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diff --git a/44374.txt b/44374.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ccf429d..0000000 --- a/44374.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6235 +0,0 @@ - THE ROBBER BARON OF BEDFORD CASTLE - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle -Author: A. J. Foster and E. E. Cuthell -Release Date: December 06, 2012 [EBook #44374] -Language: English -Character set encoding: US-ASCII - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROBBER BARON OF BEDFORD -CASTLE *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - -[Illustration: "Aliva recognized on the helmet the crest of the De -Beauchamps." Page 143.] - - - - - THE ROBBER BARON - OF BEDFORD CASTLE - - - BY A. J. FOSTER AND E. E. CUTHELL - - - - LONDON, EDINBURGH, - DUBLIN, AND NEW YORK - THOMAS NELSON AND SONS - 1903 - - - - - _*CONTENTS*_ - - I. By the Banks of Ouse - II. Bletsoe Manor-House - III. How Aliva received a Second Suitor - IV. In Bedford Castle - V. In Elstow Abbey - VI. A Penitent - VII. "*Arcades Ambo*" - VIII. Justice in Bonds - IX. An Unexpected Meeting - X. Through Ouse Marshes - XI. Breathing-Time - XII. At the Castle of Eaton Socon - XIII. The Bird in the Cage - XIV. The Sanctuary Violated - XV. Ralph raps at the Castle Gate - XVI. Within the Castle Walls - XVII. The King in Council - XVIII. Heard Underground - XIX. Fears and Hopes - XX. Love Laughs at Locksmiths - XXI. The Castle Falls - XXII. Ralph to the Rescue - XXIII. A tete-a-tete Ride to Elstow Abbey - XXIV. "*De Mortuis*" - - - - - _*LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS*_ - - -"Aliva recognized on the helmet the crest of the De Beauchamps" . . . . -. . _Frontispiece_. - -"The soldiers cast the bailiff into the midst of the fire" - -The Robber Baron making his peace with the Church - -"Thronging the castle-yard was a crowd of servants and retainers" - -A wild chase through Ouse marshes - -The council at Northampton - -A desperate plunge - -"Through fire and smoke the besiegers stormed the breach" - - - - - *THE ROBBER BARON OF - BEDFORD CASTLE.* - - - - *CHAPTER I.* - - _*BY THE BANKS OF OUSE.*_ - - -In the first quarter of the thirteenth century, the evil doings of King -John were yet fresh in the minds of men all over England, and the -indirect consequences of his evil deeds were still acutely felt, and -nowhere more than in Bedfordshire, where the scene of our story is laid. -The county itself has much altered in appearance since that period. -Great woods, intersected by broad, soft green lanes, overran its -northern portion. Traces of these woods and roads still survive in -Puddington Hayes and Wymington Hayes, and the great broad "forty-foot." -South of this wild wooded upland, one natural feature of Bedfordshire -remains unchanged. Then, as now, the Great Ouse took its winding, -sluggish course from southwest to north-east across the county, twisting -strangely, and in many places turning back upon itself as though loath -to leave Bedfordshire. Some fifteen miles from point to point would -have taken it straight through the heart of the little county, whereas -its total course therein is more like fifty. One poetic fancy likens -the wandering stream to a lover lingering with his mistress, but old -Drayton compares it to one of the softer sex:-- - - "Ouse, having Olney past, as she were waxed mad, - From her first staider course immediately doth gad, - And in meandering gyves doth whirl herself about, - That, this way, here and there, back, forward, in and out. - And like a wanton girl, oft doubting in her gait, - In labyrinthine turns and twinings intricate, - Through those rich fields doth flow." - - -It is in the Ouse valley that the events of our story will chiefly be -laid, for here was centred the life of the county, in those castles -which once crowned with their keeps the various mounds which still -exist,-- - - "Chiefless castles, breathing stern farewells - From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells." - - -It was along the banks of the Ouse, a little north of Bedford, that a -young knight was riding one bright January morning in 1224. By his side -hung his good sword, though he was clad only in the ordinary riding -dress of the period; for these were troublous times, and the country -round by no means secure. At Bedford Castle, Sir Fulke de Breaute, one -of the late King John's lieutenants, sat strongly intrenched, like the -robber-barons of a later day in their castles on the Rhine, spreading -devastation far and wide. - -Young Ralph de Beauchamp, who was making his way that winter morning -along the marshy banks of the river, which were later to develop into -Drayton's "rich meadows," was the son of the younger brother of the -former occupant and ejected owner of Bedford Castle. For more than a -hundred years the banner of the De Beauchamps had waved from Bedford -keep. Their ancestor, Hugo de Beauchamp, had received the feof from the -Conqueror, together with many a broad manor in the county. His son, -Pain, had reared the strong keep on the lofty mound which to this day -overlooks the Ouse, and from which Cuthwulf the Saxon had driven the -Britons in 572, pursuing them far south into the Thames valley. Later -on, the Danes, sailing up the Ouse, had burned the Saxon _Burh_; but the -Norman keep, though it had surrendered, had never yet been taken by -assault. Eight years before the time of our story, William de -Beauchamp, the head of the family, and the uncle of young Ralph, had -sided with the barons who were standing up for the liberties of England -against King John, and had been ousted by John's ferocious lieutenant, -Fulke de Breaute. This latter, as has been told, now held the castle, -no longer as lieutenant for Henry, John's youthful successor, but as the -leader of a band of robbers, who knew no right but might. - -Thus it had come to pass that the house of De Beauchamp, once so -powerful in Bedfordshire, was rather down in the world in the early part -of the thirteenth century, and young Sir Ralph felt the reverses of his -family. Left an orphan in childhood, he had been brought up by his -uncle William, and though a penniless knight, heir neither to the -estates of Bedford, nor to those of another branch of the family seated -at the castle of Eaton Socon, lower down the river, he had, as it were, -been rewarded by nature with more than a compensating share of the -graces of face and form. He was, moreover, a proficient in those -exercises of the tilt-yard which formed an important part of a knightly -education, and which were as dear to young men in the thirteenth century -as are their athletic pursuits to those of the present day. Nor had his -mental training been entirely neglected. True, the latter would not be -considered much now-a-days; but in his boyhood, in Bedford Castle, Ralph -had sat many hours in the chaplain's room, when he would much rather -have been bathing or fishing in the stream below the walls, learning -from the venerable priest how to read, write, and speak Latin, then a -most necessary part of a gentleman's education. - -But neither poverty nor the misfortunes of his family appeared to weigh -heavily on Sir Ralph's mind, to judge by the cheerful expression of his -countenance, as he rode along humming the refrain of an old Provencal -love-song, which some of De Beauchamp's retainers had brought into -Bedfordshire from fair France. Neither did he seem in any dread of -Fulke de Breaute's myrmidons, for the valley was clear of such as far as -eye could reach, though it was then in great measure overflowed by the -waters of the Ouse. As was not unusual then in winter-time, the broad -river had risen above its low-lying banks, and a vast expanse of water -shimmered far and wide in the sunlight. Later on, in Fuller's time, a -not uncommon saying gave the Ouse the name of the "Bailiff of -Bedfordshire," from the quantity of hay and other produce _distrained_ -from the low-lying lands by these frequent and extensive floods. - -As Ralph approached Milton Mill, which was half submerged, and perforce -inactive, he reined up his steed, who was already up to her fetlocks in -the shallow flood which covered the meadows and the track, and eagerly -scanned the watery waste before him, for his keen eye had caught sight -of something dark being whirled down the rushing torrent. For an -instant he doubted as to whether it were not some snag or tree-branch -torn from the willows in the osier-bed further up. But the truth -flashed upon him when he perceived a slight struggle on the part of the -object, something which might be an arm raised from the water, and -clutching despairingly at nothing. - -"B' our Lady!" exclaimed the young knight, "there goes some poor wretch -who seems like to die unshriven, unless I can give him a helping hand! -'Tis but a chance.--But come up, my lady," he added, admonishing his -good gray mare with a slight prick from the heavy goads or "pryck spurs" -which armed his heels; "we can but do our best!" - -So saying, Ralph hastily turned his steed to the left, and rode quickly -through the slush, down the half-submerged bank, and into the stream. -There was not a moment to lose. Judging his distance carefully, he -forced the mare into the river a little below the struggling figure, -which seemed to be encumbered with heavy clothing. The current, turgid -and lead-coloured, swirled violently round the stout steed, who had -enough to do to keep on her feet against it, weighted as she was with -her stalwart rider. Further and further Ralph forced her with voice and -spur, though she backed and stumbled, bewildered by the novel situation, -and battling against the current. Already the swiftly-eddying water had -reached her shoulders, when, by her head thrown back, her distended -nostrils and starting eye, Ralph saw she could do no more. - -So, bending low down over his saddle-bow, and reaching out his right arm -as far as he was able to stretch, he awaited the critical moment when -the drowning man should be swept down towards him. Then, quick as -thought, he gripped with an iron grasp at the black frock in which the -figure was clothed, and turned his horse sharply round. The good steed -fought her way bravely out of the stream, her rider dragging the -drowning man behind him. - -The moment he found himself on dry land once more, Ralph leaped off to -breathe his horse, and to look at the half-unconscious man he had -rescued, and who was clad in the lay or serving brother's habit of the -Benedictines. - -Kneeling by his side, the knight chafed his wet face and hands, and -presently his eyes opened, and he sat up. - -"Thanks to Our Lady and St. Benedict!" he muttered, "and to you, Sir -Knight! But I thought it was all over with me." - -"And, in good sooth, _I_ thought so too, my good fellow!" exclaimed Sir -Ralph, stamping to shake the water off his leathern hose and jerkin and -woollen surcoat. "But how came you to venture alone, and without a -guide, across the ford at flood time?" he added, much relieved to see -the lay-brother, who was young and robust, rise to his feet and begin to -wring his habit. - -"I was bred and born in these parts, Sir Knight," replied the latter, -"and I could find my way across Milton Ford blindfold. Nay, I have even -crossed it in worse seasons than this. But that was before I took upon -me this habit, and I trow our holy founder did not contemplate that his -followers should have to swim for their lives in it. Moreover, I have -travelled far and swiftly, and I am weary." - -"And have you much further to go yet?" inquired the knight. - -"But as far as Bletsoe," replied the lay-brother. - -"Then get you up behind me on my horse," answered Ralph, "and together -we will take our road, for my journey also ends at Bletsoe." - -"Nay, Sir Knight," replied the lay-brother, glancing at Ralph's gilt -spur of knighthood; "that would be far from seemly. This is not the -first time by any means that the Ouse has tried to knock the breath out -of my body, for I was brought up on his banks. My father is one of the -retainers of my Lord de Pateshulle, and lives just between my lord's -house and the river. Moreover, it will be best for me to trudge along -on foot, and maybe my clothes will be dry before I have finished my -journey. Not that I can ever forget your kind help, sir, or my merciful -deliverance, thanks be to God," he added, devoutly crossing himself. - -Accordingly Ralph, the mare having recovered herself from her gallant -struggle in the water, remounted, and the lay-brother stepped out -bravely by his side. - -"And prithee, my good fellow," asked the knight, "how came you to be -struggling in the Ouse this morning in your Benedictine dress?" - -"Alas, sir!" replied the lay-brother, "I am one of the humblest servants -of the holy Abbey of St. Albans, and I am but just now escaped from -greater danger than that which you beheld befall me in the Ouse, for at -dusk yesterday came that enemy of God, Sir Fulke de Breaute--" - -"Ay!" interrupted Ralph, "that disgrace to knighthood--the treacherous -robber who hath seized my uncle's castle!" - -The lay-brother looked up at the handsome face turned down upon him, and -then at the arms embroidered on his surcoat. Bowing his head in -obeisance to his companion when he recognized that he was in the -presence of one of the family of De Beauchamp, he proceeded to relate a -terrible tale of murder and outrage committed at St. Albans but the day -before by the Robber Baron of Bedford Castle. - -"We had but just finished the office of nones in our beautiful abbey -church, Sir Knight," he continued, "when we heard a terrible noise of -fighting and confusion at the very gate of the abbey itself. The -porter's man came rushing in to tell us that De Breaute (whom the saints -send to perdition!), with a large band of his Bedford robbers, was in -possession of the town, ill-treating the townsfolk in every way, binding -many of them fast as prisoners, and demanding admission into our own -sacred precincts. I and some others ran to the gate-house, and looking -forth from the upper windows, beheld a terrible sight. In front of the -gate the soldiers and men-at-arms had formed a half-circle, and in the -midst were a great crowd of townsfolk--men, women, and children--all -with their arms bound behind their backs, buffeted, kicked, and mocked -by the villains who guarded them. And against the gate there was a huge -fire kindled, in order that the gate itself might, if possible, be -destroyed. And by the fire stood that arch-fiend Fulke himself, calling -to our reverend father abbot to come and speak with him. Then, as we -looked, we saw certain soldiers drag forward one of the townsmen, and by -the light of the blaze--for it was already dark--I saw that it was no -other than his worship the bailiff of the town who was thus treated. And -then (O merciful God, show thy vengeance upon Fulke and his crew!) they -cast him, bound as he was, into the midst of the fire! O sir, the -shrieks of this man, dying in torture, as the soldiers thrust him down -with their spears!" - -[Illustration: "The soldiers cast the bailiff into