +warriors into one common grave, they perceived that there was life +in me. They raised me, and restored the spirit which had all but +fled, and when at last it returned, reason did not return with it. +For a full year I was bereft of my senses. They kept me in the +hospital at Acre, but they knew nought, and could learn nought of +my kindred, until at length I recovered my reason. Then I told them +I was dead to the world, and besought them to keep me, but they +bade me wander, and stir up others to the rescue of the Holy Land +ere I took my rest. And then, too, there was my son--" + +"Thy SON?" + +"Yes. I see I had better unfold all to thee in detail, from the +beginning of my wanderings. After I had fled from my father's +wrath, I first went to sunny Provence, where I found friends in the +great family of the Montforts, and won the friendship of a man who +has since become famous, the Earl of Leicester. A distant kinswoman +of theirs, a cousin many times removed, effaced from my heart the +fickle damsel who had been the cause of my disgrace in England. +Poor Eveline! Never was there sweeter face or sunnier disposition! +Had she lived all had been well. I had not then gone forth, +abandoned to my own sinful self. But she died in giving birth to my +Hubert." + +"Thy son, doth he yet live?" + +"I left him in the care of Simon de Montfort, and went forward to +the rendezvous of the crusaders, the Isle of Malta, where, being +grievously insulted by a Frenchman--during a truce of God, which +had been proclaimed to the whole army--forgot all but my hot blood, +struck him, thereby provoked a combat, and slew him, for which I +was expelled the host, and forbidden to share in the holy war. + +"So I sailed thence to Sicily--in deep dejection, repenting, all +too late, my ungovernable spirit. + +"It was in the Isle of Sicily that an awful judgment befell me, +which has pursued me ever since, until it has blanched my locks +with gray, and hollowed out these wrinkles on my brow. + +"I had taken up my quarters at an inn, and was striving in vain to +drown my remorse in utter recklessness, in wine and mirth, when one +night, as I lay half unconscious in bed, I heard the door open. I +started up and laid my hand on my sword, but melted into a sweat of +fear as I saw the ghost of him I had slain, standing as if in life, +his hand upon the wound my blade had made. + +"'Nay,' said he, 'mortal weapons harm me not now, but see that thou +fulfil for me the vow I have made. Carry my sword in person or by +proxy to Jerusalem, and lay it on the altar of the Holy Sepulchre. +Then I forgive thee my death.' + +"The vision disappeared, but left me impressed with a sense that it +was real and no dream. Hence I dared to return to Malta, and +telling my story begged, but begged in vain, to be allowed to carry +the sword of the man I had slain through the campaign. + +"I could not even obtain the sword. It had been sent back to hang +by the side of the rusty weapons his ancestors had once borne, in +the hall of their distant Chateau de Fievrault. + +"I returned to Provence, revisited the tomb of my Eveline, saw my +boy, sought absolution, made many prayers, but could not shake off +the phantom. It was on a Friday I slew my foe, and on each Friday +night he appeared. The young Simon de Montfort was about to form +another band of crusaders, and he allowed me to accompany him, with +the result I have described. During my stay in the monastery at +Acre the phantom troubled me not, and as I have already said, I +would fain have remained there, but when they heard my tale they +bade me return and fulfil my duties to my kindred, and stir up +others to come to the aid of the Holy Land, since I was physically +incapable of ever bearing arms again. + +"But I shall even yet fulfil my vow, and the vow of the man I slew, +through my boy, when he has gained his spurs. My sinful steps are +not permitted to press that soil, once trodden by those blessed +feet, nailed for our salvation to the holy rood. Hubert will live +and bear the sword of the slain Sieur de Fievrault, sans peur et +sans reproche. Then I may lay me down in peace and take my rest." + +"Will thou not see my husband?" + +"I cannot reveal myself here in this castle to any one but thee, +and as my tormentor pays his visits again, I will betake me to the +Priory of Lewes." + +"And must thou leave thy ancestral halls, and bury thyself again, +my brother?" + +"I must. My task is done. I came but to feast my eyes with the +sight of thee, and to tell thee that thy nephew, the true heir of +Walderne, lives, satisfied that thou wilt not now allow him to be +defrauded of his rights." + +"Why not reveal thyself to my husband?" + +"I cannot--at least not in this house; but in the morn, after I +have parted for Lewes. tell him all." + +"And what proofs shall I give if he ask them?" + +"Let him seek me at Lewes or, better still, refer to Simon de +Montfort, who is the guardian of the boy, and has him in safe +keeping at Kenilworth." + +"Sybil," cried a voice. + +"It is my husband. I must go. Farewell, dearly loved, unhappy +brother." + +And she departed, leaving him alone in the chapel. + +Hours had passed by, the inmates of the castle at Walderne all +slept, still as the sleeping woods around, save only the watchman +on the walls, for in those days of nightly rapine and daily +violence no castle or house of any pretensions dispensed with such +a guard. + +Save only the watcher on the walls, and a lonelier watcher in the +chapel. For there, in the sanctuary his sister had erected, knelt +the returned prodigal, unknown to all save that sister. His heart +was full of deep emotion, as well it might be. And thus he mused: + +"This chapel was not here in my father's time. There were few +lessons to be learnt then, save those of strife and violence. What +wonder that when he set me the example, my young blood ran too +hotly in my veins, and that I finished my career of violence and +riot by slaying the rival who stood in my path? Yet was it done, +not in cold blood but in fair fight. Still, he was my cousin, a +favourite of my sire, who never forgave me, but drove me from home +to make reparation in the holy wars. Then on the way to the land of +expiation I must needs again stain my sword with Christian blood, +and that on a day when it was sacrilege to draw sword. + +"But I repent, I repent. O Lord, let the Blood which flowed on that +very day down the Holy Rood blot out my sins, atone for my +transgressions. + +"Nay, he appears, as oft before, and stands before me as when I +transfixed him on the quay at Malta. + +"Avaunt, unquiet spirit. My feet have pressed the soil hallowed by +the Sacred Blood. Avaunt, for I appeal from thy malice to God. Was +it not thou who didst provoke, and wouldst fain have slain me? What +was my act but one of self defence, defence first of honour, then +of life?" + +Here he paused, as if listening. + +"What dost thou say? I give thee rest. Let my son take the sword +from thy ancestral hall, and wield it in the holy war in thy name. +Then thy vow will be fulfilled, and thou wilt cumber earth no +longer. + +"Well, we shall see! But can I send him to that distant land? He +may suffer as I. + +"No! no! Son of my love! It may not be. + +"Ah, thou departest. It is well. Avaunt thee, poor ghost! Avaunt +thee." + +So the night sped away, and when the gates of the castle opened at +sunrise, the palmer passed through them and took the road for +Lewes. + +We need hardly say that, in the course of the day after the +ill-fated Roger had departed for Lewes, to bury his sorrows and his +sins within the hallowed walls of the Priory of Saint Pancras, the +Lady Sybil made a full revelation of all the circumstances of his +visit to her husband, Sir Nicholas Harengod. + +There was not a moment's doubt in the mind of that worthy knight as +to the proper course to be pursued. Roger must be left to carry out +his own decision--as the most convenient to all parties +concerned--and the son must at once be brought home and +acknowledged as the true heir of Walderne, cum Icklesham, cum Dene, +and I wot not what else. As for poor Drogo, he must be content with +the patrimony of Sir Nicholas--the manor of Harengod. + +So Sir Nicholas first sought an interview with his brother-in-law, +Roger, at the priory. He found him on the point of being admitted +to the novitiate, and then started post haste across the +country--northward for Kenilworth--where he arrived in due course, +and was soon closeted with the mighty earl, to whom he revealed the +whole story of the resurrection of Sir Roger of Walderne. + +It was indeed a resurrection. At first the earl hardly credited its +possibility; but anon with joy received it, and gave his full +consent for Sir Nicholas to take Hubert away for a time, that he +might make acquaintance with the home of his ancestors, and seek +his father at Lewes. + +Much more conversation passed between the knight and the earl, but +we shall have occasion to develop its results as our narrative +proceeds. + +So we shall leave our readers to picture the delight and wonder of +Hubert, the jealousy of Drogo, and much besides, while we go to +Oxford to see Martin. + + + +Chapter 7: Martin's First Day At Oxford. + + +It was a lovely morning in the Eastertide of 1256 when young Martin +looked forth from the window of his hostel at Oxford on the quaint +streets, the stately towers of the semi-monastic city. He was +bound, of course, as a dutiful son of Mother Church, to attend the +early service at one of the thirteen churches, after which, still +at a very early hour, he was invited to break his fast with the +great Franciscan, Adam de Maresco, to whom his friend the chaplain +had strongly commended him. So he put on his scholar's gown, and +went to the finest church then existing in Oxford, the Abbey Church +of Oseney. + +This magnificent abbey had been endowed by Robert D'Oyley, nephew +of the Norman Conqueror, mentioned in another of our Chronicles +{12}. It was situated on an island, formed by various branches +of the Isis, in the western suburbs of the city, and extended as +far as from the present Oseney Mill to St. Thomas' Church. The +abbey church, long since destroyed, was lofty and magnificent, +containing twenty-four altars, a central tower of great height, and +a western tower. Here King Henry III passed a Christmas with +"reverent mirth." + +There was a large gathering of monks, friars, and students; the +quiet sober side of Oxford predominated in the early dawn, and +Martin thought he had never seen so orderly a city. He was destined +to change his ideas, or at least modify them, before he laid his +head on his pillow that night. + +Before leaving the church Martin ascended to the summit of the +abbey tower, the wicket gate of which stood invitingly open, in +order to survey the city and country, and gain a general idea of +his future home. Below him, in the sweet freshness of the early +morn, the branches of the Isis surrounded the abbey precincts, the +river being well guarded by stone work and terraces, so that it +could not at flood time encroach upon the abbey. Neither before the +days of locks could or did such floods occur as we have now, the +water got away more readily, and the students could not sail upon +"Port Meadow" as upon a lake, in the winter and spring, as they do +at the present day. + +Beyond the abbey rose the church and college of "Saint George in +the Castle," that is within the precincts of the fortress, and the +great mound thrown up by Queen Ethelflaed, a sister of Alfred, now +called the Jew's Mount {13}, and the two towers of the Norman +Castle seemed to make one group with church and college. The town +church of Saint Martin rose from a thickly-built group of houses, +at a spot called Quatre Voies, where the principal streets crossed, +which name we corrupt into Carfax. He counted the towers of +thirteen churches, including the historic shrine of Saint +Frideswide, which afterwards developed into the College of +Christchurch, and later still furnished the Cathedral of the +diocese. + +Around lay a wild land of heath and forest, with cultivated fields +very infrequently interspersed; the moors of Cowley, the woods of +Shotover and Bagley; and farther still, the forests of Nuneham, +inhabited even then by the Harcourts, who still hold the ancestral +demesne. Descending, he made his way to Greyfriars, as the +Franciscan house was called, encountering many groups who were +already wending their way to lecture room, or, like Martin, +returning to break their fast after morning chapel, which then +meant early mass at one of the many churches, for only in three or +four instances had corporate bodies chapels of their own. + +These groups were very unlike modern undergraduates; as a rule they +were much younger people, of the same ages as the upper forms in +our public schools, from fourteen or fifteen years upwards; mere +boys, living in crowded hostels, fighting and quarrelling with all +the sweet "abandon" of early youth, sometimes begging masterfully, +for licenses to beg were granted to poor students, living, it might +be, in the greatest poverty, but still devoted to learning. + +At length Martin arrived at the house of the Franciscans, where he +was eventually to lodge, but they had no room for him at this +moment, hence he had been sent to a hostelry, licensed to take +lodgers; much to the regret of Adam de Maresco. But he could not +show partiality. Each newcomer must take his turn, according to the +date of the entry of his name. The friary was on the marshy ground +between the walls and the Isis, on land bestowed upon them in +charity, amongst the huts of the poor whom they loved. At first +huts of mud and timber, as rough and rude as those around, arose +within the fence and ditch which they drew and dug around their +habitations, but the necessities of the climate had driven them to +build in stone, for the damp climate, the mists and fogs from the +Isis, soon rotted away their woodwork. And so Martin found a very +simple, but very substantial building in the Norman architecture of +the period. The first "Provincial" of the Greyfriars had persuaded +Robert Grosseteste, afterwards the great Bishop of Lincoln, to +lecture at the school they founded in their Oxford house, and all +his powerful influence was exercised to gain them a sound footing +in the University. They deserved it, for their schools attained a +reputation throughout Christendom, so nobly was the work, which +Grosseteste began, carried on by his scholar and successor, Adam de +Maresco. + +And they had helped to make Oxford, as it was then, the second city +of importance in England, and only second to Paris amongst the +learned cities of the world. + +Martin was shown along a cloister looking through the most sombre +of Norman arches, upon a greensward. The doors of many cells opened +upon it. He was told to knock at one of them, and a deep voice +replied, "Enter in the name of the Lord." + +It was a large, plain room, with a vaulted ceiling lighted by +lancet windows and scantily furnished; rough oaken benches, a plain +heavy table, covered with parchments and manuscripts: in one recess +a Prie-Dieu beneath a crucifix, and under the fald stool a skull, +with the words "memento mori," three or four chairs with painfully +straight backs, a cupboard for books (manuscripts) and parchments, +another for vestments ecclesiastical or collegiate. This was all +which cumbered the bare floor. At the corner of the room a spiral +stone staircase led to the bed chamber. + +Before the table stood an aged and venerable man, in the gray +clothing of the Franciscans, sweet in face, pleasant in manner, +dignified in hearing, in reputation without a stain, in learning +unsurpassed. + +Martin bowed reverently before him, and gave him the chaplain's +letter. + +"I had heard of thy arrival, my son. I trust thou hast found +comfortable lodgings at the hostel I recommended?" + +"I have slept well, my father." + +"And hast not forgotten thy duty to God?" + +"I should do discredit to my teacher at Kenilworth if I did. I have +been to the abbey church." + +"He is a man of God, and I doubt not thou art worthy of his love, +for he writes of thee as a father might of a much-loved son. But +now, my son, we must break our fast. Come to the refectorium with +me." + +Passing into the cloister they came to the dining hall or +"refectorium." Three long tables, a fourth where the elders and +professors sat, on a raised platform at right angles to the others. +A hundred men and boys had already assembled, and after a Latin +grace, breakfast began. It was not a fast day, so the fare was +substantial, although quite plain--porridge, pease soup, bread, +meat, cheese, and ale. The most sober youth of the university were +there, men who meant eventually to assume the gray habit, and carry +the Gospel over wilderness and forest, in the slums of towns, or +amongst the heathen, counting peril as nought. There was no buzz of +conversation, only from a stone pulpit the reader read a chapter +from the Gospels. + +After this was done, grace after meat was said, and the elders +first departed, the great master taking Martin back with him into +his cell. + +"And now, my son, what dost thou come to Oxford for?" + +"To learn that I may afterwards teach." + +"And what dost thou desire to become?" + +"One of your holy brotherhood, a brother of Saint Francis." + +"Dost thou know what that means, my son? Scanty clothing, hard +fare, the absence of all that men most value, the welcoming of +perils and hardships as thy daily companions, that thou mayst take +thy life in thy hand, and find the sheep of Christ amongst the +wolves." + +"All this I have been told." + +"Well, my son, thou art yet new to the world. At Oxford thou will +see it, and will make thy choice better when thou knowest both what +thou rejectest and what thou seekest. Meanwhile, guard thy youthful +steps; avoid quarrelling, fighting, drinking, dicing; mortify thine +own flesh--" + +"Do these temptations await me in Oxford?" + +"The air has been full of them, since Henry brought the thousand +students from the gay university of Paris hither. Thou wilt soon +see, and gauge thy power of resisting temptation. I would not say, +stay indoors. The virtue which has never been tested is nought." + +"Where do the brethren chiefly work for God?" + +"In the noisome lazar houses, amongst the lepers, in the shambles +of Newgate, here on the swamps between the walls and the Thames, +where men live and suffer. We do not enter the brotherhood to build +grand buildings. We sleep on bare pallets without pillows." + +"Why without pillows?" asked Martin, wondering. + +"We need no little mountains to lift our heads to heaven. None but +the sick go shod." + +"Is it not dangerous to health to go without shoes in the winter?" + +"God protects us," said the master, smiling sweetly. "One of our +friars found a pair of shoes last winter on a frosty morning, and +wore them to matins. At night he had a dream. He dreamt that he was +travelling on the work of God, and that at a dangerous pass in the +forest of the Cotswolds, robbers leapt out upon him, crying, 'Kill, +kill.' + +"'I am a friar,' he shrieked. + +"'You lie,' they replied, 'for you go shod.' + +"He awoke and threw the shoes out of the window." + +"And did he catch cold afterwards?" + +Another smile. + +"No, my son, all these things go by habit." + +"Shall I begin to leave off my shoes?" + +"Not yet, your vocation is not settled. You may yet choose the +world." + +"I never shall." + +"Poor boy, you are young and cannot tell. Perhaps before nightfall +a different light may be thrown upon your good resolutions." + +A pause ensued. At length Martin went on, "At least you have books. +I love books." + +"At first we had not even them, but later on the Holy Father +thought that those who contend with the unbelieving learned should +be learned themselves. They who pour forth must suck in." + +"When did the Order come to Oxford?" + +"Thirty years agone. When we first landed at Dover we made our way +to London, the home of commerce, and Oxford, the home of learning. +The two first gray brethren lost their way in the woods of Nuneham, +on their road to the city, and afraid of the floods, which were +out, and of the dark night, which made it difficult to avoid the +water, took refuge in a grange, which belonged to the Abbey of +Abingdon, where dwelt a small branch of the great Benedictine +Brotherhood. Their clothes were ragged and torn with thorns, and +they only spoke broken English, so the monks took them for the +travelling jugglers of the day, and welcomed them with great +hospitality. But after supper they all assembled in the common +room, and bade the supposed jugglers show their craft. + +"'We be not jugglers, we be poor brethren of our Lord and Saint +Francis.' + +"Now the monks were very jealous of the new Order, so unlike +themselves, in its renunciation of ease and luxury, and in very +spite they called them knaves and impostors, and kicked them out of +doors." + +"What did they do?" + +"They slept under a tree, and the angels comforted them. The next +day they got to Oxford and began their work. The plague had been +raging in the poorer quarters of the city, and they brought the joy +of the Gospel to those miserable people. At length their numbers +increased, and they built this house wherein we dwell." + +In such conversation as this Martin passed a happy hour, then went +to the first lecture he attended, in the schools attached to the +friary, where the great works of Augustine and Aquinas formed the +text books; no Creek as yet. He passed from Latin to Logic, as the +handmaid of theology. The great thinker Aristotle supplied the +method, not the language or matter, and became the ally of +Christianity, under the rendering of a learned brother. + +Then followed the noontide meal, a stroll with some younger +companions of his own age, to whom he had been specially +introduced, which led them so far afield that they only returned in +time for the vesper service, at the friary. + +After the service Martin should have returned to his lodgings at +once, but, tempted by the novelty of all he saw about him, he +lingered in the streets, and saw cause to alter his opinion of the +extreme propriety of the students. Some of them were playing at +pitch and toss in the thievish corners. At least half a dozen pairs +of antagonists were settling their quarrels with their fists or +with quarterstaves, in various secluded nooks. Songs, gay rather +than grave, not to say a trifle licentious, resounded; while once +or twice he was asked: "Are you North or South?"--a query to which +he hardly knew how to reply, Kenilworth being north and Sussex +south of Oxford. + +But the penalty of not answering was a rude jostling, which tried +his temper sadly, and awoke the old Adam within him, which our +readers remember only slumbered. He looked through the open door of +a tavern. It was full of the young reprobates, and the noise and +turmoil was deafening. + +As he stood by the door, three or four grave-looking men came +along. + +"We must get them all home, or there will be bloodshed tonight," +Martin heard one say. + +"It will be difficult," replied the other. + +Into the tavern they turned, and the noise suddenly subsided. + +"What do ye here, ye reprobates, that ye stand drinking, dicing, +quarrelling? To your hostels, every one of you," said the first. + +Martin expected scornful resistance, and was surprised to see that +instead, all the rapscallions evacuated the place, and the +"proctors," as we should now call them, remained to remonstrate +with the host, whose license they threatened to withdraw. + +"How can I help it?" he said. "They be too many for me." + +"If you cannot keep order, seek another trade," was the stern +response. "We cannot have the morals of our scholars corrupted." + +"Bless you, sirs, it is they who corrupt me. I don't know half the +wickedness they do." + +Our readers need not believe him, the proctors did not. + +But Martin took the warning, and was bent on getting home, only he +lost his way, and could not find it again. It was not for want of +asking; but the young scholars he met preferred lies to truth, in +the mere frolic of puzzling a newcomer, and sent him first to +Frideswide's, thence to the East Gate, near Saint Clement's Chapel, +and he was making his way back with difficulty along the High +Street when he heard an awful confusion and uproar about the +"Quatre Voies" (Carfax) Conduit. + +"Down with the lubberly North men!" + +"Split their skulls, though they be like those of the bullocks +their sires drive!" + +"Down with the moss troopers!" + +"Boves boreales!" + +And answering cries: + +"Down with the lisping, smooth-tongued Southerners!" + +"Australes asini!" + +"Eheu!" + +"Slay me every one with a burr in his mouth." (An allusion to the +Northumbrian accent.) + +"Down with the mincing fools who have got no r.r.r's" + +"Burrrrn them, you should say." + +"Frangite capita." + +"Percutite porcos boreales." + +"Vim inferre australibus asinis." + +"Sternite omnes Gallos." + +So they shouted imprecations in Latin and English, and eke in +French, for there were many Gauls about. + +What chance of getting through the fighting, drunken, riotous mobs? +Quarterstaves were rising and falling upon heads and shoulders. No +deadlier weapons were used, but showers of missiles from time to +time descended, unsavoury or otherwise. + +At length the superior force of the Northern men prevailed, and +Martin, whose blood was strangely stirred, saw a slim and delicate +youth fighting so bravely with a huge Northern ox ("bos borealis," +he called him) that for a time he stayed the rush, until the whole +Southern line gave way and Martin, entangled with the rout, got +driven down Saint Mary's Lane, opposite the church of that name, an +earlier building on the site of the present University church. + +At an angle of the street, where another lane entered in, the young +Southerner before mentioned turned to bay, and with three or four +more of his countryfolk kept the narrow way against scores of +pursuers. + +Martin could not restrain himself any longer. He saw three or four +men pressed by dozens, and rushed with all the fire of his generous +and impetuous nature to their aid, in time to intercept a blow +aimed at the young leader: + +Well could he brandish such weapons, and he stood side by side and +settled many a "bos borealis," or northern bullock, with as much +zest as ever a southern butcher. But at length his leader fell, and +Martin stood diverting the strokes aimed at his fallen companion, +who was stunned for the moment, until a rough hearty voice cried +out: + +"Let them alone, they have had enough. 'Tis cowardly to fight a +dozen to one. Listen, the row is on in the Quatre Voies again. We +shall find more there." + +The two were left alone. + +Martin raised his wounded companion, whose head was bleeding +profusely. + +"Art thou hurt much?" + +"Not so very much, only dazed. I shall soon be better. I am close +home." + +"Let me support you. Lean on me, I will see you safe." + +"You came just in time. Where did you come from? I never saw you +before--and where did you learn to handle the cudgel so well?" + +"From the woods of merry Sussex, and later on, the tilt yard of +Kenilworth." + +"Oh, you are a true Southerner, then. So am I, the second son of +Waleran de Monceux of Herst, in the Andredsweald. + +"Here we are at home--come in to Saint Dymas' Hall." + + + +Chapter 8: Hubert At Lewes Priory. + + +William de Warrenne and Gundrada his wife, the daughter of the +mighty Conqueror, were travelling on the Continent and made a +pilgrimage to the famous Abbey of Clairvaux, presided over by the +great abbot, poet, and preacher of the age, Saint Bernard. So much +did they admire all they saw and heard, so sweet was the contrast +of monastic peace to their life of ceaseless turmoil, that they +determined to found such a house of God on their newly-acquired +domains in Sussex, after the fashion of Clairvaux. + +Already they had superseded the wooden Saxon church of Saint +Pancras, the boy martyr of ancient Rome, which they found at Lewes, +by a stone building, and now upon its site they began to erect a +mightier edifice by far, upon proportions which would entail the +labour of generations. + +A wondrous and beautiful priory arose; it covered forty acres, its +church was as big as a cathedral, a magnificent cruciform pile--one +hundred and fifty feet long, sixty-five feet in height from +pavement to roof; there were twenty-four massive pillars in the +nave {14}, each thirty feet in circumference; but it was not +until the time of their grandson, the third earl, that it was +dedicated. Nor indeed were its comely proportions enhanced by the +two western towers until the very date of our tale, nearly two +centuries later. Then it lived on in its beauty, a joy to +successive generations, until the vandals of Thomas Cromwell, +trained to devastation, so completely destroyed it in a few brief +weeks that the next generation had almost forgotten its site +{15}. + +The first monks were foreigners, by the advice of Lanfranc, and, as +a great favour, Saint Bernard sent three of his own brethren from +Clairvaux, who taught the good people of Lewes to sing "Jesu dulcis +memoria." Loth though we are to confess it, there can be little +doubt that the foreigners were a great advance in learning and +piety upon the monks before the Conquest; the first prior, Lanzo, +was conspicuous for his many virtues and sweet ascetic disposition. + +There the bones of the founders were laid to rest beneath the +gorgeous fabric they had founded, and there they had hoped to await +the day of doom and righteous retribution. But alas! poor Normans! +in the sixteenth century old Harry pulled the grand church down +above their heads; in the nineteenth the navvies, making the +railroad, disinterred their bones. But they respected the dead, the +names William and Gundrada were upon the coffins which their +profane mattocks unearthed, and the reader may see them at +Southover Church. + +In the freshness of a May morning Hubert and his new uncle, Sir +Nicholas Harengod, dismounted at the gate of the priory, having +left their train at the hostelry up in the town. + +"Canst thou tell us whether the brother of Saint John, Roger erst +of Walderne, is tarrying within?" + +"Certes he is, but just now he heareth the Chapter Mass--few +services or offices doth he miss, and like Saint James of old, his +knees are worn as hard as the knees of camels." + +"We would fain see him--here is his son." + +"By our lady, not to mention Saint Pancras, a well-favoured +stripling. And thou?" + +"I am Sir Nicholas of Walderne," said he of that query, with some +importance, which was quite lost upon the janitor. + +"Walderne! Some place in the woods may be. Well, get you, +worshipful sirs, to the hospitium, where we feed all hungry folk at +the hour of noon, and I will strive to find the good brother." + +The splendid group of buildings, of which only a few +half-demolished walls remain, rose before them, on each side of the +great quadrangle which they now entered; the chapter house, where +the brethren met for counsel; the refectory, where they fed; the +dormitory, where they slept; the scriptory, where they copied those +beautiful manuscripts which antiquarians love to obtain; the +infirmary, where the sick were tended; and lastly, the hospitium or +guest house, where all travellers and pilgrims were welcome. + +They entered the hospitium, where the noontide meal was about to be +served. It was plain but ample; solid joints, huge loaves, ale, and +even wine in moderation. Some twenty sat down to the hospitable +board. + +During the "noon meat" a homily was read. When the meal was over a +lay brother came and beckoned Sir Nicholas and Hubert to follow +him. He led them to the cloisters and knocked at the door of a +cell. + +"Come in," said a deep voice. + +Could this be the father Hubert had so longed to know, clad in a +long dark dress, with haggard and worn features, which, however, +still preserved their native nobility? + +At the sight of his visitors he showed an emotion he vainly +endeavoured to repress, under an affectation of self control. He +greeted Sir Nicholas kindly, but embraced his fair son, while tears +he could not repress streamed down his worn cheeks. + +"This is then my Hubert. Ah, how like thy short-lived mother! She +lives again in thee, my boy." + +"But, my father, I trust thy courage and valour have descended to +me also. They do not call me girlish at Kenilworth." + +"Such as I have to bequeath is, I trust, thine. Thy mother came of +a race more addicted to lute and harp than sword or spear. It was +the worse for them in their dire need, when the stern father of him +who shelters thee harried their land with fire and sword. + +"But we waste time. Sit down and let the eyes of the father, weary +of the world, gaze upon the boy in whom he lives again." + +For a few moments there was silence, during which Roger seemed +struggling to overcome an emotion which overpowered him. + +"I was thinking of the sunny land of Provence, and was there again +with one dearly loved, who was only spared to me a few short +months. She died in giving thee birth, my Hubert; had she lived, I +had not become the wreck I am. + +"So thou desirest to go forth into the world, my son?" + +"As thou didst also, my father." + +"But I trust under other auspices. Tell me not of my giddy youth. +Dearly did I pay the price of youthful folly and unseemly strife. +Thou, too, my boy, must buy experience; God grant more cheaply than +I bought mine." + +There he shuddered. + +"My boy, hast thou ever wished to be a warrior of the Cross--a +crusader?" + +"Often, oh how often. In that way I would fain serve God." + +The monk soldier smiled. + +"And how wouldst thou attempt to convert the infidel?" + +"At the first blasphemy he uttered I would cut him down, cleave him +to the chine." + +"Such our knights generally hold to be the better way, for their +arms were readier than their tongues, but I never heard that they +saved the souls of the heathen thereby." + +"No one wants to see them in heaven, I should think. Let them go to +their own place." + +"It is wrong, I know it is. It must be. There is a better way--come +with me, boy, I would fain show thee something." + +He led the wondering boy into the garden of the monastery. There in +the centre arose an artificial mount, and upon it stood a +cross--the figure of the Redeemer, bending, as in death, from the +rood. It was called "The Calvary," and men came there to pray. + +The father bent his knee--the son did the same. + +"Now, my boy, whom did He die for but His enemies? Even for His +murderers He cried, 'Father, forgive them!' And you would fain slay +them." + +Hubert was silent. + +"When thou art struck--" + +"No one ever struck me without getting it back, at least no boy of +my own age," interrupted Hubert. + +"And He said, 'When thou art smitten on one cheek, turn the other +to the smiter.'" + +"But, my father, must we all be like that? I am sure I couldn't be +that sort of Christian; even the good earl Simon is not, nor Martin +either. Perhaps the chaplain is--do you think so?" + +"Who is Martin?" + +"The best boy I know, but I have seen him fight." + +"Well, and thou may'st fight nay, must, as the world goes, in a +good cause, and there is a sword which thou must bear unsullied +through the conflict. But if thou avengest thine own private +wrongs, as I did, or bearest rancour against thy personal foes, +never wilt thou deliver me." + +"Deliver thee?" + +"Yes, my child. I am under a curse, because on the very day of the +great sacrifice on the Cross, on a Friday, I slew a man who had +insulted me. He died unhouselled, unanointed, unannealed, and his +ghost ever haunts my midnight hour." + +"Even here, in this holy, consecrated place?" + +"Even in the very church itself." + +"Can any one else see it?" + +"They have never done so. Perhaps as thou art of my blood, it might +be permitted thee." + +"I will try. Let me stay this night with thee, and watch by thy +side in the church." + +"Thou shalt be blessed in the deed. I will ask Sir Nicholas to +tarry the night if he can do so." + +"Or I might ride back alone tomorrow." + +"The forest is dangerous; the outlaws abound." + +"That for the outlaws, hujus facio;" and Hubert snapped his +fingers. It was about the only scrap of Latin he cared for. + +The father smiled sadly. + +"Come, we are keeping Sir Nicholas waiting;" and they returned to +the great quadrangle, where they found that worthy striding up and +down with some impatience. + +"We must be off at once, brother, Hubert and I. The woods are not +over safe after nightfall." + +"I must ask thee to spare me my son a while. I would fain make his +further acquaintance." + +"Come back with us to Walderne, then. The lad would soon die of the +gloom of a monastery." + +"I spent four years in one, and the earl found me alive at the +end," said Hubert. + +"Nay, my brother, I may not leave the priory now." + +"But how long wilt thou keep the boy?" + +"Only till tomorrow." + +"Well, I may tarry till tomorrow, but not at the monastery. My old +crony, the De Warrenne up at the castle, will lodge me, and I will +return for the lad after the Chapter Mass, at nine." + +Of all forms of architecture the Norman appears to the writer the +most awe inspiring. Its massive round pillars, its bold, but simple +arch, have an effect upon the mind more imposing and solemnising, +if we may coin the word, than the more florid architecture of the +decorated period, which may aptly be described as "Gothic run to +seed." Such a stern and simple structure was the earlier priory +church of Lewes, in the days of which we write. + +A little before midnight two forms entered the south transept by a +little wicket door. There was a black darkness over the heavens +that night, and a high wind moaned and shrieked about the upper +turrets of the stately fane. Oh, how solemn was the inner aspect at +that dread hour, lighted only by the seven lamps, which, typical of +the Seven Spirits of God, burned in the choir, pendent from the +roof. + +One timorous glance Hubert gave into the dark recesses of the +aisles and transept, into the dim space overhead, as if he almost +expected to hear the flapping of ghostly pinions in the portentous +gloom. A sense of mystery daunted his spirit as he followed his +sire by the light of a feeble lamp, carried in the hand, amidst the +tall columns which rose like tree trunks around, each shaft +appearing to rise farther than the sight could penetrate, ere it +gave birth to the arch from its summit. Dead crusaders lay around +in stone, and strove with grim visage to draw the sword and smite +the worshippers of Mohammed, as if in the very act they had been +petrified by a new Gorgon's head. The steps of the intruders seemed +sacrilegious, breaking the solemn stillness of the night as the +father led the son into the chapel of the patron saint of his order: + +Who propped the Virgin in her faint, +The loved Apostle John. + +There the horror-stricken Hubert heard the dismal tale which we +have already related, and that his unhappy father believed himself +yet visited each night by the ghost of the man he had slain. And +also that it was fixed in his poor diseased brain that the +apparition would not rest until the crusade, vowed by the Sieur de +Fievrault, but cut short by his fall, should be made by proxy, and +that the proxy must be one sans peur et sans reproche. And that +this reparation made, the poor spirit, according to the belief of +the age, released from purgatorial fires, might enter Paradise and +reappear no more between the hours of midnight and cock crowing to +trouble the living. + +"What an absurd story," the sceptic may say. No doubt it is to us, +but a man must live in his own age, and there was nought absurd or +improbable to young Hubert in it all. + +And when the weird tale was finished, and the hour of midnight +tolled boom! boom! boom! from the tower above, every stroke sent a +thrill through the heart of the youth. That dread hour, when, as +men thought, the powers of darkness had the world to themselves, +when a thousand ghosts shrieked on the hollow wind, when midnight +hags swept through the tainted air, and goblins gibbered in +sepulchres. + +Just then Hubert caught his father's glance, and it made each +separate hair erect itself: + +Like quills upon the fretful porcupine. + +"Father," cried the boy, "what art thou gazing at? what aileth +thee? I see nought amiss." + +Words came from the father's lips, not in reply to his son, but as +if to some object unseen by all besides. + +"Yes, unhappy ghost, I may dare thy livid terrors now. My son, thy +proxy, is by my side, pure and shameless, brave and trustworthy. He +shall carry thy sword to the holy soil and dye it 'deep in Paynim +blood.' Then thou and I may rest in peace." + +"Father, I see nought." + +"Not there, between those pillars?" + +"What is it?" + +"A dead man, with a sword wound in his open breast, which he +displays. His eyes live, yea, and the wound lives." + +"No, father, there is nothing." + +"Then go and stand between those pillars, and prove it to me to be +void." + +Hubert hesitated. He would sooner have fought a hundred boyish +battles with fist, quarterstaff, or even deadly weapons--but this-- + +"Ah, thou darest not. Nay, I blame thee not, yet thou didst say +there was nothing." + +Hubert could not resist that pleading tone in which the sire seemed +to ask release from his own delusion. He went with determined step, +and stood on the indicated spot. + +"He is gone. He fled before thee. The omen is good. Thou shalt +deliver thy sire--let us pray together." + +Sire and son knelt until the first note of the matin song just +before daybreak (it was the month of May) broke the utterance of +the father and, we fear we must