the midst of the -fire."] - -He paused for breath a moment, as if overwhelmed with the horrible -memory of what he had witnessed. The gray mare started, spurred -unconsciously in his wrath by her rider, who, with teeth clinched, -muttered imprecations upon Fulke de Breaute. - -"Go on," he said; "let me hear the whole of this devil's work!" - -The lay-brother went on. - -"Next our father abbot looked down from the window and began to upbraid -the impious Fulke for his great wickedness. But when De Breaute heard -him, he looked up and cried, 'Hasten, my Lord Abbot, and send me, with -all speed, from your abbey coffers the sum of one hundred pounds, not -more, not less, or, by my soul, the whole town shall be sacked, and the -burgesses served as their bailiff!' Then some of my lord's court waxed -wroth, and one of them, a young noble, and a dear friend of my lord -abbot, cried, 'Who will with me, that we drive these impious robbers -away?' And certain of the household, together with some of the younger -serving-brothers, and myself among them, agreed to follow the young -knight if he would lead us--" - -"'Twas bravely spoken--bravely done," interrupted Ralph impetuously. - -"And we rushed out through the gate, and through the fire, and across -the burnt body of the bailiff. But, alack! we had but staves in our -hands, and clubs--for Holy Church forbids us to use more carnal -weapons--and so what could we do against armed men? Our leader was -struck down dead by Fulke himself--I saw the deed with my own eyes. We -could not get us back into the abbey, for the brethren had closed the -gate behind us. We fled, or tried to flee, in all directions. I myself -made my way by force of my right arm and my club through the soldiers -where the line was the weakest. Whether my comrades escaped I know not. -God be with their souls! Then I girded up my frock and ran until I had -distanced those who pursued me, clad as they were in their heavy armour. -Praise be to the saints, I am healthy and strong, and, thanks to you, -Sir Knight, have escaped the broad Ouse's waters as well this day!" - -Ralph, who during the lay-brother's narrative had kept up an -undercurrent of muttered curses on Fulke de Breaute and his followers, -glanced with admiration at the sturdy young hero by his side. - -"Methinks," he said, smiting him a good-natured slap upon the back, -"that Mother Church has despoiled us of a good soldier here! But, say, -how comes it that you make your way by Milton Ford at this flood season, -and not high and dry over Bedford Bridge?" - -"I have journeyed all night, Sir Knight," he replied, "save that I -rested a space in the houses of acquaintances at Luton and Ampthill, to -whom I told my tale, and who refreshed me with meat and drink. But when -I drew nigh to Bedford, I left the main road, and took the right bank up -the river till I reached Milton Mill. I dared not venture to pass -through the town. How could I tell but that some of De Breaute's men -might not have already returned to the castle, and be ready to fall on -any one clad in Benedictine habit, and crossing the bridge from the -direction of St. Alban's? The rest, Sir Knight, you know. I suppose I -was weak and weary with my fighting and my journeying, and when I missed -the ford, had not strength to battle with the stream, many times as I -have swum the broad Ouse. Perils by fire! perils by water! But thanks -to Heaven and you, Sir Knight, in a short space I shall be once again in -my old village home. I have not exactly found the religious calm and -peace which was promised me when I professed as a lay-brother six months -ago," he added, with a smile. - -The recital of this raid on the town of St. Alban's, an account of which -has been handed down to us in manuscript by an unknown scribe, together -with various suggestions on the part of Sir Ralph for the destruction of -Fulke and his "nest of the devil," occupied our travellers till they -reached the village of Bletsoe. There the knight saw the lay-brother -safe to his father's house, and after many renewed expressions of -gratitude from him, rode on alone, further up the village to the mansion -of the De Pateshulles. - - - - - *CHAPTER II.* - - _*BLETSOE MANOR-HOUSE.*_ - - -The manor-house of Bletsoe stood on the north side of the parish church -of St. Margaret, about a mile from the point where the river makes a -sharp bend from east to south. Of the manor-house, and of the castle -which succeeded it, no traces remain, but portions of a seventeenth -century mansion, now a farm-house, mark its site. The Pateshulles had -come into Bedfordshire from Staffordshire, where is situated the village -of Pateshulle, from which they took their name. From them Bletsoe -passed to the De Beauchamps, another branch of the family to which Ralph -belonged. Their heiress married into the family of St. John, who -possess Bletsoe to this day. - -But in the early part of the thirteenth century, when the Pateshulles -first possessed it, Bletsoe was but a small place, not even fortified, -till in 1327, more than a century later, John de Pateshulle obtained -from the king a license to crenellate his mansion--that is, to erect -defensive parapets on the walls. - -The house to which Sir Ralph de Beauchamp made his way was therefore -built in the usual fashion of a gentleman's residence at that -period--timber-framed, and of no architectural pretensions. At one end -of a central hall were the private apartments of the family, at the -other the domestic offices and the rooms of the servants and retainers. -In front of the hall was a gate-house, where a porter watched -continually in his lodge; and from this gate-house flanking wooden -palisades ran on either side to the private apartments and servants' -offices, enclosing a small courtyard. - -As Ralph rode through the gate, a round, white-haired face peeped from -the lodge door. - -"Soho! Dicky Dumpling," cried the young knight, springing from his gray -mare with a ringing of his spurs upon the pavement. - -The individual thus accosted emerged from the doorway of his dwelling. -Many years of service and of good living in the porter's lodge of the De -Pateshulles, combined with very little active exercise, had caused -Dicky's figure to assume the rotund proportions not inaptly expressed by -the nickname by which he was universally known. When he perceived Sir -Ralph, his broad countenance lighted up with a grin of satisfaction, -which caused his twinkling eyes almost to disappear among wrinkles of -fat, and he waddled forward with as much alacrity as he was capable of -and seized the horse's bridle. As he did so, his eyes rested on Ralph's -still moist and mire-stained surcoat and dripping hose. - -"By St. Dunstan!" exclaimed the old servitor, speaking with the freedom -of having known Ralph ever since the latter was a page in his uncle Sir -William's service, and came often in his train to Bletsoe Manor--"by St. -Dunstan, Sir Knight, and beshrew me if I don't think you choose a cold -season to go swimming in the Ouse at flood time!" - -"You speak with your usual wisdom, O Dumpling mine," responded Ralph, -laughing; "but I've been a-fishing." - -Dumpling opened his wide mouth to it fullest extent. - -"A-fishing, good my lord?" - -"Ay, a-fishing; and I've caught a larger and a fatter pike than ever yet -gladdened your eyes and made that huge mouth of thine water, and with a -finer set of teeth than you have, after all the hard work you have given -yours. There has been bad and bloody work at St. Alban's, and fresh -foul deeds have been done by yon devil in human form of Bedford. You can -hear more anon, if your curiosity can drive your fat carcass as far down -the village as Goodman Hodge's cottage. I cannot tarry to tell thee -more. Say, Dickon, is your lord within?" - -It was now Dumpling's turn to have a joke. His face assumed a mock -expression of the utmost gravity, belied by the twinkle of his merry -little eyes. He stood on tiptoe, and spoke in a low voice close to -Ralph's ear. - -"My lord went forth an hour ago to fly a new falcon he has just bought. -He will return at noon to dine. I can smell even now the good and -savoury odours that arise from the spit. But I'll warrant me that the -meat is not yet done to a turn, and that you have yet time. Hist!" - -Whereupon he laid his hand on the young knight's arm, and with finger on -his lips drew him from under the gate-house arch, and pointed to the -farther corner of the court-yard. - -Under the windows of the Lord of Bletsoe's apartments a sort of garden -had been railed off from the rest of the court-yard, so as to be -somewhat private. Out in this garden, in the bright January sunshine, -stood a tall and graceful girl engaged in nailing up some sort of -creeper round the windows. Her long arms--bare to their full length, -for the long loose sleeves of the period had slipped up to her -shoulders--were stretched above her head in order that she might reach -her work. Her small, delicate head, which was uncovered, was thrown -back as she looked up at the wall, and from it thick masses of brown -hair waved down her shoulders. She had evidently been tempted out by -the sunshine to do a little winter gardening, and wore neither fillet -nor mantle, while the rather tight robe of the period, clinging to her -figure, set off admirably her tall stately form, just budding into the -full maturity of young womanhood. - -There came a clanking of armed heels and the rattle of a scabbard over -the stones of the court-yard, and the young lady turned sharply round. -A smile of recognition and a deep flush passed together across her fair -face. The next moment she glanced back at the half-open door of a -turret staircase close at hand, evidently communicating with the private -apartments above, and made a movement as if to flee. - -But Ralph was too quick for her. In an instant he had vaulted the low -fence, and gained her side, so that common courtesy, if no stronger -motive, obliged her to remain. Then he caught her by both hands and -made as if he would kiss her; but she shook her head. - -"Aliva, my heart's darling!" he exclaimed; "I prithee tell me what is -wrong this morning? You seem not glad to see me. Have I frightened you -in coming on you so suddenly?" he added, half jesting. - -The maiden's lips curled bewitchingly. - -"A daughter of the De Pateshulles has yet to learn what fear is," she -replied; "and I warrant you could not teach it me, Ralph, either in -person or in practice," she added. And then the smile died away, and -the grave expression stole over her face immediately. - -"But, my ladye fair, I would fain have you overjoyed to see me this -morning, for I bring news which will perhaps lead your father to look -more favourably on my suit," continued Ralph. "But perchance that is -news you would therefore be ill-pleased to hear," he added. - -Aliva tossed her head with a laugh in her eyes. - -"Try me, Sir Knight," she said--"say on your news," and her face lit up -again with pleasure. - -"One point in my fate still remains unchanged," Ralph went on. "A -soldier of fortune I am, and such I must continue; there is no fresh -news on that score. If you will wed me, dear heart, you will still have -to wed one who must depend on his own right arm. But now I see a chance -before me of exerting that right arm." - -For the moment, however, the member to which he alluded had found its -way round Aliva's waist, and did not appear to exert itself any further -for the time being. - -"Now that I have received my knightly rank," Ralph continued, "I have a -hope, also, of active service. The king, as I have lately heard, -meditates an expedition across the Border to punish the Scots, and a -great council of the nation is to be summoned to meet at Northampton in -the summer. When once the business is arranged, and the royal forces -set forth for the north, methinks I am sure of a good post. My uncle's -weight and interest have not been utterly lost, though he has been -driven from the home of our ancestors. When he begs for a command for a -De Beauchamp, the king surely cannot say him nay. And then, when the -war is over, when we have taught the Scots a lesson, in a few months I -shall come again, my Aliva, and come no longer penniless and unknown, -but with rank, position, the promise of further employment, and perhaps, -if fortune favours me--for I will do all man can dare to do--with some -deed of glory, some honour not unworthy to lay at your feet as a -wedding-gift. Oh say, Aliva, your father will hearken then?" - -Aliva had not spoken, had not interrupted him. She stood, her eyes cast -on the ground, a fierce struggle going on within her. As a daughter, -she felt that she ought not to have allowed this stolen interview -against her father's wishes. She ought to have fled by the -turret-stair, with merely a courteous salutation for her visitor. Yet -there he stood, this penniless young knight, by her side, his arm round -her waist, and his large gray eyes gazing with devotion and love into -her face. Moreover, he was telling her of a soldier's duties; he spoke -of war and danger. What could she do? She was but a woman, warm-hearted -and also of impulsive nature. The court-yard was clear, for Dicky -Dumpling had hobbled off to the stables with the gray mare. For all -answer she laid her head upon his shoulder and her right hand sought his -left--the one, be it remembered, that was disengaged. - -It was but for a moment, however, and then it was not only maidenly -instinct which made her draw herself free from his embrace. - -"Ugh!" she exclaimed; "where in the name of all that's marvellous have -you been this morning, Ralph? You are dripping wet, or at least -anything but dry!" - -"Have no fear, lady; I have had no worse encounter than one with our old -river this morning, and I crave your forgiveness for thus presenting -myself, for time brooked no delay. But I bear evil tidings for the ears -of a devout daughter of Holy Church," he continued; and he told her the -story of De Breaute's impious raid upon St. Alban's Abbey. - -The maiden listened horror-stricken, and when he had ended, pressed her -fingers to her eyes, as if to shut out the horrible scene he had -conjured up. - -"O Mother of God!" she exclaimed, in a low shuddering voice, as if to -herself. "And it is with one of this family of spoilers of churches and -murderers of the servants of holy men that my father would have me wed!" - -Ralph drew back, astonished at her words. - -"Aliva! what say you? You are dreaming! Wed with a De Breaute? Never -while I draw breath; by the holy Cross I swear it. Your father! he -speaks in sorry jest or in madness. And besides, the scoundrel Fulke -has a wife already--that ill-fated Lady Margaret de Ripariis, affianced -at one time to my uncle, Sir William, and forced against her will into a -marriage with Fulke by our late king. Aliva, speak, I conjure you. -What mean you by such words?" - -"Alas!" replied the maiden, hesitatingly and mournfully, and answering -only the latter part of her lover's question, "my father knows full well -the sad history of the Lady Margaret, and ofttimes hath he said, more in -jest than in earnest I trust, that after all the lady has become the -_chatelaine_ of Bedford Castle, and that since your noble uncle has been -turned out, she did well to marry with the man who has got inside--" - -"Peace, my sweetest Aliva," interrupted Ralph impetuously. "Speak not -of that unfortunate Lady Margaret. But tell me, I beseech thee, what -your father means by joining your name with one of the house of De -Breaute." - -The Lady Aliva drew herself together, as with an effort. - -"Nay, I would not have spoken--the name escaped me when you spake of the -outrage on the church--forget--" - -She stopped short, her voice breaking. The excitement of this -unexpected meeting with the man she loved, the news that he was about to -leave her for war and danger, the sweet moment in which she had allowed -him to clasp her in his arms, the fearful tale of slaughter he had -unfolded, which brought back suddenly to her mind, with the mention of -the name of De Breaute, the fate that was proposed for her, and which -she had well-nigh forgotten in her happiness of finding herself by -Ralph's side once more,--all these emotions proved too much for her. -Bursting into a flood of tears, she made for the turret door, and, in -spite of the young knight's effort to detain her, disappeared up the -stairs. - -Ralph, stunned and mystified, was staring at the door which had closed -behind her, when he heard a wheezing at his elbow. - -"Sir Knight, the pasty is done brown and the cook is ready to serve up, -and from the gate-house window I see my lord herding his falcons, and -preparing to return," said Dicky Dumpling's voice. - -It aroused Ralph as from a dream. Pressing a piece of money into the -porter's fat palm, he hastened to fetch his mare from the stable, and -mounting her, rode away with a heavy heart through the gate of Bletsoe -Castle. - -Dicky Dumpling looked after him and shook his head. - -"He comes with a jest, and he goes without a word! Things look ill, I -trow. 'Laugh and grow fat' is my motto, laugh and grow fat! Plague on -that lazy scullion! why lingers he so long with my dinner?" - - - - - *CHAPTER III.* - - _*HOW ALIVA RECEIVED A SECOND SUITOR.*_ - - -So fair and noble a maiden as the Lady Aliva de Pateshulle deserved a -better father than she possessed. The Lord of Bletsoe was rather too -inclined to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, to play a double -part, waiting to see where his own interests would best be served. But -we must bear in mind the condition of affairs in the time in which he -lived. The old and formerly powerful county family of the De Beauchamps -were fallen from their high estate; for Sir William, their head, had -been ousted from his castle, and in those days a baron without castle -and stronghold occupied but an inferior position. On the other hand, the -house of De Breaute had come decidedly to the front; for, as the -chroniclers of the time tell us, Fulke held not only the castle of -Bedford, but also the castles and the shrievalties of Oxford, -Northampton, Buckingham, and Cambridge. All these he had received as -the reward for his services against the barons on behalf of King John, -so there could be no doubt but that the De Breaute family was wealthy, -and also, apparently, firmly rooted at Bedford. - -It must not be supposed, however, that De Pateshulle could excuse -Fulke's outrages, or that he would have gone so far as to give his -daughter to one who bore so evil a name, even had he not been already -married. The intended son-in-law was another member of the De Breaute -family. - -As the Lady Margaret de Ripariis, the unhappy wife of Fulke, had born -her husband no children, the heir to his wealth was his younger brother -William. Now this William de Breaute was not yet as widely known, nor as -hated, as his brother, nor was it even asserted that he had taken part -in any of the foul deeds committed by the latter. Soldier of fortune -like his brother, he had but lately arrived from France, and taken up -his residence in Bedfordshire, where perhaps he was not altogether -unpopular, for he had even gone so far as to hint that, should Sir Fulke -come to a violent end in one of his forays, and he, William, become the -lord of Bedford Castle, the neighbourhood should have no reason to mourn -the change. With regard to the De Beauchamps, however, he intimated -pretty strongly that he considered his family to have sufficient title -to the castle from the grant of King John, and no one, naturally, was -prepared to say that the young King Henry was in a position to upset his -father's arrangements. - -Accordingly, when William de Breaute approached De Pateshulle with a -proposal that he should give him his daughter Aliva in marriage, it was -not altogether unnatural that that gentleman, being of poor estate -though of good family, and not even possessing a fortified dwelling--in -itself a mark of position in those days--should be willing to listen to -a suit which would place his descendants at Bedford Castle, and in the -position held in former days by the De Beauchamps. - -It was on the afternoon of the same day on which Ralph de Beauchamp had -met Aliva de Pateshulle in the garden that William de Breaute presented -himself in person at the mansion of Bletsoe. Had he been aware of the -stolen interview which had taken place a few hours before by the turret -door, he would hardly have selected this day for pressing his suit with -Aliva herself. But ignorance is bliss. De Breaute had not been -sufficiently long in the neighbourhood to learn that there had been love -passages between Ralph and Aliva, so he rode over to Bletsoe in a -self-satisfied frame of mind, armed as he was with De Pateshulle's -permission, which, in those days when ladies were often given in -marriage against their will, was, he flattered himself, of considerable -force. But he little knew with what a resolute maiden he had to deal. -Moreover, he was still ignorant of the outrages at St. Alban's the -previous evening, which were likely to bring fresh discredit on his -name. He only knew that Fulke had gone off on some raid, and had not -yet returned when he left Bedford. - -William de Breaute was several years younger than his brother--not much -senior, in fact, to Ralph de Beauchamp himself. French by title and -education, he had imported something of Continental grace and manners -into the Anglo-Norman society of the time in Bedfordshire. He was more -careful of his dress and person than the other young men of the -neighbourhood. Instead of the short curling beard and half-long hair -which was the fashion in England, he wore only a small, -carefully-trimmed moustache, and his dark hair was cut short all over -his head. He had first met the Lady Aliva at a hunting-party held in the -woods on the other side of the river, by Sir William Wake of Stevington -Castle, when the maiden, no mean horsewoman nor inferior shot with the -cross-bow, had greatly distinguished herself by her prowess in venery. -Since then, upon every occasion, William de Breaute had attempted to -ingratiate himself with the daughter of De Pateshulle, by his -foreign-cultured manners, and by showing, not altogether unsuccessfully -perhaps, that he was more of a lady's man than the young knights and -squires of the county who flocked around her. But up till now he had -not ventured to make serious love to her. Indeed, with his frothy, -shallow nature, an impetuous, earnest wooing such as Ralph's would not -have been easy. - -There was a twofold motive in the suit De Breaute now sought to press. -With his admiration for the stately beauty mingled a desire to establish -himself firmly in his position by an alliance with an old family, such -as that of a De Pateshulle. He was by no means totally insincere in -disclaiming any part in Sir Fulke's malpractices, and was keenly alive -to the precarious footing upon which he stood in Bedfordshire, both on -account of the sympathy universally felt for the ejected De Beauchamps, -and also by reason of his brother's lawless freebooting career. - -In anything but an enviable state of mind Aliva sat at the little window -of her chamber, her hands clasped convulsively round her knees, and -watched the watery rays of the sunshine of a winter's afternoon piercing -the fog, which slowly mounted from the river over the low-lying country -around. The scene seemed to her typical of her unhappy position. - -"The sunshine of my life is past and gone," she exclaimed to herself, -with the acute bitterness of sorrowing youth. "My sun has vanished, and -the mists creep on apace! They threaten to enshroud me. I know not -which way to turn!" she added, with the reaction of despair common to -all proud, high-spirited natures. "O my father, my father! the burden -you have laid upon me is too heavy to bear! Since you first told of -your wishes--nay, your commands--I have been torn hither and thither. -Had I a mother, had that dear parent not been taken so early from me, -she would have known, have felt, that this is no idle fancy, no passing -friendship for Ralph! O be merciful! do not force me to take another!" - -Those were the days when a dutiful and reverential spirit of obedience -to parents, of which we find now, unhappily, not so much trace, was -looked upon as a sacred duty. Daughters were given in marriage by their -parents with but little regard for their own wishes, and rich -heiresses--though indeed poor Aliva was not one of these latter--were -even disposed of by royal authority for political purposes. In the -hapless Margaret de Ripariis, the wife of Fulke, Aliva had herself seen -an instance of such a forced marriage. No wonder that she was in -despair, and had torn herself away from Ralph in confusion and distress, -when her miserable position was suddenly recalled to her. - -Even as she thus moaned to herself, the sun sank behind a bank of mist, -and a raw, gray gloom fell over the landscape, while home-coming rooks -settled in the tall elms round the house, cawing mournfully. - -"My father said he might come this very day," Aliva thought to herself. -"But surely the vesper-bell will soon be ringing from the church, and -then, thanks to our blessed St. Margaret, I shall be safe for yet -another day!" - -But even as she spoke she heard the sound of a horseman riding in under -the gateway, and of Dicky Dumpling's voice bawling to a serving-man; for -after his visit to the lay-brother's cottage, and the news he had there -heard, the fat porter felt in no mood to hold the bridle of a De -Breaute. - -But Aliva did not peep from her window as she had done when Ralph rode -off, for she guessed who had come, and her heart sank within her. - -Quickly there came a knock at the door, and the old serving-woman -entered. - -"My lady, my lord thy father desires you attend him in the great hall." - -"Tell him I come," answered Aliva, and she rose. - -A daughter's obedience she owed, and she would indeed obey an order to -confront this unwelcome suitor. But even as she smoothed her flowing -hair, and, with the natural vanity of a girl about to meet an admirer, -arranged it beneath the fillet, and settled the sweeping lines of her -tight-fitting robe, the exigency of the crisis raised the maiden's -spirit. For she was of Anglo-Norman blood. Her sires had fought at -Hastings, and from each line of ancestors she inherited totally distinct -qualities of bravery, dogged resolution, intrepid pride, and tenacity of -purpose, which, blended together, have produced the finest race the -world has ever seen. - -As she entered the hall door opening into the dais or upper end, her -father and William de Breaute, standing together in the oriel, thought -they had never seen her look so "divinely tall, and most divinely fair." - -With one glance at the latter she swept straight up to her parent, and -spoke slowly and clearly, though it needed all her strong self-will to -suppress her agitation. - -"Father," she said, "I saw Sir Ralph de Beauchamp here this morning." - -A complete silence followed as she ceased and stepped quietly to the -deep oriel window, passing her father on the other side to that on which -De Breaute stood. There was silence as she gazed fixedly out into the -distant winter landscape, over which the dusk was already gathering, her -teeth set, her lips firmly closed, and her clasped hands so tightly -clinched that the nails cut into her flesh. She moved not a muscle, but -stood rigid as a statue. - -De Pateshulle shifted uneasily on his feet, and sought his guest's face -with restless eyes and troubled expression, giving an apologetic cough. - -The large log burning in the open fireplace half-way down the hall fell -with a sudden crash from the fire-dogs, as one charred end gave way. - -De Breaute started. He had been cowed for a moment by the flashing -glance Aliva had given him as she entered the hall. He had been stabbed -by a maddening pang of jealousy at the few words she had spoken. But in -the silence which followed he regained courage, and plunged vehemently -into the set speech he had prepared,-- - -"Most beauteous Lady Aliva, fairest daisy of an English meadow, witching -Diana of the woods, behold in me a poor suppliant from _outre mer_, -falling at your fair feet, wounded to death by the glance of your bright -een, the victim of Venus _venerie_! I pray thee, proud damoiselle, to -deign to look upon me with favour, and to fan with words of comfort the -fire ardent your beauty hath enkindled!" - -He paused for lack of breath, and then launched out again into -Continental flowers of compliment and gallantry. - -As he spoke he advanced gradually towards Aliva, bowing, his hand upon -his heart. - -The two were only about six paces apart. Slowly and deliberately Aliva -took those six paces, with an expression of indignation and scorn. Her -right fist was tightly clinched. She raised her arm, and (we must -remember this was the thirteenth and not the nineteenth century) she -struck the dark little Frenchman full in the face. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV.* - - _*IN BEDFORD CASTLE.