own it, the sleep of the son. + +Domine labia mea aperies +Et os meum annuntiabit laudem Tuam. + +The sombre-robed monks were in the choir, the organ rolling out its +deep notes in accompaniment to the plain song of the Venite +exultemus, which then, as now, preceded the psalms for the day. +Then came the hymn: + +Lo night and clouds and darkness wrap +The world in dark array; +The morning dawns, the sun breaks in, +Hence, hence, ye shades--away {16}! + +"Come, Hubert, dear son, worthy of thy sainted mother. We will +praise Him, too, for He has lifted the darkness from my heart." + + + +Chapter 9: The Other Side Of The Picture. + + +The young scion of the house of Herstmonceux led Martin a few steps +down the lane opposite Saint Mary's Church, until they came to the +vaulted doorway of a house of some pretensions. Its walls were +thick, its windows deep set and narrow. Dull in external +appearance, it did not seem to be so within, for sounds of riotous +mirth proceeded from many a window left open for admittance of air. +The great door was shut, but a little wicket was on the latch, and +Ralph de Monceux opened it, saying: + +"Come and do me the honour of a short visit, and give me the latest +news from dear old Sussex." + +"What place is this?" replied Martin. + +"Beef Halt, so called because of the hecatombs of oxen we consume." + +Martin smiled. + +"What is the real name?" + +"It should be 'Ape Hall,' for here we ape men of learning, whereas +little is done but drinking, dicing, and fighting. But you will +find our neighbours in the next street have monopolised that title, +with yet stronger claims." + +"But what do the outsiders call you?" + +"Saint Dymas' Halt, since we never pay our debts. But the world +calls it Le Oriole {17} Hostel. A better name just now is +'Liberty Hall,' for we all do just as we like. There is no king in +Israel." + +So speaking, he lifted the latch, and saluted a gigantic porter: + +"Holloa, Magog! hast thou digested the Woodstock deer yet?" + +"Not so loud, my young sir. We may be heard." He paused, but put +his hand knowingly to the neck just under the left ear. + +"Pshaw, he that is born to die in his bed can never be hanged. +Where is Spitfire?" + +"Here," said a sharp-speaking voice, coming from a precocious young +monkey in a servitor's dress. + +"Get me a flagon of canary, and we will wash down the remains of +the pasty." + +"But strangers are not admitted after curfew," said the porter. + +"And I must be getting to my lodgings," said Martin. + +"Tush, tush, didn't you hear that this is Liberty Hall? + +"Shut your mouth, Magog--here is something to stop it. This young +warrior just knocked down a bos borealis, who strove to break my +head. Shall I not offer him bread and salt in return?" + +The porter offered no further opposition, for the speaker slipped a +coin into his palm as he continued: + +"Come this way, this is my den. Not that way, that is spelunca +latronum, a den of robbers." + +"Holloa! here is Ralph de Monceux, and with a broken head, as +usual. + +"Where didst thou get that, Master Ralph, roaring Ralph?" + +Such sounds came from the spelunca latronum." + +"At the Quatre Voies, fighting for your honour against a drove of +northern oxen." + +"And whom hast thou brought with thee to help thee mend it?" + +"The fellow who knocked down the bos who gave it me, as deftly as +any butcher." + +"Let us see him." + +"What name shall I give thee?" whispered Ralph. + +"Martin." + +"Martin of--?" + +"Martin from Kenilworth," said our bashful hero, blushing. + +"Thou didst say thou wert of Sussex?" + +"So I am, but I was adopted into the earl's household three years +agone." + +"Then he is Northern," said a listener. + +"No, he came from Sussex." + +"Say where? no tricks upon gentlemen." + +"Michelham Priory." + +"Michelham Priory. Ah! an acolyte! Tapers, incense, and albs." + +"Acolyte be hanged. He does not fight like one at all events." + +"Come up into my den. + +"Come, Hugh, Percy, Aylmer, Richard, Roger, and we will discuss the +matter deftly over a flagon of canary with eke a flask or two of +sack, in honour of our new acquaintance." + +"Nay," said Martin, "now I have seen you safe home, I must go. It +is past curfew. I am a stranger, and should be at my lodgings." + +"We will see thee safely home, and improve the occasion by cracking +a few more bovine skulls if we meet them, the northern burring +brutes. Their lingo sickens me, but here we are." + +So speaking, he opened the door of the vaulted chamber he called +his "den." It was sparingly furnished, and bore no likeness to the +sort of smoking divan an undergrad of the tone of Ralph would +affect now in Oxford. Plain stove, floor strewn with rushes, rude +tapestry around the walls, with those uncouth faces and figures +worked thereon which give antiquarians a low idea of the personal +appearance of the people of the day, a solid table, upon which a +bear might dance without breaking it, two or three stools, a carved +cabinet, a rude hearth and chimney piece, a rough basin and ewer of +red ware in deal setting, a pallet bed in a recess. + +And the students, the undergraduates of the period, were worth +studying. One had a black eye, another a plastered head, a third an +arm in a sling, a fourth a broken nose. Martin stared at them in +amazement. + +"We had a tremendous fight here last night. The Northerners +besieged us in our hostel. We made a sally and levelled a few of +the burring brutes before the town guard came up and spoiled the +fun. What a pity we can't fight like gentlemen with swords and +battle axes!" + +"Why not, if you must fight at all?" said Martin, who had been +taught at Kenilworth to regard fists and cudgels as the weapons of +clowns. + +"Because, young greenhorn," said Hugh, "he who should bring a sword +or other lethal weapon into the University would shortly be +expelled by alma mater from her nursery, according to the statutes +for that case made and provided." + +"But why do you come here, if you love fighting better than +learning? There is plenty of fighting in the world." + +"Some come because they are made to come, others from a vocation +for the church, like thyself perhaps, others from an inexplicable +love of books; you should hear us when our professor Asinus +Asinorum takes us in class. + +"Amo, amas, amat, see me catch a rat. Rego, regis, regit, let me +sweat a bit." + +"Tace, no more Latin till tomorrow. Here is a venison pasty from a +Woodstock deer, smuggled into the town beneath a load of hay, under +the very noses of the watch." + +"Who shot it?" + +"Mad Hugh and I." + +"Where did you get the load of hay from?" + +"Oh, a farmer's boy was driving it into town. We knocked him down, +then tied him to a tree. It didn't hurt him much, and we left him a +walnut for his supper. Then Hugh put on his smock and other +ragtags, and hiding the deer under the hay, drove it straight to +the door, and Magog, who loves the smell of venison, took it in, +but we made him buy the bulk of the carcase." + +"How much did he give?" + +"A rose noble, and a good pie out of the animal into the bargain." + +"And what did you do with the cart?" + +"Hugh put on the smock again, and drove it outside the northern +gate, past 'Perilous Hall,' then gave the horse a cut or two of the +whip, and left it to find its way home to Woodstock if it could." + +"A good thing you are here with your necks only their natural +length. The king's forester would have hung you all three." + +"Only he couldn't catch us. We have led him many a dance before +now." + +When the reader considers that killing the king's deer was a +hanging matter in those days, he will not think these young +Oxonians behind their modern successors in daring, or, as he may +call it, foolhardiness. + +Martin was hungry, the smell of the pasty was very appetising, and +neither he nor any one else said any more until the pie had been +divided upon six wooden platters, and all had eaten heartily, +washing it down with repeated draughts from a huge silver flagon of +canary, one of the heirlooms of Herstmonceux; and afterwards they +cleansed their fingers, which they had used instead of forks, in a +large central finger glass--nay, bowl of earthenware. + +"More drink, I have a jorum of splendid sack in you cupboard," +cried their host when the flagon was empty. + +"Now a song, every one must give a song. + +"Hugh, you begin." +I love to lurk in the gloom of the wood +Where the lithesome stags are roaming, +And to send a sly shaft just to tickle their ribs +Ere I smuggle them home in the gloaming. + +"Just the case with this one we have been eating. But that measure +is slow, let me give you one," said Ralph. + +Come, drink until you drop, my boys, +And if a headache follow, +Why, go to bed and sleep it off, +And drink again tomorrow. + +Martin began to fear that the wine was suffocating his conscience +in its fumes--and said: + +"I must go now." + +"We will all go with you." + +"Magog won't let us out." + +"Yes he will, we will say we are all going to Saint Frideswide's +shrine to say our prayers." + +"The dice before we go." + +"Throw against me," said Hugh to our Martin. + +"I cannot, I never played in my life." + +"Then the sooner you begin the better. + +"Here, roaring Ralph, this innocent young acolyte says he has never +touched the dice." + +"Then the sooner he begins the better. + +"Come, stake a mark against me." + +"He hasn't got one." + +Shame, false shame, conquered Martin's repugnance. He threw one of +his few coins down, and Ralph did the same. + +"You throw first--six and four--ten. Here goes--I have only two +threes, the marks are yours." + +"Nay, I don't want them." + +"Take them and be hanged. D'ye think I can't spare a mark?" + +"Fighting, dicing, drinking," and then came to Martin's mind the +words of Adam de Maresco, uttered that very morning, and now he +determined to go at once at any cost, and turned to the door. + +"Nay, we are all going to see thee safe home. The boves boreales +may be grazing in the streets." + +"I hear them! Burr! burr! burr!" + +Down the stairs they all staggered. Martin felt so overcome as he +emerged into the air that he did not know at first how to walk +straight, yet he had not drunk half so much as the rest. + +"Ce n'est que le premier pas qui coute." + +But happily (to ease the mind of our readers we will say at once) +he was not to take many steps on this road. + +"Magog! Magog! open! open!" + +"Not such a noise, you'll wake the old governor above,"--alluding +to the master of the hostel. + +"He won't wake, not he. It does not pay to see too much. He knows +his own interests." + +"Past curfew," growled Magog. "Can't let any one out." + +"That only means he wants another coin." + +"Open, Magog, we are going to pray at Saint Frideswide's shrine for +thee." + +"We are going to get another deer for thee at Woodstock." + +"We are going by the king's invitation to visit the palace, and see +the ghost of fair Rosamond." + +"We are going to sup with the Franciscans--six split peas and a +thimbleful of water to each man." + +Even the venal porter hesitated to let such a crew into the +streets, but he gave way under the pressure of another coin. Cudgel +in hand they went forth, and as they passed the hostel they called +"Ape Hall" they sang aloud: + +Come forth, ye apes, and scratch your polls, +Your learning is in question, +And while ye scratch, eat what ye catch, +To quicken your digestion. + +Two or three "apes" looked out of the window much disgusted, as +well they might be, and were driven back by a shower of stones. +Onward--shouting, roaring, singing, but they met no one. All the +world was in bed. The moon alone looked down upon them as she waded +through the clouds, casting brilliant light here, leaving black +shadows there. + +All at once a light, the light of a torch, turned the corner. The +tinkling of a small bell was heard. It was close upon them. A +priest bore the last Sacrament to the dying--the Viaticum, or Holy +Communion, so called when given in the hour of death. + +"Down," cried Ralph, and they all knelt as it passed, for such was +the universal habit. Even vicious sinners thought they atoned for +their vice by their ready compliance with the forms of the Church. +Many a man in that day would have thought it a less sin to cut a +throat than to omit such an act of devotion. + +But Martin recognised the priest. It was Adam de Maresco in his +gray Franciscan robes, and he thought the father recognised him. He +turned crimson with shame at being found in such company. + +At last they reached home, and sick at heart he knocked at the +door. It was long before he was admitted, and then not without +sharp words of reproof, at which his companions laughed, as they +turned and went back to Le Oriole. + +Martin bathed his head in water to drive away the racking headache. +Fire seemed coursing through his veins as he lay down on the hard +pallet of straw in his little cell. + +He was awoke by a hideous purring; there, as he thought, upon his +cast-off garments, sat the enemy of mankind: he had drawn the mark +gained at the dice out of the gypsire, and was feasting on it with +his eyes, ever and anon licking it with great gusto, and meanwhile +purr, purr, purring like a huge cat. + +Martin, now awake, dashed from his couch--no fiend was there--he +tore his gypsire open, took out the coin, opened his casement, and +threw it like an accursed thing into the street. Then he got in bed +again and sobbed like a child. + + + +Chapter 10: Foul And Fair. + + +The rivalry between Drogo and Hubert became the more intense that +both lads were bound to suppress it; and after the return of the +latter from Sussex, it found vent in many acts of hostility and +spite on the part of the former, who was the older and bigger boy. +Yet he could not bully Hubert to any extent. The indomitable pluck +and courage of the youngster prevented it. He would not take a blow +or an insult without the most desperate resistance in the former +case, and the most sarcastic retorts in the latter, and he had both +a prompt hand and a cutting tongue. So Drogo had to swallow his +hatred as best he could, but it led to many black dark thoughts, +and to a determination to rid himself of his rival should the +opportunity ever be afforded, by fair means or foul. + +"I mean yet to be Lord of Walderne," he said to himself again and +again. + +And first of all he longed to get Hubert expelled from Kenilworth, +and to deprive him of the favour and protection of the earl; and +one day the devil, who often aids and abets those who seek his +help, threw a chance in his way. + +The earl had found it necessary to put a check upon the constant +slaughter of the deer in his large domains, which bade fair to +depopulate the forests. Therefore he had especially forbidden the +pages to shoot a stag or fawn, under any pretext, and as his orders +had been once or twice transgressed, he had caused it to be +intimated that the next offence, on the part of a page, would be +punished by expulsion: a very light penalty, when on many domains, +notably in the royal parks, it was death to a peasant or any common +person to kill the red deer. + +All the young candidates for knighthood at Kenilworth had their +arrows marked, for an arrow was too expensive a thing to be wasted, +and therefore the young archers regained their shafts when they had +done their work at the target. Such marks were useful also in +preventing disputes. + +One day, out in the woods, letting fly these shafts at lesser game, +such as they were permitted to kill, Hubert lost one of his arrows. +A few days afterwards the chief forester came up to the castle to +see the earl, who had just returned after a prolonged absence, and +his communication caused no little stir. + +The next day, after chapel, the earl ordered all the pages, some +twenty-five in number, to assemble in their common room, where they +received such lessons in the "humanities" from the chaplain as +their lord compelled them to accept, often against their taste and +inclination, for they thought nothing worth learning save fighting +and hunting. + +When they had assembled, the earl, attended by the chaplain, +appeared. They all stood in humble respect, and he looked with a +keen eye down their ranks, as they were ranged about twelve on each +side of the hall. A handsome, athletic set they were, dressed in +what we should call the Montfort livery--a garb which set off their +natural good looks abundantly--the dark features of Drogo; the +light eyes and flaxen hair of the son of a Provencal maiden, our +Hubert; were fair types of the varieties of appearance to be met +amongst the groups. + +The earl's features were clouded. + +"You are all aware, my boys, of the order that no one below +knightly rank should shoot deer in my forests?" + +"We are," said one and all. + +"Does any page profess ignorance of the rule?" + +No reply. + +"Then I have another question to put, and first of all, let me beg +most earnestly to press upon the guilty one the necessity of truth +and honour, which, although it may not justify me in remitting the +penalty, may yet retain him my friendship. A deer has been slain in +the woods, and by one of you. Let the guilty boy avow his fault." + +No one stirred. + +The earl looked troubled. + +"This grieves me deeply," he said, "far more than the mere offence. +It becomes a matter of honour--he who stirs not, declares himself +innocent, called by lawful authority to avow the truth as he now +is." + +Once or twice the earl looked sadly at Hubert, but the face of the +fair boy was unclouded. If he had looked on the other side, he +might have seen anxiety, if not apprehension, on one face. + +"Enter then, sir forester." + +The forester entered. + +"You found a deer shot by an arrow in the West Woods?" + +"I did." + +"And you found the arrow?" + +"Yes." + +"Was it marked?" + +"It was." + +The earl held an arrow up. + +"Who owns the crest of a boar's head?" + +Hubert started. + +"I do, my lord--but--but," and he changed colour. + +Do not let the reader wonder at this. Innocence suddenly arraigned +is oft as confused as guilt. + +"But, my lord, I never shot the deer." + +"Thine arrow is a strong presumptive proof against thee." + +"I cannot tell, my lord, who can have used one of my arrows for +such a purpose--I did not." + +Here spoke up another page, a Percy of the Northumbrian breed of +warriors. + +"My lord, I was out the other day with Hubert in the woods, and he +lost an arrow which he shot at a hare. We often lose our arrows in +the woods." + +"Does any other page know aught of the matter? Speak to clear the +innocent or convict the guilty. As you look forward to knighthood, +I adjure you all on your honour." + +Then Drogo, who thought that things were going too well for Hubert, +spoke. + +"My lord, is it a duty to tell all we know, even if it is against a +companion?" + +"It is under such circumstances, when the innocent may be +suspected." + +"Then, my lord, I saw Hubert shoot that deer, as I was in the West +Woods." + +"Saw him! Did he see you?" + +"It is a lie, my lord," cried Hubert indignantly. "I cast the lie +in his teeth, and challenge him to prove his words by combat in the +lists, when I will thrust the slander down his perjured throat." + +The earl had his own doubts as to this new piece of evidence, for +he was aware of Drogo's feelings towards Hubert, and therefore he +welcomed the indignant denial of the younger boy. Still, he could +not permit mortal combat at their age. They were not entitled to +claim it while below the rank of knighthood. + +"You are too young for the appeal to battle." + +"My lord," whispered one of his knights, "a similar case occurred +at Warkworth Castle when I was there: a page gave another the +direct lie as this one has done, and the earl permitted them to run +a course with blunted lances and fight it out; adjudging the +dismounted page to be in the wrong, as indeed he afterwards proved +to be." + +"Let it be so," said Earl Simon, who had a devout belief in the +ordeal, as manifesting the judgment of the Unerring One. "We allow +the appeal, and it shall be decided this afternoon in the tilt +yard." + +Blunted lances! Not very dangerous, our readers may think at first +thought. But the shock and the violent fall from the horse was +really the more dangerous part of the tournament. The point of the +lance seldom penetrated the armour of proof in which combatants +were encased. + +The pages separated in great excitement. Most of them held with +Hubert--for Drogo's arrogant manners had not gained him many +friends. Much advice was given to the younger boy how to "go in and +win," and the poor lad was eager for the fight whereby his honour +was to be vindicated, as though victory and reputation were quite +secured, as indeed in his belief they were. + +The ordeal! it seems full of superstition to us, unaccustomed to +believe in, or to realise, God's direct dealing with the world. But +men then thought that God must show the innocence of the accused +who thus appealed to Him, whether by battle or by the earlier forms +of ordeal {18}. + +But was not the casting of lots in the Old Testament akin to the +idea, and are there not passages in the Levitical books prescribing +similar usages with the object of detecting innocence or guilt? + +At all events, the ordeal was allowed to be decisive, and if it +were a capital charge, the headsman was at hand to behead the +convicted offender--convicted by the test to which he had appealed. + +A peculiarly solemn order and ritual was observed in such appeals, +when the fight was to the death. The combatants confessed, and +received, what to one was probably his last Communion; and thus +avowing in the most solemn way their innocence before God and man, +they came to the lists. In cases where one of the party must of +necessity be perjured, the sin of thus profaning the Sacraments of +the Church was supposed to ensure his downfall the more certainly, +for would not God the rather be moved to avenge Himself? + +But in the case of these pages, both under the degree of +knighthood, such solemn sanction was not invoked, yet the affair +was sufficiently impressive. The tilt yard was a wide and level +sward, bordered on one side by the moat, surrounded by a low hedge, +within which was erected a covered pavilion, not much unlike the +stands on race courses in general design, only glittering with +cloth of gold or silver, with flags and pennons fair. + +In the foremost rank of seats sat the earl and his countess, with +other guests of rank then residing in the castle, behind were other +privileged members of the household, and around the course were +grouped such of the retainers and garrison of the castle as the +piquant passage of arms between two boys had enticed from their +ordinary posts or duties. But perhaps it was only the same general +appetite for excitement which gathers the whole mass of boys in our +public schools (or did gather in rougher days), to witness a +"mill." + +But one essential ceremonial was not omitted. The two combatants +being admitted to the lists, each stood in turn before the earl, +seated in the pavilion, and thus cried: + +"Here stands Drogo of Harengod, who maintains that he saw Hubert +(of Nowhere) shoot the earl's deer, and will maintain the same on +the body of the said Hubert, soi-disant of Walderne." + +These additions to Hubert's name were insults, and made the earl +frown, while it spoke volumes as to the true cause of the +animosity. Then Hubert stood up and spoke. + +"Here stands Hubert of Walderne, who avows that Drogo of Harengod +lies, and will maintain his own innocence on the body of the said +Drogo, so help him God." + +Then both knelt, and the chaplain prayed that God, who alone knew +the hearts and the hidden actions of men, would reveal the truth, +by the events of the struggle. + +Then each of the combatants went to his own end of the lists, where +a horse and headless lance were awaiting him, under the care of two +friends--fratres consociati. Percy, and Alois from Blois, were the +friends of Hubert. The chronicler has forgotten who befriended or +seconded Drogo, and hopes he found it hard to find any one to do +so. + +The earl rose up in the pavilion, and bade the herald sound the +charge. The two combatants galloped against each other at full +speed, and met with a dull heavy shock. Drogo's lance had, whether +providentially or otherwise, just grazed the helmet of his opponent +and glanced off. Hubert's came so full on the crest of his enemy +that he went down, horse and all. + +Had this been a mortal combat, Hubert would at once have been +expected to dismount, and with his sword to compel a confession +from his fallen foe, on the pain of instant death in the case of +refusal. But this combat was limited to the tourney--and a loud +acclaim hailed Hubert as Victor. + +Drogo was stunned by his fall, and borne by the earl's command to +his chamber. + +"God hath spoken, and vindicated the innocent," said the earl. + +"Rise, my son," he added to Hubert, who knelt before him. "We +believe in thy truth, and will abide by the event of the ordeal; +but as thou art saved from expulsion, it is fitting that Drogo +should pay the penalty he strove to inflict upon another." + +Hubert was not generous enough to pray for the pardon of his foe +(as in any book about good boys he would have done). He felt too +deeply injured by the lie. + +But his innocence was not left to the simple test of the trial by +combat, in which case many modern unbelievers might feel inward +doubts. That night the forester sought the earl again, and brought +with him a verdurer or under keeper. This man had seen the whole +affair, had seen Drogo pick up Hubert's arrow after the latter was +gone, and stand as if musing over it, when a deer came that way, +and Drogo let fly the shaft at once. Then he discovered the +spectator, and bribed him with all the money he had about him to +keep silence, which the fellow did, until he heard of the trial by +combat and the accusation of the innocent, whereupon his conscience +gave him no rest until he had owned his fault, and bringing the +bribe to his chief, the forester, had made full reparation. + +There was another gathering of the pages in the great hall on the +following day. The earl and chaplain were there, the chief forester +and his subordinate. Drogo, still suffering from his fall, and by +no means improved in appearance, was brought before them. + +"Drogo de Harengod," said the earl, "I should have doubted of God's +justice, had the ordeal to which thou didst appeal gone otherwise. +But since yesterday the right has been made yet more clear. Dost +thou know yon verdurer?" + +Drogo looked at the man. + +"My lord," he said. "I accept the decision of the combat. Let me go +from Kenilworth." + +"What, without reparation?" + +"I have my punishment to bear in expulsion from this place"--("if +punishment it be," he muttered)--"as for my soi-disant cousin, it +will be an evil day for him when he crosses my path elsewhere." + +The earl stood astonished at his audacity. + +"Thou perjured wretch!" he said. "Thou perverter by bribes! thou +liar and false accuser! GO, amidst the contempt and scorn of all +who know thee." + +And, amidst the hisses of his late companions, Drogo left +Kenilworth for ever--expelled. + + + +Chapter 11: The Early Franciscans. + + +We are afraid that some of our youthful readers will wonder what +cause Martin had for such extreme self reproach, and why he should +make such a serious matter of a little dissipation--such as we +described in our former chapter. + +But Martin had received a higher call, and although the old Adam +within him would have its way, at times, yet his whole heart was +set on serving God. To Hubert this dissipation would have seemed a +small thing; to Martin such drinking, dicing, and brawling was +simply selling his birthright for a mess of pottage. + +So, with the early dawn, he went to mass at the Franciscan house, +and wept all through the service, devoutly offering at the same +time the renewed oblation of his heart to God, and praying that +through the great sacrifice there commemorated and mystically +renewed, the oblation of self might be sanctified. + +Then he sought the good prior, Adam de Maresco, and obtaining an +audience after the dejeuner or breakfast, poured out all his +sorrows and sin. + +The good prior almost smiled at the earnestness of the self rebuke. +He was not at all shocked. It was just what he had expected; he was +only too delighted to find that the young prodigal loathed so +speedily the husks which the swine do eat. + +"Ah, my son, did I not bid thee not to trust too much to thyself? +and now my words have been verified by thy own experience, as it +was perhaps well they should be." + +"Well! that I should become a drunkard, dicer, and brawler." + +"Well that thou shouldst so early hate drinking, dicing, and +brawling. To many such hatred only comes after years have brought +satiety; to thee, my dear child, one night seems to have brought +it." + +"Yes, now I am clothed, and in my right mind, like the lunatic who +had been cutting himself with stones. But, my father, take me in, I +cannot trust myself out of the shelter of the priory." + +"Then thou art not fit to enter it, for we want men whom we may +send out into the world without fear. No! the first vacant cell +shall be thine, but I will not hasten the time by a day. Thou must +prove thy vocation, and then thou mayst join the brotherhood of +sweet Saint Francis." + +"Tell me, my father, how old was the saint when he renounced the +world? Did Francis ever love it?" + +"He did, indeed. He was called 'Le debonair Francois.' He loved the +Provencal songs, and indeed learned to sing his sweet melodies to +Christ after the mode of those songs of earthly love. His eyes +danced with life, he went singing about all day long, and through +the glorious Italian night. But even then he loved his neighbour. +No beggar asked of him in vain. Liberalis et hilaris was Francis." + +"And did he ever fight?" + +"Yes. When a mere lad, he lay a year in prison at Perugia, having +been taken captive in fighting for his own city Assisi. But even +then he was the joy of his fellow captives, from his bright +disposition." + +"When did he give up all this?" + +"Not till he was ten years older than thou art. One night he was +made king of the feast, at a drinking bout, and went forth, at the +head of his companions, to pour forth their songs into the sweet +Italian moonlight. A sudden hush fell upon him. + +"'What ails thee, Francis?' cried the rest. 'Art thinking of a +wife?' + +"'Yes,' he said. 'Of one more noble, more pure, than you can +conceive, any of you.'" + +"What did he mean?" + +"The yearning for the life which is hid with Christ in God had +seized him. It was the last of his revels. + +"'Love set my heart on fire,' + +"He used afterwards to sing. It was at that moment the fire +kindled." + +"I wish it would set mine on fire." + +"Perhaps the fire is already kindled." + +"Nay, think of last night." + +"And what makes thee loathe last night? Other young men do not +loathe such follies." + +"Shame, I suppose." + +"And what gives thee that divine shame? It is not thine own sinful +nature. There is something in thee which is not of self." + +"You think so? Oh, you think so?" + +"Indeed I do." + +"Then you give me fresh hope." + +"Since you ask it of a fellow worm." + +"But what can I do? I want to be up and doing." + +"Keep out of temptation. Avoid the causeway after vespers. +Meanwhile I will enrol thy name as an associate of the Order, and +thou shalt go forth as Francis did, while not yet quite separated +from the world. Do you know the story of the leper?" + +"Tell it me." + +"One day the saint, not yet a saint, only trying to be one, met one +of these wretched beings. At first he shuddered. Then, remembering +that he who would serve Christ must conquer self, he dismounted +from his horse, kissed the leper's hand, and filled it with money. +Then he went on his road, but looked back to see what had become of +the leper, and lo! he had disappeared, although the country was +quite plain, without any means of concealment." + +"What had become of him?" + +"That I cannot tell thee. Francis thought afterwards it was an +angel, if not the Blessed Lord Himself." + +"May I visit the lepers tomorrow?" + +"The disease is infectious." + +"What of that?" said Martin, unconsciously imitating his friend +Hubert. + +"Well, we will see. Again Francis once gave way to pride. How do +you think he conquered it?" + +"Tell me, for that is my great sin." + +"He exchanged his gay clothes with a wretched beggar, and begged +all day on the steps of Saint Peter's at Rome." + +"May I do that on the steps of Oseney?" + +"It would not be a bad way to subdue the pride of the flesh! But +then there are other things to subdue. Dost thou love to eat the +fat and drink the sweet?" + +"All too well!" + +"So did Francis. He had a very sweet tooth, so he lived for a week +on such scraps as he could beg in beggar's plight from door to +door; all this in the first flush of his devotion." + +"And what else?" + +"Ah! that without which all else is nought, the root from which it +all sprang: he lived as one who felt the words, 'I live, yet not I, +but Christ which liveth in me.' He would spend hours in rapt +devotion before the crucifix, with no mortal near, until his very +face was transformed, and the love of the Crucified set his heart +on fire." + +"And when did he go forth to found his mighty Order?" + +"Not until the eighth year of this century, and the twenty-sixth of +his age. One feast of bright Saint Barnaby, he was at mass, and +heard the words of the Gospel wherein is described how our Lord +sent forth His apostles to preach two by two; without purse, +without change of raiment, without staff or shoes {19}. Out he +went, threw off his ordinary clothing, donned a gray robe, like +this we wear, tied a rope round for a girdle, and went forth +crying: + +"'Repent of your sins, and believe the Gospel!' + +"I was travelling in Italy then, and once met him on his road. +Methinks I see him now--his oval face, his full forehead, his +clear, bright, limpid eyes, his flowing hair, his long hands and +thin delicate fingers, and his commanding presence. + +"'Brother!' he said. 'Hast thou met with Him of Nazareth? He is +seeking for thee.' + +"You will hardly believe that I did not understand him at first, so +unfamiliar in my giddy youth were the simplest facts of the Gospel. +But the words sank as if by miraculous force into my heart, and +from that hour I knew no rest till I found Him, or He found me." + +"Was Francis long alone?" + +"No. Brother after brother joined him. First Bernard, then Peter, +then Giles; they went singing sweet carols along the road, which +Francis had composed out of his ready mind. They were the first +hymns in the vernacular, and the people stopped to hear about God's +dear Son. Then, collecting a crowd, they preached in the +marketplace. Such preaching! Francis' first sermon in his native +town set every one crying. They said the Passion of Jesus had never +been so wept over in the memory of man. + +"The brotherhood increased rapidly, and they went on pilgrimage to +Rome, to gain the approbation of the Pope. They went on foot, +carrying neither purses nor food, but He who careth for the ravens +cared for them, and soon they reached the Holy City. The Pope, +Innocent the Third, was walking in the Lateran, when up came a poor +man in a gray shepherd's smock, and addressed him. The Pope, +indignant at being disturbed in his meditations by this intrusion, +bade the intruder leave the palace, and turned away. But the same +night he had two dreams: he thought a palm tree grew out of the +ground by his side, and rose till it filled the sky. + +"'Lo,' said a voice, 'the poor man whom thou hast driven away.' + +"Then he thought he saw the church falling, and a figure in a gray +robe rushed forth and propped it up-- + +"'Lo, the poor man whom thou hast driven away.' + +"He sent for the stranger, and Francis opened his heart to the +mighty Pontiff. + +"'Go,' said the Pope, 'in the name of the Lord, and preach +repentance to all; and when God has multiplied you in numbers and +grace, I will give you yet greater privileges.' + +"Then he commanded that they should receive the tonsure, and, +although not ordained, be considered clerks. + +"Imagine their joy! They visited the tombs of the Holy Apostles; +and, bare footed, penniless as they came, went home, singing and +preaching all the way. And thus they sang:" + +Love sets my heart on fire, +Love of my Bridegroom new, +The Slain: the Crucified! +To Him my heart He drew +When hanging on the Tree, +From whence He said to me +I am the Shepherd true; +Love sets my heart on fire. + +I die of sweetest love, +Nor wonder at my fate, +The sword which deals the blow +Is love immaculate. +Love sets my heart on fire (etc). + +"So singing, and now and then discoursing on heavenly joys, the +little band reached home. And from thence it has grown, until it +has attained vast numbers. We are all over Europe. The sweet songs +of Francis have set Italy on fire. And now wherever there are +sinners to be saved, or sick in body or soul to be tended, you find +the Franciscan. + +"Now I hear the bell for terce--go forth, my son, and prove your +vocation." + + + +Chapter 12: How Hubert Gained His Spurs. + + +Two years had elapsed since the events related in our last two +chapters; and they had passed uneventfully, so far as the lives of +the page and the scholar are concerned. + +Hubert had attained to the close of his pagedom, and the assumption +of the second degree in chivalry, that of squire. He ever longed +for the day when he should be able to fulfil his promise to his +poor stricken father, who, albeit somewhat relieved of his incubus, +since the night when father and son watched together, was not yet +quite free from his ghostly visitant; moderns would say "from his +mania." + +And Martin was still fulfilling his vocation as a novice of the +Order of Saint Francis, and was close upon the attainment of the +dignity of a scholastic degree--preparatory (for so his late +lamented friend had advised) to a closer association with the +brotherhood, who no longer despised, as their father Francis did, +the learning of the schools. + +We say late lamented friend, for Adam de Maresco had passed away, +full of certain hope and full assurance of "the rest which +remaineth for the people of God." He died during Martin's second +year at Oxford. + +Meanwhile the political strife between the king and the barons had +reached its height. The latter felt themselves quite superseded by +the new nobility, introduced from Southern France. The English +clergy groaned beneath foreign prelates introduced, not to feed, +but to shear the flocks. The common people were ruined by excessive +and arbitrary taxation. + +At last the barons determined upon constitutional resistance, and +Earl Simon, following the dictates of his conscience, felt it his +duty to cast in his lot with them, although he was the king's +brother-in-law. Still, his wife had suffered deeply at her +brother's hands, and was no "dove bearing an olive branch." + +It was in Easter, 1258, and the parliament, consisting of all the +tenants in capiti, who hold lands directly from the crown, were +present at Westminster. The king opened his griefs to them--griefs +which only money could assuage. But he was sternly informed that +money would only be granted when pledges (and they more binding +than his oft-broken word) were given for better government, and the +redress of specified abuses; and finally, after violent +recriminations between the two parties, as we should now say the +ministry and the opposition, headed by Earl Simon, parliament was +adjourned till the 11th of June, and it was decided that it should +meet again at Oxford, where that assembly met which gained the name +of the "Mad Parliament." + +On the 22nd of June this parliament decreed that all the king's +castles which were held by foreigners should be rendered back to +the Crown, and to set the example, Earl Simon, although he had well +earned the name "Englishman," delivered the title deeds of his +castles of Kenilworth and Odiham into the hands of the king. + +But the king's relations by marriage refused to follow this +self-denying ordinance, and they well knew that neither the old +king nor his young heir, Prince Edward, wished them to follow Earl +Simon's example. A great storm of words followed. + +"I will never give up my castles, which my brother the king, out of +his great love, has given me," said William de Valence. + +"Know this then for certain, that thou shalt either give up thy +castles or thy head," replied Earl Simon. + +The Poitevins saw they were in evil case, and that they were +outnumbered at Oxford. So they left the court, and fled all to the +Castle of Wolvesham, near Winchester, where their brother, the +Bishop Aymer, made common cause with them. + +The barons acted promptly. They broke up the parliament and +pursued. + +Hubert was at Oxford throughout the session of the Mad Parliament, +in attendance on his lord, as "esquire of the body," to which rank +he, as we have said, had now attained; and at Oxford he met his +beloved Martin again. Yes, Hubert was now an esquire; now he had a +right to carry a shield and emblazon it with the arms of Walderne. +He was also withdrawn from that compulsory attendance on the ladies +at the castle which he had shared with the other pages. He had no +longer to wait at table during meals. But fresh duties, much more +arduous, devolved upon him. He had to be both valet and groom to +the earl, to scour his arms, to groom his horse, to attend his bed +chamber, and to sleep outside the door in an anteroom, to do the +honours of the household in his lord's absence, gracefully, like a +true gentleman; to play with his lord, the ladies, or the visitors +at chess or draughts in the long winter evenings; to sing, to tell +romaunts or stories, to play the lute or harp; in short, to be all +things to all people in peace; and in war to fight like a Paladin. + +Now he had to learn to wear heavy armour, and thus accoutred, to +spring upon a horse, without putting foot to stirrup; to run long +distances without pause; to wield the heavy mace, axe, or sword for +hours together without tiring; to raise himself between two walls +by simply setting his back against one, his feet against the other; +in short, to practise all gymnastics which could avail in actual +battles or sieges. + +In warfare it became his duty to bear the helmet or shield of his +lord, to lead his war horse, to lace his helmet, to belt and buckle +his cuirass, to help him to vest in his iron panoply, with pincers +and hammer; to keep close to his side in battle, to succour him +fallen, to avenge him dead, or die with him. + +Such being a squire's duties, what a blessing to Hubert to be a +squire to such a Christian warrior as the earl, a privilege he +shared with some half dozen of his former fellow pages--turn and +turn about. + +In this capacity he attended his lord during the pursuit of the +foreign favourites to Wolvesham Castle, where they had taken refuge +with Aymer de Valence, whom the king, by the Pope's grace, had made +titular bishop of that place. We say titular, for Englishmen would +not permit him to enjoy his see; he spoke no word of English. + +At Wolvesham the foreign lords were forced to surrender, and +accepted or appeared to accept their sentence of exile. But ere +starting they invited the confederate barons to a supper, wherein +they mingled poison with the food. + +This nefarious plot Hubert discovered, happening to overhear a +brief conversation on the subject between the bishop's chamberlain +and the Jew who supplied the poison, and whom Hubert secured, +forcing him to supply the antidote which in all probability saved +the lives of the four Earls of Leicester, Gloucester, Hereford, and +Norfolk. The brother of the Earl of Gloucester did die--the Abbot +of Westminster--the others with difficulty recovered. + +Hubert had now a great claim not only on the friendship of his +lord, which he had earned before, but on that of these other mighty +earls, and they held a consultation together, to decide how they +could best reward him for the essential service he had rendered. +The earl told the whole story of his birth and education, as our +readers know it. + +"He has, it is true, rendered us a great service, but that does not +justify us in advancing him in chivalry. He must earn that by some +deed of valour, or knighthood would be a mere farce." + +"Exactly so," said he of Hereford. "Now I have a proposition: not a +week passes but my retainers are in skirmish with those wildcats, +the Welsh. Let the boy go and serve under my son, Lord Walter. He +will put him in the way of earning his spurs." + +"The very thing," said Earl Simon. "Only I trust he will not get +killed, which is very likely under the circumstances, in which case +I really fear the poor old father would go down with sorrow to the +grave. Still, what is glory without risk? Were he my own son, I +should say, 'let him go.' Only, brother earl, caution thy noble son +and heir, that the youngster is very much more likely to fail in +discretion than in valour. He is one of those excitable, impulsive +creatures who will, as I expect, fight like a wildcat, and show as +little wisdom." + +Hubert was sent for. + +"Art thou willing to leave my service?" said the earl. + +"My lord," said poor Hubert, all in a tremble, "leave thee?" + +"Yes; dost thou not wish to go to the Holy Land?" + +"Oh, if it is to go there. But must I not wait for knighthood?" + +The reader must remember that knighthood alone would give Hubert a +claim upon the assistance and hospitality of other knights and +nobles, and that once a knight, he was the equal in social station +of kings and princes, and could find admittance into all society. +As a squire, he could only go to the Holy Land in attendance upon +some one else, nor could he carry the sword and belt of the dead +man whom he was to represent. A knight must personate a knight. + +Hence Hubert's words. + +"It is for that purpose we have sent for thee," replied the earl. +"Thou must win thy spurs, and there is no likelihood of opportunity +arising in this peaceful land (how little the earl thought what was +in the near future), so thou must even go where blows are going." + +"I am ready, my lord, and willing." + +"The Earl of Hereford is about to return home, and will take thee +with him to fight against the Welsh under his banner. Now what dost +thou say to that?" + +Hubert bent the knee to the new lord, with all that grace which he +inherited from his Provencal blood. And sooth, my young readers, if +you could have seen that eager face with that winning smile, and +those brave bright eyes, you would have loved him, too, as the earl +did; but for all that I do not think he had the sterling qualities +of his friend Martin, who is rather my hero: but then I am not +young now, or I might think differently. + +We have not space again to describe this portion of Hubert's life, +upon which we now enter, in any detail. Suffice it to say he went +to Hereford Castle with the earl, and was soon transferred to an +outpost on the upper Wye, where he was at once engaged in deadly +warfare with the fiercest of savages. For the Welsh, once the +cultivated Britons, had degenerated into savagery. Bloodshed and +fire raising amongst the hated "Saxons" (as they called all the +English alike) were the amusement and the business of their lives, +until Edward the First, of dire necessity, conquered and tamed them +in the very next generation. Until then, the Welsh borders were a +hundred times more insecure than the Cheviots. No treaties could +bind the mountaineers. They took oaths of allegiance, and +cheerfully broke them. "No faith with Saxons" was their motto. + +These fields, these meadows once were ours, +And sooth by heaven and all its powers, +Think you we will not issue forth, +To spoil the spoiler as we may, +And from the robber rend the prey. + +Even the payment of blackmail, so effectual with the Highlanders, +did not secure the border counties from these flippant fighters, +and in sooth Normans were much too proud for any such evasion of a +warrior's duty. + +There, then, our Hubert fleshed his maiden sword, within a week +after his arrival at Llanystred Castle; and that in a fierce +skirmish, wherein the fighting was all hand to hand, he slew his +man. + +But in these fights, where every one was brave, there was small +opportunity for Hubert to gain personal distinction. A coward was +very rare; as well expect a deer to be born amongst a race of +tigers. There were, it is true, degrees of self devotion, and for a +chance of distinguishing himself by self sacrifice Hubert longed. + +And thus it came. + +He had been sent from the castle on the Wye, which might well be +called, like one in Sir Walter's tales, "Castle Dangerous," upon an +errand to an outpost, and was returning by moonlight along the +banks of the stream, there a rushing mountain torrent. It was a +weird scene, the peaks of the Black Mountains rose up into the calm +pellucid air of night, the solemn woods lined the further bank of +the river, and extended to the bases of the hills. It was just the +time and the hour when the wild, unconquered Celts were likely to +make their foray upon the dwellers on the English side of the +stream, if they could find a spot where they could cross. + +About half a mile from Llanystred Castle, amidst the splash and +dash of the water, Hubert distinguished some peculiar and +unaccustomed sounds, like the murmur of many voices, in some +barbarous tongue, all ll's and consonants. + +He waited and listened. + +Just below him roared and foamed the stream, and it so happened +that a series of black rocks raised their heads above the swollen +waters like still porpoises, at such distances as to afford +lithesome people the chance of crossing, dry shod, when the water +was low. + +But it was a risk, for the river had all the strength of a +cataract, and he who slipped would infallibly be carried down by +the strong current and dashed against the rocks and drowned. + +Here Hubert watched, clad in light mail was he, and he cunningly +kept in the shadow. + +Soon he saw a black moving mass opposite, and then the moonlight +gleam upon a hundred spear tops. Did his heart fail him? No; the +chance he had pined for was come. It was quite possible for one +daring man to bid defiance to the hundred here, and prevent their +crossing. + +See, they come, and Hubert's heart beats loudly--the first is on +the first stone, the others press behind. He, the primus, leaps on +to the second rock, and so to the third, and still his place is +taken, at every resting place he leaves, by his successor. Yes, +they mean to get over, and to have a little blood letting and fire +raising tonight, just for amusement. + +And only one stout heart to prevent them. They do not see him until +the last stepping stone is attained by the first man, and but one +more leap needed to the shore, when a stern, if youthful, voice +cries: + +"Back, ye dogs of Welshmen!" and the first Celt falls into the +stream, transfixed by Hubert's spear, transfixed as he made the +final leap. + +A sudden pause: the second man tries to leap so as to avoid the +spear, his own similar weapon presented before him, but position +gives Hubert advantage, and the second foe goes down the waves, +dyeing them with his blood, raising his despairing hand, as he +dies, out of the foaming torrent. + +The third hesitates. + +And now comes the real danger for Hubert: a flight of arrows across +the stream--they rattle on his chain mail, and generally glance +harmlessly off, but one or two find weak places, and although his +vizor is down, Hubert knows that one unlucky, or, as the foe would +say "lucky," shot penetrating the eyelet might end sight and life +together. So he blows his horn, which he had scorned to do before. + +He was but imperfectly clad in armour, and was soon bleeding in +divers unprotected places; but there he stood, spear in hand, and +no third person had dared to cross. + +But when they heard the horn, feeling that the chance of a raid was +going, the third sprang. With one foot he attained the bank, and as +Hubert was rather dizzy from loss of blood, avoided the spear +thrust. But the young Englishman drove the dagger, which he carried +in the left hand, into his throat as he rose from the stream. The +fourth leapt. Hubert was just in time with the spear. The fifth +hesitated--the flight of arrows, intermitted for the moment, was +renewed. + +Just then up came Lord Walter, the eldest son of the earl, with a +troop of lancers, and Hubert reeled to the ground from loss of +blood, while the Welsh sullenly retreated. + +They bore him to the castle. A few light wounds, which had bled +profusely from the leg and arm, were all that was amiss. Hubert's +ambition was attained, for he had slain four Welshmen with his own +young hand. And those to whom "such things were a care" saw four +lifeless, ghastly corpses circling for days round and round an eddy +in the current below the castle, round and round till one got giddy +and sick in watching them, but still they gyrated, and no one +troubled to fish them out. They were a sign to friend and foe, a +monument of our Hubert's skill in slaying "wildcats." + +A few days later the Lord of Hereford arrived at the castle, and +visited Hubert's sick chamber, where he brought much comfort and +joy. A fine physician was that earl; Hubert was up next day. + +And what was the tonic which had given such a fillip to his system, +and hurried on his recovery? The earl purposed to confer upon him +the degree he pined for, as soon as he could bear his armour. + +At first any knight could make a knight. Now, to check the too +great profusion of such flowers of chivalry, the power to confer +the accolade was commonly restricted to the greater nobles, and +later still, as now, to royalty alone. + +It was the eve of Saint Michael's Day, "the prince of celestial +chivalry," as these fighting ancestors of ours used to say. It was +wild and stormy, for the summer and autumn had been so wet that the +crops were still uncarried through the country. The river below was +rushing onward in high flood; here it came tumbling, there it +rolled rumbling; here it leapt splashing, there it rushed dashing; +like the water at Lodore; and seemed to shake the rocks on which +Castle Llanystred was built. + +And above, the clouds in emulous sport hurried over the skies, as +if a foe were chasing them, in the shape of a southwestern blast. +So the nightfall came on, and Hubert went with the decaying light +into the castle chapel, where he had to watch his arms all night, +with fasting and prayer, spear in hand. + +What a night of storm and wind it was on which our Hubert, ere he +received knighthood, watched and kept vigil in the chapel. It +reminded him of that night in the priory at Lewes, and from time to +time weird sounds seemed to reach him in the pauses of the blast. +All but he were asleep, save the sentinels on the ramparts. + +He thought of his father, and of the Frenchman, the Sieur de +Fievrault, whose place and even name he was to assume. Once he +thought he saw the figure of the slain Gaul before him, but he +breathed a prayer and it disappeared. + +How he welcomed the morning light. +The sun breaks forth, the light streams in, +Hence, hence, ye shades, away! + +Imagine our Hubert's joy, when, the following morning, Earl Simon +quite unexpectedly arrived at the castle, and with him the Bishop +of Hereford; come together to confer on important business of state +with the Earl of Hereford, whom they had first sought at his own +city, then followed to this outpost, where they learned from his +people he had come to confer knighthood on some valiant squire. + +The reader may also imagine how Earl Simon hoped that that valiant +squire might prove to be Hubert. And lo! so it turned out. + +Early in the morning our young friend was led to the bath, where he +put off forever the garb of a squire, then laved himself in token +of purification, after which he was vested in the garb and arms of +knighthood. The under dress given to him was a close jacket of +chamois leather, over which he put a mail shirt, composed of rings +deftly fitted into each other, and very flexible. A breastplate had +to be put on over this. And as each weapon or piece of armour was +given, strange parallels were found between the temporal and +spiritual warfare, which, save when knighthood was assumed with a +distinctly religious purpose, would seem almost profane. + +Thus with the breastplate: "Stand--having on the breastplate of +righteousness." + +And with the shield: "Take the shield of faith, wherewith thou +shalt be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked." + +We will not follow the parallel farther: had all the customs of +chivalry been indeed performed in accordance with this high ideal, +how different the medieval world would have been. + +Thus accoutred, but as yet without helmet, sword, or spurs, our +young friend was led to the castle chapel, between two (so-called) +godfathers--two sons of the Earl of Hereford--in solemn procession, +amidst the plaudits of the crowd. There the Earl of Leicester +awaited him, and Hubert's heart beat wildly with joy and +excitement, as he saw him in all his panoply, awaiting the ward +whom he had received ten years earlier as a little boy from the +hands of his father, then setting out for his eventful crusade. + +The bishop was at the altar. The High Mass was then said; and after +the service the young knight, advancing to the sanctuary, received +from the good earl, whom he loved so dearly, as the flower of +English chivalry, the accolade or knightly embrace. + +The Bishop of Hereford belted on the young knight's own sword, +which he took from the altar, and the spurs were fastened on by the +Lady Alicia, wife of Lord Walter of Hereford, and dame of the +castle. + +Hubert then took the oath to be faithful to God, to the king, and +to the ladies, after which he was enjoined to war down the proud +and all who did wickedly, to spare the humble, to redress all +wrongs within his power, to succour the miserable, to avenge the +oppressed, to help the poor and fatherless unto their right, to do +this and that; in short, to do all that a good Christian warrior +ought to do. + +Then he was led forth from the church, amidst the cheers and +acclamations of all the population of the district, with whom the +action which hastened his knighthood had won him popularity. Alms +to the poor, largesse to the harpers and minstrels: all had to be +given; and the reader may guess whose liberality supplied the +gifts. + +Then--the banquet was spread in the castle hall. + + + +Chapter 13: How Martin Gained His Desire. + + +While one of the two friends was thus hewing his way to knighthood +by deeds of "dering do," the other was no less steadily persevering +in the path which led to the object of his desire. The less +ambitious object, as the world would say. + +He was ever indefatigable in his work of love amidst the poor and +sick, and gained the approbation of his superiors most thoroughly, +although in the stern coldness which they thought an essential part +of true discipline, they were scant of their encomiums. Men ought +to work, they said, simply from a sense of duty to God, and earthly +praise was the "dead fly which makes the apothecary's ointment to +stink." So they allowed their younger brethren to toil on without +any such mundane reward, only they cheered them by their brotherly +love, shown in a hundred different ways. + +One long-remembered day in the summer of the year 1259, Martin +strolled down the river's banks, to indulge in meditation and +prayer. But the banks were too crowded for him that day. He marked +the boats as they came up from Abingdon, drawn by horses, laden +with commodities; or shot down the swift stream without such +adventitious aid. Pleasure wherries darted about impelled by the +young scholars of Oxford, as in these modern days. Fishermen plied +their trade or sport. The river was the great highway; no, there +was no solitude there. + +So into the forest which lay between Oxford and Abingdon, now only +surviving in Bagley Wood, plunged our novice. As the poet says: + +Into the forest, darker, deeper, grayer, +His lips moving as if in prayer, +Walked the monk Martin, all alone: +Around him the tops of the forest trees +Waving, made the sign of the Cross +And muttered their benedicites. + +The woods were God's first temples; and even now where does one +feel so alone with one's Maker? How sweet the solemn silence! where +the freed spirit, freed from external influences, can hold +communion with its heavenly Father. So felt Martin. The very birds +seemed to him to be singing carols; and the insects to join, with +their hum, the universal hymn of praise. + +Oh how the serpent lurks in Eden--beneath earthly beauty lies the +mystery of pain and suffering. + +A wail struck on Martin's ears--the voice of a little child, and +soon he brushed aside the branches in the direction of the cry, +until he struck upon a faintly trodden path, which led to the +cottage of one of the foresters, or as we should say "keepers." + +At the gate of the little enclosure, which surrounded the patch of +cultivated ground attached to the house, a young child stood +weeping. When she saw Martin her eyes lighted up with joy. + +"Oh, God has sent thee, good brother. Come and help my poor mother. +She is so ill," and she tripped back towards the house; "and father +can't help her, nor brother either. Father lies cold and still, and +brother frightens me." + +What did it mean? + +Martin saw it at once--the plague! That terrible oriental disease, +probably a malignant form of typhus, bred of foul drainage, and +cultivated as if in some satanic hot bed, until it had reached the +perfection of its deadly growth, by its transmission from bodily +frame to frame. It was terribly infectious, but what then? It had +to be faced, and if one died of it, one died doing God's +work--thought Martin. + +So as Hubert faced his Welshmen, did Martin face his foe--"typhus" +or plague, call it which we please. + +Which required the greater courage, my younger readers? But there +was no more faltering in Martin's step than in Hubert's, as he went +to that pallet in an inner room, where a human being tossed in all +the heat of fever, and the incessant cry, "I thirst," pierced the +heart. + +"So did HE thirst on the Cross," thought Martin, "and He thirsts +again in the suffering members of His mystical body--for in all +their affliction He is afflicted." + +There was no water close by in the chamber, but Martin had noticed +a clear spring outside, and taking a cup he went to the fount and +filled it. He administered it sparingly to the parched lips, +fearing its effect in larger quantities, but oh! the eagerness with +which the sufferer received it--those blanched lips, that dry +parched palate. + +"Canst thou hear me, art thou conscious?" + +"An angel of God?" + +"No, a sinner like thyself." + +"Go, thou wilt catch the plague." + +"I am in God's hands. HE has sent me to thee. Tell me sister--hast +thou thrown thyself upon His mercy, and united thy sufferings with +those of the Slain, the Crucified, who thirsted for thee?" + +And Martin spoke of the life of love, and the death of shame, as an +angel might have done, his features lighted up with love and faith. +And the living word was blessed by the Giver of Life. + +Then he felt the poor child pulling him gently to another room, +whence faint moans were now heard. There lay the brother, a fine +lad of some fourteen summers, in the death agony, the face black +already; and on another pallet the dead body of the forester, the +father of the family. + +Martin could not leave them. The night came on. He kindled a fire, +both for warmth and to purify the air. He found some cakes and very +soon roasted a morsel for the poor girl, the only one yet +untouched, partaking of it sparingly himself. He went from sufferer +to sufferer; moistening the lips, assuaging the agony of the body, +and striving to save the soul. + +The poor boy passed into unconsciousness and died while Martin +prayed by his side. The widow lingered till the morning light, when +she, too, passed away into peace, her last hours soothed by the +message of the Gospel. + +Then Martin took the child and led her towards the city, meditating +sadly on the strange mystery of death and pain. The woods were as +beautiful as before, but not in the eyes of one whose mind was full +of the remembrance of the ravages of the fell destroyer. + +"Where are you taking me?" + +"To the good sisters of Saint Clare, who will take care of thee for +Christ's sake." + +So he strove to wipe away the tears from the orphan's eyes. + +He reached Oxford, gave up his charge to the charitable sisterhood, +then reported himself to his academical and ecclesiastical +superiors, who were pleased to express their approval of all that +he had done. But as a measure of precaution they bade him change +and destroy his infected raiment, to take a certain electuary +supposed to render a person less disposed to infection, and to +retire early to his couch. + +All this he did; but after his first sleep he woke up with an +aching head and intolerable sense of heat--feverish heat. He +understood it all too well, and lost no time in commending himself +to his heavenly Father, for he felt that he might soon lose +consciousness and be unable to do so. + +A purer spirit never commended itself to its Maker and Redeemer. +But it was not in this he put his trust. It was in Him of whom +Saint Francis sang so sweetly: + +To Him my heart He drew +While hanging on the tree, +From whence He said to me +I am the Shepherd true; +Love sets my heart on fire-- +Love of the Crucified. + +And ere his delirium set in, Martin made a full resignation of his +will to God. He had hoped to do much for love of his Lord, to carry +the message of the Gospel into the Andredsweald, where the kindred +of his mother yet lived, and the thought that he should never see +their forest glades again was painful. And the blankness of +unconsciousness, the fearful nature of the black death, was in +itself repulsive; but it had all been ordered and settled by +Infinite Love before ever he was born, probably before the worlds +were framed, and Martin said with all his heart the words breathed +by the Incarnate God, when groaning beneath the olive tree in +mysterious agony: + +"Not my will, but thine, be done." + +And then he lapsed into delirium. + +The next sensation of which he was conscious, and which he +afterwards remembered, for we have not done with our Martin yet, +was one of a singular character. A glorious light, but intensely +painful, seemed before his eyes. It burnt, it dazzled, it +confounded him; yet he admired and adored it, for it seemed to him +the glory of God thus fashioning itself before him. And on that +brilliant orb, glowing like a sun, was a black spot which seemed to +Martin to be himself, a blot on God's glory, and he cried, "Oh, let +me perish, if but Thy glory be unstained," when a voice seemed to +reply, "My glory shall be shown in thy redemption, not in thy +destruction." + +Probably this took place at the crisis of the disease, and the +physical and spiritual sensations were in union throughout the +illness. For now Martin was delirious with joy--sweet strains of +music were ever about him. The angels gathered in his cell and sang +carols, songs of love to the Crucified. One stormy night, when +gentle but heavy rain descended, patter, patter, on the roof above +his head, he thought Gabriel and all the angelic choir were there, +singing the Gloria in Excelsis, poising themselves on wings without +the window, and the strain: + +Pax in terra hominibus bonoe voluntatis, + +Was so ineffably sweet that the tears rolled down his cheeks in +streams. + +This was the end of the imaginary music. The next morning he woke +up conscious--himself again. His first return to consciousness was +an impression of a voice: + +"Dearest brother, thou art better, art thou not?" + +"I am quite free from pain, only a hungered." + +"What food dost thou desire to enter thy lips first?" + +"The Bread of Life." + +"But not as the Viaticum {20}, thank God. Wait awhile, I go to +fetch it from the altar." + +And the successor of Adam de Maresco, the new head of the Oxford +House, left the youth and went into their plainly-furnished chapel, +where, in a silver dove, the only silver about the church, the +reserved sacrament of the Body and Blood of Christ was always kept +for the sick in case of need. It hung from the beams of the +chancel, before the high altar. + +First the prior knelt and thanked God for having preserved the life +of the youth they all loved. + +"Thou hast yet great things for him to do on earth ere it come to +his turn to rest," he murmured. "To Thee be all the glory." + +Then he returned and gave the young novice his communion. Martin +received it, and said, "I have found Him whom my soul loveth. I +will hold Him and will not let Him go." + +From that time the patient was able to take solid nourishment, and +grew rapidly better, until at last he could leave his room and sit +in the sunny cloisters: + +Restored to life, and power, and thought. + +And one day he sat there, dreamily watching old Father Thames, as +he murmured and bubbled along, outside the stone boundary. + +"Onward till he lose himself in the ocean, so do flow our lives +till they merge into eternity," said the prior. "Now with impetuous +flow, now in gentler ripple, but ever onward as God hath ordained; +so may our souls, when the work of life is accomplished, lose +themselves in God." + +Martin moved his lips in silent acquiescence. + +It was intense, the enjoyment of that sweet spring day, a day when +all the birds seemed singing songs of gladness, and the air was +balmy beyond description. Life seemed worth living. + +"My son, when thou art better thou must travel for change of air." + +"Whither?" said Martin. + +"Where wouldst thou like to go?" + +"Oh, may I go to my kindred and teach them the holy truths of the +Gospel?" + +"Thou shalt. Brother Ginepro shall go with thee, and ere thou +startest thou shalt be admitted to the privileges and duties of the +second order, and be Brother Martin." + +"And when shall I be ordained?" + +"That may not be, yet. Thou art not twenty years of age. Thou mayst +win many souls to Christ while a lay brother, as did Francis +himself, our great master. He did not seek the priesthood also, too +great a burden for a humble soul like his, and certes, if men +understood what a priest is and what he should be, there would be +fewer but perchance holier priests than there are now." + +The reader must remember that nearly all the friars were laymen; +lay preachers, as we would say; preaching was not then considered a +special clerical function. + +Martin could not speak for joy, but soon tears were seen to start +down his cheeks. + +"I was thinking of my poor mother. Oh, that she had lived to see +this day," he exclaimed, as he saw the prior observe his emotion. + +The reader will remember that news of her death had reached Martin +soon after his arrival at Kenilworth, without which he could not +have remained all these years away from the Andredsweald. Her death +had partially (only partially) snapped the link which bound him to +his kindred, the love of whom now began to revive in the breast of +the convalescent. + + + +Chapter 14: May Day In Lewes. + + +It was the May Day of 1259, one of the brightest days of the +calendar. The season was well forward, the elms and bushes had +arrayed themselves in their brightest robe of green; the hedges +were white and fragrant with may; the anemone, the primrose, the +cowslip, and blue bell carpeted the sward of the Andredsweald; the +oaks and poplars were already putting on their summer garb. The +butterflies settled upon flower after flower; the bees were +rejoicing in their labour; their work glowed, and the sweet honey +was fragrant with thyme. + +Oh how lovely were the works of God upon that bright May Day, as +from village church and forest sanctuary the population of Sussex +poured out from the portals, after the mass of Saints Philip and +James; the children bearing garlands and dressed in a hundred +fantastic hues, the May-poles set up on every green, the Queen of +May chosen by lot from amongst the village maidens. + +Never were sweeter nooks, wherein to spend Maytide, than around the +villages and hamlets of the Andredsweald, whither the action of our +tale betakes itself again--around Chiddinglye, Hellinglye, +Alfristun, Selmestun, Heathfeld, Mayfeld, and the like--not, as +now, accessible by rail and surrounded by arable lands; but +settlements in the forest, with the mighty oaks and beeches which +had perchance seen the coming of Ella and Cissa, long ere the +Norman set foot in Angleland; and with solemn glades where the wind +made music in the tree tops, and the graceful deer bounded athwart +the avenue, to seek refuge in tangled brake and inaccessible +morass. + +Chief amongst these Sussex towns and villages was the old borough +of Lewes, distinguished alike by castle and priory. The modern +visitor may still ascend to the summit of the highest tower of that +castle, but how different (yet how much the same) was the scene +which a young knight viewed thence on this May Day of 1259. He had +come up there to take his last look at the fair land of England ere +he left it for years, it might be never to return. + +"It is a fair land; God keep it till I return." + +The great lines of Downs stretched away--northwest to Ditchling +Beacon; southwest to Brighthelmston, a hamlet then little known; on +the east rose Mount Caburn, graceful in outline (recalling Mount +Tabor to the fond remembrance of the crusaders); southeast the long +line stretched away by Firle Beacon to Beachy Head. + +"Ah, there is Walderne, away far off, just to the left of the +eastern range of Downs--I see it across the plain twelve miles +away. I see the windmills on the hill, and below the church towers, +and the tops of the castle towers in the vale beneath. I shall soon +bid them all farewell." + +Then the young knight turned and looked on the fertile valley +wherein meandered the Ouse. The grand priory lay below: its +magnificent church, well known to our readers; its towers and +pinnacles. + +"And there my poor father wears out his days, now a brother +professed. And he, for whom Europe was not large enough in his +youth, now never leaves the convent's boundaries. But he is about +to travel to Jerusalem by proxy. + +"If only I could see Martin again. I cannot think why Martin and I +should be like Damon and Pythias, to whom the chaplain once +compared us. But we are, although one will fain be a friar and the +other a warrior." + +He descended the tower after one more lingering glance at the view, +but his light nature soon threw off the impression, and none was +gayer guest at the noontide meal, the "nuncheon" of Earl Warrenne +of Lewes, the lord of the castle. + +It was eventide, and the marketplace was filled with an excited +population. There were ruffling men-at-arms, stolid rustics, +frightened women and children, overturned stalls, shouts and +screams; unsavoury missiles, such as rotten eggs and stale +vegetables, were flying about; and in the midst of the open space +the figure of a Jew, who had excited the indignation of the +multitude, was the object of violent aggression which seemed likely +to endanger his life. + +A miracle had occurred. The crucifix over the rood at Saint +Michael's Church had suddenly blazed out with a supernatural light, +which had endured for many minutes: the multitude flocked in to see +and adore, and much was the reputation of Saint Michael's shrine +enhanced, when this unbelieving Jew actually had the temerity to +assert that the light was only caused by the rays of the sun +falling directly upon the figure through a window in the western +wall, narrow as the slits we see in the old castle towers, so +arranged as on this particular day to bring the rays of the setting +sun full upon the gilding of the cross {21}. + +But the explanation, probably true, was the signal for frantic +cries: + +"Out on the blasphemer! The accursed Jew! Let him die the death!" + +And it is very probable that he would have been "done to death" had +not an interruption, characteristic of the age, occurred. + +Two friars, clad in the garb of Saint Francis, just then entered +the square and learned the cause of the tumult. Their action was +immediate. The brethren stalked into the midst of the crowd, which +made way for them as if a superior being had commanded their +reverence, and one of the two mounted on a cart, and took for his +text, in a clear piercing voice which was heard everywhere, +"Christ, and Him crucified." + +The swords were hastily thrust into their scabbards, the missiles +ceased. The other brother had reached the Jew. + +"Vengeance is mine, I will repay," said he. "He is the prisoner of +the Lord; accursed be he who touches him; may his hand rot off, and +his light be extinguished in darkness." + +All was now silence as the first brother, pale with recent illness, +but radiant with emotion, began to speak. + +And Martin preached, taking his illustrations from the +circumstances of the day. + +"The object of the Crucifixion," he said, "had yet to be attained +amongst them." + +A crucifix had, as he heard, shone with a mysterious light, and one +had desecrated it with his tongue. But, worse than that, he saw a +thousand desecrated forms before him who ought to be living +crucifixes, for were they not told to crucify the flesh with its +affections and lusts, to remain upon their voluntary crosses till +Christ said, "Come down. Well done, good and faithful servant. +Enter thou into the joy of the Lord"? And were they doing this? +Were they repaying the love of Calvary, as for instance the saints +of that day, Saints Philip and James, had done; giving heart for +heart, love for love; or were they worshipping dread and ghastly +idols, their own lusts and passions? In short, were they to be +companions of the angels--God's holy ones? Or the slaves and sport +of the cruel and fiery fiends for evermore? + +The power of an orator, and Martin was a born orator, over the men +of the middle ages was marvellous. Few could read, and books were +scarce as jewels. The tongue, the living voice, had to do the work +which the public press does now, as well as its own, and the +preacher was a power. But those medieval sermons were full of +quaint illustrations. + +Martin described the angels as weeping because men would not turn +and love the Lord who had died for them. He described the joy over +one repentant sinner, the horror over the sins which crucified the +Lord afresh. They were waiting now to set the bells of heaven a +ringing, when the news came of one soul converted and turned to the +Lord--one repentant sinner. + +"They are waiting now," he said. "Will you keep them waiting up +there with their hands on the ropes?" + +Cries of "No! no!" broke from several. + +"And there be the cruel, rampant, remorseless devils with their +claws, hoofs, and horns. They be terrible, but their hearts of fire +are the worst, those evil hearts burning with hatred to the sons of +men. Now, on my way I saw a vision: we rested at a holy house of +God, where be many brethren who strive to glorify Him, according to +the rule of Saint Benedict. And as we were all at prayers in the +chapel, methought it was full of devils whispering all sorts of +temptations, as they did to Saint Antony, trying to keep the monks +from their prayers and meditations. And lo, I came to Lewes, and +methought one devil only sat on the gate, and swayed the hearts of +all the men in the town. He had little to do. The world and the +flesh were helping him, and just now it was the devil of cruelty." + +The men looked down. + +"'A Jew! only a Jew!' you say; 'the wicked Jews crucified our +Lord.' + +"And ye, what do ye do? Why, ye crucify Him daily. Nay, look not so +amazed. Saint Paul says it, not I. He says the sins of Christians +crucify our Lord afresh." + +And here he spoke so piteously of the Passion of the Lord and His +thirst for the souls of men, that women, yea and many men, wept +aloud. In short, when the sermon was over, the crowd escorted +Martin to the priory, where he was to lodge, with tears and cries +of joy. + +"Thou hast begun well, brother Martin," said Ginepro, when they +could first speak to each other in the hospitium. + +"I! No, not I. God gave me strength," and he sank on the bench +exhausted and pale. + +"It is too much for thee." + +"No, not too much. I love the good work. God give the increase." + +"What Martin, my Martin, thou here? I have followed thee. I heard +thee, but couldn't get near thee for the press," cried an exultant +voice. + +"My Hubert, so thou art a knight at last?" + +"Yes, and tomorrow I go to Walderne to say goodbye to the people +there, and the next day take ship from Pevensey for Harfleur, on my +road to the Holy Land. + +"But how pale thou art! Come, tell me all. Art thou a brother yet? +Hast thou earned it by some pious deed, as I earned my knighthood +by a warlike one? Come, tell me all, dear Martin." + +"You tell your story first. I have only heard that you have won +your spurs." + +Hubert, nothing loth, told the story with which our readers are +acquainted. + +Then Martin told his story very simply and modestly, but Hubert +could not help feeling that he would sooner have defended a ford +twenty times over, than have spent one hour in that plague-infected +house. + +They were very happy in their mutual love, and this last meeting +was made the most of. Old remembrances were recalled, scenes of the +past brought to recollection; until the compline hour, after which +all, monks and guests alike, retired to rest, and silence reigned +through the vast pile. + +Save in one narrow cell, where the sire and son were dispensed from +the rule--where the old father rejoiced in his boy, devouring him +with those aged eyes. + +"God will preserve thee, Hubert. I know He will, but there will be +trials and difficulties." + +"I am prepared for them." + +"But God will bring thee back to thy old father, the vow fulfilled; +and my freed spirit shall rejoice in thee again. Thou knowest thy +duty. Thou must first visit the Castle of Fievrault, and there seek +of the old seneschal the sword of the man I slew. He will give it +thee freely when thou tellest thy story and disclosest thy name. +But be sure thou dost not tarry there, no, not one night, for the +place is haunted. Then thou must take the nearest route to +Jerusalem." + +"But it is now in the hands of the Mussulmen." + +"Upon certain conditions, and the payment of a heavy fine, they +allow pilgrims to approach. Would that thou couldst enter it amidst +a victorious host, but that day, in penalty for our sins, is not +allowed as yet to dawn. Thou hast but to pray before the Holy +Sepulchre, to deposit the sword to be blessed thereon, and thou +mayst return." + +"But will there be no fighting?" + +"This I cannot tell at present; a temporary truce exists. It may be +broken at any moment, and if it be, thou mayst tarry for one +campaign, not longer. My eyes will ache to see thee again, and +remember that but to have visited the Holy Places will entitle thee +to all the indulgences and privileges of a crusader--Bethlehem, +Nazareth, Calvary, Gethsemane, Olivet. The task is easier now, by +reason of the truce, although the infidels be very treacherous, and +thou wilt need constant vigilance." + +So they talked until the midnight hour. + +No ghostly visitant appeared to mar its joy, and the sire and son +slept. The old man made the youth lie on his couch, while he lay on +the floor. Hubert resisted the arrangement in vain; the father was +absolute, and so they slept. + +On the morrow the travellers (of both parties) left the priory +together, after the chapter mass at nine. Hubert had bidden the +last farewell to his old father, who with difficulty relinquished +his grasp of his adored boy, now that the hour for fulfilling the +purpose of many years had come at last. Martin and his brother and +companion Ginepro were there, and the six men-at-arms who were to +act as a guard of honour to the young knight in his passage through +the forest to the castle of his ancestors. They purposed to travel +together as long as their different objects permitted. + +"My men will be a protection," said Hubert. + +The young friars laughed. + +"We need no protection," said Ginepro. "If we want arms, these +bulrushes will serve for spears." + +"Nay, do not jest," said Martin. + +"We have other arms, my Hubert." + +"What are they?" + +"Only faith and prayer, but they never fail." + +Then they talked of the future. Hubert disclosed all his plans to +Martin; how he must visit the castle at Fievrault; how he must seek +and carry the sword of the knight whom his father had slain and lay +it on the Holy Sepulchre; how then he hoped to return, but not till +he had dyed the sword in the blood of the Paynim, etc. And Martin +told his plans for a mission in the Andredsweald; of his hope to +reclaim the outlaws to Christianity, and to pacify the forests; to +reunite the lords of Norman descent and the Saxon peasants together +in one common love. + +"Shall you visit Walderne Castle?" inquired Hubert. + +"It may fall to my lot to do so." + +"Avoid Drogo; at least do not trust him. He hates us both." + +"He may have mended." + +Hubert shook his head. + +A few warm, affectionate words, and they came to the spot where +their road divided--the one to the northeast, the other to the +southeast. They tried to preserve the proper self control, but it +failed them, and their eyes were very limpid. So they parted. + +At midday the two friars rested in a sweet glade, and slept after a +frugal meal, till the birds awoke them with their songs. + +"They remind me of an incident in the life of our dear father +Francis," said Ginepro, "which my father witnessed." + +"Tell it as we go. Sweet converse shortens the toil of the way." + +"Once, when he was preaching, the birds drowned his voice with +their songs of gladness, whereupon he said: + +"'My sisters, the birds, it is now my turn to speak. You have sung +your sweet songs to God. Now let me tell men how good He is.' + +"And the birds were silent." + +"I can quite believe it." + +"His power over animals was wonderful. Once a little hare was +brought in, all alive, for the food of the brotherhood, and they +were just going to kill the wee thing, when Francis came in and +pitied it. + +"'Little brother leveret,' he said. 'How didst thou let thyself be +taken?' + +"The poor hare rushed from the hands of him who held it, and took +refuge in the robe of the father. + +"'Nay, go back to thy home, and do not let thyself be caught +again,' he said, and they took it back to the woods and let it go." + +Just at this point they reached Chiddinglye, and as they emerged +from the forest on the green, Ginepro spied a number of children +playing at seesaw in a timber yard, laughing and shouting merrily. + +Instantly he cried, "Oh, there they are; I love seesaw; I must go +and have a turn." + +"Are we not too old for such sport?" said Martin. + +"Not a bit. I feel quite like a child," and off he ran to join the +children amidst the laughter of a few older people. + +But the young brother did not simply play at seesaw. He got the +children around him, after a while, and soon held them breathless +as he related the story of the Child of Bethlehem and the Holy +Innocents, stories which came quite fresh to them in those days, +when there were few books, and fewer readers. And these little +Sussex children drank in the touching story with all their little +ears and hearts. In all Ginepro did there was a wondrous freshness. +And that same evening, when the woodmen came home from work, Martin +preached to the whole village from the steps of the churchyard +cross. + +It was a strangely impressive scene. The mighty background of the +forest; the friar in his gray dress, his features all animation and +life; the multitude listening as if they were carried away by the +eloquence of one whose like they had never seen before; the tears +running down furrows on their grimy cheeks, specially visible on +those of the iron smelters, of whom there were many in old Sussex. + +Close by stood the parish priest, listening with delight and +without that jealousy which too often moved the shepherds of the +parochial flocks to resent the advent of the friar. And when Martin +at last stopped, exhausted: + +"Ye will both come with me, you and your brother, who has been +preaching to my little ones, and be my guests this night." + +And they willingly consented. + +But we must return to our crusader and his fortunes. + + + +Chapter 15: The Crusader Sets Forth. + + +The hall of Walderne Castle was brilliantly illuminated by torches +stuck in iron cressets all round, and eke by waxen tapers in +sconces on the tables. All the retainers of the house were present, +whether inmates of the castle or tenants of the soil. There were +men-at-arms of Norman or Poitevin blood, franklins and ceorls +(churls) of Saxon lineage; all to gaze upon the face of their young +lord, and acknowledge him as their liege, ere he left them for the +treacherous and burning East to accomplish his father's vow. + +The Holy Land! That grave of warriors! How far away it seemed in +those days of slow locomotion. + +A rude oak table of enormous strength extended two-thirds of the +length of the hall. At the end another "board," raised a foot +higher, formed the letter T with the lower one; and in its centre, +just opposite the junction, sat Sir Nicholas in a chair of state, +surmounted by a canopy; on his right hand the Lady Sybil, on his +left the hero of the night, our Hubert. + +The walls of the hall were wainscoted with dark oak, richly carved; +and hung round with suits of antique and modern armour, rudely +dinted; with tattered banners, stained with the life blood of those +who had borne them in many a bloody field at home and abroad. There +were the horns of enormous deer, the tusks of patriarchal boars; +war against man and beast was ever the burden of the chorus of life +then. + +And the supper--shall I give the bill of fare? + +First, the fish. Everything that swam in the rivers of the Weald +(they be coarse and small) was there; perch, roach, carp, tench +(pike not come into England yet). And of sea fish--herrings, +mackerel, soles, salmon, porpoises--a goodly number. + +Secondly, the birds. A peacock at the high board, goodly to look +upon, bitter to eat; two swans (oh, how tough); vultures, puffins, +herons, cranes, curlews, pheasants, partridges (out of season or in +season didn't matter); and scores of domestic fowls--hens, geese, +pigeons, ducks, et id genus omne. + +Thirdly, the beasts. Two deer, five boars from the forest, come to +pay their last respects to the young crusader; and to leave +indigestion, perhaps, as a reminder of their fealty. From the +barnyard, ten little porkers, roasted whole; one ox, four +sheep--only the best joints of these, the rest given away; and two +succulent calves. + +Of the pastry--twelve gallons cream, twenty gallons curds, three +bushels of last autumn's apples were the foundation; two bushels of +flour; almonds and raisins. Yes, they had already got them in +England. + +In point of variety, they a little overdid it; sometimes mingling +wine, cheese, honey, raisins, olives, eggs, yea, and vinegar, all +in one grand dish. It sets the teeth on edge to think of it. + +As for the wines, there were Bordeaux (Gascon), and Malmsey +(Rhenish), and Romeneye, Bastard and Osey (very sweet the last +two); and for liquors hippocras and clary (not claret). + +All was profusion, not to say waste, but the poor had a good time +afterwards. And when the desire of eating and drinking was +satisfied, the harpers and gleemen began; and first the chief +harper, with hoary beard, sang his solo: + +Sometimes in the night watch, +Half seen in the gloaming, +Come visions advancing, advancing, retreating +All into the darkness. + +And the harps responded in deep minor chords: +All into the darkness. + +We dream that we clasp them, +The forms of our dear ones. +When, lo, as we touch them, +They leave us and vanish +On wings that beat lightly +The still paths of slumber. + +Very softly the harps: +The still paths of slumber. + +They left in high valour +The land of their boyhood, +And sorrowful patience +Awaits their returning +While love holds expectant +Their homes in our bosoms. + +Sweetly the harps: +Their homes in our bosoms. + +In high hope they left us +In sorrow with weeping +Their loved ones await them. +For lo, to their greeting +Instead of our heroes +Come only their phantoms. + +The harps deep and low: +Come only their phantoms. + +We weep as we reckon +The deeds of their glory-- +Of this one the wisdom, +Of that one the valour: +And they in their beauty +Sleep sound in their death shrouds. + +The harps dismally: +Sleep sound in their death shrouds {22}. + +"Stop! stop!" said Sir Nicholas, for tears rose to his lady's eyes. +"No more of this. Strike up some more hopeful lay. What mean you by +such boding?" + +"Let the heir stay with us," cried the guests. + +"Nay; I have striven in vain that so it might be, but his father, +Sir Roger, wills otherwise, and the son can but obey. I see you +love him for his own fair face;" (Hubert blushed), "for the deed of +valour by which he won his spurs; and for his blood and kindred. +But go he will and must, and there is an end of it. + +"One more announcement I have to make. The father of our Hubert, +mindful of the past, wishes to make what reparation is in his +power. He bids me announce that he intends to take the life vows in +the Priory of Saint Pancras, and to be known from henceforth as +Brother Roger; and that his son should be formally adopted by us. +He is so in our hearts already, and should bear from henceforth the +name of 'Radulphus,' or 'Ralph,' in memory of his grandfather. + +"Now I have said all. Render him your homage, swear to be faithful, +and acknowledge no other lord when I am gone and while he lives." + +They all rose to their feet, and with the greatest enthusiasm swore +to acknowledge none but Hubert as Lord of Walderne while he lived. + +And he thanked them in a "maiden" speech, so gracefully--just as +you would expect of our Hubert. + +"The Holy Land," said Sir Nicholas, "is a long way off, and many, +as the gleemen (not without justice) have told us, leave their +bones there. But we hope better things, and I trust the Lady Sybil +and I may live to see his return. But should it be otherwise, +acknowledge no other heir. Be true to Hubert, while he lives." + +"We will, God being our helper." + +"And now fill your cups, and drink to his safe journey and happy +return." + +It was done lustily: if mere drinking could do it, there was no +fear that Hubert would not return safely. + +Then the gleemen struck up a merrier song, a sweet and tender lay +of a Christian knight who fell into the power of "a Paynim sultan," +and whom the sultan's daughter delivered at the risk of her +life--all for love. How she followed him from clime to clime, only +remembering the Christian name. How she found him at last in his +English home, and was united to him, after being baptized, in holy +wedlock. How the issue of this marriage was no other than the +sainted Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas a Becket {23}. + +And Hubert cast his eyes on Alicia de Grey, the orphan ward of his +aunt, and she blushed as she met his gaze. Shall we tell his +secret? He loved her, and had already plighted his troth. + +"No pagan beauty," he seemed to whisper, "shall ever rob me of my +heart. I leave it behind in England." + +And even here he had a rival. + +It was Drogo. The reader may ask, where was Drogo that night? At +Harengod, his mother's demesne, where he was to remain until Hubert +had set sail, after which he might from time to time visit Sir +Nicholas, his father's brother, a relationship which that good +knight could never forget, unworthy though Drogo was of his love. +But the uncle was really afraid to let the youths come together, +lest there should be a quarrel, perhaps not confined to words. + +He had spoken his mind decidedly to Drogo about the question of +inheritance. Hubert should, if he survived the pilgrimage, be Lord +of Walderne, as was just, Drogo of Harengod: if either died without +issue, the other should have both domains. + +Of course Sir Nicholas was quite unaware that the third child of +the old lord, Mabel, had left issue. Do our readers remember it? +Drogo had no real claim on Walderne, and could only succeed by +disposition of Sir Nicholas, in the absence of natural heirs. + +When the party in the hall broke up about midnight, one parting +interview took place between the lovers in Lady Sybil's bower, +while the kind lady got as far as her notions of propriety (which +were very strict) permitted, out of earshot. + +Oh, those poor young lovers! She cried, and although Hubert tried +hard to restrain it, it was infectious, and he couldn't help a +tear. But he must go! + +"Wilt thou be true to me till death?" +the anxious lover cried. +"Ay, while this mortal form hath breath," +Alicia replied. + +"Come, go to bed," said Sir Nicholas, entering, and they went: +To bed, but not to sleep. + +On the morrow the sun shone brightly on the castle, on the church, +on the hilltop, and on the wooded valley of Walderne. The household +assembled first for a brief parting service in the castle chapel, +for it was an old proverb with them, "mass and meat hinder no man," +and then the breakfast table was duly honoured. + +And then--the last parting. Oh how hard to speak the final words; +how many longing, lingering looks behind; how many words, which +should have been said, came to the mind of our hero as he rode +through the woods, with his squire and six men-at-arms, who were to +share his perils and his glory. + +Sir Nicholas was by his side, for he had determined to see the last +of Hubert, who had wound himself very closely round the old +knight's heart; and together they rode through Hailsham to +Pevensey. + +The first part of their journey was through a dense and tangled +forest, which extended nearly to Hailsham. It passed through the +district infested by the outlaws, and, although they had never +molested Sir Nicholas, nor he them, they were dangerous to +travellers of rank in general, and few dared traverse the forest +roads unattended by an escort. In the depths of these hoary woods +were iron works, which had existed since the days of the early +Britons, but had of late years been completely neglected, for all +the thoughts of the Norman gentlemen or the Saxon outlaws were +concentrated on war or the chase. + +Hailsham (or, as it was then called, Hamelsham) was the first +resting place, after a ride of nearly nine miles. It was an old +English settlement in the woods, which had now become the abode of +a lord of Norman descent, who had built a castle, and held the town +as his dependency. However, the races were no longer in deadly +hostility--the knights had their liberties and rights, and so long +as they paid their tribute duly, all went as well as in the olden +time, before the Conquest; albeit the curfew from the old church +tower each night told its solemn tale of subjection and restraint, +as it does even now, when the old ideas have quite departed, and +few realise what it once meant. + +Over the flat marshes to Pevensey, marshes then covered at high +tide--leaving on the left the high lands of Herstmonceux, where the +father of "Roaring Ralph" of that ilk still resided, lord +paramount. The castle was hidden in the trees. The church stood +bravely out, and its bells were ringing a wedding peal in the ears +of the parting knight. How tantalising! + +Pevensey now reared its giant towers in front. There reigned the +Queen's uncle, Peter of Savoy, specially exempted from the sentence +of exile which had fallen upon the rest of the king's foreign +kindred. + +There was scant time for hospitality. The vessel lay in the dock +which was to bear the crusader away; there was to be a full moon +that night; wind and tide were favourable. Everything promised a +quick passage, and, after a brief refection, Hubert bade his +kinsman and friends farewell, and embarked in the Rose of Pevensey. + +England sank behind him. The last glimpse he had of his native land +was the gleam of the sunset on Beachy Head. + +My native land--Good night. + + + +Chapter 16: Michelham Once More. + + +It was a summer evening, and the sun was sinking behind the hills +which encompass Lewes. His declining beams gilded the towers of +Michelham Priory. + +Several of the brethren were walking on the terrace, which +overlooked the broad moat, on the western side of the priory; for +it was the recreation hour, between vespers and compline. + +Across the woods came the knell of parting day, the curfew from the +tower of Hamelsham: the "lowing herd wound slowly o'er the lea" +from the Dicker, when two friars came in sight, who wore the robe +of Saint Francis, and approached the gateway. + +"There be some of those 'kittle cattle,' the new brethren," said +the old porter from his grated window in the gateway tower over the +bridge. "If I had my will, they should spend the night on the +heath." + +The friars rang the bell. The porter reluctantly opened. + +"Who are ye?" + +"Two poor brethren of Saint Francis." + +"What do you want?" + +"The wayfarer's welcome. Bed and board according to the rule of +your hospitable house." + +"We like not you grey friars--for we are told you are setters forth +of strange doctrines, and disturb steady old church folk. But +natheless the hospitium is open to you as to all, whether gentle or +simple, lay folk or clerks. So enter, only if you threw those gray +cloaks into the moat, you would be more welcome." + +They knew that, but they were not ashamed of their colours. + +"Look," said one of the monks to his fellow; "they that have turned +the world upside down have come hither also." + +"Whom the warder hath received." + +"They will find scant welcome." + +Meanwhile Martin was looking with curious eyes on the buildings +which had first received him when he escaped from the outlaw life +of old. But the evening meal was already prepared, and the bell +rang for supper. + +Many guests were there--lay folk on pilgrimage, palmers and +pilgrims with their stories, pedlars with their wares, clerics on +their road to the Continent from the central parts of the island, +men-at-arms, Englishmen, Normans, Gascons, Provencals. And all had +good fare, while a monk in nasal voice read: + +A good old homily of Saint Guthlac of Croyland, + +Above the clatter of knives and dishes. + +Now this Saint Guthlac was an abbot of Croyland, and many conflicts +did he have with the devils of the fen country, whose presence +could generally be ascertained by the hissing which took place when +they settled with their fiery hoofs and claws on the wet swamps and +moist sedges. + +"And my brethren, certes we poor monks of Saint Benedict may learn +much from these fiends; and first, from their hot and fiery tempers +and bodies, we may be taught to say with Saint Ambrose:" + +Quench thou the fires of hate and strife +The wasting fevers of the heart. + +At this moment a calf's head was brought in, very tender and +succulent, and the rest of the quotation was drowned in the clatter +of plates and dishes. At last the voice emerged from the tumult: + +"Which I have seen in these fens, whither Satan and his imps do +often resort to cool themselves in these stagnant waters. And first +there be the misshapen, goggle-eyed goblins, with faces like the +full moon, only never saw I the moon so hideous; these be the +demons of sensuality, gluttony and sloth--libera nos Domine, and +then there be . . ." + +The wine was handed round, wine of Gascony, where the friars of +Michelham had vineyards; full drinking, rich-bodied red wine, +brought in huge jugs of earthenware, and poured generally into +wooden mugs. Only the prior and subprior had silver goblets: glass +there was none. + +Again the voice rose above the din: + +"Affect the fat soils of our marsh land, and there, maybe, find +convenient prey amongst the idle and inebriate brethren who forget +their vows, or the sottish loony who from the plough tail seek the +ale house. And moreover there be your fiends, long and slim, and +comely in garb, with tails of graceful curve, and horns like a +comely heifer. Natheless their teeth be sharp and their claws +fierce. But they hide them, for they would fain appear like angels +of light, yet be they the demons of pride and cruelty, first-born +of Lucifer, son of the morning . . ." + +Here the sweets and pastries came in, fruits of the abbey gardens, +skilfully preserved, and cunning devices of the baker: there was a +church built of pie crust; a monk, baked brown and crisp, with +raisins for his eyes, which, withal, filled his paunch, and, +cannibal like, the good brethren ate him. Finally, that they, the +brethren, might not be without a memento mori, was a sepulchre or +altar tomb, likewise in crust, and when the top was broken, a +goodly number of pigeons lurked beneath, lying in state: + +"Which mop and mow, and chatter like starlings, but all, either +naught in sense or naughty in meaning, oh these chattering goblins. +Be not like them, my brethren--libera nos Domine." + +Here to those who sat at the upper board were next presented, by +the serving brethren, dainty cups of hippocras, medicated against +the damps and chills of the low grounds, or perchance the crudities +of the stomach, or the cruel pinches of podagra dolorosa-- + +"Ah! will you say that agues, rheumatics, and all the other +afflictions which do befall the brethren be simply bred of stagnant +water and foul drinking? Nay, I say these hobgoblins give us them, +and that even as Satan was permitted to afflict holy Job, so they +afflict you. But we have not the patience of Job; would we had! Oh +my brethren, slay me the little foxes which eat the tender grapes; +your pride, anger, envy, hatred, gluttony, lust, and sloth, and +bring forth worthy fruits of penance; then may you all laugh at +Satan and his misshapen offspring until in very shame they fly +these fens--libera nos Domine." + +Here the leader sang: + +"Tu autem Domine, miserere nobis." + +And the whole brotherhood replied: + +"Deo gratias." + +The supper was ended, and the chapel bell began to ring for the +final service of the day. The period of silence throughout the +dormitories and passages now began, and only stealthy footfalls +broke the stillness of the summer night. + +But the prior rang a silver bell: "tinkle, tinkle." + +"Send me the elder of the two brethren of Saint Francis, him with +the twinkling black eyes and roundish face." + +And Martin was brought to him. + +"Sit down, my young brother," said Prior Roger, "and tell me where +I have seen thy face before. I have gazed upon thee all through the +frugal meal of which we have just partaken, for thy face is like a +face I have seen in a dream. Not that I doubt that thou art here in +flesh and blood, unlike the fiends of Croyland, of whom we have +just heard." + +Martin smiled, and replied: + +"My father, seven years agone, a noble earl found shelter here from +the outlaws, from whom he was delivered by the self sacrifice of a +woman, and the guidance of her son, an imp of some thirteen years." + +"I remember Earl Simon's visit. Art thou that boy?" + +"I am, my father." + +"Ah well! ah me! how time passes! But there is another remembrance +which thy face awakens, of a death bed confession. Sub sigillo, +perhaps I am wrong in putting the two things together. Sancte +Benedicte ora pro me. So thou hast taken the habit of Saint +Francis. Why didst not come to us, if thou wishedst to renounce the +world and mortify the flesh?" + +Martin was silent. + +"And hast thou the gift of preaching? I do not mean of talking." + +"My superiors thought so, but they are fallible." + +"I should think so, very, but that is nought. I hope I have better +sense than to send for thee, poor boy, to teach thee to rebel +against thy superiors, and perhaps after all we Augustinians are +too hard upon Franciscans and friars of low degree--only we want to +get to heaven our own way, with our steady jog trot, and you go +frisking, caracolling, curvetting, gambolling along. Well, I hope +Saint Peter will let us all in at the last." + +Martin was silent, out of respect to the age of the speaker. + +"Thou art a modest boy; come, tell me, who was thy father?" + +"An outlaw, long since dead." + +"And thy mother?" + +"His bride--but I know not of what parentage. There is a secret +never disclosed to me, and which I shall never learn now, only I am +assured that I was born in holy wedlock, and that a priest blessed +the union." + +"Did thy mother marry again?" + +"She was compelled to accept one Grimbeard, a chief amongst the +'merrie men' who succeeded my father as their leader." + +"Now, my son, I know why I looked at thee--I knew thy father. Nay, +I administered the last rites of Holy Church to him. I was +travelling through the woods and following a short route to the +great abbey of Battle, when a band of the outlaws burst forth from +an ambush. + +"'Art thou a priest, portly father?' they said irreverently. + +"'Good lack,' said I, 'I am, but little of worldly goods have I. +Thou wilt not plunder God's ambassadors of their little all?' + +"'Nay! But thou must come with us, and thy retinue must tarry here +till we bring thee back.' + +"'You will not harm me?' said I, fearing for my throat. 'It is as +thou hearest a hoarse one, and often sore, but it is my only one.' + +"They laughed, and one said: + +"'Nay, father, we swear by Him that died that we will bring thee +safe here again ere sundown.' + +"So they led me away, and anon they blindfolded me, and led my +horse. What a mercy poor Whitefoot was sure footed, and did not +stumble, for the way was parlous difficult. + +"And at last they took the bandage from off mine eyes, and I saw I +was in their encampment, in the innermost recesses of a swampy +tangled wood. There, in a sort of better-most cabin, lay a young +man, dying--wounded, as I afterwards learned, in an attack upon the +Lord of Herst de Monceux. + +"A goodly man of some thirty years was he, and a goodly end he +made. He told me his story, and as the lips of dying men speak the +truth, I believed him. He was the last representative of that +English family which before the Conquest owned this very island and +its adjacent woods and fields {24}. He was very like thee--he +stands before me again in thee. Didst thou never hear of thy +descent before?" + +"That he was of the blood of the old English thanes I knew, but +fallen from their once high estate. Had he lived he might have +possessed me with the like feelings which prompted him: hatred of +the foreigner, rebellion to God's dispensation, which gave the land +to others. Even now as I speak, Christian though I am, I feel that +such things might be, but I count them now as dross, and seek a +goodlier heritage than Michelham." + +"Poor lad! What has brought thee here again?" + +"The desire to do my Master's will, and to preach the gospel to my +kindred. For if Christ shall make them free, then shall they be +free indeed." + +"Hast thou heard of thy mother?" + +"That she was dead. The message came through Michelham." + +"I remember an outlaw came here one day and sought me. He bade me +send word to the boy we had (he said) stolen from them, that his +mother was no more. We did so; but who was thy mother by birth?" + +"I know not." + +"But I know." + +"Tell me, father." + +"It is a sad story." + +"Let me hear it." + +"Not yet. Go forth tomorrow. Seek thy kindred, and if thou livest +thou shalt know. Tell me, what is thine age?" + +"I have seen twenty years." + +"When thou hast attained thy twenty-first birthday, I may reveal +this secret--not before. Until then my lips are sealed; such was +the will of thy father." + +"Shall I find the outlaws easily?" + +"I know not; they have been much reduced both in numbers and in +power, and give small trouble now to the nobles and men of high +degree. Many have been hanged." + +"Does Grimbeard yet live?" + +"I know not." + +"Father, I start on my search tomorrow; give me thy blessing and +pray for me." + +Martin could not sleep. He stood long at the window of his cell in +a dreamy reverie. The story of the last Thane of Michelham, as +related in the Andredsweald, had often been told around the camp +fires, and although he was only in his thirteenth year when he left +them, it was all distinctly imprinted in his memory. Oh! how +strange it seemed to him to be there on the spot, which but for the +conquest of two centuries agone would perhaps have still been the +home of his race! But he did not indulge in sentimental sorrow. He +believed in the Fatherhood of God, and that all things work for +good to them that love Him. + +What a dawn it was! A reddening of the eastern sky; a low band of +crimson; then rays like an aurora shooting upwards into the mid +heavens; then such tints of transparent opal and heavenly azure +overspread the skies all around, that Martin drank in the beauty +with all his soul, and almost wept for joy, as he thought it a +foretaste of the new heavens and the new earth, wherein he hoped to +dwell, and whereon his heart was already surely fixed. And as he +gazed upon the distant woods, wherein dwelt the kindred he came to +seek, he prayed in the words of an old antiphon: + +"O Day Spring, brightness of the Eternal Light and Sun of +Righteousness, come and lighten those that sit in darkness, and in +the shadow of death." + + + +Chapter 17: The Castle Of Fievrault. + + +It was the province of Auvergne in France. Through the forest, deep +and gloomy, rode our Hubert and his squire, with the six +men-at-arms, a few days after their departure from England. They +had gained the soil of France, and had found the town in Auvergne +which bore the name of the De Fievrault family, and early in the +following morning they started for the old chateau, which they were +forewarned they would find in ruins, to seek the fated sword. + +It was added that the place was haunted, and that they would do +well to return before nightfall. + +The road which led thither was evidently but seldom trodden. It +abounded in sunken ruts, wherein lurked the adder. It led by sullen +pools, where the bittern boomed and the pike swam, his silver side +glittering like a streak of light beneath the dark surface, as he +sought his finny prey. Now it was marshy and muddy, now it was +tangled with thorns, now impeded by fallen trees. So thick was the +verdure that the sky could not often be seen. + +"I should be sorry, Almeric," said the young knight to his squire, +"to traverse this route by night. Yet unless we make better use of +our legs it will happen to us to have the choice either of +encountering the wolves of the forest or the phantoms of the +castle." + +"Are not those the towers?" said the young squire, pointing to some +extinguisher-like turrets which just then came in sight. + +"Verily they be, and if we make haste we may reach them by +noontide." + +But between them and the object of their journey lay a deep fosse +or moat, and the rusty drawbridge was suspended by its chains to +the walls of the towers. + +"Blow thine horn, Almeric." + +It was long blown in vain, but at length an old man in squalid +attire, with long dishevelled gray locks and matted beard, appeared +at the window of the watch tower above. + +"Whom seek ye here, in the haunted Castle of Fievrault?" + +"The sword of its last lord, that I may bear it to the Holy Land in +his name, and lay it on the Holy Sepulchre of our Lord." + +"Thou art the man the fates foretell. Lo, I will let down the +bridge, and thou mayst enter." + +"What a squalid old man! Can he be the sole inhabitant?" said +Almeric in a whisper. + +The rusty machinery creaked, the bridge sank into its appointed +place, and at the same moment the portcullis was heard to wind up +with a grating sound. The little troop entered the courtyard +through the gateway in the tower. + +A ruined castle! the dismantled towers rose around them with the +great hall, the windows broken, the casement shattered. Ivy grew +around the fragments, and embracing them, veiled their squalidness +with its green robe, making that picturesque which anon was +hideous. But company gives confidence, and our little troop rode, +laughing and talking, into the haunted Castle of Fievrault. + +"I have no food," said the old man. + +"We need none; we have brought both meat and wine. Wilt thou share +it? Thou look'st as if a good meal might do thee good." + +"I have eaten my frugal meal already, and desire none of your cates +and dainties. Lo, I am ready to conduct you to the hall where hangs +the sword of the man whom thy father slew one Friday long ago, and +it will be well for thee but to tarry while thou takest it and then +depart." + +"We will eat our nuncheon, with your leave, in the castle hall." + +"I cannot say you nay." + +He took them to the half-dismantled dining hall, where hung the +portraits of the old lords of Fievrault rudely limned, and +conspicuous amongst them those of the founder of the house, and his +loathly lady; the painter had not flattered them. + +There hung several swords, rusty with age and disuse, two-handed +weapons which it required a giant strength to wield; huge +battle-axes, maces, clubs tipped with iron spikes, ancient suits of +armour, rusty and unsightly, as old clothing of that sort is apt to +become after the lapse of years. There was no vacant hook now, for +at the end of the row hung the sword of the ill-fated Sieur de +Fievrault, the last of his grim race. + +The Englishmen gazed upon the portraits, which they regarded with +insular irreverence (what were French knights and dames to them?), +then without awe spread the contents of their wallets on the board, +and feasted in serenity and ease. + +When it was over the wine produced its usual exhilarating effect. +Song and romaunt were sung until the shadows began to turn towards +the east and the hues of approaching evening to suffuse the shades +of the adjacent wilderness. Then the old servitor came up to +Hubert: + +"It is time, my lord, to take the sword thou hast come to seek, and +to go, unless thou wishest to be benighted in the forest." + +"My lord," said Almeric, "we have come abroad in quest of +adventures, and as yet found none to relate around the winter +fireside when we get home again; and it is the humble petition of +your poor squire and men-at-arms that we may remain in the castle +this night and see what stuff the phantoms are made of, if phantoms +there be." + +Hubert smiled approval. + +"My Almeric," he said, 'I have ever been of opinion that ghostly +apparitions are delusions, and always thought that I should like to +put the matter to a test. Wherefore I welcome your proposal with +joy, for I doubted whether any of you would willingly stay with me. +We will remain here tonight." + +"Nay," said the old withered retainer of the house of Fievrault; +"bethink thee, my lord, of what befell thy own father." + +"And for that very reason his son would fain avenge him," said +Hubert flippantly, "and flout the ghosts, if such things there be. +And if men--Frenchmen or the like--see fit to attire themselves in +masquerade, no coward fear will blunt the edge of our swords." + +"Wilful must have his way," said the old servitor with a sigh. +"What is to be will be, only remember, all of you, the old man has +warned you, and only permits you to remain because he has no power +to send you forth." + +"Nay, be not so inhospitable." + +"A churl will be a churl," said Almeric. + +The old man shook his head sadly, and went about his business, +whatever that may have been. + +The party now broke up to examine the castle, and to make sure that +all was as it seemed, and that no earthly inmates were there to +play pranks in the night. They ascended the ruined towers, and +gazed upon a wilderness of leaves, as far as the eye could reach, +save where a wild fantastic range of mountains upreared its riven +peaks in the dim distance, the Puy de Dome, the highest point. Then +they descended the steps and explored the vaults and dungeons: +dismal habitations dug by the hands of cruel men in the solid rock +upon which the castle was built. In one they shuddered to behold a +human skeleton, from which the rats had long since eaten the flesh, +chained by steel manacles around its wrists and ankles to the wall, +and hence still retaining its upright position: and in each of +these dark chambers they found sufficient evidence of the fell +character of the house of Fievrault. + +In one large cell, which had evidently been the torture chamber, +they found the rusty implements of cruelty--curious arrangements of +ropes and pulleys; a rack which had fallen to pieces with age; a +brazier with rusty pincers, which had once been heated red hot +therein, to tear the quivering flesh from some victim, who had long +since carried his plaint to the bar of God, where the oppressors +had also long since followed him. + +Hubert and his followers shuddered; but they were a little more +hardened to the sight of such things, which were not unknown in +those times even in "merry England," than we should be. + +"Where does that trap door lead to?" said Almeric, pointing to an +arrangement of two folding doors in front of a rude image. + +"It looks firm." + +"Nay, trust it not. Here is a rude stump, once used as a seat. Roll +it upon the trap doors." + +The round, short log was rolled on the trap, which gave way at +once. Down went the log, and, after what seemed minutes to those +above, came a hollow boom. It had reached the bottom. The +oubliette--Almeric shuddered, and the colour faded from his face. + +"What if I had tried the strength with my own weight!" thought he. + +They returned to the upper air. The sun had set, and the shades of +night were gathering around the hoary pile, and, with deepening +shades, every soul present felt a sense of gloom and depression +creep over him; a sort of apprehension which had no visible cause, +and could not easily be explained, but which led one to start at +shadows, and look round at each unexpected footfall. + +For over all there came a sense of fear, +A sense of mystery the spirit daunted, +And said as plain as whisper in the ear-- +"This place is haunted." + +"Bring wood. Kindle a fire on the hearth here. Set torches in those +cressets. Bring out the remains of our dinner. There is yet plenty +of the vin de pays; let us eat drink, and be merry." + +Wood was plentiful, pine torches easily procured in such a +locality, and soon the hall was bright with the firelight and vocal +with the sound of voices in melody. So the hours sped on until it +was quite dark. It was a very still night, but the clouds were +thick, and there were no stars abroad. + +At length they had burned all the wood which had been brought in. + +"Go, Tristam, and bring more wood from the great pile in the +courtyard," said Hubert. + +Tristam, a grizzled man-at-arms, went out. + +All at once a cry of horror was heard. All started to their feet, +but before they could run to Tristam's aid the door was dashed +open, and he ran in, his hair erect with horror, and his eyes +starting from their sockets. + +"It is after me!" he shrieked, as he slammed the door behind him. + +"What was it?" said Hubert, while the sight of the man's infectious +terror sent a thrill through all of them. + +But he couldn't tell; he only stood and gibbered and shuddered, as +if he had lost his senses, then crept to the innermost corner of +the large fireplace, where they made room for him, and moaned like +some wounded animal. + +"The wood must be brought," said Hubert. "We are not going to let +the fire go out, nor to be frightened at shadows. + +"Almeric, you will come with me and fetch it." + +"Yes, master," said Almeric, not without a shudder, which did not +promise well. + +"Say a Pater and an Ave, Almeric. Sign thyself with the Cross. +Now!" + +And they went forth. + +The night was, as we have said, intensely dark, and they each +carried a fat, resinous pine torch, which diffused a lurid light +around. The stones of the courtyard were slimy from long neglect; +and the light, drizzly rain which was falling churned the dust and +slime into thin mud. As they drew near the wood pile, Hubert going +boldly first, they both fancied a presence--a presence which caused +a sickening dread--between them and the pile. + +"Look, master," said Almeric, in tones half choked with horror. + +Hubert followed the direction of Almeric's glance, and saw that a +footmark impressed itself in the slime before their own advancing +tread, just as if some invisible being were walking before them. So +sickening a dread, yet quite an inexplicable one, a dread of the +vague unknown, came upon them that, brave men as they were, they +could not proceed to the wood pile, and, like Tristam, returned +empty handed. + +"Where is the wood?" was the general cry. + +"Let no one go out for wood tonight," said Hubert. "We must break +up the forms, the floors, nay, our dining board, to sustain the +fire--for fire we must have. Now, remember we are warriors of the +Cross, pledged to a holy cause, and that no demon