*_ - - -A few weeks after William de Breaute, his face smarting and disfigured -by a blow from a woman's hand, had ridden off from Bletsoe, his elder -brother Fulke--"that disgrace to knighthood," as Ralph de Beauchamp had -termed him--sat one morning in his wife's apartment in his castle of -Bedford. - -The lady's bower, as the private room of the _chatelaine_ was called, -was at Bedford pleasantly situated in the upper part of the great keep -reared by Pain de Beauchamp. The interior arrangement of a Norman -castle was usually as follows:-- - -The ground-floor, to which there was no entrance from without, was -called the _dungeon_, and was used as a storehouse for the provisions -which were necessary to enable the castle to stand a siege. Here, also, -was the well, another necessity, and prisoners were also sometimes -confined in the ground-floor, hence the application of the name to -prisons in general. The greater part of the first floor was occupied by -the large apartment called the hall. This was approached by steps -outside the building, and was entered through a portal which was often -highly ornamented. The great hall was common ground to all who had any -right to enter the keep, but above it were the private rooms for the -lord and his family, which were usually approached by a staircase built -at one corner of the keep. The windows were very small: in the lower -portion of the building were long narrow tunnels pierced through the -thickness of the wall; but in the upper stories, where the walls were -safe from attack by battering-rams or such engines, they were often -splayed within at a wide angle. In the recess thus formed seats could -be placed commanding a view through the narrow window, covered only by a -wooden shutter, which could be hooked back when the weather permitted. - -In such a nook, in her own private room, sat Margaret de Ripariis, the -lady of Bedford Castle. The view from out of the open window was a -pleasant one. Immediately at her feet was the strong wall surrounding -the keep itself; its exact position can even now be determined, as we -stand on the flat bowling-green which occupies the summit of the mound -where the keep once stood. Beyond, the broad stream of the Ouse -protected the castle along the whole of the southern front. Across the -river, to the right, the Micklegate, or southern portion of the town, -clustered round the two churches of St. Mary and St. Peter, Dunstable; -and the view from the upper stories of the keep embraced the abbey of -Elstow, with its great Norman church, some two miles further to the -south, and was only bounded by the blue line of the Ampthill hills. - -But charming as was the prospect, the Lady Margaret was not regarding it -with any expression of satisfaction. In fact, her thoughts were quite -otherwise occupied. A controversy was going on at that moment between -herself and her lord and master, and she merely gazed out of the window -in order to turn away her eyes from him, for they were full of tears. An -unfortunate contrast to the scene within were the calm river and the -bright spring sunshine without. - -The Lady Margaret had barely reached middle age, but sorrow and care had -worn weary lines on a face which, some twenty years before, must have -been one of exceeding beauty. When a young girl, she had betrothed -herself to William de Beauchamp, Ralph's uncle; but by an overstraining -of that feudal law which allowed the king, or any other chief, the power -to give his ward in marriage, she had been forced by King John into a -distasteful match with Fulke de Breaute. It would have been possible, -but difficult, for a strong-willed woman to resist the will and the -command of a feudal superior. But in the case of an heiress, such as -was Margaret de Ripariis, great pressure was exercised, and many women -in those days had to yield against their will and inclination. Fulke de -Breaute himself was at that time a young man in the height of favour -with King John, who was then engaged in his desperate struggle with his -barons, and who eventually rewarded his supporter with the governorship -of Bedford, and the hand of the rich heiress. - -But on the morning in question in this chapter the redoubtable Fulke was -in a somewhat less defiant, and even in a penitent mood. Not, however, -that he had as yet made any act of reparation for the terrible deed of -pillage and murder committed on St. Vincent's Eve at St. Alban's, and -which the ferocious knight had finally crowned by carrying off a crowd -of men, women, and children to his stronghold at Bedford. - -In those days freebooting barons pounced upon prisoners for the sake of -ransom, much as the Greek brigands do now, and we may be sure that the -burgesses of St. Alban's had to pay up pretty heavily ere their -fellow-townsfolk were restored to them. The chronicler, however, does -not relate the fate of these unfortunate creatures thus hurried off to -Bedford, but what he does tell us is, that the conscience of Fulke, dead -enough probably when that miscreant was awake, had been pricking him as -he slept; and "conscience doth make cowards of us all." - -De Breaute was suffering mentally from an uneasy night and a very ugly -dream. He had seen, the chronicler relates--though how he came by such -an intimate knowledge of the knight's dream does not transpire--he had -seen a huge stone fall from the summit of the great central tower of St. -Alban's Abbey--that tower built of the bricks of the Roman Verulam which -we still see rising high above the city--and had felt it fall upon him -and crush him to powder. - -One cannot but think that Sir Fulke was paying the penalty for a too -hearty indulgence in some indigestible dish at the supper-table the -evening before. Be that how it may, however, he awoke with a great cry, -and told the dream to Lady Margaret. The latter, as much alarmed as her -husband, drew from him an account of his late raid, of which the -presence of the captives had given her an inkling, and then urged him to -go off forthwith to St. Alban's, and make reparation at the shrine of -the saint. - -With the morning light, however, Sir Fulke, himself again, demurred. He -began to regret that he had told his wife all. The brief season of -superstitious fear had passed away, and his usual condition of ferocity -and self-will supervening, he was endeavouring, and not unsuccessfully, -to master the better feeling that had arisen within him. - -The Lady Margaret had, under the seemingly fortuitous circumstances of -her husband's brief penitence, ventured to bring forward a matter she -had at heart. It was now the season of Lent. In the famous Benedictine -Nunnery of Elstow, close to Bedford, Martin de Pateshulle, Archdeacon of -Northampton, and the uncle of Aliva, was holding a series of special -devotional services for women, or what we should now call a retreat, -which was attended by many of the ladies of the county. Margaret, sick -at heart with her life at Bedford Castle, and weary of the blasphemies -and the sacrilege of her husband, was most anxious to escape, if only -for a time, into the seclusion of religious life. - -The old chaplain of the castle, the pious and venerable priest, who had -taught Ralph de Beauchamp his _hic_, _haec_, _hoc_, had long since been -gathered to his rest. Indeed, had he still been alive, he could -scarcely have continued in his office under the new _regime_. So -chaplain at this time there was none in Bedford Castle. He must, -indeed, have been a strange priest who would have been acceptable to -Fulke and his crew. - -St. Paul's, the principal church in the town, had been despoiled by the -sacrilegious baron, who had carried off the stones of which it was built -to repair his stronghold, and it is not clear if the Augustinian canons -who continued to serve it, though they had removed many years before to -the priory erected for them at Newenham by Roisia de Beauchamp, would -have found just then an altar to serve. Only on certain occasions would -her brutal husband permit Margaret to attend to her religious duties at -the chapel of St. Thomas-at-bridge, which stood at the foot of the -bridge outside the castle gate. This morning, however, taking advantage -of the fit of penitence which had seized him in the night, she was -craving permission to go to the retreat at Elstow. - -"I like not your running after these priests and their masses," -remonstrated Sir Fulke. "We have gone many years with chapel unserved -here. You know I have made of it a lumber-room; and we are none the -worse for it, and," he added, with a grim chuckle, "perchance none the -better." - -"But, and did you allow me, I would go pray for you, while you yourself -get you to the shrine of St. Alban, and make reparation to the holy -servants of St. Benedict there, as you promised me last night, on your -honour, you would do," pleaded the wife. - -Sir Fulke winced at this allusion to his weakness and terror in the -hours of darkness. - -"Besides, you have often exhorted me to stand well for your sake with -the knights and noble families round, and you know full well how many -ladies are like to be at Elstow." - -Sir Fulke paused awhile. It was perfectly true, as his wife had said, -that he wanted to improve his social position in the neighbourhood, and -though the superstitious fears arising from his fearful dream had now -vanished, he was well aware that his last raid, with its accompanying -murders, was more than any decent-minded men could put up with, even in -those rough and cruel days. Therefore, as religious observances counted -for much in the way of expiation of crime, he came to the conclusion -that no harm would be done by a little vicarious repentance. - -"Go, then," he said roughly. "But take care that if aught is said to -you concerning this St. Alban's turmoil, you make out the best case you -can for me. Say that the bailiff was burned by my men ere I got to the -abbey gate, and that I knew naught of it till afterwards. You can add -that some of my men-at-arms have been hanged for it, or aught else that -occurs to you. Your woman-wit will tell you what to say." - -"And then," exclaimed Lady Margaret, overlooking, in her thankfulness, -the condition of lying imposed on the desired permission--"and then you -will go yourself to St. Alban's, and--" - -"Peace, woman!" interrupted the knight; "leave me to order my own -doings. I will command your palfrey to be ready. Take one of your -women with you, and I will order varlets to go attend you. I would not -that the wife of De Breaute should go to Elstow with any fewer train -than the other dames." - -So saying, Sir Fulke strode from the room, leaving his wife setting -about her preparations for departure with all alacrity. - -De Breaute, rough and cruel as he was, had a great idea of keeping such -state at Bedford as befitted a castle of such importance, and had no -notion of letting it go down from the position which it had occupied in -the time of the De Beauchamps. Indeed, from a military point of view, -he had considerably strengthened it by adding to its defences with the -material he had robbed from St. Paul's. Within, it was well garrisoned -and provisioned, and held by a force of nearly one hundred men-at-arms, -or trained soldiers, besides grooms, servants, and followers. Though -deprived of the services of a chaplain, the Lady Margaret was allowed to -have two or three waiting-women or attendants, who held more the -position of companions than mere servants. - -Accompanied by one of these, she found herself, an hour or two after her -interview with her husband, riding on her palfrey towards Elstow Abbey. - -Her companion was a young and pretty girl who, by her combined prudence -and archness, managed to hold her own among the rough crew who -garrisoned Bedford Castle, while her bright wit and merry laugh at times -shed a brief ray of brightness on the gloomy life of her unfortunate -mistress, whose loneliness was cheered by her faithful attachment. - -Beatrice Mertoun might, had she been inclined, have chosen a husband for -herself from her many admirers among De Breaute's chief retainers. But -her affections were already fixed upon an officer in the royal army, one -John de Standen, the king's miner, from the Forest of Dean. De Standen -occupied an important post as director of the mining operations so -necessary in a siege, though he did not hold the rank of a knight, and -therefore could hardly be said to represent a modern officer of -engineers. - -As the two ladies, followed by their grooms, proceeded on the way, the -Lady Margaret confided to Beatrice the story of her lord's dream, -congratulating herself on its result being so far favourable as to allow -her to pay this visit to the abbey. - -"Now, by my halidom," quoth the maiden, as she listened to the account -of the vision, her thoughts running rather on her lover than on this -pious pilgrimage, "methinks to hurl down a stone like that were rather -more like the work of Master John de Standen than of the holy Alban!" - -"Tush, child! jest not of the blessed saints!" reproved the elder woman. - -"I meant no harm, lady," retorted the incorrigible Beatrice. "I was -ever taught that the holy Alban was a good soldier and true, like De -Standen, but I never heard that he was at his best in the mining works -of a siege!" - -But her lady hardly caught her last remark. Her eye perceived the tall -central tower of Elstow rising among the trees, and the sight suggested -alarming thoughts to her harassed mind. - -"Ah me!" she said, half to herself. "What if my lord in his madness -should attack the holy abbey of Elstow and the reverend women there!" - -"And lack-a-day, my lady," Beatrice went on, "men do say that the king -will certes one day pull down Bedford Castle over Sir Fulke's head; and -who could raze those stout walls without the aid of bold John and his -men?" - -But the elder lady continued to pursue her own train of thought -concerning the abbey and the approaching retreat, so that the -conversation ran on between the two in the following somewhat disjointed -fashion, the venerable Archdeacon Martin de Pateshulle and the bold John -de Standen being alternately the theme. - -"He will draw us all up higher when we come within those walls." - -"Nay, lady; methinks he will draw them down about our ears and ourselves -with them." - -"How meanest thou? I speak of the holy church and the reverend father." - -"In good sooth, it looks strong and stout, the abbey church; and yet, -were it a castle, methinks John could find his way beneath its walls." - -"And how, Beatrice? To me it seems to figure the firmness of Holy -Church, founded on the rock of the blessed apostle, the see of our lord -his Holiness the Pope." - -"Yet neither rock nor sea can withstand the skilful miner's advances; -for John has ofttimes explained to me how he has dug his mines beneath -the water of the deepest moat." - -And so, running on at cross purposes, they rode through the abbey -gateway, and entered the outer or guests' yard. - - - - - *CHAPTER V.* - - _*IN ELSTOW ABBEY.