can hurt us if we +are true to ourselves. Join me in the holy psalms of the night +watch, then spread our cloaks and sleep here." + +They said the well-known compline psalms, familiar then in England +from their nightly use. Then, replenishing the fire at the expense +of some rude oaken benches, and barring the door, they all strove +to sleep. A watch seemed needless. The fear was that they would all +be found watching when they should be sleeping. + +But yet whether from extreme fatigue or any other cause, they did +all fall asleep. + +In the dead hour of the night Hubert alone awoke, with the +consciousness that someone was gazing upon him. He looked up. There +was the figure which had so often tormented his poor father, the +slain Frenchman, the last Sieur de Fievrault, pale and gory, his +hand on the wound in his side. + +"Speak, dread phantom! What dost thou want with me? I go to do thy +bidding, to fulfil thy vow." + +"Thank God! Thou hast spoken, and I may speak, too. Thou goest to +do my bidding in love for thy father, to fulfil my vow. Alas, many +trials await thee. Canst thou face them?" + +"I can do all man can do." + +"So I imagine from thy bold bearing in this haunted castle of my +ancestors. It is well. Only go forward, whatever happens. Thou +shalt not perish. Thou shalt deliver thy father and me, condemned +as yet to walk this lower earth, till the vow my own misconduct +made me unworthy to fulfil is fulfilled by thee. Fare thee well, +and fear not." + +And the figure disappeared. + +Hubert felt a sense of blessed relief, under which he fell asleep +again, and did not awake until aroused by a cry of terror. He +started up. Almeric and all the men were on their feet, like +frenzied beings, gazing into the darkness which enveloped the end +of the hall. Then they rushed with a wild cry at the door, which +they unbarred with eager hands, and issued into the darkness. He +heard a heavy fall, as if one, perhaps two, had missed the steps +and gone headlong into the courtyard. + +Terror is contagious, but Hubert saw nothing as yet to fear. + +"Come back, ye cowards! Shame on ye!" he cried, but cried in +vain--he was alone in the haunted hall. + +The fact was that Hubert felt as if he personally had made his +peace with the mysterious haunters of the castle, and had nothing +to fear. So he did not stir, but was even able to sleep again until +aroused by the aged janitor, just as the blessed light of dawn was +pouring through the oriel window. + +"I warned you, my lord," he said. + +"You did. The fault, and the punishment, too, is ours. But where +are my men?" + +"Here is one," said the janitor, leading Hubert to the cell over +the gateway which he occupied himself, where on a couch lay poor +Almeric with a broken arm; broken in falling down the steps. + +"And where are the rest?" said Hubert after expressing his sympathy +to the wounded squire. + +"In the forest; they were raving like madmen in the courtyard, and +I opened the gates and let them out to cool their brains. They will +doubtless be here anon." + +"What didst thou see, Almeric, that frightened thee out of thy +reason?" + +"Ask me not! I may tell thee anon, but let us leave this evil +place," said Almeric. + +"We must wait for our men--I will go out and blow my horn without +the barbican." + +He blew a mighty blast, and after awhile first one and then another +responded to the appeal, looking thoroughly ashamed of themselves; +till four were in presence. But the fifth never arrived; doubtless +he had met some mishap in the forest. + +"The wolves have got him," said the old man. "There is an old she +wolf with a litter of cubs not far off, and I heard a mighty +howling there-a-way after the gates were opened. If he staggered in +her way in the darkness she would be sure to tear him to pieces." + +They sought for him in vain, but could not risk having to pass +another night in the place. Almeric was able to sit his horse with +difficulty, Hubert taking the reins and riding at his side and +supporting him from time to time with his arm. The sprightly lad +was quite changed. + +"I know not what it was," he said, "but it was something in that +darkness, an awful face, a giant form, a deathly thing of horror, +and we lost our presence of mind and sought absence of body. That +is all I can say. It was something borne upon our wills and we +could not resist. I shall never want to try such experiments +again." + +Even our Hubert, brave as he had been, was changed. He understood +his father's affliction better, nor was he ever quite so light +hearted and frivolous again. The joy of youth was dimmed. Yet he +often thought that the apparition of the slain Frenchman might have +been but a dream sent from heaven, to encourage him in his +undertaking on his father's behalf. + + + +Chapter 18: The Retreat Of The Outlaws. + + +The day was fine, and in the sun the heat was oppressive, but a +grateful coolness lay beneath the shades of the forest, as our two +brethren, Martin and Ginepro, pursued their way under the spreading +canopy of leaves in search of the outlaws, whom most men preferred +to avoid. + +Crossing the Dicker, a wild tract of heath land which we have +already introduced to our readers, and leaving Chiddinglye to the +left, they entered upon a pathless wilderness. Mighty trees raised +their branches to heaven, whose trunks resembled the columns in +some vast cathedral. There was little underwood, and walking was +very pleasant and easy. + +And as they went they indulged in much pleasant discourse. Ginepro +related many tales of "sweet Father Francis," and in return Martin +enlightened his companion with regard to the manners and customs of +the natives into whose territories they were penetrating; men who +knew no laws but those of the greenwood, and who were but on a par +with the heathen in things spiritual, at least so said the +neighbouring ecclesiastics. + +"All the more need of our mission," thought both. + +They were now in a very dense wood, and the track they had been +following became more and more obscure when, just as they crossed a +little stream, a stern voice called, "Stand and deliver." + +They looked up. There were men with bended bows and quivers full of +arrows on either side. They had fallen into an ambush. + +Martin was quite unalarmed. + +"Nay, bend not your bows. We be but poor brethren of Saint Francis, +who have come hither for your good." + +"For our goods, you mean. We want no begging friars or like +cattle." + +"But I have a special message for thee, Kynewulf, well named; and +for thee, Forkbeard; and for thee, Nick." + +"Ah! Whom have we got here?" + +"An old friend under a new guise. Lead me to your chieftain, +Grimbeard, who, I hope, is well. Or shall I show you the road?" + +"Yes, if you know it. Art thou a wizard?" + +"Nay, only a poor friar. Am I to lead or follow?" + +"Lead, by all means. Then we shall know that thou canst do so." + +Martin, nothing loth, walked forward boldly, Ginepro more timidly +by his side. They were such wild-looking outlaws. At last they +reached a spring, and Martin left the beaten path, ascended a +slope, and stood at the entrance to a large natural amphitheatre, +not unlike an old chalk pit, such as men still hew from the side of +the same hills. + +But if the hand of man had ever wrought this one, it had been in +ages long past, of which no record remained. The soft hand of +nature had filled up the gaps and seams with creeping plants and +bushes, and all deformities were hidden by her magic touch. Around +the sides of the amphitheatre were twenty to thirty low huts of +osier work, twined around tall posts driven into the ground and +cunningly daubed with stiff clay. In the centre of the glade was a +great fire, evidently common property, for a huge caldron steamed +and bubbled over it, supported by three sticks placed cunningly so +as to lend each other their aid in resisting the heavy weight, in +accordance with nature's own mechanics, which she teaches without +the help of science {25}. + +Before the fire, on a sloping bank, covered with the softest skins, +lay the aged chieftain whom we met before. But now seven years had +added their transforming touch, tempus edax rerum. His tall stature +was diminished by a visible curve in its outline. His giant limbs +and joints were less firmly knit. + +A light hunting shirt of green, confined around the waist by a +silver belt, superseded the tunic of skins we saw him wear before, +and over it was a crimson sash. These were doubtless the spoils of +some successful fray or ambush, for the woods did not produce the +tailors who could make such attire; and in the belt was stuck a +sharp, keen hunting knife, and on his head was a low, flat cap with +an eagle's feather. There were eagles then in "merrie Sussex." + +"Whom hast thou brought, Kynewulf? What cattle are these?" + +"Guests, good captain," replied Martin, "who have come far to seek +thee, and who have brought thee a special message from the King of +kings." + +Grimbeard growled, but he had his own ideas of hospitality, and had +his deadliest enemy come voluntarily to him, trusting to his good +faith, he could not have harmed him. So he conquered his +discontent. + +"Hospitality is the law of the woods. Stay and share our fare, such +as it is, the pot luck of the woods, then depart in peace." + +"Not till we have delivered our message." + +"Ah, well, my merrie men are the devil's own children, but if you +will try your hand at converting them I will not hinder you." + +Not a word was said before dinner, and Martin, feeling that after +partaking of their hospitality they would be upon a different +footing, said but little. But the curiosity which was excited by +his knowledge of their names and of this their summer retreat was +only suspended for a brief period. + +The al-fresco entertainment was over, the dinner transferred on +wooden spits from the caldron to huge wooden platters. Game, +collops of venison skilfully roasted on long wooden forks, assisted +to eke out the contents of the caldron. Strong ale, or mead, was +handed round, of which our brethren partook but sparingly. When the +meal was over Grimbeard spoke: + +"We generally Test awhile and chew the cud after our midday meal, +for our craft keeps us awake a great deal by night; and perhaps +your tramp through the woods has made you tired also. Rest, and +after the sun has sunk beneath the branches of yon pine you may +deliver the message you spoke about." + +Then the hoary chieftain retired to the shade of his hut, as did +some of the others to theirs, but the majority reclined under the +spreading beeches, as did our two brethren. + +They slept through the meridian heat. One sentinel alone watched, +and so secure felt the outlaws in their deep seclusion that even +this precaution was felt to be a mere matter of form. + +And at length a horn was blown, and the whole settlement awoke to +active life. + +"Call the brethren of Saint Francis," said the chief. "Now we are +ready. Sit round, my merrie men." + +It was a picture worthy the pencil of that great student of the +wild and picturesque, Salvator Rosa; the groups of brawny outlaws, +with their women and children, all disposed carelessly on the +grass, with the background of dark hill and wood, or of hollow +rock, while Martin, standing on a conspicuous hillock, began his +message. + +With wondrous skill he told the tale of Redeeming Love. His +enthusiasm mounting as he spoke. The bright colour reddening his +face, his eyes sparkling with animation, is beyond our power to +tell, and the result was such as was common in the early days of +the Franciscan missions. Women, yea, and men too, were moved to +tears. + +But in the most solemn appeal of all, suddenly a woman's voice +broke the intensity of the silence in which the preacher's words +were received: + +"My son--my own son--my dear son." + +The speaker had not been at the dinner, and had only just returned +from the woods, wherein she often wandered. For this was Mabel, the +chieftain's wife, or "Mad Mab," as they flippantly called her, and +only on hearing from afar the unwonted sound of preaching in the +camp had she been drawn in. The voice thrilled upon her memory as +she drew nearer, and when she entered the circle--we may well say +the charmed circle--she stood entranced, until at last conviction +grew into certainty, and she woke the enchantment of the preacher's +voice by her cry of maternal love. + +She was not far beyond the prime of life. Her face had once been +strikingly handsome; Martin inherited her bright colour and dark +eyes; but time had set its mark upon her, and often had she felt +weary of life. + +But now, after one of her monotonous rambles, like unto one +distraught in the woods, had come this glad surprise. A new life +burst upon her--something to live for, and, rushing forward, she +threw her arms around the neck of her recovered boy. + +"My mother," said he in an agitated voice. "Nay, she has been long +dead." + +But as he gazed, the same instinct awoke in him as in her, and he +lost self control. The sermon ended abruptly, the preacher was +conquered by the man. The hearers gathered in groups and discussed +the event. + +"This explains how he knew all about us!" + +"It is Martin, little Martin, who should have been our chieftain." + +"The last of the house of Michelham!" + +"Turned into a preaching friar!" + +Grimbeard mused in silence. At last he gave a whispered order. + +"Treat them both well, to the best of our power. But they must not +leave the camp." + +"Mother," said Martin, "why that cruel message of thy death? Thou +hadst not otherwise lost me so long." + +"It was for thy good. I would save thee from the life of an outlaw +or vagabond, and foresaw that unless I renounced thee utterly, thy +love would mar thy fortunes, and bring thee back to my side." + +"My poor forsaken mother!" + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +Grimbeard now approached. + +"Well, young runaway, thou hast come back in strange guise to thy +natural home. Dost thou remember me?" + +"Well, step father, many a sound switching hast thou given me, +which doubtless I deserved." + +"Or thou hadst not had them. Well said, boy, and now wilt thou take +up thy abode again with us? We want a priest." + +"I am no priest, only a preacher, and my mission is to the +Andredsweald at large, and the scattered sheep of the Great +Shepherd therein." + +"Only thou knowest our whereabouts too well. We may not let thee go +in and out without security, that our retreat be not made known." + +"Father, I have eaten of your bread, and once more of my own free +will accepted your hospitality. Even a heathen would respect your +secret, still more a Christian brother. If I can persuade you to +cease from your mode of life, which the Church decrees unlawful, +well and good. But other weapons than those of the Gospel shall +never be brought against you by me." + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +They had a long conversation that afternoon, wherein Grimbeard +maintained that the position of the "merrie men," who still kept up +a struggle against the Government in the various great forests of +the land, such as green Sherwood and the Andredsweald, were simply +patriots maintaining a lawful struggle against foreign oppressors. +Martin, on the other hand, maintained that the question was settled +by Divine providence, and that the governors of alien blood were +now the kings and magistrates to whom, according to Saint Paul, +obedience was due. If two centuries did not establish prescriptive +right, how long a period would? + +"No length of time," replied Grimbeard. + +"Ah well, then, step father, suppose the poor Welsh, who once lived +here, and whom my own remote forefathers destroyed or drove from +these parts, were to send to say they would thank the descendants +of the Saxons, Angles, and Jutes to go back to their ancient homes +in Germany and Denmark, and leave the land to them according to the +principle you have laid down. What should you then say?" + +Grimbeard was fairly puzzled. + +"Thou hast me on the hip, youngster." + +After this conversation Martin was so fatigued by the day's walk +and all the subsequent excitement, that his mother prepared for him +a composing draught from the herbs of the wood, and made him drink +it and go to bed; a sweet bed of fragrant leaves and coverlets of +skins in one of the huts, where she lodged her dear boy, her +recovered treasure--happy mother. + +The following morning, overcome by the emotions of the preceding +day, Martin slept long. He was dreaming of the battle of Senlac, +where he was heading a charge, when he awoke to find that the +sounds of real present strife had put Senlac into his head. + +He sat upright, a confused dream of fighting and struggling still +lingering in his distracted mind. No, it was no dream; he heard the +actual cry of those who strove for mastery: the exulting yell: + +"Englishmen, on! down, ye French tyrants!" + +"Out! out! ye English thieves!" + +"Saint Denys! on, on! Saint Michael, shield us!" + +Then came the sound of fiercer strife, the cry of deadlier anguish. + +For there with arrow, spear, and knife, +Men fought the desperate fight for life. + +Martin slipped on his garb, and hurried to the scene. He looked, +gained a sloping bank, and there-- + +That morning, a merry young knight and his train set out from +Herstmonceux Castle to go "a hunting," and in the very exuberance +of his spirits, like Douglas of old, he thought fit to hunt in the +woods haunted by the "merrie men," as he in the Percy's country. +Such a merry young knight, such a roguish eye. + +But he had not ridden far into the debatable land when the path lay +between two sloping, almost precipitous banks, crowned with +underwood. All at once a voice cried: + +"Stand! Who are ye? Whence come ye? What do ye here in the woods +which free Englishmen claim as their own?" + +A shaggy form, a bull-like individual, stood above them. The young +knight gazed upon his interlocutor with a comic eye. + +"Why, I am Ralph of Herstmonceux, an unworthy aspirant to the +honours of chivalry, and conceive I have full right to hunt in the +Andredsweald without asking leave of any king of the vagabonds and +outlaws, such as I conceive thee to be." + +"Cease thy foolery, thou Norman magpie. + +"Throw down your arms, all of you. Our bows are bent; you are in +our power. You are covered, one and all, by our aim." + +"Bring on your merrie men." + +Not one of the waylaid party had put arrow to bow. This may seem +strange, but they had sense enough to know (as the reader may +guess), that the first demonstration of hostility would bring a +shower of arrows from an unseen foe upon them. That, in short, +their lives were in the power of the "merrie men," whose arrowheads +and caps they could alone see peering from behind the tree trunks, +and over the bank, amidst the purple heather. + +What a plight! + +"Give soft words," said the old huntsman, who rode on the right +hand of our friend Ralph, "or we shall be stuck with quills like +porcupines." + +But Ralph was hot headed, and threw a lance at the old outlaw, +giving, at the same time, the order: + +"Charge up the banks, and clear the woods of the vermin." + +The dart missed Grimbeard, and immediately the deadly shower which +the old man had so keenly apprehended descended upon the exposed +and ill-fated group, who, for their sins, were commanded by so mad +a leader. + +A terrific scene ensued. The horses, stung by the arrows, reared, +pranced, and rushed away in headlong flight down the stony +entangled road; throwing their riders in most eases, or dashing +their heads against the low overhanging branches of the oaks. Half +the Normans were soon on the ground. The outlaws charged: the lane +became a shambles, a slaughter house. + +Ralph and two or three more still fought desperately, but with +little hope, when there appeared the sudden vision of a grey friar, +who thrust himself between the knight and Grimbeard, who were +fighting with their axes. + +"Hold, for the love of God! Accursed be he who strikes another +blow." + +"Thou hast saved the old villain's life, grey friar," said mad +Ralph, parrying a stroke of Grimbeard's axe, but this was but a +bootless boast, for the conflict was not one with knightly weapons, +but with those of the forest. The train of Herstmonceux were but +equipped for the hunt and in such weapons as they possessed the +outlaws were far better versed than they, for with boar spear or +hunting knife they often faced the rush of wolf or boar. + +"Martin! Boy, thou hast saved the young fop. + +"Dost thou yield, Norman, to ransom?" + +"Yea, for I can do no better, but if this reverend young father +will but stand by and see fair play, I would sooner fight it out." + +"Dead men pay no ransom, and they are not good to eat, or I might +gratify thee. As it is I prefer thee alive." + +Then he cried aloud: + +"Secure the prisoners. Blindfold them, then take them to the camp." + +The fight was over. The prisoners, five in number, were +blindfolded, and in that condition led into the camp of the +outlaws; Martin keeping close by their side, intent upon preventing +any further violence from being offered, if he could avert it. + +Arrived at the camp, the captives were consigned to a rough cabin +of logs. Their bandages were removed; a guard was placed before the +door, and they were left to their meditations. + +They were only, as we have said, five in number. Six had escaped. +The others lay dead on the scene of the conflict. + +Meanwhile, Ralph was puzzling his brains as to where he had seen +the grey friar before, who had so opportunely arrived at the scene +of conflict. He inquired of his companions, but their wits were so +discomposed by their circumstances and by apprehensions, too well +founded, for their own throats, that they were in no wise able to +assist his memory. Nor indeed could they have done so under any +circumstances. + +It was but a brief suspense. The outlaws had but tended their own +wounded, washed off the stains of the conflict, refreshed +themselves with copious draughts of ale or mead, ere they placed a +seat of judgment for Grimbeard under a great spreading beech which +grew in the centre of the camp, and all the population of the place +turned out to see the tragedy or comedy which was about to be +enacted. Just as, in our own recollection, the mob crowded together +to see an execution. + +Grimbeard was fond of assuming a certain state on these occasions. +He dressed himself in all his rustic finery, and seated himself +with the air of a king on his rude chair of honour. By his side +stood Martin, pale and composed, but determined to prevent further +bloodshed if it were in mortal power to do so. + +"Bring forth the prisoners." + +They were led forth; Ralph looking as saucy and careless as ever. + +"What is thy name?" asked Grimbeard. + +"Ralph, son of Waleran de Monceux." + +"And what has brought thee into my woods?" + +"Thy woods, are they? Well, thou couldst see I came to hunt." + +"And thou must pay for thy sport." + +"Willingly, since I must. Only do not fix the price too high." + +"Thy ransom shall be a hundred marks, and till then thou must be content +with the hospitality of the woods. Now for thy followers--three weeks +ago the sheriff hung two of my best men as deer slayers, and I have +sworn in such cases to have life for life. If they hang, we hang too. +If they are merciful, so are we. Now I am loth to slay an Englishman. +Hast thou not any outlanders here?" + +"If I had, dost think I should tell thee? Why not take me for one?" + +"Thou art worth a hundred marks, and they not a hundred pence," +laughed Grimbeard. "It is not that I respect noble blood. I have +scant cause. A wandering priest who came to say mass for us told us +the story of Jephthah and the Gileadites; I will try the effect of +a Shibboleth, too. + +"So bring the prisoners forward, one by one, my merrie men." + +The first was evidently an Englishman. + +"Say, what food dost thou see on that table yonder?" + +"Bread and cheese." + +"It is well; thou shalt be Sir Ralph's messenger, and shall be set +free, upon a solemn promise to do our behests. + +"Now set forth the next in order, and let him say, 'Shibboleth."' + +It was an olive-skinned rogue, fresh from Southern France, who +stepped forward this time, impelled by his captors. Asked the same +question, he replied: + +"Dis bread and dat sheese {26}." + +"Hang him," said Grimbeard, and hanged he would doubtless have +been, for a dozen hands were busy at once in their cruel glee; some +seizing upon the victim, some mocking his pronunciation, some +preparing the rope, two or three boys climbing the tree like +monkeys, to assist in drawing it over a sufficiently stout branch +to bear the human weight, while the poor Gaul stood shivering +below; when Martin threw his left arm around the victim, and raised +his crucifix on high with the other. + +"Ye shall not harm him, unless ye trample under foot the sign of +your redemption." + +"Who forbids?" said Grimbeard. + +"I, the representative by birth of your ancestral leaders, and one +who might now claim the allegiance you have paid to my fathers for +generations. But I rest not on that," and here he pleaded so +eloquently in the name of Christ, that even Grimbeard was moved; he +could not resist a certain ascendency which Martin was gaining over +him. + +"Let them go, all of them. Blindfold them and lead them out in the +road. Only they must swear not to come into our haunts again, +either with hawk and hound or with deadlier weapons. + +"There! I hope it may be put to my account in purgatory, my Martin. +You are spoiling a good outlaw. Have your way, only this gay +popinjay of a knight must stay until his ransom be paid. We can't +afford to lose that. But no harm shall befall him. Beside, we may +want him as hostage in case this morning's work bring a hornets' +nest about our ears." + +"Ralph, you are safe. Do you remember me?" said Martin. + +"I remember a young fellow much like thee at Oxford, who defended +my poor pate against the boves boreales, as now from latrones +austroles. Verily, thou art born to be a shield to addle-pated +Ralph. But art thou indeed a grey friar?" + +"Yes, thank God." + +"And that was how it was we lost you, and wondered you never came +near us again to share the fun. Father Adam had won you. Well, it +is a good fellow lost to the world." + +"And gained to God, I hope." + +"I know nought of that. Only tell me, my Martin, what life am I to +lead here?" + +"Only give your parole and you will be free within the limits of +the camp. I know their customs, being born amongst them." + +"Oh, wert thou! I wish thee joy of the honour. How, then, didst +thou get to Oxford?" + +"It is a long tale; another day I will tell thee. Now, wilt thou +come with me, and give thy word to Grimbeard not to attempt to +escape till thy messenger returns?" + +It was done, and Ralph and Martin strolled around the camp in +conversation that entire evening. Martin now learned that the death +of an elder brother had recalled his former acquaintance from +Oxford to figure as the heir apparent of Herst de Monceux: hence +the occasion of their meeting under such different auspices. + + + +Chapter 19: The Preaching Friar. + + +The system of the early Franciscans bore a very remarkable likeness +to that devised by John Wesley for his itinerant preachers, if +indeed the former did not suggest the latter. They were not to +supersede the parochial system, only to supplement it. They were +not to administer the sacraments, only to send people to their +ordinary parish priest for them, save in the rare cases of friars +in full orders, who might exercise their offices, but so as not to +interfere with the ordinary jurisdiction. The consent of the bishop +of the diocese was at first required, and ordinarily that of the +parish priest; but in the not infrequent cases where a slothful +vicar would not allow any intrusion on his sinecure, his objections +were disregarded. When the parish priest gave consent, the church +was used if conveniently situated; otherwise the nearest barn or +glade in the woods was utilised for the sermons. Like certain +modern religionists, they were free and easy in their modes, +frequently addressing passers by with personal questions, and often +resorting to eccentric means of attracting attention. But unlike +their modern imitators, they acted on very strict subordination to +Church authority, and all their influence was used on behalf of the +Church; although they strove as their one great aim to infuse +personal religion into the dry bones of the existing system, which +they fully accepted, while teaching that "the letter without the +spirit killeth." + +In short, their system was thoroughly evangelical at the outset, +although it grievously degenerated in after days. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +Martin's health was still far from strong. He yet felt the effects +of the terrible attack of the black fever or plague the preceding +spring; and now he was once more prostrated by a comparatively +slight return of the feverish symptoms, the after effects of his +illness. + +But he had found his nurse now. What a delight it was to his mother +to take his head, "that dear head," upon her knee, and to fondle it +once more, as if he were a child again. Now she had her reward for +all her loving self denial in sending him away and feigning herself +dead. + +In the summer time, especially if the weather were warm and genial, +the greenwood was not a bad place for an invalid, and Martin was as +well attended as if he had been in the infirmary at Michelham, and +with far more loving care. But under such care he rapidly gathered +strength, and as he did so used it all in his master's service. The +impression he produced on the followers of his forefathers was +profound, but he traversed every corner of the forest, and not an +outlying hamlet or village church escaped his ministrations, so +that shortly his fame was spread through all the country side. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +We must now pay a brief visit to Walderne. + +The first few months after the departure of Hubert brought little +change in the dull routine of daily life there. Drogo speedily +returned after the departure of his rival, and his whole energies +were spent in making himself acceptable to his uncle, Sir Nicholas. +He attended him in the hunt. He assisted him in the management of +the estate. He looked after the men-at-arms, the servants, and the +general retinue of a medieval castle. The days had passed indeed +when war and violence were the natural occupation of a baron, and +when the men-at-arms were never left idle long together, but they +were almost within memory of living men and might return again. So +the defences of the castle were never neglected, and the arts of +warfare ceased not to be objects of daily study in the Middle Ages. + +The Lady Sybil never trusted Drogo thoroughly. She had strong +predispositions against him: and quite accepted Hubert's version of +the quarrel at Kenilworth which, under Drogo's manipulation, +assumed a much more innocent aspect than the one in which it was +presented to our readers. + +Sir Nicholas was at last won over to believe that the youth was not +so bad after all, the more so as Drogo disavowed all further +designs or claims upon the inheritance of Walderne, now that the +proper heir was so happily discovered. Harengod would content him, +and when the clouds had blown over, he trusted that there would +always be peace between Harengod and Walderne. + +So the months of summer sped by. News arrived of Hubert's visit to +Fievrault, and of the dread portents described in a former chapter, +whereat was much marvel. Nought was said of the prophecy, for +Hubert did not wish to put such forebodings in the minds of his +relations. He had rather they should look hopefully to his return. +Poor Hubert! + +Then they heard, a month later, of his departure from Marseilles. +The news was brought by a pilgrim who had just returned from the +Holy Land, and met Hubert and his party about to embark, purposing +to sail to Acre, in a vessel called the Fleur de Lys, near which +spot lay a house of the brethren of Saint John, to which order his +father owed so much. The reader may imagine how this good pilgrim, +who had achieved his task, and come home crowned with honour and +glory, was welcomed. + +He himself, "by the blessing of our Lady," had escaped all dangers, +had worshipped at all the Holy Places, paying the usual tribute +demanded by the Paynim. It was a time of truce, and if only Hubert +were as fortunate as he, they might hope to see him within another +twelve months. + +But the months passed on. Autumn deepened into winter. The leaves +put on their gayest and rarest garb of russet and gold to die, like +vain things, clothed in their best. Winter, far more severe than in +these days, bound the earth in its icy grasp. And still he came +not. + +The spring came on again, and on a fine March day, one of those +days when we have a foretaste of the coming summer, a deep calamity +befell the House of Walderne. Sir Nicholas was thrown from his +horse while hunting, and only brought home to die: he never spoke +again. + +The reader may imagine the desolation of the Lady Sybil, thus +deprived of the helpmeet on whom she had leaned so long and loved +so well. They buried him in the vaults of the Castle Chapel, which +his lady had founded. There his friends and retainers followed him, +with tears, to the grave. + +And now the very site of that chapel is hidden in a deep wood. It +lies in the dell beneath Walderne Church, and may be traced by +those who do not fear being scratched by brambles. There is no +pathway to it. Sic transit. + +Not long after the death of Sir Nicholas, a palmer arrived at the +castle who had more to tell than usual, but not of a reassuring +character--he had been at Saint Jean d'Acre. + +Here the voice of the Lady Sybil was heard, and there was instant +silence. + +"How long ago was it that he had left Acre?" + +"It might be six months." + +"Had he heard of a young English knight, for whom all their hearts +were very sore: Sir Hubert of Walderne?" + +"No, and yet if the knight had arrived at Acre he must have heard +of it, for all travellers sought the hospitality of the brethren of +Saint John, with whom he lived for six months as a serving brother, +waiting upon their guests." + +Dead silence. After a while the lady spoke. + +"And had he not heard of the arrival of a vessel from Marseilles, +called the Fleur de Lys?" + +"Lady," he replied, "the name brings a sad remembrance of my voyage +homeward to my mind. Off the coast of Sicily is a mighty whirlpool, +which men call Charybdis, where Aeneas of old narrowly escaped +shipwreck. When the tide goes down the whirlpool belches forth the +fragments of ships which have been sucked down, and when it returns +the abyss again absorbs them. + +"Here, then, I stood one day, for we had landed at Syracuse, on the +rocks which commanded the swelling main, and at high tide I saw the +hideous wreckage flow forth from the dark prison. One portion, a +figurehead, came near me in its gyrations. It was the carved figure +of the Fleur de Lys." + +"And you know no more?" + +"Only that the natives said a French vessel of that name had been +vainly striving, on a stormy day, to pass safely through the +straits, and evade the power of the Charybdis; that she was drawn +in, and that every soul perished." + +A sudden tumult: Lady Sybil had fainted, and was conveyed to her +chamber. + +From that day the health and spirits of the Lady of Walderne sank +into a state which gave great anxiety to her maidens and retainers; +she was not indeed very old in years, but still no longer did she +possess the elasticity of youth. All her thoughts were absorbed by +religion. She heard mass daily, and went through all the formal +routine the customs of her age prescribed; went occasionally to the +shrine of Saint Dunstan at Mayfield, and to sundry holy wells, +notably that one in the glen near Hastings, well known to modern +holiday makers. But while she was thus striving to work out her own +salvation she knew little of the vital power of religion. It was +the mere formal fulfilment of duty, not the spontaneous offering of +love; and her burdened and anxious spirit never found rest. + +Yet had she not herself built a chapel, and given nearly the half +of her goods to the poor, like Zaccheus of old? While, unlike him, +she had never wronged any to whom she might restore fourfold. Well, +like those of Cornelius, her prayers and alms had gone up before +God and brought a Peter. + +About four miles from her home was a favourite nook to which she +oft resorted. In a hollow of the hills, which rise gently to their +summit behind Heathfield, overshadowed by tall trees, environed by +purple heather, was a dark deep pond: so black in the shade that +its waters looked like ink. But it had all the resplendency of a +mirror, and was indeed called "The mirror pond;" the upper sky, the +branches of the trees, were so vividly reflected that any one who +had a fancy for standing upon the head, on the brink of the pool, +might have easily believed his posture was correct, and that he +looked up into the azure void. + +At the north end of this sheltered and sequestered dell was a +rustic seat, looking over the pond; and hard by was a large +crucifix, life size, so that the devout might be stirred thereby to +meditation. + +Here came the Lady Sybil, and sat by the side in the arbour one +beautiful day; the autumn of the year of grace, at which we have +now arrived--twelve hundred and sixty. And she sat and mused upon +her dead husband, and her absent nephew, and strove to learn the +secret of true resignation, as she gazed upon the representation of +suffering Love Incarnate. + +All at once she heard a voice singing: + +Love sets my heart on fire, +Love of the Crucified: +To Him my heart He drew, +Whilst hanging on the tree, +From whence He said to me, +I am thy Shepherd true; +I am thy Bridegroom new. + +The sweet plaintive words struck her with deep emotion. And as she +listened eagerly, lo, the branches parted, and two brethren of +Saint Francis came out upon the edge of the pond. + +She paused as they knelt before the rood. At length they rose, and +approached the arbour wherein she sat. + +"Sister," said the foremost one, "hast thou met Him of Nazareth? +for I know He has been seeking thee!" + +What was it which made her gaze upon the speaker with such +surprise? Have any of my readers ever met a member of a well known, +and perchance much loved, family, whom they have never seen before, +and felt struck by the familiar tones of the voice, and by the mien +of the stranger? She looked earnestly at our Martin, but of course +knew him not, only she wondered whether this were the "brother" of +whom Hubert had spoken. + +"I know not whether He has found me, but I have long been seeking Him," +she said sadly. + +"Then, my sister, thou dost not yet know what He is to those who find?" + +Quam bonus es petentibus +Sed quid invenientibus {27}! + +"How may I find Him? I seek Him on the right hand and He is not +there, and on the left and He is not to be found. Oh, tell me all +about Him, and how I may find rest in that Love!" + +And there, beside that mirror pond, did a heart all afire with +Divine Love kindle the dry wood, all ready for the blaze, in the +heart of another. After the long colloquy, which we omit, the lady +added: + +"Dost thou not know my nephew Hubert? Art thou not his friend +Martin?" + +"I am, indeed. Tell me, hast thou yet heard aught of my brother +Hubert?" + +"Nought! I might say naught, so sad are the tidings a wandering +palmer brought us," and she told him the story of Charybdis. + +"Lady," he said, 'I hope better things. Nay, I am persuaded his +race is not yet run, and that I shall yet see him again in the +flesh; weaned by much affliction from some earthly dross which yet +encrusts his loving nature." + +"What reason hast thou to give?" + +"Only a conviction borne upon me." + +"Wilt thou not return with me?" + +"I may not. I have a mission at Mayfield, whither I am bound." + +"But thou wilt come soon?" + +"On Sunday, if I may, I will preach in the chapel of thy castle." + +Need we add how eagerly the offer was accepted? So they parted for +the time. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +It was a day of wondrous beauty, the first Sunday in July that year. + +Sweet day, so calm, so fine, so bright, +The bridal of the earth and sky. + +The little chapel was full at the usual hour for the Sunday morning +service, which, with our forefathers, was nine o'clock, the hour +hallowed by the descent of the Comforter on the day of Pentecost. +The chaplain said mass. After the creed Martin preached, and his +discourse was from the epistle for the day, which was the fourth +Sunday after Trinity. + +"Ah," he said, "this day is indeed beauteous, as were the days in +Eden. It is a delight to live and move. There is joy in the very +air; yet beneath all lies the mystery of pain and suffering. + +"Gaze forth from the height, beside the mill at Cross-in-Hand, upon +God's beauteous world. See the graceful downs beyond the forest, +stretching away as far as eye can reach, like a fairy scene. How +lovely it all is; but let us penetrate beneath the canopy of leaves +and the cottage roof. Ah, what suffering of man or beast they hide, +where on the one hand the wolf, the fox, the wild cat, the hawk, +the stoat, and all the birds and beasts of prey tear their victims, +and nature's hand is like a claw, red with blood--and on the other, +beneath the cottage roofs, many a bed-ridden sufferer lies groaning +with painful disease, many children mourn their sires, many widows +and orphans feel that the light is withdrawn from the world, so far +as they are concerned. + +"And yet is not God good? Doth He not love man and beast? Ah, yes; +but sin hath brought death and pain into the world, and the whole +creation groaneth and travaileth in bondage until now. + +"But meanwhile He hath made suffering the path to glory, and our +light affliction, which is but for a moment, shall be rewarded with +an eternity of joy, if we but put our whole trust in Him who was +made perfect by sufferings, and but calls His weary servants to +tread the road He trod before them." + +And so, with an eloquence unsurpassed in the experience of his +hearers, he drew all hearts to the Incarnate Love who wept, bled, +died for them, and bade them see that Passion pictured in the Holy +Mysteries, which were about to be celebrated before them, and to +give Him their hearts' oblation in union with the sacrifice. + +After the service the noon meat was spread in the castle hall, and +afterwards Martin was invited to a private conference with the Lady +Sybil. She received her nephew, as she already suspected him to be, +in a little chamber of the tower long since pulled down. The scent +of honeysuckle was borne in on the summer night air, and the rays +of a full moon shone brightly through an open casement. At first +the conversation was confined to the topic of Martin's discourse, +which we here omit, but afterwards the dame said: + +"My child, for thou art but a child in years to me, tell me why it +is thy voice seems so familiar, and even the lineaments of thy +countenance?" + +Martin was embarrassed and silent. He did not wish just now to +reveal the secret of his relationship. + +"Tell me," said she, "doth thy mother yet live?" + +"She doth." + +"And proud must she be of her son." + +He was still silent. + +"Brother Martin," said she, "I had a sister once, a wilful +capricious girl, but of a loving heart. We lost her early. She did +not die, but yet died to her family. She ran away and married an +outlaw chieftain. Our father said, leave her to the life she has +chosen, and forbade all communication: but often has my heart +yearned for my only sister." + +She continued after a long pause: + +"I heard that her husband, for whom she left us, died of wounds +received in a foray, and that she actually married his successor, a +man of low degree. That by her first husband, who was said to be of +noble English blood, she had one child, a son." + +Again a long pause: + +"And since I have been told that that son has reappeared, a brother +of Saint Francis. The report has spread all through these parts. +Tell me, is it true?" + +Martin saw that all was known, and concealed himself no longer. + +"It is true, aunt," he said. + +She embraced him, while the tears streamed down her cheeks. + +"Oh, my Martin: Hubert is no more: and thou shouldst have been Lord +of Walderne." + +"I seek a better inheritance, and I have not lost my hope of +Hubert's return." + +"I shall never see him, and I cannot trust Drogo, although he be the +nephew of my late dear lord. I fear he will make a bad Lord of Walderne." + +"Then, my lady, leave the place simply in trust for Hubert, in case +ought happen to you. Again I say Hubert will return." + +"What Drogo takes charge of, he will keep." + +"Then confer with the neighbouring gentry, with Earl Warrenne and +others, and ask their advice how to secure the property for the +true heir." + +"It is wisely thought, and shall be done," she replied. "And now, +my dear nephew, tell me all about my poor sister. Can she not be +regained to her home, rescued from the wretched life of the woods?" + +"I fear it is useless, while Grimbeard yet lives; besides a wife's +first duty is to her husband. I live in hope that he may be brought +to submit to the authorities whom God has seen fit to place in +trust over this land: then, if his pardon can be secured, all will +be well." + +What further they said we may not relate. Only that, with her ear +glued to the door, sat one of the tire women, drinking in all their +conversation from the adjoining closet. + +What could it avail to the wench? Nought personally, perhaps, but +the lady was surrounded by the creatures of Drogo, and hence what +she said in the supposed secrecy of her bower (boudoir), might soon +be reported in his ear, and stimulate him to action. + +It was a dismal dell--no sunlight penetrated its dark recesses, +overgrown with vegetation, overshadowed by dark pines, filled with +nettles and brambles. Herein dwelt one of those wretched women +supposed to hold special communion with Satan by the credulous +peasantry, and whose natural death was the stake. But often they +were spared a long time, and sometimes, by accident, died in their +beds. Love charms, philtres, she sold, and it was said dealt in +poisons, but the fact was never brought home to her, or Sir +Nicholas would have hanged, if not have burned her. As it was she +owed a longer spell of time, wherein to work evil, to the +intercession of the Lady Sybil. + +And now she was about to return evil for good. A dark visitor, a +young man veiled in a cloak, sought her cell one day. There was a +long conference. He departed, concealing a small phial in his +pouch. She dug a hole in the earth, after he was gone, and buried +something he had left behind. + +The reader must imagine the rest. + +It was again the Sunday morn, and Martin preached for the last time +before Lady Sybil at Walderne Castle, and spent the day there. And +in the evening the lady summoned him to another private conference. +She told him she felt it very much on her mind to have all things +in order, in case of sudden death, such as had befallen her dear +lord, Sir Nicholas: and therefore had arranged to go on the morrow +to Lewes, to see Earl Warrenne of Lewes Castle, with whom she would +take advice how to secure Walderne Castle and its estates for +Hubert in the event of his return. She would also see the old +Father Roger at the priory, and together they would shape out some +plan. + +At length the old dame said: + +"Martin, my beloved nephew, wilt thou fetch my sleeping potion from +the hall? I shall take it more willingly from thine hands. The +butler places it nightly on the sideboard." + +Let us precede Martin by only one minute. + +Ah! What is that shadow on the stairs? The likeness of one that +pours the contents of a small phial into a goblet. A light is +behind him and casts the shadow--The thing vanishes as Martin turns +the corner. The sleeping potion was there, as left by the majordomo +for his mistress, ere he retired early to rest, to be up with the +lark. + +Martin himself gave it to his aunt. She drank it slowly, observed +that it had an unusual taste, but not an unpleasant one. + +"Martin," she said, "hast told my sister, thy mother, all that I +have said?" + +"I have repeated your kind words." + +"And that her home is open for her, should she ever wish to return +hither? which may God grant." + +"I have." + +"And I will take care that a clause in her favour is put into my +will, which within the week will be witnessed by Earl Warrenne." + +Alas! man proposes but God disposes. On the following morning the +Lady Sybil did not arise at the usual time, nor did she, as was her +wont, appear at the morning mass in her chapel. At length, alarmed +by the continued silence, her handmaids ventured to the bedside to +arouse her. She lay as in a peaceful sleep, but stirred not as they +approached. They became alarmed, touched her forehead; it was icy +cold. Then their loud cries brought the household upstairs, Martin, +Drogo, and all; and the truth forced itself upon them. She slept +that sleep: + +Which men call death. + +Shall we describe the grief of the household? Nay, we forbear. All +the retainers: all the neighbourhood, followed her to the tomb. +Martin stood by the open grave; his head bowed in grief; he loved +to comfort others, but felt much in need of a consoler himself. + +Blessed are they which die in the Lord, +for they rest from their labours. + +He said a few touching words from this text to those that stood +around, as they mourned and wept, and comforting them was comforted +himself. + +But what of her plans for the future? They died with her. None +living could gainsay the existing will, and the well-known +intentions of Sir Nicholas and his widow, that Drogo should hold +all till Hubert returned--in trust for him. + +But would he then release his hold? + +Whether or not, there was no alternative, and Drogo became lord de +facto of Walderne. The Father Roger was now a monk professed, and +could hold no property, nor did he see any reason for disputing the +will which made Drogo tenant in charge for his son Hubert. He knew +nought of the change of mind in Lady Sybil--only Martin knew +this--and Martin could not prove it. Therefore he let things take +their course, and hoped for the best. But he determined to watch +narrowly over his friend Hubert's interests, for he still believed +that he lived, and would return home again. + +"We are friends, Drogo?" said Martin, as he left Walderne to go to +the greenwood. + +"Friends," said Drogo. "We were friends at Kenilworth, were we not? +Ah, yes, friends certainly: but I fear I may not often invite you +to spend your Sundays here. I am not fond of sermons--keep to the +greenwood and I will keep to the castle. But if the earthen pot +come into collision with the brazen one, the chances are that the +weaker vessel will be broken." + + + +Chapter 20: The Old Man Of The Mountain. + + +Ah, where was our Hubert? + +No magic mirror have we, wherein you may see him; yet we may lift +the veil, after the fashion of storytellers. + +It is a scorching day in summer, the heat is all but unbearable to +Europeans as the rays fall upon that Eastern garden, on the slopes +of Lebanon, where a score of Christian slaves toil in fetters, +beneath the watchful eyes of their taskmasters, who, clothed in +loose white robes and folded turbans, are oblivious of the power of +the sun to scorch. There is a young man who toils amidst those +vines and melons--yet already he bears the scars of desperate +combats, and trouble and adversity have wrought wrinkles on his +brow, and added lines of care to a comely face. + +A slave toiling in an Eastern garden--taskmasters set over him with +loaded whips--alas! can this be our Hubert? + +Indeed it is. + +The story told by the pilgrim was partly true. The Fleur de Lys had +been wrecked on the coast of Sicily, but Hubert and two or three +others escaped in an open boat. They were a night and day on the +deep, when a vessel bound for Antioch hove in sight, and made out +their signals of distress. They were taken on board, and arrived at +Antioch duly, whence Hubert despatched a letter to his friends at +Walderne (which never arrived); and then in the exquisite beauty of +the Eastern summer--"when the flowers appear on the earth, the time +of the singing of birds has come, and the voice of the turtle is +heard in the land; when the fig tree putteth forth her green figs, +and the vines with the tender grapes give a good smell"--in all +this beauty Hubert de Walderne and the three surviving members of +his party set out to traverse the mountainous districts of Lebanon +on their way to Jerusalem. + +They engaged a guide, who feigned himself a Christian, and, in +company with other pilgrims, all of course armed, travelled through +the wondrous country beneath "The hill of Hermon" on their road +southward. Near the sources of the Jordan, while yet amongst the +cedars of Lebanon, their guide led them into an ambush; and after a +desperate but unavailing resistance, they were all either slain or +taken prisoners. Hubert, his sword broken in the struggle, was made +captive, after doing all that valour could do, and bound. He saw +his faithful squire lying dead on the field, and the other two +survivors of the party which had set out in such high hope from +Walderne, captives like himself. + +Resistance was impossible. Their captors would have released them +for ransom; but who was near to redeem them? So they were taken to +Damascus, and, in the absence of such ransom, were exposed in the +slave market. Oh, what degradation for the young knight! Hubert +prayed for death, but it never came. Death flies the miserable, and +seeks the happy who cling to life. + +An old man with a flowing beard, and of great austerity of manner, +had come to inspect the slaves. He selected only the young and +comely, and Hubert had the misfortune to be one so distinguished. +All men bowed before the potentate, whoever he was, and Hubert saw +that he had become the property of "a prince among his people." + +Hubert was taken away, leaving his two fellow countrymen behind +him--taken away, joined to a gang of slaves like himself: and at +eventide, under the care of drivers, they formed a caravan, and set +out westward, making for the distant heights of Lebanon. He was the +only Englishman in the party, but close by was a young Poitevin, +whose downcast manner and frequent tears aroused the pitying +contempt of our Hubert, who thus at last was moved to address him: + +"Cheer up, brother. While there is life there is hope." + +"Not for those who become the slaves of the Old Man of the +Mountain." + +Hubert started: the "Old Man of the Mountain"--he had often heard +of him, but had thought him only a "bogy," invented by the +credulous amongst the crusaders and pilgrims. He was said to be a +Mohammedan prince of intense bigotry, who collected together all +the promising boys he could find, whom from early years he trained +in habits of self devotion, and, alas! of cruelty; eradicating in +them all respect for human life, or sympathy for human suffering. +His palace was on the slopes of Lebanon, and was well supplied with +Christian slaves from the various markets; and it was said that +those who continued obstinate in their faith were, sooner or later, +put cruelly to death for the sport of the amiable pupils, to +familiarise them with such scenes, and render them callous to +suffering. + +And when his education was finished, the "Old Man" presented each +pupil with a dagger, telling him that it was for the heart of such +or such a Christian warrior or statesman, and sent him forth. The +deeds of his pupils are but too well recorded in the pages of +history {28}. + +Into the hands of this worthy man our Hubert had fallen, and even +his hopeful temperament--always buoyant under misfortune--could not +prevent him from sharing the despondency he had so pitied, and a +little despised. + +In the evening, they arrived at a caravansary, and there the slaves +were told to rest, chained two and two together, and, furthermore, +huge bloodhounds stalked about the courtyard, within and without, +and if a slave but moved, their watchful growl showed what little +chance there was of escape. + +Little? Rather, none. + +In the morning, up again, and away for the west, until the slopes +of the mountains were attained on the third day, and the palace of +the "Old Man" soon appeared in sight. + +A grand Eastern palace--cupolas, minarets gleaming in the setting +sun--terraces, fountains, cloistered arcades, cool and refreshing--gardens +wherein grew the vine, the fig, the pomegranate, the melon, the orange, +the lemon, and all the fruits of the East--wherein toiled wretched slaves +under the watchful eyes of cruel overseers and savage dogs. + +When they arrived they were all put to sleep in cells opening upon +a courtyard with a tank in the centre. They were supplied with mats +for beds, and chained, each one by the ankle, to a staple in the +wall. And without the dogs prowled and growled all night. + +Poor Hubert! + +In the morning the "Old Man" appeared, and the slaves were all +assembled to hear his words: + +"Come, ye Christians, and hearken unto me, for ye shall hear my +words--sweet to the wise, but as goads to the foolish. Ye are my +property, bought with my money, and is it not lawful for me to do +what I will with mine own? But there is one God, and Mohammed is +His prophet; and to please them is more to me than diamonds of +Golconda or rubies of Shiraz. + +"Therefore, I make proclamation, that every slave who will embrace +the true faith of Islam shall be free, only tarrying here until we +be assured of his knowledge of the Koran and steadfastness of +purpose, when he shall go forth to the world, his own master, the +slave of none but God and His prophet. + +"But if there be senseless Jews, or unbelieving Nazarenes, who will +not accept the blessing offered them, for six months shall they +groan beneath the taskmaster, toiling in the sun; and then, if yet +obstinate, they shall die, for the edification and warning of +others, and the manner of their death shall be in fit proportion to +their deserts. + +"Hasty judgment beseemeth not a man. Ere the morrow's sun arise, +let your decision be made." + +The day was given to work in the burning sun, doubtless as a +foretaste of what awaited the obstinate Christian. During the day +troops of lithe, active boys of all ages from ten to twenty, had +pranced about the garden--bright in face, lively and versatile in +disposition; but with a certain cruel look about their black eyes +and swarthy features which was the result of their system of +education. + +And they had not been sparing of their remarks about the slaves: + +"Fresh food for the stake--fresh work for the torturers." + +"Pooh! They will give way and become good Mussulmen. Bah! Bah! Most +of them do, and deprive us of the fun." + +That night Hubert and the young Alphonse of Poitou lay chained side +by side. + +"What shall you do in the morning, Sir Englishman?" said young +Alphonse, after many a sigh. + +"God helping us, our course is clear enough--we may not deny our +faith." + +"Perhaps you have one to deny," said the other, with another sigh. +"For me, I have never been religious." + +"Nor have I," said Hubert. "I always laughed at a dear companion +who chose the religious life, even while I admired him in my heart. +But when it comes to denying one's faith, and accepting the +religion of Mohammed, it seems to me there is no more to be said. I +have got at least as much religion as may keep me from that, +although I am not a saint." + +"I wish I had; but it is fearful: the toil in the sun, the chains, +the silence, the starvation, and then the impalement, the scourging +to death, the stake--or whatever else awaits us--at the end of the +six months; while all these scoffing youngsters, whose savage mirth +we have heard ringing about the place, are taught to exult in one's +sufferings--the bloodthirsty tyrant. But might we not in so hard a +case pretend to become Mussulmen, and, as soon as we can escape, +seek absolution and reconciliation to the Church?" + +"He has said, 'Whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I +deny.' I never read much Scripture, but I remember that the +chaplain at Kenilworth, where I once lived as a page, impressed so +much as this upon my mind. No; I shall stand firm, and take my +chance, God helping me." + +So they awaited the morning. And when it came, they were all +marshalled into the presence of the "Old Man of the Mountain." + +"Yesterday you heard the terms, today the choice remains--liberty +and the faith of the prophet; slavery and death if you remain +obstinate. Those who choose the former, file off to my right hand; +those who select the latter, to my left." + +There were some thirty slaves. A moment's hesitation. Then, at the +signal from the guards, about twenty, amongst whom was Alphonse, +stalked off to the right. Ten, amongst whom was Hubert, passed to +the left. + +"Your selection is made. Every moon the same choice will be +repeated, until the end of the sixth, when no further grace will be +granted; and the death he has chosen awaits the unbeliever." + +From this time the situation of the few who remained faithful +became unbearable. They slept in the cells we have described, as +best they could, rose at the dawn, and laboured under the +guardianship of ferocious dogs and crueler men till the sun set, +and darkness put an end to their unremitting toil. Only the +briefest intervals were allowed for meals, and the food was barely +sufficient to maintain life. Conversation was utterly forbidden, +and at night, if the slaves were heard talking, they were visited +with stripes. + +The cells in which they now slept were single ones. Once only in +many days Hubert was able to ask a fellow sufferer: + +"What happens in the end?" + +"We are impaled on a stake, I believe, after the fashion of the +Turcomans; or perhaps burnt alive; or the two may be combined. God +help us. Although He slay me, yet will I trust in Him." + +"God bless you for those words," replied Hubert. + +The merry laughter of boys filled the place at times, between their +hours of instruction, for the youngsters had all the European +languages to study amongst them, for the ends the founder of this +"orphan asylum" had in view. But nothing was done to make them +tired of their work, or unfaithful in their attachment to the +principles they were to maintain with cup and dagger. + +Once or twice slaves disappeared, generally weak and worn-out men. + +"Their time is come," said the others in a terrified whisper. + +And on such occasions a few shrieks would sometimes break the +silence of a summer day, followed by the derisive laughter of +youthful voices. Yet these martyrs might have saved themselves by +apostasy at any moment--save, perhaps, at the last, when the +appetite of the cruel Mussulmen had been whetted for blood, and +must be satiated--yet they would not deny their Lord. Their +behaviour was very unlike the conduct of an English officer in the +Indian Mutiny, who saved his life readily by becoming a Mussulman, +with the intention, of course, of throwing his new creed aside as +soon as he was restored to society, and laughed at the folly of +those who accepted his profession thereof. + +But Hubert, careless of his religious duties as he had been, and +almost afraid of appearing religious, could not do this, no more +than Martin would have done. + +Oh, how he thought of Martin. And oh, how earnestly he prayed in +those days. + +And here we grieve to be forced to leave our Hubert awhile. + + + +Chapter 21: To Arms! To Arms! + + +Three years had passed away since the death of the Lady Sybil of +Walderne. + +A great change had passed over the scene. War--civil war--the +fiercest of all strife--had fairly begun in the land. Lest my +readers should marvel, like little Peterkin, "what it was all +about," let me briefly explain that the royal party desired +absolute personal rule, on the part of the king, unfettered by law +or counsellors. The barons desired that his counsellors should be +held responsible for his acts, and that his power should be +modified by the House of Lords or Barons, if not by the Commons as +well; the latter idea was but dawning. In short, they desired a +constitutional government, a limited monarchy, such as we now +enjoy. + +The Pope had been called upon to mediate, and had decided in favour +of the King, and absolved him from his oath and obligations to his +subjects, especially those "Provisions of Oxford." Louis IX, King +of France (afterwards known as Saint Louis), had been appealed to, +but, though a very holy man, he was a staunch believer in the +divine right of kings; and he, too, decided against the barons. + +What were they to do? Most of the barons were in submission, but +Earl Simon said: + +"Though all should leave me, I and my four sons will uphold the +cause of justice, as I have sworn to do, for the honour of the +Church and the good of the realm of England." + +They changed their standing point, and, to meet the condemnation +which both Pope and King of France had awarded to the "Provisions +of Oxford," took their stand upon Magna Carta instead. + +But here they fared no better. In March 1264 a parliament had been +summoned to meet at Oxford by the king, that he might there undo +what the barons had done in 1258. At this period the action of our +tale recommences. + +Drogo was still lord of the Castle of Walderne. No news had reached +England of Hubert these three long years, and hence no one disputed +the title of Drogo to present possession. His steps had been taken +with all the craft of a subtle fox. One by one he had removed all +the old dwellers in the castle, and, so far as was possible, the +outside tenantry also, and substituted creatures of his own--men +who would do his bidding, whatsoever it were, and who had no local +interests or attachment to the former family. + +And, little by little, his rule had been growing as hard and cruel +as that of a medieval tyrant could be. The dungeons were reopened +which had long been closed; the torture chamber, long disused, was +refitted, as it had been in the dreadful days of King Stephen; the +defences had been looked to, the weapons furbished, for, as a war +horse sniffs battle afar off, so did Drogo. + +Need I tell my readers which side Drogo took? He had never, since +the day he was expelled from Kenilworth, ceased to hate Earl Simon, +and now he declared boldly for the king, and prepared to fight like +a wildcat for the royal cause. + +But Waleran, Lord of Herstmonceux, the father of our Ralph, +espoused the popular side warmly, as did all the English men of +Saxon race--the "merrie men" of the woods, and the like. + +But the great Earl de Warrenne of Lewes was a fierce royalist. So +was the Lord of Pevensey. + +Already the woods were full of strife. Whensoever a party met a +party of opposite principles, there was instant bloodshed. The +barons' men from Herstmonceux pillaged the lands of Walderne or +Pevensey. The burghers of Hailsham declared for the earl, as did +most burghers throughout the land; and Lewes, Pevensey, and +Walderne threatened to unite, harry their lands, and burn their +town. The monks of Battle preached for the king, as did those of +Wilmington and Michelham. The Franciscans everywhere used all their +powers for the barons, for was not Simon de Montfort one of them in +heart in their reforms? + +So all was strife and confusion--the first big drops of rain before +the thunderstorm. + +Drogo was at the height of his ambition. He had added Walderne to +his patrimony of Harengod. He had humbled the neighbouring +franklins, who refused to pay him blackmail. He had filled his +castle with free lances, whose very presence forced him to a life +of brigandage, for they must be paid, and work must be found them, +or--he could not hold them in hand. The vassals who cultivated the +land around enjoyed security of life with more or less suffering +from his tyranny; but the independent franklin, the headmen of the +villages, the burgesses of the towns (outside their walls), the +outlaws of the woods, when he could get at them all, these were his +natural sport and prey. + +He had a squire after his own heart, named Raoul of Blois, who had +come to England in the train of one of the king's foreign +favourites, and escaped the general sentence of expulsion passed at +Oxford in 1258. + +One eventide--the work of the day was over, and Drogo and this +squire were taking counsel in the chamber of the former; once the +boudoir of Lady Sybil in better days. + +"Raoul," said his master, "have you heard aught yet of the Lady +Alicia of Possingworth?" + +"Yes, my lord, but not good news." + +"Tell them without more grimace." + +"She has placed herself under the protection of the Earl of +Leicester." + +Drogo swore a deep oath. + +"We were too weak, my lord, to interrupt the party, and we did not +know in time what they were about. But one thing I heard the +demoiselle said, which you should hear, although it may not be +pleasant." + +"Well!" + +"Although my first love be dead, I will never marry a man who +poisoned his aunt.'" + +"They have to prove it--let them." + +"My lord, the old hag who sold you the phial, as she says, yet +lives, and I fear prates." + +"She shall do so no longer. Get a party of half a dozen of your +tenderest lambs ready for secret service. We will start two hours +before dawn, when all the world is fast asleep. See that you are +all ready and call me." + +All lonely stood the hut--in the tangled brake--where dwelt a +sinful but repentant woman. For one had broken in upon her life, +and had awakened a conscience which seemed almost non-existent +until he came--our Martin. And this night she tosses on her bed +uneasily. + +"Would that he might come again," she says. "I would fain hear more +of Him who can save, as he said, even me." + +She mutters no longer spells, but prayers. The stone seems removed +from the door of that sepulchre, her heart. Towards morning sleep, +long wooed in vain, comes over her--and she dozes. + +It wants but an hour to dawn, but the night is at its darkest. The +stars still drift over the western sky, but in the east it is +cloudy, and no morning watch from his tower could spy the dawning +day. + +Eight men emerge from the deep shade of the tangled wood. In +silence they approach the hut, and first they tie the door outside, +so that the inmate cannot open it. + +"Which way is the wind?" whispers the leader. + +"In the east." + +"Fire the house on that side." + +They have with them a dark lantern, from which a torch is fired and +applied to the roof of light reeds on the windward side. We draw a +veil over the quarter of an hour which followed. It was what the +French call un mauvais quart d'heure. + +The sun had arisen for some hours when the solitude of the forest +was broken by the tread of three strangers--travellers, who trod +one of its most verdant glades. The one was a brother preacher of +the order of Saint Francis. The second, a knight clad in hunting +attire. The third, the mayor, the headman of the borough of +Hamelsham. + +"The cottage lies here away," said the first. "We shall see the +roof when we turn the end of the avenue of beeches." + +"Do you not smell an odour unusual to the forest?" + +"The scent of something burnt or burning?" + +"I have perceived it." + +"Ah, here it is," and the three stopped short. They had just turned +the corner to which they had alluded. A thin smoke still arose from +the spot where the cottage had stood. + +They all paused; then, without a word, hurried on ward by a common +impulse. They only found the smoking embers of the dwelling they +had come to seek. + +"This is Drogo's doing," said Ralph of Herstmonceux. + +"Could he have heard of our intentions?" said the mayor. + +"No, but--he might have learned that poor Madge was a penitent, and +then--" said Martin. + +"Well, our work is done, and as the country is not over safe so +near the lion's den--" + +("Wolf's den, you mean," interrupted Ralph--) + +"And we have come unattended, the sooner we retire the better." + +"Too late!" said a stern voice: and Drogo stood before them. + +"My Lord of Walderne, this is ill pleasantry," said Ralph. + +"'Pleasantry,' you call it, well. So it is for those who win." + +He whistled shrill, +And quick was answered from the hill; +That whistle garrisoned the glen, +With twice a hundred armed men. + +In short, the three travellers were surrounded on all sides. Their +errand had been betrayed by one of Drogo's outlying scouts. + +"What is thy purpose, Drogo?" said Martin. + +"Do ye yield yourselves prisoners?" + +"On what compulsion?" + +"Force, the right that rules the world." + +"And what pretext for using it?" said Ralph, drawing his sword. + +"I should advise thee not to touch thy weapon, unless thy skill is +proof against an arrow. In a word, Ralph of Herstmonceux, art thou +for the king or the barons?" + +"Thou knowest--the barons." + +"And I for the king; no more need be said. Yield to ransom. + +"I will not give my sword to thee," and Ralph flung it into a pond. + +"And what right hast thou to arrest me?" said the mayor. + +"Good mayor, hast thou not stirred up thy town of Hamelsham, thy +puissant butchers and bakers, to resist the good king and to send +aid to the rebellious Earl of Leicester, may the fiends rive him! +Wherefore I might, without further parley, hang thee to this beech, +which never bore a worthier acorn." + +"Yes, hang him for the general amusement," said several deep +voices. + +"Nay, dead men pay no ransom, and we will make his beer-swilling, +beef-eating brother burghers pay a good sum for his fat body. + +"Thou hast thy choice, mayor. Ransom or rope?" + +"Seeing I must choose, ransom; but rate me not too high, I am a +poor man." + +They laughed immoderately. + +"We have borrowed a hint from the outlaws, and unless thy brethren +pay for thee soon, we will send thy worthless body to them in +installments, first one ear, then the other, and so on." + +"Our Lady help me!" + +"Brother, be patient. Heaven will help us, since there is no help +in man," said Martin. "And now, Drogo, whom I knew so well of old, +and in whom I see little change, what is thy charge against me?" + +"A very serious one, brother Martin, and one I grieve to bring +against such an eloquent preacher of the Gospel, but my conscience +compels me." + +"Thy conscience!" + +"Yes, I can afford to keep one as well as thou. Dost thou think +thou art the only creature who has a soul to be saved?" + +"Go on without further blasphemies." + +"Well then, I grieve to say that it is my painful duty to arrest +thee on a charge of murder." + +"Of murder!" cried all three. + +"Yes, of the murder of his aunt, the late lamented Lady of +Walderne." + +"Good heavens!" cried the knight and mayor. + +"Oh heaven and earth, this slander hear!" said Martin. + +"Do not swear, it misbecomes a friar." + +"Thou didst murder her thyself." + +"Nay: who gave her the sleeping draught the last night? I have just +discovered that it contained poison supplied by the old witch who +lived here, and whom I have duly punished by fire. But whose hand, +administered it?" + +Martin turned pale. + +"I ask," continued Drogo, "who gave her the draught?" + +"It was I, but who poisoned it?" + +"Satan knows best, but thou hast owned it. + +"I call thee to witness, most valiant knight, and thee, O Mayor of +Hamelsham, that you both hear him--confitentem mum, as Father +Edmund used to say at Kenilworth. + +"Ah, I have him on the hip. Away with them to Walderne: the deepest +dungeon for the poisoner." + + + +Chapter 22: A Medieval Tyrant. + + +Drogo did not venture to bring in his prisoners by the light of +day, for although he had collected together a large flock of black +sheep, yet did he not dare openly to consign a preaching friar to +those dungeons of his. + +The men he had with him on the spot were certain lewd fellows of +the baser sort, distinguished even in Walderne Castle for their +wickedness; yet even they had their superstitions, and imagined it +would bring bad luck to arrest the ecclesiastic, travelling in the +garb of his order. + +But Drogo's will was law, and they obeyed. They detained the +prisoners in an outlying farmhouse until dark, then thrusting a +labourer's smock over Martin's robe, led their prisoners to the +castle. + +Prisoners were no novelty there, many of these free lances were +born in camp, and had the inherited habits of generations of +robbers, so that it was to them a second nature to mutilate, +imprison, and torture, and slay. They looked upon burghers and +peasants as butchers do on sheep, or rather they looked upon them +as beings made that warriors might wring their hidden hoards from +them, by torture and violence, or even in default of the gold hang +them for amusement, or the like. They had about as much sympathy +for these men of peace as the pike for the roach--they only thought +them excellent eating. + +As for the knight--he was a knight, and must be treated as such, +although an enemy. As for the burgher--well, we have discussed the +case. As for the friar--they did not like to meddle with the +Church. They dreaded excommunication, men of Belial though they +were. + +The knight was confined in a chamber high up in the tower, from +whence he could see: + +The forest dark and gloomy, + +And under poetic inspiration compose odes upon liberty. The burgher +and friar were taken downstairs to gloomy dungeons, adjacent to +each other, where they were left to solitude and silence. + +Solitary confinement! it has driven many men mad: to be the inmate +of a narrow cell, without a ray of light, groping in one corner for +a rotten bed of straw, groping in the other for a water jug and +loaf of black bread, feeling unclean insects and reptiles struggle +beneath one's feet: oh, horrible! + +And such was our Martin's fate. + +But he was not alone, his God was with him, as with Daniel in the +lion's den, and he never for one moment gave way to despair. He +accepted the trial as best he might, and bore the chilling +atmosphere and scanty fare like a hero. Yet he was a prisoner in +the castle of his fathers. + +And the unjust accusation of Drogo gave him deep pain. The very +thought that his hand actually had administered the fatal draught +was in itself sufficiently painful. + +"Vengeance is mine, I will repay," and Martin left it. + +The poor burgher in the next cell, groaning in spirit, needs far +more compassion. He was Mayor of Hamelsham, and great in the wool +trade. He had at home a bustling, active wife, mighty at the +spindle and loom. He had two sons, one of twelve, one of five; +three daughters, one almost marriageable; he had six apprentices +and twelve workmen carding wool; he had the town business to +discharge; he sat upon the bench in the town hall and administered +justice to petty offenders. And here was he, torn from all this, and +consigned to a dungeon in the hold of a fierce marauding young "noble." + +To the knight above Drogo paid his first visit on the following +day, and bowed low before Ralph of Herstmonceux. + +"The fortune of war has made thee my captive, but knightly fare and +honourable treatment are awaiting thee, until the day when it +pleases thee to redeem thyself, and deprive us of the light of thy +presence." + +"Thanks! For one whose lessons in chivalry were so abruptly broken +off, thou hast learnt thy language well. But just now it would be +more to the point if thou wilt tell me what it will cost me to get +out of thy den." + +Drogo winced at the allusion to his expulsion from Kenilworth, and +charged fifty marks the more. + +"We fix thy ransom at a hundred marks {29}." + +"Why, it is a king's ransom!" + +"And thou art fit to be a king." + +"And what if I cannot pay it?" + +"We shall feel it our unpleasant duty to hand thee over to the +royal justice, as one notoriously in league with the rebel barons." + +"May I send a messenger to my castle?" + +"At once. I will place my household at thy disposal." + +"And the friar and the mayor; does my ransom include their +freedom?" + +"By no means: every tub must stand on its own bottom." + +"But they were my companions, travelling as it were, not being +fighting men, under my protection." + +"Perhaps it would expedite matters if thou wouldst inform me on +what errand ye were all bent?" + +Ralph was silent, and Drogo departed with the same ceremonious +politeness, laughing at it in his sleeve. + +"Now for the burgher," said he. + +A light shone in the dark prison beneath, and the mayor looked into +the face of his fierce young captor. + +"What brought thee into my woods, fat beast?" + +"I knew not they were thine, or I had perchance not intruded. Now +tell me, lord, at what price I may redeem my error, for I have a +wife and children, to say nothing of apprentices and workmen, who +long sore for me!" + +"'When the cat's away the mice will play.' + +"They will get on merrily without thee. One question thou must +answer before we let thee go: On what business came ye hither?" + +The mayor hesitated. + +"S'death, dost keep me waiting? We have a torture chamber close at +hand. Shall I summon the torturers? They will fit thy fat thumbs +with a handsome screw in a moment." + +Poor mayor! Martyrdom was not his vocation, and he owned it. + +"Nay, it can do no harm. We came to witness the last confession of +a dying woman, who had some crime on her soul, which she wished to +depose before fitting witnesses." + +"Of what nature?" + +"I was not told. I waited to learn." + +"Why didst thou hesitate to say this just now?" + +Poor mayor! He stammered out that he hoped he hadn't offended +therein. + +"The fact is that you knew the men, your companions, came as my +enemies, and suspected that the lies that witch, whom Satan is just +now basting, meant to tell, affected me! Don't lie, or I will +thrust the lie down thy throat, together with a few spare teeth; my +gauntlet is heavy." + +"It was so," said the terrified citizen of Hamelsham. + +"Ha! ha! Well, it matters little to me what thou mayest say, or +what thy silly townsfolk think of me: the gudgeons probably talk +much evil of the perch, but I never heard that it hurts him much, +or spoils his digestion of those savoury little fish. But thou must +pay for it: I fix thy ransom at one hundred marks." + +"Good heavens! I have not as many pence!" + +"Swear not, most fat and comely burgher. The money must be raised, +or I will send the good citizens of Hamelsham their mayor bit by +bit, an ear to begin with. A man waits without, give him thy +instructions to thy people. Farewell!" + +And the young bully strolled into the next cell, which was +Martin's, a keeper opening the door and shutting it upon him until +the signal was given to reopen it; for Drogo did not wish the +coming conversation to be overheard. + +"So I have got thee at last?" + +"Thou hast my body." + +"It is a comfort that it is a body which can be made to pine, to +feel, to suffer." + +"I am in God's hands, not thine." + +"I advise thee not to look for help to so distant a quarter. +Martin! I have always hated thee, both at Kenilworth and Walderne. +Revenge is a morsel fit for the gods." + +"What hast thou to revenge?" + +"Didst thou not plot to oust me of mine inheritance, the night +before the doting old woman died up above? It cost her her life." + +"For which thou must answer to God." + +"Nay, thine hand, not mine, administered it. Ha! ha! ha!" + +"And what dost thou seek of me now?" + +"Nothing, save the joy of removing an enemy out of my path." + +"I am no man's enemy." + +"Yes, thou art mine, and always hast been. Didst thou not plot +against me with that old hag, Mother Madge, whom I have sent to her +master in a chariot of fire?" + +"I heard her confession of that particular crime." + +"So did I, through eavesdroppers. Well, thou knowest too much; and +shalt never see the sun again. It is pleasant is it not--the fresh +air of the green woods, the sheen of the sun, the songs of the +birds, the murmur of the streams, the scent of the flowers. + +"Ah, ah!