*_ - - -Elstow is probably connected in the minds of most people with the name -of John Bunyan only. But long before the time of the Puritan tinker -Elstow had a history and a renown of its own. Here Judith, niece of the -Conqueror and wife of Waltheof, Earl of Northampton and Huntingdon, the -Saxon hero and martyr, had founded an abbey of Benedictine nuns, -endowing it with many broad acres. The stately abbey church still -remains in part, and is used as the parish church, though much shorn of -its beauty; for the central tower, chancel, and Ladychapel have all -disappeared, and the nave only is left. The Lady de Breaute and her -attendant dismounted from their palfreys in the outer yard, beyond which -men were not allowed to penetrate, and whence the grooms returned to -Bedford with the horses. The servants of the convent approached, headed -by the ancient steward. He recognized the wife of the Robber Baron, but -received her with a low obeisance; for he knew her to be a dutiful -servant of the Church, and one who protested, as far as in her lay, -against her husband's outrages on church and monastery. Informing her -that the office had already commenced in the church, and that the -archdeacon would address the congregation when vespers were over, he led -them into the crowded nave. - -It was now late in the afternoon, and already dusk within the depths of -the severe Norman church. The narrow windows admitted but little light, -and there were no lamps burning in the bare, unfurnished nave, which on -an occasion like the present was thrown open to the public, who could -listen to the offices chanted by the nuns within the massive screen, -beyond which the _externs_ were not allowed to penetrate. On the west -side of the screen a small temporary platform or pulpit had been -erected. - -From within the choir, behind the screen, came the solemn sound of the -sisters' voices, chanting vespers to Gregorian tones, unaccompanied by -any instrumental music, and rolling thrillingly through the echoing -church. As she knelt in the dim light Margaret felt almost happy. A -calm, a peace, such as she had not known for months, stole over her -somewhat weak and susceptible nature as she listened to the singing in -the gloomy twilight of the grand church, and it fanned the ray of hope -which her husband's professed penitence had kindled in her weary heart. -Nor was Beatrice Mertoun, whose opportunities of worship since she had -been at Bedford had been confined to attendance at the tiny chapel at -St. Thomas-at-bridge, unimpressed. - -The office over, the Archdeacon of Northampton, Martin de Pateshulle, -took his stand on the little platform by the screen and began his -sermon. It was addressed, not to the nuns in the choir behind, but to -the lay-folk gathered in the nave before him. His subject--a favourite -one with ecclesiastics of all ages--was the persecution of the Church; -his text, so to speak, was the evil-doings of Fulke de Breaute. Of -course he was unaware of the presence of the latter's unhappy wife, or -he would not have touched so directly on the personal character of the -Robber Baron, nor enlarged so particularly on the destruction of St. -Paul's Church and the raid upon the Abbey of St. Alban. Finally, he -rose to a passion of indignation and stern vengeance in denouncing the -perpetrator of these outrages, and concluded in a different -key--supplicating divine aid for Zion in her bondage, and describing the -Church under forms of scriptural imagery much employed by the preachers -of the time. - -When the discourse was ended the congregation of _externs_ passed out of -the nave and into the outer court to the abbey gateway. But the Lady -Margaret made her way to the lodgings of the abbess at the south-west -corner of the church. - -The foundation of Judith had risen in importance, and was now one of the -principal religious houses in the neighbourhood. The abbess was of -noble birth, and the convent was largely composed of ladies belonging to -the county families, if we may believe the chronicle of names which has -come down to us. In later days, just prior to the dissolution, these -religious ladies waxed somewhat secular in their mode of life, and drew -down upon them the stern reproof of their bishop; but in the thirteenth -century Elstow Abbey retained most of its proper character and strict -discipline. In so important a house, owning such wide estates, the -abbess had many secular rights, duties, and privileges to occupy her -without, so a prioress was responsible for the internal arrangement and -order. To the abbess it fell, as the dignified head of the house, to -receive visitors and to exercise hospitality. To the abbess Lady -Margaret accordingly presented herself, that she might gain entrance to -the convent, and share, during the archdeacon's special services, in the -life of the nuns, as far as might be permitted to an outsider. A -lay-sister, the portress of the abbess's lodgings, conducted Lady -Margaret to the parlour or room open to guests. The dignified lady who -had for some years so discreetly ruled at Elstow Abbey had just returned -from the evening office, and received her visitor while still clad in -her choir habit. - - "Black was her garb, her rigid rule - Reformed on Benedictine school; - Her cheek was pale, her form was spare; - Vigils and penitence austere - Had early quenched the light of youth." - - -Above the long black robe and the scapulary, which formed the ordinary -monastic dress of Benedictine nuns, she wore a cowl or hood similar to -that used by the monks of the order and worn by the nuns in church. In -her right hand she carried her pastoral staff, and the third finger of -her left hand was adorned by a massive gold ring--the symbol of her -profession as the spouse of Christ. - -The abbess advanced to meet Lady Margaret with much cordiality, for the -latter's sad history was well known to her; and all persons of whatever -ecclesiastical degree who were acquainted with it felt sympathy and pity -for her who was the wife, against her will, of the Church's deadly -enemy. - -"Lady of Bedford Castle," she said, "you are welcome to our abbey of -Helenstowe, and to the protection of Our Lady and the Most Holy -Trinity,"--for it was by this latter dedication that the house was then -known. - -As she spoke the nun made a gesture of benediction, and the Lady -Margaret a low reverence of respect. - -"Reverend mother," she replied, "to enter your sanctified dwelling and -to pray in your holy church is indeed a privilege which lessens for me -the remembrance of the many burdens which I have already borne and the -dread expectation of the many sorrows which are still before me." - -"Ah, my daughter," exclaimed the abbess, "you have already been in the -church and joined in the holy office? Alas that it has been so, and -that on your ears have fallen the words of our venerable Father Martin! -He knew not of your presence, or he would have chosen another theme." - -The words of the preacher had reached the nuns in the choir on the -farther side of the screen, and they had heard that denunciation of -Fulke de Breaute by Martin de Pateshulle which had thrilled all who had -listened to it. - -"It is indeed true, venerable abbess," replied the lady; "but no one -knows better than your unworthy servant that the deeds of my lord have -indeed deserved the just vengeance of Heaven. But I have come to -entreat the prayers of yourself and of your holy sisters that the first -signs of a repentance tardily begun may bear fruit." - -The unhappy lady proceeded to recount to the abbess Fulke's dream of the -preceding night, and the nun gave her comfort and encouragement. - -"Reverend mother," said Margaret, "your peaceful words fall like balm on -a weary heart. Suffer me, I pray, to remain awhile under this holy -roof, that I may share in the ministration of Father Martin, and also -for a time become, as it were, a dweller in this holy house." - -"My daughter," replied the abbess, "right gladly do I accede to your -request. Holy Church has ever been a consoler to those who labour and -are heavy laden, and I doubt not but much peace shall come to you from -the venerable father's exhortations. And indeed, that you may enjoy more -frequent opportunities of converse with him in the intervals between the -offices, I will arrange for you to be my guest in my lodgings, instead -of sharing that portion of the abbey buildings which has been set aside -for the _extern_ women; for you know full well that Father Martin lodges -in the priest's chamber in these lodgings, as no priest may enter -further into the abbey except when engaged in the sacred office." - -Margaret's eyes filled with tears at the abbess's kind words. - -"Mother," she said, "I am all too unworthy of your goodness and -hospitality. Who am I, alas! that you should treat me thus?" - -"My daughter, you are sorrowful; that is enough. To all who are in -misery does Holy Church hold out her arms. Enter in and find peace," -she added, with a sign of benediction. - -The Lady Margaret shared the abbess's supper later in the evening. The -archdeacon himself and the abbess's chaplain--that is to say, one of the -sisters specially selected as her companion or secretary, and who bore -that title of office--were the only other guests. - -After the meal the Lady Margaret had an opportunity of unburdening her -mind to Martin de Pateshulle, and of relating her story. The good -priest was able to add further cheering suggestions to those already -made by the abbess. Comforted and thankful, at the conclusion of the -conversation the lady rose, and said,-- - -"Venerable father and reverend mother, thanks to your kind words I feel -less heart-sick than I have been for many a long day. I pray you now to -permit me to retire into the church, and there pray and meditate in -thankfulness ere begins the hour of compline." - -The abbess acceded, volunteering herself to accompany her. The two -women passed out into the dark and silent cloisters, which ran along the -south side of the nave of the church. Up and down the pavement, in -silent meditation, paced here and there in the gloom a - - Pensive nun, devout and pure, - Sober, steadfast, and demure, - All in a robe of darkest grain, - Flowing with majestic train, - And sable stole of cypress lawn." - - -The abbess led her companion along the northern side, or _walk_ as it -was called, and entered the church by the door into the south transept; -for no opening was allowed to exist in the close screen shutting off the -nave, which was occasionally open to the public. Into the chancel and -the transepts were permitted to enter none but the officiating clergy -and the sisters themselves, or women introduced by authority. - -Leaving the transept, they paused for a moment beneath the central -tower, and the abbess drew her monastic cowl over her head. Save for -the faint glow of a few lamps before the images of the saints, the -church was almost dark. At the extreme end of the chancel, before the -high altar, above which the blessed sacrament was deposited for -veneration in a closed tabernacle or shrine, burned one solitary lamp. - -The abbess had happened to stop close to the massive Norman pier which -supported the south-eastern angle of the great tower above them. In -front of this pier stood a more than life-size figure of St. Paul. But -the uplifted right hand was empty, and the sword it should have grasped -was carefully laid at its feet. - -"See, mother," cried Lady Margaret, "the sword has fallen from the hand -of the blessed apostle!" - -"Nay," replied the abbess, "I removed it with my own hand. On that evil -day when we heard that Sir Fulke de Breaute had destroyed the fair -church of St. Paul at Bedford, I vowed to the saints that his statue in -our church should not bear the sword again till vengeance had been taken -upon the destroyer." - -The unhappy wife covered her face with her hands with a low moan. - -"May it be the vengeance of a true repentance!" she ejaculated. - -The abbess laid her hand soothingly on her head. - -"Pardon me, my daughter," she said, "I should not have told you of the -vow." - -They passed on through the choir of the nuns, whose stalls occupied the -central crossing under the tower and a portion of the chancel, and -approached the high altar. At the foot of the steps a black-robed -figure knelt motionless in prayer. - -"See," whispered Lady Margaret, "one of the sisters is here already!" - -"Nay," replied the abbess; "she is not one of our sisters. She is a -young damsel of the neighbourhood who has come to our retreat and has -craved permission to wear for the time the habit of our novices. Poor -child, she is in sore distress! It is sad to see one so young and fair -thus cast down. Her talk is all of embracing the religious life. But a -vocation is not given to all damsels of lovely face and form. God has -for each woman her work and her duty. Some must perchance be wives and -mothers." - -The abbess paused. A faint smile flickered over her still handsome face -as her thoughts wandered for a brief moment, even in the precincts of -her abbey church, back to bygone days when she, too, had been a young -and high-born beauty. - -"The damsel," she continued, returning to the present, "is evidently in -sore perplexity. She has had much talk with her uncle, the revered -archdeacon. Perchance you know her. Her name is--" - -At this moment the kneeling girl, aroused by the sound of whispering -behind her, looked round, and perceiving the abbess, rose and approached -to make an obeisance. The sad face, marble-like in its pallor, which -appeared above the black robes of a novice, was that of Aliva de -Pateshulle. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI.* - - _*A PENITENT.*_ - - -Fulke de Breaute had been in earnest when he had allowed his wife to go -to the retreat at Elstow, on condition that she should try to set -matters straight between himself and the Church; and she had no sooner -gone than he set to work to think matters over, and to consider how best -he could reinstate himself in the ecclesiastical good graces which he -felt he had entirely forfeited, but, however, without expending any of -his worldly wealth in restitution or reparation. - -In those days there were two acknowledged ways of making peace with -offended ecclesiastical authority. One of these was the endowing, -building, or otherwise pecuniarily assisting religious foundations, -especially monasteries. - -But Fulke had no notion of spending his ill-gotten gain in such a -manner. - -There was another plan which he could adopt, and for which he had the -highest precedent. Just half a century before the date of our story, no -less a personage than the King of England himself, Henry II., had -submitted to the penance of corporal punishment in the chapter-house of -Canterbury, in expiation of words spoken in hasty anger which had -indirectly brought about the death of an archbishop. - -The idea seized Fulke of a similar form of reconciliation with Holy -Church. - -Accordingly, the day after his wife's departure he set off for the abbey -of St. Alban. His dress was of studied simplicity. He wore no armour, -but was clad in the ordinary long robe or gown which was worn in civil -life by all above the rank of labourers and manual workers, and a plain -cloak, fastened by a buckle or brooch on his right shoulder, fell over -his left side. - -The gowns or cloaks of the upper classes at that time were richly -ornamented with deep borders of embroidery, but Fulke had carefully -selected garments free from any such adornments. He had also removed -his gilt spurs of knighthood, and any who met him riding along the road -might well have taken him for a physician, notary, or some professional -man of the laity. The grooms who followed him also wore the plainest -attire; and the whole party were mounted upon mere hacks or palfreys, -very unlike the ponderous war-horses usually bestridden by men in -armour. - -By the afternoon Fulke had reached St. Alban's, and saw before him rise -the abbey towers. - - "Once resplendent dome, - Religious shrine...... - Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloistered tomb. - Years roll to years, to ages, ages yield, - Abbots to abbots in a line succeed; - Religion's charter their protecting shield, - Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed." - - -At the abbey gate he made known his name and rank to the astonished -porter, who failed to recognize in the unobtrusive figure requesting an -audience with the abbot the dreaded leader of the murderous attack upon -the sanctuary but a few weeks before. - -The abbot came hurrying out. He, too, was amazed that the sacrilegious -robber who had lately extorted from him the sum of one hundred pounds, -under threat of destroying the town, should again pay him a visit, and -in such a guise. - -Fulke was well acquainted with the etiquette necessary on such -occasions. He dismounted, went down on one knee before the dignified -ecclesiastic, and raised the hem of the latter's habit to his lips. - -"Thou seest in me, reverend father," he exclaimed, "a humble penitent -come to offer submission to his holy Mother, and to crave thy gracious -absolution for misdeeds committed!" - -The abbot was well aware how to deal with such cases. Penance he knew -he could enjoin; restitution he hoped he might suggest. - -"My son," he said, "Holy Church ever receives back into her fold those -who have erred and strayed. But follow me," he added; "I, the humble -servant of the Church, will call my brethren together to treat with me -of so weighty a matter as concerneth this visit of thine." - -Consigning Fulke to the care of the guest-master, the abbot went off to -give directions for the immediate summoning of a chapter, and the Robber -Baron was left swearing, in his usual brutal way, at his men for some -carelessness as to his orders. - -Wondering much for what cause a council was assembled at so unusual an -hour, the monks came streaming into the chapter-house. The long, -narrow, barrel-roofed apartment opening from the east walk of the -cloister on the south side of the transept was soon filled, and the -chapter duly opened according to the usual custom. Then the abbot -announced the purpose of the assemblage. - -"My brethren," said he, "we are here gathered together upon no slight -matter. The prayers of this poor house have been heard, and God and our -holy Alban have stretched forth their power and moved a heart of stone -deeply sunken in iniquity. But even now came Fulke de Breaute to our -gates, and came, not as before, an impious marauder, but as a penitent -and a suppliant craving absolution." - -A great sigh of amazement floated from the lips of the assembled -brethren up to the vaulted roof. - -"Brothers," added the abbot, "I beg you to grant me the benefit of your -wisest counsel in this matter." - -There was a silence. Advice is a thing usually to be had for the -asking. But the abbot of the great house of St. Alban was a personage -of much power and importance, and accustomed to rule with a high hand, -and no one seemed at this moment in any way inclined to grudge him his -supreme authority. - -"By the holy rood," exclaimed the father almoner, breaking the silence -at last, "this is no easy task. The French tyrant is even within our -gates, say you, reverend father? Would he had stayed in his own -ill-gotten castle! The lion is dangerous even in a cage, and Sir Fulke -respects not even holy places, we know. We have e'en heard of a wolf in -sheep's clothing." - -"But he cometh as a penitent, we are to understand," put in the -prior.--"Brothers, we see the finger of God in this matter. He hath -delivered this Philistine of Gath into our hands. Praise be to him!" -And they all crossed themselves devoutly. - -"And a penitent beseeching absolution," said another brother, the old -father cellarer. "He must show his repentance in works. A tree is -known by its fruits. Let him give back the hundred pounds he hath taken -from Holy Church." - -"And furthermore," added the father sacristan, "let us do even as the -Israelites were commanded when they left the land of Egypt. Let us -spoil him of silver and gold. He owes us not only our own, but some -reparation." - -The discussion grew. The assembly seemed of many minds. At length, in -the hope of arriving at some conclusion, the prior made a suggestion, an -unfortunate one for the abbey, as matters turned out. - -"By the mass, reverend father and brothers of the order of Holy -Benedict, we waste our time. Were it not well to have this penitent -before us, and to question him as to his purpose of showing his -repentance?" he said. - -In an evil moment the motion was carried, so to speak, and Fulke was -invited to enter the chapter-house. - -Unarmed and alone though he was, the monks began to tremble visibly as -their grim visitor strode into the assemblage, and a silence fell on all -the tongues so ready to wag but a few moments before. - -The Robber Baron made obeisance to the abbot, who began by delivering a -suitable homily, adorned with texts and quotations, on the special -subject of the readiness of the Church to receive sinners back to her -arms. It concluded with a broad hint that the abbey should be -compensated for the harm done to her; but it was a guarded discourse, -for the abbot could not tell how the dreaded tyrant might receive his -suggestion. - -[Illustration: The Robber Baron making his peace with the Church.] - -Fulke ignored it. - -In a reply full of proper respect and deep humiliation, he brought -forward the leading case of Henry II at Canterbury, and expressed his -willingness to submit to like discipline as full and complete -satisfaction for his crime. - -He chose his words carefully. The discipline was to be complete -satisfaction. There was no mistaking the drift of his meaning. - -Feeling that they had indeed been foiled, the chapter requested the -penitent to withdraw, and deliberated again. - -"By the light of Our Lady's brow," muttered the prior, under his breath, -"had I been the reverend father, I would so have spoken that the knight -could not fail to see that reparation was essential to repentance, as -well as penance." - -"Tush!" answered the old father cellarer; "we want not a martyr here in -the abbey, even as the poor bailie (God rest his soul!) hath been -martyred for the town." - -"Methinks it was evil counsel that was given when we decided to let the -penitent appear before us and choose his own punishment," said the -abbot, with a scowl at the prior. "But, my brethren, we must even be -content. As the humble ruler of this house, I think I may say that what -was not thought too heavy a censure for the King of England, in the holy -church of Christ at Canterbury, for the fearful crime of the murder of a -minister of Christ, will be sufficient punishment for the sacrilege of -this nameless Norman knight against our house. Is this the counsel of -the brethren?" - -Perforce every one agreed. - -Accordingly, next morning a solemn conclave again assembled in the -chapter-house. First came the brothers in their cowls, two and two; -then the prior, sub-prior, and other officers; and, lastly, the father -abbot himself in his robes of office. One of the officers, the master -of the novices, carried in his hand a scourge of cords. - -The chapter assembled, Fulke was introduced between two of the brothers. -He had passed a not uncomfortable night, for though, as a penitent still -under the displeasure of the Church, he could not be admitted to the -abbot's table in the latter's lodgings, he seemed in no wise to feel the -indignity, and had done ample justice to the guest-master's -entertainment. - -The abbot pronounced the sentence of the chapter, and Fulke, stripping -himself to the waist, knelt down, and leaning forward, presented his -bare back to the lash. - -Round him in a circle stood the abbot and the monks, and from one to the -other the brethren handed a discipline or scourge of small cords, and -each monk in turn stepped forward and struck De Breaute a blow upon his -naked shoulders. - -We need not inquire with what force the lashes were given. The -humiliation and the obedience were sufficient without taking into -consideration the actual pain inflicted. The Church triumphed in the -indignity of her enemy's position, and her ministers in avenging her -insulted honour. - -The penance over, Sir Fulke rose and kissed each monk present. His -punishment was complete, and he left the chapter-house absolved. It did -not, apparently, occur to him that any act of restitution should -accompany the outward form of penance, for, as the chronicler -pathetically remarks, "Christ's faithful poor stood at the door of the -chapter-house expecting that something would be restored to them; but in -vain." - -It may seem inconsistent in such a brutal and godless man as Fulke to -have submitted himself to this ignominious punishment. He acted, -however, from mixed motives. First, it was a little bit of religious -feeling, very small indeed, and call it superstition if you will, such -as caused him uneasiness the morning after his dream, which led him to -pay this visit to St. Alban's. Excommunication he feared, if indeed his -brutal nature could feel fear. But he dreaded it quite as much for its -temporal consequences as for those of the future; for it was apt to -affect unpleasantly a man's social and worldly position. Secondly, Sir -Fulke reflected that King Henry had certainly greatly strengthened -himself by that visit to the chapter-house at Canterbury. With such an -example, no one could aver that Sir Fulke's penance was unknightly or -derogatory to his position. Further, he was obliged to confess to -himself that he had much greater need of a coat of moral whitewash than -had Henry; and, lastly, there was what he considered the great advantage -of making his peace with the Church by an act of submission which did -not necessarily involve any restitution--a matter so alien to his greedy -disposition. - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *"*_*ARCADES AMBO.*_*"* - - -In the evening of the day on which the strange scene at St. Alban's -Abbey just described had taken place, Sir Fulke de Breaute sat with his -younger brother in the lord's private room at Bedford Castle. - -The Robber Baron was in a complacent mood, well satisfied with himself. - -"By St. Denis," he muttered, "methinks I have done a good morning's -work;" and he reached across to the huge flagon of hippocras that stood -on the table beside him, and poured himself out a deep draught. Then he -passed the wine across to his brother, who sat moodily staring into the -log-fire. - -"Fill up, brother; meseemeth thou wantest cheering." - -"'Tis heady, this heavy English wine," replied the other sulkily. "I -like it not overmuch. Give me the pure clarets of France and Italy," he -added, but replenishing his horn all the same. - -Sir Fulke looked askance at his brother. A great change had come over -William since that eventful evening when he had ridden back from Bletsoe -in a perfect frenzy of jealousy and passion, his curses keeping time to -the rattle of his horse's hoofs. First and foremost he had cursed Ralph -de Beauchamp--for now he knew that he had a rival--and in his rage he -drove the rowels again and again deep into the flanks of his unfortunate -steed. Next he cursed all the De Beauchamp family and all connected -with it. Then gnashing his teeth, he recollected how De Pateshulle had -urged him to prosecute the suit which had resulted in such dire -humiliation. But here he had paused in his curses. - -He could not couple the name of De Pateshulle's daughter with an oath. -Her face haunted him as he rode along: her face--first, cold and set as -marble, as when she stepped in majesty into the hall; and then, flushed -and flashing, with gleaming eyes and distended nostrils, as she turned -to him from the window, and took those six paces to confront him. Her -scornful beauty seemed to madden him, and a wild lurid passion seized -him. - -He had flung himself from his horse in the castle-yard, and strode into -the hall, scattering curses right and left at the astonished servants, -used only to such a display of anger from his elder brother. - -For weeks after this outburst he lived in a state of brooding -sullenness, broken only by occasional violent fits of rage. His -sister-in-law, if she met him in the hall, turned and fled. Even pretty -Beatrice Mertoun, whom he was wont to regard with more favour than -perhaps the bold miner would have approved of, flitted past him as -quickly as possible, with a mere nod. - -Sir Fulke observed this change in his brother with grim satisfaction. -In furtherance of his new evil schemes he determined to turn to good or -bad account the dormant ferocity which had been aroused. - -"Marry, brother," he remarked, "methinks there sits a cloud on your -brow, as if your thoughts were far away--perchance over Bletsoe way?" he -added, with a grim chuckle. - -"What's that to you?" retorted William sullenly. "In good sooth you had -better mind your own business, and attend to your masses, and your -flagellations, and your retreats, along with the rest of the women folk, -and leave my thoughts to myself!" - -"I crave your pardon, brother," replied Sir Fulke, in mock humility. -"Fill up again, man. I was a fool not to see that your meditations were -too unpleasant to be connected with so fair a subject as the Lady -Aliva." - -"The Lady Aliva!" exclaimed William fiercely, leaning forward on the -table eagerly, and confronting his brother, his chin supported on his -hands, and his eyes gleaming--"the Lady Aliva! By the mass, I swear to -you, brother, I cease not to think of her night and day! I see her ever -before me, those eyes, those flashing eyes, that queenly form; I dream I -clasp her, and I awake mad with despair! May the curses of St. Denis of -France light for ever on that traitorous villain who dared supplant me, -on that lying fool of a De Pateshulle, who--" And he buried his face in -the deep flagon once more, as if to drown his feelings. - -Fulke laid his hand firmly on his arm. - -"Hark ye, brother," he said; "calm yourself and lower your voice. I -have somewhat to say unto you which I care not that all the varlets in -the hall hear. Do you wish for vengeance on a De Pateshulle?" - -"Do I?" gasped William. "Try me!" - -"So be it. I will put vengeance within your reach. It shall lie with -you to take it, if you carry out the plan I have in my head." - -"Another fat abbey to sack!" cried the younger brother. "In good sooth, -brother, you smite with your hands while you give your back to be -smitten," he laughed. - -"Not so," rejoined Fulke. "I am in no mind to meddle with churches for -the nonce. This is quite another kind of deer to chase. You mind that -special commission of the king's justices, convoked at Dunstable not -long since to inquire into certain of my doings in these parts, which it -seemed pleased not those most concerned with them. It hath come to my -knowledge that the court has pronounced judgment against me. They may, -by my troth, if it pleases _them_, for it does _me_ no harm. No less -than thirty verdicts did they bring against me," he went on chuckling, -"and for these thirty verdicts some one shall suffer, I warrant me, -though it shall not be he whom their worships had in their mind's eye -when they delivered them!" - -William gazed at his brother admiringly. His weaker, shallower brain, -already somewhat fuddled with his copious libations of the past few -weeks, followed him with difficulty. - -"Beshrew me, brother, if I see what nail thou art hammering at. These -justices will have none of me." - -"But I fain will that you have some of them," Fulke went on. "It would -beseem ill to the repentant son of Holy Church to lift his arm so soon -against her after she has absolved him, for one of these justices is a -priest. But you, brother, owe her naught. From trusty sources I learn -that these three legal spiders are to meet again at Dunstable for -further spinning as soon as this retreat at Elstow is over. Now, what -say you, brother, to meeting them upon their journey thither, and to -bringing to Bedford Castle, instead of to Dunstable town, the worshipful -Thomas de Muleton, Henry de Braybrooke, and Martin de Pateshulle?" - -"Martin de Pateshulle!" interrupted William eagerly. "Pardie! a De -Pateshulle is a quarry that would please me well." - -"He is learned in the law, this priest," Fulke continued, apparently not -heeding how his fish had risen to his bait. "The king can fare ill -without his counsel in these parts, and methinks, were he and his -brother worships safe caged in our stronghold here, it would prove Fulke -de Breaute to be a greater fool than men hold him for did he not get -what ransom he named. But, certes, I would be merciful, as it beseemeth -with a priest. I would ask neither silver nor gold, naught save the -remission of the thirty judgments that are out against me. What say -you, brother? Is the snaring this legal vermin to your mind?" - -"'Twould be good sport, by my troth!" ejaculated William, "though -methinks it is no easy emprise! To seize the king's justices! 