--thou feelest it--well, it shall never again fall to thy +lot to see, hear, and smell all these. Here shalt thou linger out +thy remaining days; thy companions the toad, the eft, the spider, +the beetle; and when thou diest of hunger and thirst, which will +eventually be thy lot, this cell shall be thy coffin. Here shalt +thou rot." + +"And hence shall I rise, in that case, at the day of resurrection. +Nay, Drogo, thou canst not frighten me. I am not in thy power. Thou +canst not tame the spirit. Do thy worst, I wait God's hour." + +Drogo was beside himself by rage at this language on the part of a +captive, and he would have struck him down on the spot but for +something in Martin that awed him, even as the keeper, who calls +himself the lion king, tames the lion. + +"We shall see," he said, and left the cell. + +"My lord, do not harm him," said the man. "If a hand be laid upon +him the men-at-arms will rebel. They fear that it will bring a +curse upon them." + +"The fools, what is a friar but flesh and blood like others?" + +"I would sooner hang or fry a hundred wretched burghers, or behead +a score of knights, than touch this friar." + +"I see how it is. I must contrive to starve or poison him," thought +the base lord of the castle. + +As he ascended the stairs he heard the sound of a trumpet, or +rather a horn. Loud cries of surprise and alarm greeted his ears. + +He went out on the watch tower. The woods were alive with men: they +issued out on all sides--the "merrie men" of the woods. + +Drogo saw at once that they had come to seek Martin. He took hold +of a white flag, and advanced to the tower above the central +gateway--to parley--for he feared the arrows of the marksmen of the +woods. + +"Whom seek ye?" + +"One whom thou hast wrongfully imprisoned. The friar Martin." + +"I have not got him here." + +"But thou hast, and we have come to claim him." + +"Choose three of your number. They may come and confer with me in +the castle upon his disappearance. God forbid that I should lay +hands on His ministers." + +"Dost thou pledge thy honour for their safety?" + +"Do ye doubt my honour? Oh, well; so ye may well do, if ye think I +would have touched brother Martin." + +He was so plausible that they were ashamed of their distrust, and +selected three of their foremost men, who forthwith entered. + +The gates were shut behind them. + +And then, oh, shame to say! They were seized from behind, their +arms bound behind their backs, and, in spite of their protests, led +out on the watch tower, where was a permanent gibbet, and, in sight +of all their comrades, hung over the battlements. + +"That is how my honour bids me treat with outlaws," laughed Drogo. + +A flight of arrows was the reply, which penetrated every crevice, +and made six troopers stretch their bodies on the ground. + +"Keep under cover," shouted Drogo. "There will be a fine gathering +of arrows when all is done, and it will be long before these old +walls crave for mercy. Keep up your courage, men. The fools have no +means of besieging the place, and ere another sun has set, the +royal banner will appear for their dispersion and our deliverance." + +For he had heard from a sure hand that the royal army had reached +Tunbridge, en route for Lewes, and would pass by Walderne, +tarrying, perchance, for the night. Hence his daring defiance of +the sons of the soil. + + + +Chapter 23: Saved As By Fire. + + +And all this time the true heir of Walderne was leading the +degraded life of an unhappy and most miserable slave in the palace +of the "Old Man of the Mountain," in the far off hills of Lebanon. + +The six months passed away, and still they spared our Hubert. +Others were taken away and met their most doleful fate, but the +more youthful and active slaves were spared awhile, not out of +pity, but because of their utility; and Hubert's fine constitution +enabled him still to live. But he could not have lived on had he +not still hoped. The tremendous inscription seen by the poet over +the sombre gate of hell was not yet burnt into his young heart: +All ye that enter here, leave hope behind. + +Some lucky accident, perhaps an invasion of the crusaders, might +deliver him; but otherwise he would not despair while God gave him +life. Again, irreligious as some may think his former life, he had +great belief in the efficacy of the prayers of others. The thought +that his father and Martin were praying for him continually gave +him comfort. + +"God will hear them, if not me," he thought. + +Yet he did really learn to pray for himself more earnestly than he +would once have thought possible. + +But when a year had nearly passed away in the wearying bondage, he +was summoned to the presence of the "Old Man." + +"Christian," said the latter, "hast thou not borne the heat and +burden of slavery long enough?" + +"Long enough, indeed, my lord, but I cannot buy my liberty at the +expense of my faith." + +"Not when the alternative is a bitter death?" + +"No." + +"Thy constancy will be tried. We have borne with thee full long. At +next full moon thou wilt have had a year's reprieve. Thou must +prepare to worship the true God and acknowledge His prophet, or +die." + +"My choice is made." + +"Thy time shall come at the close of the year. Go." + +And Hubert was led away. + +And now he was tempted to yield to despair, when he was sustained +by what may be called a miraculous interposition. + +It was dark night and he lay in his cell, the watchmen without, the +yet more watchful dogs prowling and growling around; when all at +once he heard footsteps approaching his wretched bed chamber. + +Who could it be? The dogs gave no sign; the oppressors generally +slept at that hour, and seldom disturbed a captive's nightly rest. +The door opened, and--He beheld his father! + +Yes, his father: haggard and worn with grief, but with a light as +of another world over his worn features. + +"Be of good cheer, my son; God permits me to come to thee thus, and +to bid thee hold firm to the end, and thou shalt find that man's +extremity is His opportunity." + +"Art thou really my father?" + +And while he spoke in tones of awe and wonder the vision vanished. +It was of God's appointment, that vision, given to confirm the +faith and hope of one of His children. Such was Hubert's belief +{30}. + +It was afterwards ascertained that on that very night, the father +Roger dreamt that he saw his son in a gloomy cell, a slave +condemned to apparently hopeless toil or death, and addressed him +as in the text. + +The final night arrived, the moon was at its full, and for the last +time, as it might be, the slave gazed upon the glowing orb shining +in the deep blue sky, with a brilliancy unknown in these northern +climes. But it recalled many a happy moonlit night in the olden +times to his mind; in the chase, or on the terrace at Kenilworth; +and that night when, all alone, he faced a hundred Welshmen. + +"Shall I ever see my native land again?" + +It seemed impossible, but "hope springs eternal in the human +breast." All at once he became conscious of a lurid light mingling +with the milder moonbeams, then of the scent of fire, then of a +loud cry, followed almost immediately by a louder chorus, all of +alarm or anguish. Then the trampling of many feet and shouts, which +he knew enough of their language to interpret--the palace was in +flames. + +"Would they come and summon the slaves to help, or let them stay +till the fire perchance reached them in their wretched cells?" + +The doubt was soon solved. Hasty feet entered the courtyard +without. The doors were opened one after another-- + +"Come and bear water; the palace is on fire!" + +The slaves, thirty in number, were led through divers passages and +courts to the very front of the burning pile--blazing pile, we +should say. There it stood before him, in all its solemn and sombre +Eastern beauty--cupolas, minarets, domes, balloon-shaped spires, +but the flames had seized a firm hold of the lower halls, and were +bursting through the windows, adding a fearful brilliancy to its +aspect. + +The slaves were instantly formed in line to pass leathern buckets +from hand to hand, filled with water from the fountain. Even at +this extremity two guards with drawn scimitars walked to and fro in +front of the row, each looking and walking in the contrary +direction to the other, changing their direction at the same moment +as they went and returned, so that no slave was for a moment out of +sight of the watchmen with the keen bright weapons. And every man +knew, instinctively, that the least movement which looked +suspicious might bring the flashing blade on his devoted neck, +bearing away the trunkless head like a plaything. + +Still, Hubert could use his eyes, and he gazed around. In the +centre of the brilliantly-lighted court was a small circular +erection of stone, like an inverted tub, with iron gratings around +it. The flat surface, the disc we may call it, was half composed of +iron bars like a grate, supported by the stonework, and in the +centre ran an iron post with rings stout and strong, from which an +iron girdle, unclasped, depended. + +What could it be meant for? + +"Ah, I see, it is the stake put in order for me tomorrow." + +He looked at the courtyard. There were seats tier upon tier on +either side, with awnings over them. In front there was a low wall, +and the ground appeared to fall somewhat precipitously away from +it. Beyond the moonlight disclosed a glorious view of mountains and +hills, valleys and depths. + +All this he saw, and his mind was made up either to escape or die +on the spot by the flashing scimitar, far easier to bear than the +fiery death designed for him on the morrow. + +And while he thought, a loud cry drew all eyes elsewhere. At a +window, right above the flaming hall, appeared the agonised faces +of some of the hopeful pupils of the "Old Man," forgotten and left, +when the rest were aroused: and so far as human wit could judge, +the same death awaited them which they were to have gazed upon with +pitiless eyes, as inflicted upon a helpless slave, on the morrow. +They had probably been looking forward to the occasion, as a +Spaniard to his auto da fe, as an interesting spectacle. + +Oh, how different the feelings of the spectators and the victims on +such occasions; when humanity sinks to its lowest depths, and +cruelty becomes a delight. God preserve us from such possibilities, +which make us ashamed of our nature, whether exhibited in the +Mussulman, the Spaniard, or the Red Indian. But we must not +moralise here. + +All eyes were drawn to the spot. The "Old Man" himself, now first +heard, cried for ladders: it was too late, the building was +tottering; it bent inward, an awful crash, and-- + +At that moment the eyes of both guards were averted, drawn to the +terrible spectacle; and Hubert sprang upon the nearest from behind. +In a moment he had mastered the scimitar, and the next moment a +head, not Hubert's, rolled on the blood-stained pavement. He +lingered not an instant, but with the rush of a wild beast flew on +the other sentinel, a moment's clashing of blades, the skill of the +knight prevailed, and the Moslem was cleft to the chin. + +"Away, slaves! one bold rush! liberty or death!" + +And Hubert leapt over the wall. + +He rolled down a declivity, not quite a precipice. Fortunately for +him his course was arrested by some bushes, and he was able to +guide himself to the bottom, where he descended into a deep valley, +through which a cold brook, fed from the snows of Hermon, trickled +merrily along. + +He was not alone. Two or three other escaped fugitives came +crashing through the bushes, and stood by his side; but Hubert was +the only man armed. He had been able to retain the scimitar so +boldly won. + +Above them the palace still blazed, and cast a lurid light, which +was reflected from the cold snowy peak of Hermon, and steeped in +ruddy glare many an inaccessible crag and precipice. + +"Do any of my brethren know the country?" + +At first no one answered. Each looked at the other. Then one spoke +diffidently: + +"If we follow this stream we shall eventually arrive at the waters +of Merom." + +"But remember that meanwhile men and dogs alike will hunt us, and +that only one is armed, although the arm that freed us might +sustain a host," said another. + +"We must efface our track and then hide. Let each one walk in the +brawling bed of the torrent; it leaves no scent for the dogs to +follow," said Hubert. + +They descended slowly and painfully amidst loose rocks and +boulders, avoiding many a pitfall, many a black depth, until the +dawn was at hand. Just then they heard a deep sound, like a +cathedral bell, booming down the valley. + +"What bell is that?" + +"No bell, it is the deep bay of the bloodhounds." + +"But they can find no trace." + +"They are on the track we left, far above, before we entered the +stream. If they cannot scent us in the water, they will have the +sense to follow us downstream, keeping a dog on each bank in ease +we leave it." + +"What shall we do?" asked the helpless men. + +Above them the rocks rose wild and horrent, apparently +inaccessible, but the keen eye of our Hubert detected one path, a +mere goat path, used perhaps also by shepherds. + +"Follow me," he said, and leaving the stream ascended the path, a +veritable mauvais pas. At the height of some two hundred feet it +struck inward through a wild region. + +"Here we must make a stand at this summit," said Hubert, "and meet +the dogs. I will give a good account of them." + +He descended a little way to a point where the dogs could only +ascend by a very narrow cleft in the rocks, and there he waited for +the first dog. Soon a hideous black hound appeared, and with +flashing eyes and gaping jaws sprang at our hero. He was received +with a sweep of the scimitar, which cleft his diabolical head in +twain, and he rolled down the deep declivity, all mangled and +bleeding, to the foot, missing the path and falling from rock to +rock, so that when he was found by the party who followed they +could not tell by what means he had received his first wound. + +And when the other dogs arrived at the spot, which was deluged in +gore, after the wont of their race they would follow the scent no +farther. + +Meanwhile our little party of five rescued captives went joyfully +forward with renewed hope, until midday, when they found a cool +spot by the side of the streams leading to the waters of Merom--the +head waters of the Jordan. And there, under a date tree which +afforded them food, they watched in turn until the sun was low; +after which they renewed their journey. + +Soon they left the smaller lake behind, and followed the waters of +the Upper Jordan to the Sea of Galilee, skirting its western shore, +so rich in sacred memories, with the ruins of Capernaum, Chorazin, +Bethsaida, Magdala, and other cities, long ago trodden: +By those sacred feet once nailed, +For our salvation, to the bitter rood. + +In the evening they rested amidst the ruins of Enon, near Salim; +and on the morrow resumed their course, avoiding the great towns; +begging bread in the villages--a boon readily granted. And in the +evening they saw the promontory of Carmel, and reached the Hospital +of Saint John of Acre, where Hubert's father, Sir Roger, had been +restored to health and life. + +Sir Hugh de Revel, Grand Master of the Order of Saint John, heard +of the arrival of five Christian fugitives, escaped from the palace +of the "Old Man of the Mountain," and naturally curiosity led him +to interrogate them. To his astonishment he found one of them a +knight like himself, and, to his further surprise, recognised the +son of an old acquaintance, Sir Roger of Walderne. + +All was well now. + +"Thou must perforce fulfil thy pilgrimage, although thou hast lost +the sword which was to have been taken to the Holy Sepulchre." + +"My brother," said the prior then present, "dost thou remember that +a party of pilgrims arrived here a year since, who said that, in +the gorges of Lebanon, they had come upon the scene of a recent +conflict, and found a broken sword, which they brought with them +and left here?" + +"Bring it hither, Raymond," said Sir Hugh to a sprightly page. + +It was brought, and to his joy Hubert recognised the sword of the +Sieur de Fievrault, which he had broken on a Moslem's skull in the +desperate fight wherein he was taken prisoner. With what joy did he +receive it! He could now discharge his father's delegated duty. + +"Rest here awhile, and when thy strength is fully restored, start +with better omens on thy journey to Jerusalem." + +Oh, the rest of the next few days in that glorious hospital, with +its deep shady cloisters, with its massive walls and its beauteous +chapel, wherein, on the following day, which was Sunday, as Hubert +was told, for he had long since lost count of time, he returned +thanks to God for his preservation, and took part once more in the +worship of a Christian congregation, and knelt before a Christian +altar. The walls of that chapel were of almost as many precious +stones as Saint John enumerates in describing the New Jerusalem. +Its rich colouring, its dim religious light, its devout psalmody; +oh, how soothing to the wearied spirit. + +And then he reclined that afternoon in a delicious Eastern garden, +rich with the perfume of many flowers, shaded by spreading trees, +vocal with the sound of many fountains; and there, at the request +of the fraternity, he related his wondrous adventures to the men +who had erst heard his father's tale. + +The time of his arrival was between the sixth and the seventh, or +last, crusade; during which period Acre, situated about seventy +miles from Jerusalem, had become the metropolis of the Christians +{31} in Palestine, after the loss of the Holy City. It was +adorned with noble buildings, aqueducts, artificial harbour, and +strong fortifications. From hence such pilgrims as dared venture +made their hazardous visits to Jerusalem, which they could only +enter as a favour, granted in return for much expenditure of +treasure and submission to many humiliations; and thus Hubert was +forced to accomplish his father's vow, setting forth so soon as his +strength was restored. + + + +Chapter 24: Before The Battle. + + +The civil war had been long delayed, after men saw that it was +inevitable, but when it once begun there was no lack of activity on +either side. Two armies were moving about England, and the march of +each was accompanied (says an ancient writer) with plunder, fire, +and slaughter. In time of peace men would believe themselves +incapable of the deeds they commit in time of war: "Is thy servant +a dog that he should do this thing?" as one said of old when before +the prescient seer who foresaw in the humble suppliant the ruthless +warrior. + +The one army, the royal one, was reinforced by the forces of the +Scottish barons, under men whose names became afterwards +historical, such as John Balliol and Robert Bruce. Prince Edward, a +master of the art of war, although still young, and already marked +by that sternness of character which distinguished his latter days, +was in chief command, and he pursued his devastating course through +the Midlands. Nottingham and Leicester, whence his great opponent +derived his title, opened their gates to him. He marched thence for +London, but Earl Simon threw himself into the city, returning from +Rochester, which he had cleverly taken by means of fire ships which +set the place in a blaze. + +Edward marched vice versa, from London to Rochester, relieved the +castle, which still held out for the king after the town had been +taken. Thence Edward marched to Tunbridge, on the northern border +of the Andredsweald, en route for Lewes. + +It was the ninth of May, in the year 1264, and the morning sun +shone upon the fresh spring foliage of the Andredsweald, upon +castle, town, and hamlet, especially upon our favourite haunt, the +Castle of Walderne, and the village of Cross-in-Hand on the ridge +above. Even then a windmill crowned that ridge. Let us take our +stand by it: + +And all around the widespread scene survey. + +What a glorious view as we look across the eddying, billowy tree +tops of the forest to the deep blue sea, sixteen miles distant, +studded with the white sails of many barks which have put out from +land, lest they should be seized by the approaching host, and +confiscated for the royal service, for the sailors have mainly +espoused the popular cause, and dread the medieval press gang. How +many familiar objects we see around--Michelham Priory, Battle +Abbey, Wilmington Priory, Pevensey Castle, Lewes Castle--all in +view. + +There, too, opposite us, is the highest of the eastern downs, Firle +Beacon. It is smoking like a volcano with the embers of the bale +fire, which men lit last night, to warn the natives that the king +was coming. There is yet another volcano farther on. It is +Ditchling Beacon; and, yes, another still farther west; +Chanctonbury Ring, with the rounded cone. And on this fair clear +morning we can indistinctly discern a thin line of smoke curling up +from Butzer, on the very limits of Sussex, and in view of the Isle +of Wight and Carisbrooke Castle. + +Turn eastward. The ridge continues towards Heathfield, Burwash, and +Battle, and beyond the sun glistens on Fairlight over Hastings, +where another beacon has blazed all night to tell the ships that +the royal enemy is in the forest. + +Now look northward and northeast. There is the heathy ridge which +attains its greatest height at Crowborough, ere it descends into +the valley of Tunbridge, and a little eastward lies Mayfield, rich +in tradition. We can see the palace of the Archbishop of +Canterbury, founded by Dunstan. There a royal flag flaunts the +breeze: yes, the king is taking his luncheon, his noontide meal, +and soon the thousands who encamp around the old pile will swarm up +the ridge to the point where we are standing, for they will sleep +at Walderne tonight, on their road to Pevensey. + +The day wears away. Drogo paces the battlements of the watchtower +with excited steps--the royal banner will soon be seen surmount ing +that ridge above the castle. Yes, there is a messenger spurring +downwards as fast as the sandy road will permit him; see, he is +galloping as for dear life--look at the cloud of dust which he +raises. The "merrie men" have disappeared in the woods, and Drogo +descends to meet him; just as the rider enters beneath the +suspended portcullis into the court of the castle, he reaches the +foot of the stairs. + +"What news? Speak, thou varlet!" + +"The king approaches. Already he is within sight from the upper +windows of the windmill." + +"Throw open the gates, man the battlements, let pennon and banner +wave; here will we receive him. Get me the keys to deliver to my +liege." + +Then Drogo paid a visit to the kitchen to see that the men cooks +were getting forward with the banquet, that the oxen and fatlings, +the spoils of a successful foray upon the farmyards of hostile +neighbours--the deer, the hares, and partridges of the woods--the +fish of the mere, were being successfully roasted, boiled, baked, +stewed, or the like, for the king's supper. Then he interviewed the +butler about the supplies of malmsey, clary, mead, ale, and the +like. Then he saw that the adornments of the great hall were +completed, the banners, the armour, the antlers of the deer, +suspended becomingly around the walls, the floor strewn with fresh +rushes, the tapestry arranged in comely folds. + +When all this was done the trumpets from the battlements announced +that the royal army was descending from the heights above. It was a +glorious sight that the gazer looked upon from the battlements: + +On lance, and helm, and pennon fair, +That well had borne their part. + +The boast of chivalry! The pomp of power! The woods fairly +glistened with lances and spears reflecting the rays of the setting +sun. The green of the foliage was relieved by banners of every hue, +in bright contrast against the darker verdure, the tramp of war +horses, the thunder of armed heels, the buzz of a myriad voices. +And now the royal guard descends the gentle slope which rises just +above the castle to the north, and approaches the drawbridge. + +Outside they halt. Drogo kneels in front of the gateway, the keys +of his castle in his hand. + +The guard opens, and the king dismounts from his horse, somewhat +stiffly, as if weary with riding, and receives the keys from the +extended hand with a sweet smile and a few kind words. + +Let us gaze on the features of that king of old; gray haired, +prematurely gray; the eyebrows unlike in their curvature, giving a +quaint expression to the face, a mild and good-tempered face, but +somewhat deficient in character, forming the strongest contrast to +that tall commanding figure on his right hand, with the stern and +manly features, the greatest of the Edwards--a born king of men. + +"Rise up, Sir Drogo, thou worthy knight." + +"My liege, the honour of knighthood is not yet mine own." + +"Ah, and yet so loyal!" + +"For that reason, sire, not yet a knight; I was a page at +Kenilworth, and was expelled for my loyalty to my king, because I +could not restrain my indignation at the aspersions and +misrepresentations I daily heard." + +"Ah, indeed," said the king, "then shalt thou receive the honour +from my own hands," and he gave him a slight blow with the flat of +the sword, which he then laid upon the reverently inclined head, +and added, "Rise up, Sir Drogo of Walderne." + +"Methinks knighthood is too sacred to be thus hastily bestowed," +muttered Prince Edward. + +"Nay, my son, we have few loyal servants in the Andredsweald, and +those who honour us will we honour {32}." + +The followers of Drogo made the place resound with their +acclamations. The multitude cried, "Largesse! Largesse!" and by +Drogo's direction coins (chiefly of small value) were freely +scattered to the accompaniment of the cry: + +"Long live Sir Drogo of Walderne." + +Then the royal standard was displayed on the watchtower, over the +banner of Walderne, and the common soldiers, in their thousands, +pitched their tents and kindled their fires on the open green +without, while those of gentler degree entered the castle, which +was not large enough to accommodate the rank and file. + +The banquet that night was a goodly sight. The king sat at the head +of the board--his brother, King Richard, on his right hand (the +King of the Romans), Edward, afterwards "The Hammer of Scotland," +on his father's left. Next to King Richard sat John Balliol, and +next to Prince Edward, Robert Bruce, father of the future king of +Scotland, and a great favourite both with prince and king. + +Drogo did not sit down at his own board. He preferred, he said, to +play the page for the last time, and to wait upon his king, which +was honour enough for a young knight. On the morrow he would attend +the king to Lewes with fifty lances, where he trusted to justify +the favour and honour which he had received. + +Shall we once more go over the old story, and tell of the songs of +the gleemen, the music of the harpers, of wine and wassail, of +healths and acclaims, which made the roof, the oaken roof, ring +again and again? Nay, we have tired the reader's patience with +scenes of that sort enough already. + +But while the two kings, so like each other in features, were yet +feasting, Edward, with his chief captains, held a council of war in +another chamber, and Drogo stood before them. They questioned him +closely of the state of the inhabitants of the forest: their +political sympathies and the like. They inquired which barons and +land holders were loyal, and which disaffected. They discussed the +morrow's journey, the roads, the chances of food and forage for the +multitude. In short, they acted like men of business who provide +for the morrow ere they close their eyes in sleep. + +Then Drogo informed them that he had three prisoners, on whom he +claimed the royal judgment: traitors, and disaffected men whom he +had apprehended in the act of travelling the country, in order by +their harangues to stir up the peasantry to resist the royal arms. + +"Who are these doughty foes?" + +"Sir Ralph, son of the rebellious baron of Herstmonceux; the mayor +of the disaffected town of Hamelsham; and a young friar, formerly a +favourite page of the Earl of Leicester." + +"Why didst thou not hang them on the first oak big enough to +sustain such acorns?" + +"I reserved them for the royal judgment, so close at hand." + +"Let us see them ere we depart in the morning, and we shall +doubtless make short work of them." + +Night reigned without the occasional challenge of the sentinel +alone broke the hush which brooded during the hours of darkness +over the host encamped at Walderne. + +Morning broke with roseate hues. All nature seemed to arise at +once. The trumpets gave their shrill signal, the troops arose to +life and action, like bees when they swarm; the birds filled the +woods with their songs, as the glorious orb of day arose over the +eastern hills. + +Breakfast was the first consideration, which was heartily yet +hastily despatched. Then in the hall, their hands bound behind +them, stood the three prisoners; the knight dejected, the mayor and +friar pale with privation and suffering. Our Martin's health was +not strong enough to enable him well to bear the horrors of a +dungeon. + +"You are accused of rebellion," said the stern Edward, as he faced +them. "What is your answer?" + +Few men dared to look into that face. Its frown was so awful, it is +recorded that a priest upon whom he looked once in displeasure and +anger, died of fear--yet he was never intentionally unjust. + +Ralph spoke first--he felt that courageous avowal of the truth was +the only course. + +"My prince," he said, "we must indeed avow that our convictions are +with the free barons of England, and that with them we must stand +or fall. If to share their sentiments is rebellion, rebels we are, +but we disclaim the word." + +"And thou, Sir Mayor?" + +"I am but the mouthpiece of my fellow citizens. I have no freewill +to choose." + +"And thou, friar of orders grey?" + +"Like all my brethren, I hold the cause of the Earl of Leicester +just," said Martin quietly. + +Like the stark and stern conqueror of two centuries before, Edward +respected a man, and he stifled his rising anger era he replied: + +"They are traitors, but I scorn to crush three men who (save the +burgess, perhaps) will not lie to save their forfeit necks, while +fifteen thousand men are in the field to maintain the like with +their swords. I will measure myself with the armed ones first, then +I may deal with knight, mayor, and friar. Till then, keep them in +ward." + +Drogo was deeply disappointed. He had hoped to witness the +execution of Martin, which he could not carry out himself, owing to +the "superstitious" scruples of his followers, and to gain this he +would have sacrificed the ransoms of the other two. He loved gold, +but loved revenge more; and hatred was with him a stronger passion +than avarice. + +And now the trumpets were blown, the banners waved in air, the +royal army moved forward for Lewes, and prominent in its ranks were +the newly-made knight and his followers. + +He left his victims in durance, remitted to their dungeons--the +only chance of getting rid of Martin seemed secret murder. But +before starting from home he left secret instructions, which will +disclose themselves ere long. + +As the thought of unmanly violence against an imprisoned captive +came into his mind, by chance his hand came into contact with a +hard object in his pouch or gypsire. He drew it forth. It was the +key of Martin's dungeon. + +"Oh, joy! Oh, good luck! It would take twelve smiths to force that +door--meanwhile Martin would die of starvation and thirst." + +Should he send it back? + +"No, no!" + +He clutched that key with joy. He kissed it, he hugged it. + +"I may perish in the battlefield, but he dies with me. Martin, thou +art mine. Thy doom is sealed, and all without design." + +Thanks to the saints, if any there be, or rather to the opposite +powers. + +We will not follow the royal army on its onward march to the seacoast, +where they hoped to secure the two Cinque Ports--Winchelsea and Pevensey, +so as to keep open their communications with the continent. How Peter of +Savoy, the then lord of the "Eagle," entertained them at the Norman +castle, which had arisen on the ruins of Anderida; how they sacked +Hamelsham and ravaged Herstmonceux. Then, finally, took up their quarters +at Lewes; the king, as became his piety, at the priory; the prince, as +became his youth, at the castle with John, Earl de Warrenne; to await the +approach of the barons. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +There, in that priory, anticipating the rest which awaiteth the +people of God, the once fiery and headlong prodigal, Roger of +Walderne, spent his peaceful old age. He was quite happy about his +gallant son, and felt assured that he should not die until he had +once more clasped him to his paternal breast, when he would +joyfully chant his Nunc Dimittis. + +On that very night when Hubert thought that his father came to his +cell, with assurance of hope, the father too dreamed that he saw +his son in that cell, and gave him the comforting assurance +related; and when he awoke he said; + +"Hubert my son is yet alive. I shall see him ere I die. I had given +the first born of my body for the sin of my soul, but God hath +provided a better offering, and Isaac shall be restored." + +But yet another strange occurrence confirmed his hope and faith. +For a long time the ghostly apparition had ceased to trouble him. +Its appearances had been but occasional since he took refuge in the +house of God, but still it did sometimes reappear. The sceptic will +see in the spectre but the pangs of conscience taking a bodily +form, but even if only the creature of the imagination, it was +equally real to the sufferer. + +One day he especially dreaded. It was the anniversary of the fatal +day when he had slain Sir Casper de Fievrault, for never had that +day passed unmarked, never did his conscience fail to record his +adversary's dying day. It was strange that, in those fighting days, +a man should feel the death of a foe so keenly, and Sir Roger had +slain many in fair fight. But this particular case was exceptional. +It had been on a day of solemn truce that, maddened by a real or +supposed insult, he had forced his foe to fight, and met objections +by a blow. And they were both sworn soldiers of the Cross, pledged +not to engage in a less holy warfare. Thence the remorse and the +dread penalty; under such an one many a man has sunk to the grave +{33}. Therefore, as we have said, he dreaded the advent of the +fatal day. + +It came, and Sir Roger faced the ordeal alone in his cell, when, +lo! in the dead hour of the night, his tormentor appeared, but no +longer armed with his terrors. His face was changed, his features +resigned and peaceful. + +"I come but to bid thee farewell, for so long as thou art in the +flesh. Thy son has fulfilled thy vow. He has placed my sword on the +altar of the Holy Sepulchre, and I am released. Thou hast thy +reward and my forgiveness. May we meet where strife is no more! Him +thou shalt yet see in the flesh, as thy reward." + +And he disappeared. + +Was it a dream? Well, if so, it gave the father not merely hope but +certainty. He was happy at last, and waited patiently the +fulfilment of the vision. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +It was the night before the battle. Evensong had been sung with +more than usual solemnity. It had been attended by King Henry in +person, who was very devout, and by his son and brother, and all +their train; and special prayers had been added, suitable to the +crisis, to the God of armies and Lord of battles. + +So soon as the service began it was customary to shut the great +gates of the priory. Just as the boom of the bell had ceased, and +the gates were closing, a knight strode up, who had but just +arrived, as he said, from over sea, and had but tarried to put his +horse in good keeping. + +He was allowed to pass, not without scrutiny. + +"Art thou with us or against us?" said the warder. + +"I am a soldier of the Cross," was the reply, and a few more words +were whispered in the ear. + +The warder started back. + +"Verily thy father's heart will be glad," he exclaimed. + +Brother Roger, now so called, sat in his cell. He was little +changed; but in place of the dread, the ghastly dread, which had +once given his face a haggard and weird look, resignation had +stamped his features with a softer expression. + +The dread shadow, whether born of remorse or otherwise, had been +removed. No more did the dead lord of Fievrault trouble him; but +the old monk, erst the venturous soldier, felt as if he had +purchased this remission with the banishment of his dear son, as if +he had given "the first born of his body for the sin of his soul." + +And the impending events had roused up the old martial spirit--the +half-forgotten life of the camp came back to him, and with it the +thought of the boy who would have yearned to distinguish himself on +the morrow, had he been there: the light hearted, pugnacious, +thoughtless, but loving Hubert. + +And while he mused, the door opened, and the prior entered. It was +Prior Foville--he who built the two great western towers of the +church. + +"Stay without," whispered the prior to someone by his side; "joy +sometimes kills." + +The old monk gazed upon the prior with wonder, his face had so +strange an expression. It was like the face of one who has a secret +to tell and can hardly keep it in. + +"What is it, my father? Hast thou brought joy or sorrow with thee?" + +"Joy, I trust. We have reason to think thy gallant son is not +dead." + +The father trembled. He could hardly stand. + +"I know he is alive, but where?" + +"On his way home." + +"Nay!" + +"And in England!" + +"Father, I am here." + +Hubert could restrain himself no longer. + +The old man gazed wildly upon him, then threw his arms around his +recovered boy, and raising his eyes to heaven, murmured: + +"Father I thank Thee, for this my son was dead, and is alive again; +was lost, and is found." + + + +Chapter 25: The Battle Of Lewes. + + +The barons, on their side, prepared with sober earnestness for the +struggle. They were not fighting for personal aggrandisement, but, +as an old writer says, "they had in all things one faith and one +will--love of God and their neighbour." So unanimous were they in +their brotherly love, that they did not fear to die for their +country. + +It was the dead of night, and a horseman rode towards the village +of Fletching. He was armed cap-a-pie, like one who might have to +force his way against odds. His armour was dark, and he bore but +one cognisance on his shield, the Cross. He was quite alone, but he +knew that farther along he should find a sleeping host. The stars +shone brightly above him, the country lay buried in sleep, scarcely +a light twinkled throughout the expanse. + +The sound of a deep bell tolling the hour of midnight reached him. +It was from the priory which he had left an hour or more +previously. + +"Ere that hour strike again, England's fate will have been +decided," he said, as if to himself, "and perhaps my account with +God and man summed up before His bar. Well, I have a good cause, +and a clear conscience, and I can leave it in God's hands." + +And soon from the crest of a low hill he looked down upon the camp +of the barons. There were many lights, and the murmur of voices +arose. + +Just then came the stern challenge. + +"Who goes there?" + +"A crusader, who as a knight received his spurs from Earl Simon, +and now comes to fight by his side to the death for the liberties +of England." + +"The watchword?" + +"I have it not--twelve hours have not passed since I landed in +England after an absence of years." + +"Stand while I summon the guard." + +In a little while a small troop approached, their leader the young +Lord Walter of Hereford, who had been present, as it chanced, when +our hero was knighted. He recognised him with joy. + +"The Earl of Leicester will be overjoyed to see you. He has long +given you up for lost." + +"He has not forgotten me?" + +"Even yesternight he wished you were present to fight by his side." + +Our poor Hubert felt his heart throb with joy and pride. + +As they descended into the camp Hubert perceived the Bishop of +Worcester, Walter de Cantilupe, riding through the ranks, and +exhorting the soldiers to confess their sins, and to receive +absolution and the Holy Communion; assuring them that such as fell +would fall in God's cause, and suffer on behalf of the truth. +Behind him his followers distributed white crosses to the soldiers, +as if they were crusaders, which they attached to their breasts and +backs. In this war of Englishmen against Englishmen there was need +of some such mark to distinguish the rival parties. + +All through the camp religious exercises were proceeding, and when +at last Walter of Hereford brought our hero to the tent of Earl +Simon, they found him prostrate in fervent prayer. + +"Father and leader," said the young earl with deep reverence, "I +have brought thee a long-lost son." + +The earl rose. + +"My son! Hubert! Can it be thou, risen from the dead?" + +"Come to share thy fate for weal or woe, my beloved lord. From thy +hands I received knighthood: at thy side will I conquer or die." + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +The dawn was at hand. The birds began their matin songs, when the +stern blast of the trumpet drowned their tiny warblings. + +The army arose as one man. At first all was confusion, as when bees +swarm, which was rapidly reduced into order, as the leaders went up +and down with the standard bearers, and the men fell into their +ranks. When all was still the earl, the great earl, came forth, +armed cap-a-pie, mounted on his charger. The herald proclaimed +silence. The deep, manly voice was heard: + +"Beloved brethren! We are about to fight this day for the liberty +of this realm, in honour of God, His blessed Mother, and all the +Saints, for the defence of our Mother Church of England, and for +the faith of Christ. + +"Let us therefore pray to our Lord God, that since we are His, He +would grant us victory in the battle, and commend ourselves to Him, +body, soul, and spirit." + +Then the Bishop of Worcester gave the Benediction, after which the +vast multitude arose as a man, took their places, and began their +onward march. Scouts of the royal army, out foraging, saw them, and +bore the tidings to King Henry and Prince Edward at the priory and +the castle, and the opposing forces arose in their turn. + +Before the hour of prime, the earl, by whose side throughout that +day rode our Hubert, descried the towers of the priory from the +summit of a swelling ridge, and beheld soon after the army of the +prince issuing forth from the west gate, and that of the king from +the priory below. Earl Simon divided his forces into three parts: +the centre he placed under the young Earl of Gloucester, whom he +had that morning knighted; the right wing under his two sons, Simon +and Guy; the left wing was composed of the Londoners. He himself +remained at the head of the reserve behind the centre, where he +could see all the field and direct operations. There was no smoke, +as in a modern battlefield, to obstruct the view. + +Prince Edward commanded on the right of the royal troops, and was +thus opposed to the Londoners, whom he hated because of their +insults to his mother {34}; and Richard commanded the left +wing, and was thus opposed to Simon and Guy, the sons of the great +earl. The centre was commanded by Henry himself, not by virtue of +his ability in the field, but of his exalted rank. The royal +standard of the Dragon was raised; a token, said folk, that no +quarter was to be given. + +This was a sign for the attack, and it was begun by that +thunderbolt of war, Prince Edward, who charged full upon the +Londoners. The poor light-armed cits were ill prepared for the +shock of so heavy a brigade of cavalry; and they broke and yielded +like a dam before a resistless flood. No mercy was shown them. Many +were driven into the Ouse on the right, and so miserably drowned; +others fled in a body before the prince, who pursued them for four +miles, hacking, hewing, quartering, slaughtering. Just like the +Rupert of the later Civil Wars, he sacrificed the victory to the +headlong impetuosity of his nature. + +Now let us turn to the left. On the crest of the hill, which there +rose steeply, were the tents and baggage of the barons. Over one of +these floated Earl Simon's banner, and close by was a litter in +which he had been carried during a recent illness, but which now +only contained four unfortunate burgesses of London town who were +detained as hostages because they had attempted to betray the city +to King Henry. + +Towards this height the foolish Richard directed his charge, fully +believing that the head and front of all the mischief, Simon +himself, was in that litter, and that he should crush him and the +rebellion together. But such showers of stones and arrows came from +the hill that his forces were disorganised, and when Earl Simon +suddenly strengthened his sons by the reserve, their united forces +crushed the King of the Romans and all his men. They descended with +all the impetus of a charge from above, and the enemy fled. + +Then the earl might have made the mistake which Prince Edward made +on the opposite side, and followed the flying foe; but he was far +too wise. He saw on his left the centre under the Earl of +Gloucester, fighting valiantly on equal terms with the royal centre +under King Henry. He fell upon its flank with all the force of his +victorious array: one deadly struggle and the royal lines bent, +curved, broke, then fled in disorder, the old king galloping +furiously towards the priory, fleeing in great fear for dear life. + +Yet more ludicrous was the fate of his brother Richard, King of the +Romans, who, while Henry reached the priory wounded, had taken +refuge in the windmill, where he was being baited, almost in joke, +by the victorious foes, amidst cries of: + +"Come out you bad miller!" + +"You to turn a wretched mill master!" + +"You who defied us all so proudly!" + +"You, the 'ever Augustus!" + +At length the poor badgered king, seeing that they were preparing +to set the mill on fire and smoke him out, surrendered to a +follower of the Earl of Gloucester, Sir John Bix, and came out all +covered with flour, while men sang: + +The King of the Romans gathered a host, +And made him a castle of a mill post. + +Meanwhile the camp on the hill, with the banner and the aforesaid +litter, had aroused the attention of Prince Edward, just returning +from harrying the Londoners. + +"Up the hill, my men," he said. "There is the very devil himself in +that litter." + +The camp was stoutly defended, but after a while the defenders were +forced to fly by superior force. Then the prince's men rushed upon +the litter, Drogo of Walderne foremost. They thought they had got +the great earl. + +"Come out, Simon, thou devil, thou worst of traitors," they cried. + +Within were only the four shrinking, timid burgesses, and Drogo and +his band dragged them out, shrieking in vain that they were for the +king, and cut them to pieces, poor unfortunates. But they did not +find Earl Simon, and only slew their own friends; and when the +confusion was over they looked down upon the battlefield, where one +glance showed them that the main battle was lost, and the barons in +possession of the field. + +In vain Edward besought his men, now much reduced in numbers, to +make another charge. They saw the enemy waiting with levelled +lances to receive them, and felt that the position they were asked +to assail was impregnable. + +Edward was a most affectionate son, and was very anxious to learn +the fate of his royal father, so he determined to force his way to +the priory at all hazards, and made a circuit of the town so as to +reach the sacred pile from the unassailed quarter. Night was now +approaching, and the prince's party had to fight their way at every +step with the victorious horsemen of the barons. Edward's giant +strength and long sweeping sword made him a way over heaps of +corpses strewn before him, but others were less fortunate. + +Hard by the river, on the eastern side of the town, and beneath the +high cliffs which rise almost precipitously to the isolated group +of downs, there was a terrible charge, a hand-to-hand melee. Drogo +of Walderne and Harengod, his sword red with blood, his lance +couched, was confronted here by a knight in sable armour, his sole +cognisance--the White Cross. + +They rode at each other. Drogo's lance grazed his opponent's +casque: the unknown knight drove his missile through corselet and +breast, and Drogo went down crashing from his steed. The combat +went sweeping on past them, the desperate foes fighting as they +rode. Edward and his horsemen, less and less in number each minute, +still riding for the priory, straining every nerve to reach it; the +others assailing them at every turn. + +The Earl of Warrenne, William of Valence, Guy of Lusignan, and Earl +Bigod of Norwich, were separated from the rest of the band, and, +despairing of attaining the prince again, rode across the low +alluvial flats for Pevensey. + +By God, who is over us, much did they sin, +That let pass o'er sea the Earl of Warrene, +Much hath he robbed us, by moor and by fen, +Our gold and our silver he carried hath henne {35}; + +Sang the citizens of Lewes afterwards of black Earl John. + +Let us return in the shadows of the evening, while the prince gains +the priory with a few of his followers, by sheer valour, while the +rest are drowned in the river, or lost in the marshes--let us +return to the place where Drogo de Harengod went down before an +unknown foe. + +"Dost thou know me?" said the conqueror, bending over the dying man +and raising his helm. + +"Art thou alive, or a ghost?" says a conscience-stricken voice. + +"Nay, I am Hubert of Walderne, the cousin thou hast hated and +injured. But our quarrel is settled now; thou art a dying man." + +"Nay, not dying. I must live to repent. + +"Oh, the key! the key! Throw this key into the moat! + +"Nay, he will haunt me. Tell me, am I really dying? Nay, if it cost +me my soul, I will not baulk my vengeance. Besides, it is too late! + +"Martin!" + +A rush of blood came to his lips, and Drogo of Harengod fell back a +corpse on the blood-stained grass. Hubert gazed upon him a moment, +then loosed the armour to give him air, but it was all over. + +"God rest his soul. Our enmity is over, but what did he mean about +the key?" + +He felt in the gypsire of the dead enemy. There was a key, +unsightly, rusty, and heavy. + +"Why, I remember this key. It is the key of the dungeon at +Walderne. Whom can he have got there? Why is it here? What did he +mean about Martin?" + +A horrible dread seized him--he could not resist the impulse which +came upon him to ride to Walderne at once. He sought Earl Simon, +obtained a troop, and started immediately through the dark and +gloomy forest for Walderne. + + + +Chapter 26: After The Battle. + + +We trust our readers are anxious to learn the fate of Martin, whom, +much against our will, we left in such grievous durance at Walderne +Castle. + +Drogo had only left a score of men behind him to defend the castle +in case of any sudden assault; which, however, he did not expect. +Before leaving he had called one of these aside, a fellow whose +name was Marboeuf. + +"Marboeuf," he said, 'I know thou hast the two elements which, +between ourselves, ensure the greatest happiness in this world--a +good digestion and a hard heart." + +"You compliment me, master." + +"Nay, I know thy worth, and hence I leave all things in thy hands: +my honour and my vengeance." + +"Thy vengeance?" + +"Yes. If I live I shall expect to find all as I left it when I +return hither. If I die, and thou receivest sure news of my death, +slay me the three prisoners." + +"What! The friar and all!" + +"Is his blood redder than any other man's? It seems to me thou art +afraid of the Pope's gray regiment." + +"Nay, I like not to slay priests and friars. It brings a man ill +luck if he meddle with those." + +"Then I must appoint Thibault. He may have an easier conscience, +but I had thought that bloodshed, if nothing else, had bound us +together." + +"Nay, it shall not be said that I forsook my lord in his need. If +thou fallest in the coming battle, I will sacrifice the three to +thy ghost." + +"So shall I rest in peace, like the warriors of old time, over +whose tomb they slew many victims and cut many throats. I believe +in no creed, but the old one of our ancestors suits me best, and I +hope I shall find my way to Valhalla, if Valhalla there be." + +When the last stragglers of the royal army had been swallowed up in +the recesses of the forest, Marboeuf began to ponder over his +engagement. But presently up came the janitor of the dungeons. + +"Hast thou the key of the friar's dungeon?" + +"Nay. The young lord has not left it with me." + +The men looked at each other. + +"He locked it himself, this morning, and put the key into his +gypsire." + +"And he has gone off with it. Doubtless he will send it back +directly he finds it there." + +"I doubt it." + +"Shall we send after him?" + +"No!" said Marboeuf. + +"He is a friar. We must not let him starve." + +"Humph! It will not be our fault. I tell thee thou dost not yet +know our lord, and too much zeal may only damage you in his +goodwill." + +The gaoler retreated, and went slowly down to the dungeons. He +walked along the passage moodily. At length he heard a voice +breaking the silence: + +Yea, though I walk +through the valley of the shadow of death, +I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; +Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. + +The man felt moved. It seemed to him as if he were near a being of +another mould, and old memories of years long past were awakened in +his mind--how once such a friar had found him wounded almost to +death in the battlefield, and had saved the body, like the good +Samaritan, and striven to save his soul. How he had vowed amendment +and forgotten it, or he had not been found herding with such black +sheep as Drogo and his band. And earlier thoughts, how when his +mother had fallen sick of the plague, another friar had tended her +dying moments, when every other earthly friend had failed her for +fear of infection. + +"He shall not perish if I can help it, and it may be put to my +account in purgatory." + +"Father," he cried. + +"My brother," was the reply, "what hast thou to ask?" + +"What food hast thou?" + +"Yet half a loaf, and a cruse nearly filled with water." + +"It is all thou mayst get till my lord return. He has taken the +keys. Use it sparingly." + +For a moment there was silence, then a calm voice replied: + +"He who fed Elijah by the ministry of the ravens will not fail me." + +"But if Sir Drogo be absent many days thou mayst starve." + +"Though he slay me, yet will I put my trust in him." + +"I do believe he will be saved, by a miracle if needs be," muttered +the man. "The saints will never let him starve, he is one of them." + +The second day passed, and Martin's bread and cruse yet held out. +But his gaoler was very uneasy, and wandered about the dark +passages like a restless spirit. Neither could he help breathing +his despair to Martin, as hours passed away and no messenger +returned from Drogo with the key. + +But the answer from the captive was always full of hope. + +"Be of good cheer, for there has been with me an angel of God, who +has assured me that the tyranny will soon be overpast. Meanwhile I +feel not the pangs of hunger." + +The fourth day from the departure of the royal army arrived. No one +had as yet brought back the key. It was a day of awful suspense, +for although no sound of artillery announced the awful strife, yet +it was generally known that a battle was imminent, and was probably +going on at that moment. They sent two messengers out at dawn of +day, and one returned at eventide, breathless and sore from long +running. + +He had been on that group of downs which lies eastward of Lewes, of +which Mount Caburn is the highest point, and from which Walderne +Castle was visible. There they had raised a beacon fire, and he had +left his comrade to fire it in case the king lost the battle. But +ere he departed he had seen, as he thought, the royal array in +hopeless confusion. + +The afternoon brought another messenger, who confirmed the evil +tidings, but was in hope that the prince, yet undefeated and then +rampaging on the hill amongst the baggage, might retrieve the +fortune of the day. When sunset drew nigh many of the garrison of +Walderne betook themselves to the elevation on which the church is +placed, whence they could see the Castle of Lewes through an +opening, and watched, fearing to see the bale fire blaze, which +should bid them all flee for their lives, unless they were prepared +to defend the castle, to be a refuge in case their lord might +survive and come to find shelter amongst them. + +On this point there were diverse opinions. A waggon had gone out in +the early morning to collect forage and provisions by way of +blackmail--at this moment it was seen approaching the gateway +below. + +The sun had set, and the shades of evening were falling fast. All +at once a single voice cried, "Look! the fire!" and the speaker +pointed with his finger. + +The eyes of all present followed his gesture, and they saw a bright +spot of light arise on the summit of the downs, distant some twelve +miles. + +"It is the signal. All is lost! The rebels have won, and we must +fly for our lives." + +"They may be merciful." + +"Nay, we have too black a name in the Andredsweald. We should have +to answer for every peasant we have hanged or hen roost we have +robbed." + +"That would never do. By 'r lady, what injustice! Would they be so +bad as that?" + +"We will not wait to see." + +All at once loud outcries arose from the castle below. They looked +aghast, for it was the sound of fierce strife and dread dismay. +What could it be? + +They started to run to the help of their comrades, when a thousand +cries, a wild war whoop, burst from the arches of the forest and in +the dim twilight they saw numberless forms gliding over the short +space which separated the castle from the wood. + +"The merrie men!" + +"The outlaws!" + +"The wild men of the woods!" + +The discomfited troopers paused--turned tail--fled--leaving their +comrades to their fate, whatever it might be. + +Let us see. + +The waggon aforesaid had approached the gateway in the most +innocent manner. It creaked over the drawbridge. It was already +beneath the portcullis, when the driver cut the traces and thrust a +long pole amidst the spokes of the wheel. At the same instant a +score of men leapt out, who had been concealed beneath the loose +hay. + +All was alarm and confusion. The few defenders of the castle were +overpowered and slain, for the gross treachery practised upon the +"merrie men" a few days earlier had hardened their hearts and +rendered them deaf to the call for pity or mercy. The few women who +were in the castle fled shrieking to their hiding places. The men +died fighting. + +"To the dungeons! Show us the way to the dungeons, and we give you +your life," cried their leader--Kynewulf--to an individual whose +bunch of keys attached to his girdle showed his office. + +"The friar is safe below, unhurt. I will take you to him. But I +have no key." + +"Where is it, then?" + +"Sir Drogo has taken it with him." + +"We will have it open. + +"Friar Martin, art thou within?" + +"Safe and uninjured. Is it thou, Kynewulf? Then I charge thee that +thou do no hurt to any here. They have not injured me." + +"Not injured thee, to place thee here! Well, we will soon have thee +out. We have promised Grimbeard to bring thee to him, or forfeit +our lives. He is dying." + +"Dying! And I not there! What has chanced?" + +"He was hit by one of those arrows the treacherous Drogo shot from +the wall while the flag of truce was yet flying, when we first came +to demand thee. But we must work to relieve thee." + +And toil they did, but all in vain. They had no tools to force that +iron door. + +Meanwhile a sound of scuffling drew other members of the band to a +chamber in the tower, where the good knight Ralph de Monceux was +confined, and as they approached they heard a heavy fall and found +Marboeuf lying dead on the floor, his skull cleft asunder, whilst +over him stood Ralph, axe in hand. + +The "merrie men" knew their bold captive. + +"Ah! How is this? What ox hast thou felled?" + +"Only a butcher who came in to slay me, but I avoided the blow, +flew suddenly at his wrist and mastered the weapon, when I gave him +what at Oxford we called quid pro quo, as we strewed the shambles +with boves boreales." + +They did not understand his Latin, but they knew Marboeuf, who, as +the reader will comprehend, seeing all was lost, had striven to +perform his vow, and happily had begun first with this dexterous +young knight. Hence they found the poor mayor of Hamelsham safe and +sound, only a little less afraid of the "merrie men" than of Drogo; +for often had they rifled the castle and robbed the hen roosts of +his town. + +But all their efforts failed to open Martin's door, and they were +at their wits' end what to do. They heard a rumour that the battle +was lost, so they set men to watch, and prepared an ambush in his +own caste yard for Drogo, in case he should survive the fight and +come to hide, with especial instructions to take him alive, as they +intended to hang him from his own tower. + +Meanwhile, through the dewy night, amidst the thousand odours of +the woods, rode Hubert and his fifty horsemen. They stayed not for +brake, and they slacked not for ford. All the loving heart of +Hubert went before him to the rescue of the friend of his boyish +days; suffering, he doubted not, cruel wrong and unmerited +imprisonment in a noisome dungeon. And ere the midnight hour he +arrived amidst the familiar scenes, and saw at length the towers +rise before him in the faint light of a new moon. + +The sound of his horses must have been heard, but no challenge of +warder awaited them. When the party arrived they found the +drawbridge down, the gates open. What could it mean? + +"It may be treachery. Look to your arms ere you ride in," cried +Hubert. + +They entered the court through the gateway in the Barbican tower. +Instantly the gates slammed behind them, the portcullis fell, and, +as by magic, the windows and courtyard were crowded with men in +green jerkins with bended bows. + +"What means this outrage," cried Hubert aloud, "upon the heir of +Walderne as he enters his own castle?" + +"That you are in the power of the merrie men of the greenwood. If +you be Drogo of Walderne, surrender, and spare bloodshed: all who +have never harmed us to go free." + +"Then are we all free. My men are from Kenilworth, and can never +have harmed you in word or deed. As for Drogo, he fell by my hand +this day in fair combat." + +"Who art thou, then?" + +"Hubert, son of Roger of Walderne, and I seek my brother +Martin--Friar Martin--whom you all must know." + +Instantly every hostile demonstration ceased. The doors were thrown +open, and the men who, a moment before, were about to fly at each +other's throats, mingled freely as friends. + +"Martin is below," they said. "Have you smiths who can force a +door?" + +"Lead me to him. HERE IS THE KEY." + +Down the steps they flew, almost tumbling over each other in their +eagerness. The key was applied, the rusty bolt flew back, and +Hubert was clasped in Martin's arms. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +For a long while the spectators of this joyful meeting waited in +the courtyard of the castle, which was thronged by men who had only +been restrained by a merciful Providence from bending their deadly +weapons against each other. Now their thoughts were thoughts of +peace, yet they hardly understood why and wherefore. + +But after a while there was a commotion in the great hall, and soon +Martin stood on the summit of the steps, worn and pale, leaning on +the stout shoulders of Hubert. Their eyes were both swimming in +tears--but tears of joy. Cheers and acclamations rent the air, and +it was a long while ere silence was restored for the voice of the +late prisoner to be heard. + +"Men and brethren, I thank you for your great love to me, and for the +desire wherewith ye have desired my freedom, and jeopardised your own +precious lives in its cause. And now, if I am welcome"--(loud +cheers)--"so must be my dear brother Hubert, Lord of Walderne by the +will of the Lady Sybil, a true knight, a warrior of the Cross, and a +friend of the poor." (Loud cheers again). "Many of you will remember +the night when he parted from you, when Sir Nicholas, who is gone, +introduced him to you as his undoubted heir, and many have grieved +over him, and said, 'Full forty fathom deep he lies.' But here he is +in flesh and blood!" (Renewed cheers). + +"And now, O men of the greenwood, whom I love so dearly, let me, a +child of the greenwood, speak yet a few words about myself. For I +am not only the last represent alive of the old English house of +Michelham, but also a son of the house of Walderne; Mabel, my +mother, being the sister, as many know, of the Lady Sybil. Ah, +well. I seek a more continuing city than either Walderne or +Michelham, and I want no earthly dignities. Wherever God gives me +souls to tend is my home; and He has given it me, O men of the +Andredsweald, amongst my countrymen and my kindred, and to Hubert I +leave the castle right gladly. Now let there be peace, and let men +turn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning +hooks, and hasten the glorious day when the kingdoms of this world +shall become the kingdoms of God and His Christ." + +"We will. God bless Sir Hubert of Walderne." + +"God bless brother Martin." + +Drogo was forgotten, as though he had never lived, forgiven and +forgotten. And the multitude dispersed, each man to his own home or +haunt in the forest, leaving Sir Hubert in possession of the castle +of his ancestors, and Martin his guest. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +Martin's first wish after his release was, as our readers will +imagine, to visit his mother, and assure her of his safety in +person. Kynewulf was in waiting to escort him. He had caused a +litter to be constructed of the branches of trees, knowing that the +severe strain Martin had undergone must have rendered him too weak +for so long a journey; and the "merrie men" were only too eager to +relieve each other in bearing so precious a burden. + +"You will find our chieftain very far from well," said Kynewulf, as +he walked by Martin's side. "He was wounded by one of the arrows +from the castle when we came to demand your liberation of Drogo, +and the wound has taken a bad turn." + +"How does my poor mother bear it?" + +"Like a true wife and good Englishwoman." + +No more was said. Martin lapsed into deep thought until the retreat +of the outlaws was attained. There, on a couch strewn with skins +and soft herbage, lay the redoubtable Grimbeard; and by his side, +nursing him tenderly, Mabel of Walderne. But for this she had been +with Martin's rescuers at the castle, but she could not leave her +dying lord, who clung fondly to her now, and would take food from +no other hand. + +The wound he had received had been thought slight, and neglected. +Hence it had become serious, and since Kynewulf departed +mortification had set in. + +The mother rose and embraced her "sweet son." + +"Thank God!" she said, and led him to his stepfather's side. + +Grimbeard raised himself with difficulty, and looked Martin in the +face. + +"Martin is here," he said. "Let my dying eyes gaze upon him again. + +"Martin, I have longed for thee. Tell me more about Him thou lovest +so deeply." + +"My father, He is waiting to receive and to bless thee. Cast +thyself wholly on the Incarnate Love which embraced thee on the +Tree. Say, for His sake, canst thou forgive all, even these Normans +thou hast so hated?" + +"Dost thou forgive the wretch who shut thee up, my gentle boy, in +that dungeon?" + +"Yes, verily, and pray to God to pardon him, too." + +"Then I may pardon my foes, although my life has been spent in +fighting against them for England's freedom. But I see we must +submit, as thou hast often said, to God's will; and if the past may +be forgiven, my merrie men will be well content to make peace, and +to turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into +pruning hooks; especially now Drogo has met his just doom, as they +tell me, and thy friend is about to rule at Walderne. Thou must be +the mediator between them and him. + +"But oh! my son, it has been hard to submit to all this. All those +I loved when young carried on the fight, and my own father +bequeathed it to me as a sacred heritage. We hoped to see England +governed by Englishmen, and the alien cast out; and now I give it +up. The problem is too hard for me. God will make it clear." + +"My father," said Martin, "I, too, am the descendant of a long line +of warriors, who have never before me submitted to the foreign +yoke. But I see that the two peoples are becoming one: that the +sons of the Norman learn our English tongue, and that the day is at +hand when they will be proud of the name 'Englishmen.' Norman and +Saxon all alike, one people, even as in heaven there is no +distinction of race, but all are alike before the throne." + +"And now, my son, art thou not a priest yet? I would fain make +confession of my sins." + +"God will accept the will for the deed. He is not limited to +earthly means; and if thou truly repent of thy sins for the love of +the Crucified, and believest in Him, all will be well." + +For Martin feared that there would be no time to fetch a priest, or +he would not have questioned the universal precept of the church of +his day; while his own faith led him to see clearly that God's +mercy was not limited by the accidental omission of the outward +ordinance. + +"I sent for Sir Richard {36}, the parish priest of Walderne, +ere we left the castle, and he is doubtless on his way with the +Viaticum," said Kynewulf. + +And while they yet spake the priest arrived, and the dying man +received with simple faith the last sacraments of the Church. After +this his people gathered round him. + +"Tell them," he said, in stammering tones, for the speech was +failing, "what I have said. With thy friend in the castle, and thou +in the greenwood, there will be peace." + +Martin turned to the silent outlaws who stood by, and repeated his +words. They listened in silence. The prospect was not new to them, +for Martin's long labours had not been in vain; but while Drogo was +at Walderne, and the royal party triumphant, it seemed useless to +hope for its realisation. Now things had changed, and there was +hope that the breach would be healed. + +"His last prayer was for peace," said Grimbeard. "Should not mine +be the same? Oh, God, save my country, grant it the blessing of +peace, and forgive a poor erring man, who sees, too late, that he +has been fighting against Thy dispensation, for he can now say 'Thy +will be done.'" + +These were his last words, and although we have related them as if +spoken connectedly, they were really only uttered in broken gasps. +The end came; the widow turned aside from the bed after closing the +eyes. + +"Martin," she said, "thou alone art left to me." + +And she fell on his neck and wept. + + ______________________________________________________________ + + +From the grave to the gay, from a death to a wedding, such is life. +The same bell which tolls dolorously at a burial clangs in company +with its fellows at a marriage on the next day. So the world goes +on. + +The scene was the priory of Saint Pancras at Lewes, where so lately +the feeble old king had held his court. Now with his brave son he +had gone into honourable captivity, for it was little better, and +the followers of Earl Simon filled the place. + +Before the high altar stood a youthful pair; Hubert of Walderne, +now to be known as Radulphus, or Ralph; and Alicia de Grey, who had +been sheltered from ill and Drogo as one of the handmaidens of the +Countess Eleanor, in keeping for her true love. + +The good prior, Foville, performed the ceremony and celebrated the +mass Pro sponso et sponsa. The father, the happy and glad father, +stood by, now fully delivered from his ghostly tormentor, his +fondest wish on earth achieved. Earl Simon gave the bride away, +while Martin stood by, so happy. + +It was over, and the aisle was strewn with the gay flowers of early +summer, as our Hubert and his bride left the sacred pile. But one +adieu to the father, who would not leave his monastery even then, +but who fell upon Hubert's neck and wept while he cried, "My son, +my dear son, God bless thee;" and the bridal train rode off to the +castle above, where the marriage feast was spread. + +Then Earl Simon to his onerous duties, and the happy pair to keep +their honeymoon at Walderne. + +Oh, the joy of that leafy month of June, in the wild woods, all +loosed from care. Hubert seemed to have found true happiness, if it +could be found on earth. And Martin, he too was happy, in his work +of love and reconciliation. + +It was an oasis in life's pilgrimage, when man might well fancy he +had found an Eden upon earth again. And there we would fain leave +our two friends and cousins. + +Epilogue. + +A few words respecting the fate of our chief characters must close +our story. We need not tell our readers the future of the great +earl--it is written on the pages of history. But his work did not +die on the fatal field of Evesham. It lived in the royal nephew, +through whose warlike skill he was overthrown, and who speedily +arrived at the conclusion that most of the reforms of his uncle +were founded upon the eternal principles of truth and justice. +Hence that legislation which gained for Edward, the greatest of the +Plantagenets, and the first truly English king since Harold, the +title of the "English Justinian." + +Hubert was not with his lord when he fell. He had been selected to +be of the household of Simon's beloved Countess Eleanor, and he was +with her at Dover when the fatal news of Evesham arrived. He could +only cry, "Would God I had died for him," while the countess +abandoned herself to her grief. + +Edward soon sought a reconciliation with the countess, who, it will +be remembered, was his father's sister; which being effected, she +passed over to France with her only daughter, to join her sons +already there; and King Louis received her with great kindness, +while Hubert and his companions of her guard were received into the +favour of Edward, and exempted from the sweeping sentence of +confiscation passed in the first intoxication of triumph upon all +the adherents of the Montforts. + +Brother Roger died in peace at a great age, at the Priory of Lewes, +growing in grace as he grew in years, until at last he passed away, +"awaiting," as he said, "the manifestation of the sons of God," +amongst whom, sinner though he had been, he hoped to stand in his +lot in the latter days. + +Ralph of Herstmonceux, who had been happily preserved from death at +the battle of Evesham, followed his father to Dover, where they +joined the countess in the defence of that fortress, and shared the +forgiveness extended to her followers. So completely did Edward +forgive the family, that we read in the Chronicles how King Edward, +long afterwards, honoured Herstmonceux with a royal visit on his +road to make a pious retreat at the Abbey of Battle. Ralph +succeeded his father, and we may be sure lived on good terms with +Hubert. + +Hubert followed the banner of Edward Longshanks both in Wales and +Scotland ere he came home to his wife and children, satiated at +last with war, and spent the rest of his days at Walderne. He died +at a good old age, and was buried as a crusader in Lewes Priory, +with crossed legs and half-drawn sword, where his tomb could be +seen until the sacrilegious hands of the minions of Thomas Cromwell +destroyed that noble edifice. + +Mabel of Walderne retired, at her son's persuasion, to a convent at +Mayfield, where she ended her days in all the "odour of sanctity," +and Martin closed her eyes. + +And lastly we have to tell of our Martin. He remained in the +Andredsweald until he had completely succeeded in reconciling the +outlaws to the authorities {37}, and he had seen them, his +"merrie men," settle down as peaceful tillers of the soil, or enter +the service of the knights and abbots as gamekeepers, woodsmen, +huntsmen, and the like; at his strong recommendation and assurance +that he would be surety for their good behaviour--an assurance they +did their best to justify. + +And how shall we describe his labour of love--his work as the +bondsman of Christ? But after the death of his mother, his +superiors recalled him to Oxford, as a more important sphere, and +better suited to his talents; where the peculiar sweetness of his +disposition gave him a great influence over the younger students. +In short he became a power in the university, and died head of the +Franciscan house, loved and lamented, in full assurance of a +glorious immortality. And they put over his tomb these words: + +We know that we have passed from death to life, +because we love the brethren. +--Vale Beatissime. + +From the south wall of Walderne Church project or projected two +iron brackets with lances, whereon hung for many a generation the +banners of Sir Ralph (alias Hubert) and his son Laurence. + +The boast of chivalry, the pomp of power, +And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave, +Await alike the inevitable hour, +The paths of glory lead but to the grave. + + + +THE END. + + + +Notes. + + +1 + Rivingtons' Historical Biographies. + +2 + Demonology and Witchcraft. + +3 + See the Andredsweald, a tale of the Norman Conquest, by the + same author. + +4 + He was the last lord of Pevensey of his race, all his land + and honours being forfeited in 1235 for passing over into + Normandy without King Henry the Third's license. + +5 + Lord of Lewes Castle from 1242-1304, a local tyrant. + +6 + There were then no family names, properly so called; the + English generally took one descriptive of trade or + profession, hence the multitude of Smiths; the Normans + generally then name of their estate or birthplace, with the + affix De. Knight's Pictorial History, volume 2, page 643. + +7 + His literary acquirements, unusual in the time, increased + his influence and reputation. Knight's Pictorial History. + +8 + How did I weep in Thy Hymns and Canticles, touched to the + quick by the voices of Thy sweet-attuned Church, the voices + flowed into my ears and the truth distilled into my heart. + Saint Augustine's Confessions volume 9 page 6. + +9 + Afterwards the site of the battle of Edgehill. + +10 + See his biography in Macmillan's Sunday Library. + +11 + Ethelflaed, Lady or Queen of the Mercians (under her brother + Edward, son of Alfred), threw up certain huge mounds and + certain stone castles, to defend her realm and serve as + refuges in troublous times. One site was Oxford, and it is + the first authentic event recorded in the history of the + city--the foundation of the university by Alfred being + abandoned by scholars, as an interpolation in Asser, the + king's biographer. + +12 + The Rival Heirs, or the Third Chronicle of Aescendune. + +13 + Because in later times some poor Jews were burnt there. + +14 + Like those still seen at Tewkesbury Abbey, of similar + proportions. + +15 + The date of the surrender was November 16, 1537. It was + granted to Thomas Cromwell, February 16, 1538. It was at + once destroyed by skilled agents of destruction, and the + materials sold. Cromwell did not enjoy it long; he perished + at Tower Hill by the axe, July 28, 1540. + +16 + The old hymn for Wednesday morning, according to Sarum use. + I am indebted to the Hymnary for the translation. + +17 + The supposed name of the penitent thief. The author is not + answerable for the non-elision of the vowel--the name is + authentic; it stood on the site of the present Oriel + College. See preface. + +18 + See Alfgar the Dane, chapter 24. + +19 + It was the Gospel for the day in Italy--not in England. + +20 + The Viaticum was the Last Communion, given in preparation + for death, as the provision for the way. + +21 + Such an arrangement was made in the Egyptian Temple at On; + at one particular moment on one day in the year, the rays + admitted through a concealed aperture gilded the shrine, and + the crowd thought it miraculous. + +22 + Adapted from a translation of a chorus in the Agamemnon by + my lamented friend, the late Reverend Gerard Moultrie. + +23 + A mere tradition of the time, not historical. + +24 + See the Andredsweald, by the same author. + +25 + This is the same spot mentioned in the Andredsweald, chapter + 9 part 2, as a retreat of the English after Senlac. + +26 + A proclamation had just been put forth by the barons, that + all foreigners should be expelled and lose their property; + and much violence ensued throughout England, the victims + being often detected by their pronunciation, as in our + story. + +27 + How good to those who seek Thou art, + But what to those who find! + --Saint Bernard. + +28 + It was one of them who first stabbed Edward the First, when + his queen saved him by sucking the poison from the wound, + according to a Spanish historian. + +29 + Sixty-six pounds, 13 shillings, four pence; a large sum in + those days. + +30 + It was afterwards ascertained that on the very night, the + father, Roger, dreamt that he saw his son in a gloomy cell, + a slave condemned to apparently hopeless toil or death, and + addressed him as in the text. + +31 + Acre was stormed by the Moslems, AD 1291, and the Holy Land + was lost with it. + +32 + How unlike the ceremonial of Hubert's knighthood! But the + approach of a battle justified the omission of the usual + rites in the opinion of the many. + +33 + Witness the case of the Scotch judge--pursued under divers + forms by the supposed apparition of a man he had hanged, + until he died of fright--as recorded by Sir Walter Scott in + Demonology and Witchcraft. + +34 + Whom they had pelted with mud as she passed under London + Bridge, calling her a witch. Life of Simon de Montfort, page + 126. + +35 + Old English for hence. + +36 + Parish priests were frequently styled Sir in those days. + Father meant a monk or regular, as opposed to the secular, + clergy. + +37 + His descent from noble families of either race--Michelham, + the house of Ella, through his father; Walderne, of ancient + Norman blood, through his mother, rendered him acceptable to + both parties. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The House of Walderne, by A. D. 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