'Tis a -bold swoop, brother." - -"Tush!" replied Fulke scornfully; "there speaks no brother of mine! I -trow a De Breaute, bastard from a little Norman village, had ne'er sat -in the seigneur's parlour of this, one of the fairest of English -castles, had he piped in that strain. Take another draught, brother," -he added, pushing the flagon across. - -"In good sooth, this English wine warms the blood in this cursed land of -fogs," apologized William, draining his horn. "But I must have some of -your best varlets at my back, Fulke--fellows who know the country, and -plenty of them." - -"Trust me, I will let fly my best trained hawks for such game as this, -man! These reverend justices shall have a fair retinue to Bedford--a -noble train! Take heart o' grace. Think thee of thy vengeance. It is a -De Pateshulle that is the booty!" - -"Ha! a De Pateshulle!" exclaimed William, screwing up his courage still -further by another drink. Then he added sulkily, "Would it were the -niece and not the uncle!" - -Fulke smiled grimly. - -"And why not?" he asked quietly. - -William, half stupified as he was fast becoming, saw the development of -a new plot. - -"Pardie! That proud maiden here! Helpless--a prisoner! Niece snared -with the uncle! Ha, ha!" he cried, his eyes rolling excitedly. "Ha, my -lady! who would say me nay a second time? Not you, by St. Denis, I -warrant me!" and he laughed wildly. "Travel they together, say you? -Father Martin to Bletsoe--the haughty lady to Dunstable; nay, beshrew -me, it is Father Martin to Dunstable, and--" - -Here he fell forward on the table and burst into a maudlin giggle. Sir -Fulke rose, pushed the wine-flagon out of his reach, and called to two -varlets from the hall to carry his brother off to bed. - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII.* - - _*JUSTICE IN BONDS.*_ - - -A few mornings later the two worshipful justices of the king, Thomas de -Muleton and Henry de Braybrooke, were riding together through the -central part of the county, a few miles south of Bedford. They had been -engaged at Northampton in making preliminary arrangements for the great -council which the king proposed to hold there in the summer, and having -concluded that part of the business, were now journeying towards -Dunstable to clear off certain matters which had been left unfinished, -as their time there previously had been entirely taken up with examining -the many suits brought before them against Fulke de Breaute. - -They had entered the county from Northamptonshire by the ford through -the Ouse at Turvey, and were riding leisurely along on their stout -palfreys, with their serving-men jogging behind them, and discussed as -they went grave legal questions and learned points of law. - -For about eight miles after passing the ford, they took their way along -the boundary-line between the counties of Bedford and Buckingham, in a -southerly direction. Then turning eastward, they reached the -amphitheatre of hills which encloses the vale of Bedford on the -south-west. Passing the village of Cranfield and its Norman church, -still in part existing, they rode under the old fortifications and -earth-works of Brogborough--old even at that time--until at noon they -reached the castle of Rougemount, standing on a red sandy hill (whence -its name, corrupted in modern pronunciation and spelling into Ridgmount) -and commanding the country to the north. - -Here they were expected by the lord of the castle, the Baron Lisle, who -had invited them to rest upon their journey and partake of his mid-day -meal. Here also they had arranged to meet their colleague, Archdeacon -Martin de Pateshulle, with whom they proposed to travel on to Dunstable. - -As soon as the retreat at Elstow was over, the archdeacon had promised -to come direct to Rougemount, but Lord Lisle had awaited him in vain. -So when the other justices made their appearance, their host commanded -the repast to be served, without any further waiting for the absent -guest, whose non-arrival was unexplained. - -Lord Lisle had exerted himself to provide a suitable entertainment for -guests of such high degree as the lords justices of the king. - - "'Twas now the merry hour of noon, - And in the lofty arched hall - Was spread the gorgeous festival. - Steward and squire, with heedful haste, - Marshalled the rank of every guest; - Pages with ready blade were there, - The mighty meal to carve and share. - O'er capon, heronshaw, and crane, - And princely peacock's gilded train, - And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave, - And cygnet...... - The priest had spoke his benison." - - -At the high table sat the host, his distinguished visitors on either -hand. Some of the notables of the neighbourhood were also present, -among whom was the lord abbot of the abbey of Woburn hard by. The head -of the Cistercian house, founded not a century before by Hugh de -Bolebec, had already come to hold a high position in the county. - -Thronging the hall and the castle-yard was a crowd of servants and -retainers, who had accompanied their masters, many of them strangers not -only to one another, but to the servants belonging to the castle. In -those days any festivities at a great castle were attended by a motley -crowd of hangers-on, such as beggars, travelling minstrels, and the -like, who seemed to scent from afar the preparations for the banquet. - -[Illustration: "Thronging the castle-yard was a crowd of servants and -retainers."] - -On this occasion, however, these gentry were somewhat disappointed to -find that the expected guests were to be grave judges and churchmen. -The beggars, indeed, ranged themselves into position to ask for alms in -the name of religion, but the minstrels and the jugglers felt themselves -_de trop_. Finding their entertainments unacceptable to the guests, -they betook themselves to an audience of grooms and varlets in the -castle-yard. - -The ancient seneschal of the castle, moving through the various groups, -his keys of office jingling at his side, remarked a swarthy man of -considerable height and size, who was evidently not connected with the -Saxon peasants around him. He was wrapped in a long, large cloak. - -"So ho, friend! and whence comest thou?" asked the seneschal. - -The nondescript stranger answered him in French; not in the -Norman-French which his interlocutor could easily have followed, but in -a dialect imperfectly known to the worthy head of the household of Lord -Lisle. - -"I come from distant lands, noble seneschal. I chant love-lays to fair -ladies' ears." - -"We have e'en no ladies here anon," replied the functionary gruffly, -"naught but abbots and justices. So get thee gone!" - -At the mention of the word "justices" a momentary gleam of satisfaction -passed over the swarthy face of the stranger. - -"Justices, good my lord seneschal?" he repeated. - -"Yea, justices," retorted the seneschal, not noting the look. "Art -deaf, man? My lord the king's justices who travel towards Dunstable. -Did you _jongleurs_ expect a bevy of giddy damsels and young gallants?" - -The burden of his duties had made Lord Lisle's officer somewhat testy. - -"But perchance, with your good leave, I may sing to my lords the -justices' serving-men a song of fair France; or a love _chansonnette_ -will I teach them, wherewith to tingle the ears of their Saxon gills?" - -"As you will, man," answered the seneschal with a shrug, turning away, -"an you find fools to listen to such trash!" - -"Thanks for your leave, good sir," the stranger called after him, with a -queer twinkle in his dark eye. Then he turned to one of De Braybrooke's -men, staring open-mouthed and stolid at the strange dialect and stranger -countenance. "Wilt list to a song, friend? It hath a refrain will ring -in thy ears and cheer thee on thy long journey." - -"A long journey! Gramercy, a mole might see as how thou art a stranger -in these parts. A long journey to Dunstable, forsooth!" - -"And is it not far?" - -"Nine miles as the crow flies, I trows, and but eke some ten the way we -ride, through the woodland, by way of Eversholt," replied the varlet, -with a snigger of contempt. - -"Aver--aver--sole," repeated the dark stranger, mispronouncing the name. -"This English tongue cracks the jaw!" - -"Marry, he stammereth like a cuckoo at hay-harvest," jeered the other. -"Say it plain, man--Eversholt." - -"Gather your fellows together while I go fetch my rebec I left at the -gate-house, and, pardie, you shall see what you shall see, and hear what -you shall hear," retorted the stranger imperturbably. But as he strode -across the yard, the serving-man, had he not been so busily engaged -mimicking the Frenchman's accent to his companions, might have noticed -an armed heel glitter beneath the folds of his cloak. - -The day was wearing on ere the justices could tear themselves away from -Lord Lisle's hospitable board and once more proceed on their journey. - -Southwards, beyond Rougemount, the country becomes more wooded. In the -higher parts of Woburn Park old timber trees even now show where once -the forest extended round the famous Cistercian abbey. In the midst of -this district stands a village, whose name, Eversholt--the _holt_, or -wood, of the _efer_ or wild boar--still hands down the characteristics -of the neighbourhood. - -Into this wood, in the waning afternoon, rode, unsuspectingly, the two -justices, engaged in a warm discussion over some quibble of the law. - -"Now, by my troth, brother Thomas," De Braybrooke was saying, "all our -jurisconsults are agreed that if the judge be free to act--" - -He stopped short, and never finished his sentence, for he was "free to -act" no longer. - -With a fierce cry of "A De Breaute! a De Breaute!" armed men rushed down -from either side of the road upon the hapless representatives of the -law, and surrounded them ere they could recover from their stupefaction. - -"Let the varlets go free!" cried William de Breaute. "We have no need -of grooms!" he added, as he saw his men seizing the bridles of the -servants' horses as well as those of their masters. - -It was a lucky cry for Thomas de Muleton, for it led to his escape. By -some mistake, the men who held his horse, not distinguishing in the -confusion between master and man, released their hold, and his servants, -closing round him, hurried him back along the woodland bridle-path -towards Rougemount. - -Too late De Breaute saw the error. But De Muleton and his men had put -spurs to their horses, and he and his men-at-arms were all dismounted, -their horses tethered to the trees, or held by some of the band. -Pursuit was out of the question, even had the marauders dared to follow -up their prey to the very walls of Rougemount Castle. - -William de Breaute's rage knew no bounds when he became aware that but -one of the desired prisoners had been secured. Swearing roundly at his -men for their blunder, he struck the unfortunate serving-man who had -been detained instead of his master a blow with the flat of his sword -which nearly knocked him off his horse, and allowed him to ride away -after his fellows. - -"Pardie!" he swore. "We trouble not ourselves with dogs that can pay no -ransom. Get you gone!" - -Disgusted with the less than half success of his scheme, he ordered his -men to remount, and the party rode off rapidly towards Bedford, the -hapless Henry de Braybrooke well guarded in their midst. De Breaute's -rage was a little softened, however, when he learned that he had not -missed two of his prey--that Martin de Pateshulle had not been of the -party, though as to his whereabouts De Braybrooke could give no -information. - - - - - *CHAPTER IX.* - - _*AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.*_ - - -The troop of horsemen made their way out of the wood, and soon -afterwards, riding down the romantic glen of Millbrook, reached the -Bedford valley. They were now on the road to Elstow, and nearing -Bedford itself; but as they approached the town, an incident occurred -which changed the direction of De Breaute's route. - -The cavalcade were hurrying along, as their leader was anxious to get -his prisoners safe into the castle ere the town-folk should be aware of -their capture. For although the burgesses of Bedford had by this time -been sufficiently cowed by the Robber Baron and his men, and were by no -means unaccustomed to seeing prisoners swept off into the "devil's -nest," as they called his castle, yet it was more satisfactory that the -impounding should be done without any fuss or disturbance. - -So through the little village of Elstow clattered the horsemen, their -arms and accoutrements ringing as they went. The village people -recognized with a shudder the soldiers from Bedford Castle. They were -mostly retainers of the abbey, and they crossed themselves devoutly and -uttered a prayer as the enemies and spoilers of the church rode by. -They scarcely noted the unfortunate judge who was being jolted along in -their midst at a pace so different from that at which he usually -travelled, and who - - "Little thought when he set out - Of running such a rig." - - -Increasing their pace, the hurrying troop scattered the wayfarers right -and left. The inhabitants fled into their houses; the peasants dragged -their beasts and carts into the ditches. All knew that there could be -the servants of but one man who would ride through the country in this -fashion. - -But as they passed the abbey gate, De Breaute and his men, in their -headlong career, charged full tilt into a small party of riders just -turning out of the archway. - -This knot of travellers seemed in no wise disposed to give De Breaute's -horsemen more than their fair share of the road, and did not draw aside -into the hedge, after the manner of the peasants. The two foremost of -the little company were an elderly and dignified ecclesiastic, and a -young and graceful lady whose wimple and riding-hood concealed her face. -The old priest, encumbered with his ecclesiastical habit, was unable to -resist the impetus with which the armed party bore down upon the -defenceless travellers. Too late, he drew rein aside; but the ponderous -war-horse of the foremost man-at-arms struck his palfrey full on the -flank, and rolled both horse and rider to the ground. - -The mass of horsemen, rushing in wedge shape, separated the priest from -his companion, and the latter was forced to the opposite side of the -road. She was either quicker, more skilful, or better mounted than was -the elderly ecclesiastic; for not only did she turn her horse aside just -at the right moment and avoid an imminent collision, but putting him at -the boundary hedge which bordered the road, cleared it in a style which -showed her to possess the hand and seat of a first-rate horsewoman. - -The unexpected encounter caused a sudden and confused halt to De -Breaute's party, and their leader was able to give a by no means pleased -look at those who, by no fault of their own, but by reason of the -furious onrush of his own men, had unintentionally impeded his progress. -But when once he had glanced at the bold horsewoman escaping by her leap -from the confused throng, he hardly deigned to notice the prostrate -priest striving to extricate himself from his dangerous position. For -as her horse cleared the obstacle, the riding-hood, which concealed the -features of the rider, fell back upon her shoulders, and revealed to his -astonished gaze the lovely face of Aliva de Pateshulle. - -In a moment his brother's orders were all forgotten. Even had he -recognized Martin de Pateshulle in the dismounted horseman, it is not -likely he would have paused to capture him. But shouting to two of his -men to follow him, he turned quickly round, and putting spurs to his -horse, rode after the retreating figure at the top of his speed. - -His leaderless party pulled themselves together, so to speak, and gazed -after the pursued and the pursuer till they vanished round the corner of -the abbey walls. They gave vent to a few coarse jests over their -master's disappearance, and then the senior among them took upon himself -the command of the party. He turned to the unlucky priest, whom his -servants had now raised from under his fallen steed. Martin de -Pateshulle--for it was he--had evidently been severely injured, and lay -prostrate in his attendants' arms. In reply to the soldier's questions -they told that their master was the Archdeacon of Northampton, and the -lady his niece. Had they mentioned his name, it is possible the trooper -might have recognized that of one of the justices they had sallied out -to seize. But as it was, deeply imbued with a soldier's notion of -implicit obedience to orders before all things, he thought only of -conveying the prisoner he had already made with all speed to Bedford. -Even Henry de Braybrooke, whom his guard had removed to a little -distance from the scene of the accident, could only learn that it was an -old priest who had been injured, ere he was again hurried off in the -direction of the Robber Baron's castle. - -Meanwhile, the grooms who had picked up the archdeacon proceeded to -carry him, moaning with pain, back to the abbey they had just left. In -vain the unhappy priest conjured them to leave him to his fate, and to -hasten after his niece, as soon as he realized that she was being -pursued by De Breaute. - -With one exception, none seemed inclined to obey their master, -protesting that it was their first duty to see his injuries attended to -within the abbey walls. - -That exception was our fat friend Dicky Dumpling, who had been of the -party, in attendance on his young mistress. He, too, had been rolled -over; but no sooner had he picked himself up out of the mire and learned -that she had fled, than his distress was great. - -"Alack! alack!" he cried. "Chased by that young French popinjay, say -you? Oh, woe the day! He came a-wooing her that day the gallant Sir -Ralph rode over, and he departed with his beauty marred, the -serving-maid doth say--but women have such long tongues! Oh, my hapless -young lady! I must after her to her succour!" - -"Thou Dickon!" gasped one of his fellows,--"with thy feather weight, to -say nothing of that good dinner of beef and ale in the porter's lodge." - -"And thy nag's good browse in the abbey stables," put in another. -"Think you he is a match for the knight's war-horse?" - -"Alack! alack!" moaned worthy Dicky; "my heart misgives me sore. But -bring me my horse, lads, and find me my cap. With good St. Dunstan's -aid I will do my best. Give me a leg up, lads, and Dobbin and I will -after her as long as there is a breath left in our bodies!" - - - - - *CHAPTER X.* - - _*THROUGH OUSE MARSHES.*_ - - -The Lady Aliva had gone to the retreat at Elstow with a heavy heart. In -the first place, she had dismissed the man whom she loved with all her -soul without giving him to understand that she would remain true to him; -indeed, she even doubted within herself whether the words she had used -to him might not, in fact, have implied the exact opposite. Then, -further, her conduct to her father had given her pain. She confessed to -herself that in that scene in the hall she had acted as an undutiful -daughter, and even, at the conclusion of it, with want of maidenly -reserve and self-respect. - -Thus it was that with all true sorrow of repentance she had knelt in the -abbey church. When the Lady Margaret and the abbess came upon her in -the dusk bending before the high altar, she was indeed, as the abbess -had intimated, praying not for strength to face the troublesome world -again, but for grace to take the vows of the Benedictine rule. - -It has already been shown how she had made known her wish to the lady -abbess, and had obtained leave to wear for the time the habit of a -novice. But her desire for the profession of a religious life had been -combated, strange to say, by two persons who in any other case would -have thought it their duty to strengthen it. - -These two were the lady abbess herself and the archdeacon her uncle; and -when she had learned Aliva's story, the Lady Margaret added her -objections to theirs. All these three elders deemed it unadvisable for -so young a girl--she was only eighteen--to think of monastic vows, and -held out hopes that the course of true love might yet run smoothly. The -archdeacon himself had always been a supporter of Ralph de Beauchamp's -suit, and the two ladies joined with him in comforting the distressed -damsel with plans for the future happiness of Ralph and herself. - -With regard to the unlucky incident in the hall which had so abruptly -terminated the other suitor's visit, Aliva made a clean breast of the -whole matter. The ladies even went so far as to justify her conduct; and -the archdeacon, speaking as a spiritual father, considered it -sufficiently condoned by the exhortation he administered on the duty of -maidenly reserve and the virtue of checking anger. - -So when the retreat was ended, Aliva's plans were discussed in real -earnest, and a determination arrived at. The good archdeacon decided to -give up his projected journey to Dunstable, leaving his learned friends -to finish their business by themselves, and to accompany his niece to -Bletsoe. There he hoped to convince his brother of the injustice of -repressing Ralph de Beauchamp's suit. - -The _pros_ and _cons_ of this discussion occupied all the early part of -the day, and it was accordingly late in the afternoon when Aliva, after -an affectionate parting with the two elder ladies, set off towards home, -accompanied by her uncle and his two serving-men, and by Dicky Dumpling, -who had brought over her riding-horse that morning. - -Of the untoward event that befell the little party as they passed out of -the abbey gateway we are already aware, and we must now take up the -story of Aliva's flight and De Breaute's pursuit. - -After a short spurt across country, she turned her horse back again into -the road, that she might take in the situation and see what had become -of her uncle. But she could see nothing in the distance save a confused -group of horsemen. Between herself and that group, however, she was -soon aware that a rider, William de Breaute, was following her at the -top of his speed. - -Now, had he been alone, it is not improbable that the courageous maiden, -who had already faced him once, would boldly have awaited his arrival; -but close at his heels came two of his men, and Aliva felt that there -was nothing for it but a flight towards home. - -The road to Bedford was quite cut off from her by the advancing -horsemen, but she knew that at some distance further west there was a -bridge across the Ouse at Bromham, and she determined to try to escape -in that direction. - -It was a desperate chance. Her horse was a mere palfrey, while De -Breaute and his men were mounted on some of the best horses to be found -in the stables of Bedford Castle. - -She hurried through the little village of Kempston on the river-bank, -for she knew it would prove no safe asylum. The approach of De -Breaute's men always struck terror into the peasants of the villages -around Bedford. They gazed open-mouthed after the flying maiden, and -then slunk back into their huts as the mail-clad soldiers came -clattering after her in pursuit. - -Only upon her own wit and readiness could Aliva depend in this terrible -race. She was less acquainted with this side of the Ouse valley than -with the other, in which she had been accustomed to ride and hawk since -childhood. But she knew that between Kempston and Bromham lay a stretch -of marshy ground intersected by broad ditches, and into these marshes -she resolved to ride with the hope of baffling her pursuers. She -thought it not unlikely that in the ground which would bear the weight -of herself and her palfrey the armed men and huge horses might be -bogged. - -Her conjecture proved not incorrect, and for a time the distance -increased between herself and her pursuers. But the spring afternoon was -now closing in, and in the failing twilight it was difficult to select -the best track through the marshy ground. Once or twice Aliva had -actually to return upon her path, and the men behind gained an -advantage, as they watched her movements and avoided the impassable -places. Moreover, her lightly-built horse, not much more than a pony, -was beginning to tire. He had cleared one or two of the ditches with -difficulty, and now, as he attempted to jump one of considerable -breadth, a rotten take-off sent him floundering into the middle of it. - -Aliva scrambled quickly from the saddle, and threw herself on the bank. -But unfortunately it was the nearer one. For a minute or two she stood -vainly trying to reach the reins, and calling to her palfrey to approach -her. - -But her pursuers were drawing on apace. The foremost was not De Breaute -himself, but one of his men, who sprang from his horse and seized Aliva -by the hood which hung loosely from her shoulders. - -"Let go thy hold, varlet!" shouted De Breaute, in the rear. Even in his -madness he could not bear to see her thus roughly handled by a rude -soldier. - -But Aliva was free ere he spoke. She unclasped the buckle which -fastened her hood and mantle round her neck, and as the man fell back -with the garments in his hand, flung herself into the muddy dike. - -The water reached nearly to her waist, and with difficulty she struggled -through. As she passed her horse, standing half bogged in the middle, -she seized the reins and drew them over his head. By good chance a -stunted willow overhung the further bank. She made a snatch at it, -caught it, and with a supreme effort gained firm ground. - -With the purchase afforded by the tree, Aliva was now able to get a -tight hold of her horse's head, and encouraging him with her voice, she -induced him to follow her example, and to struggle up the bank. - -The two soldiers, meanwhile, watched her manoeuvres from the further -side in some perplexity. Their lord's order to release her had been -peremptory, and it was now apparent that she was escaping them again. -Their lord himself, at some little distance, dismounted, his horse -dangerously engulfed in a bog, was in as much uncertainty as they were. - -When he had first started off in his wild chase of Aliva, he had indeed -no fixed intention with regard to her, except perhaps to carry her off -to Bedford along with Henry de Braybrooke; and now that he had pursued -her thus far from Elstow, and held her, as it were, in his grasp, he was -still undecided. - -[Illustration: A wild chase through Ouse marshes.] - -Any brutal violence was far from his thoughts; for had he not forbidden -his man to lay a hand upon her? A marriage was what he contemplated, -though indeed it might be a forced marriage, like that of his brother -Fulke with the Lady Margaret. - -But no sooner did he perceive that the draggled girl was remounting her -tired palfrey than he called to his men, standing stupidly looking at -her from the nearer side of the ditch. - -"Here, varlets, quick! Plague take you and these English morasses! Why -came ye not to my help sooner? Saw ye not how I am well-nigh smothered -in this cursed bog?" - -It took some little time for the men-at-arms to free their master and -his floundering steed. They dragged him out in as deplorable condition -as that in which Aliva found herself, and by that time both he and they -had had enough of the Ouse marshes. - -Not that De Breaute was by any means inclined to give up the chase. He -could see the hapless horsewoman he was pursuing far ahead and entering -the little village of Bromham, and he followed her along firmer ground -at some distance from the river. - -The long, many-arched bridge which still stretches over the flat meadows -at Bromham was furnished at the western end in those days with a small -wayside chapel, the ruins of which can still be traced in the -mill-house. Aliva rode slowly into the village, and wearily approached -the foot of the bridge. As she cast an anxious glance over her -shoulder, she saw that her pursuers had now reached hard ground, and -were gaining on her rapidly. - -Her little palfrey was dead beat. The struggle in the dike had -completely exhausted him, and he no longer answered to his mistress's -voice or to the touch of her riding-wand. As he reached the first -cottage at Bromham, he stumbled and rolled heavily from side to side. - -Aliva was off his back in a moment. A rustic stood by, gazing in -astonishment at the young lady's condition--drenched and hoodless, her -fair hair streaming over her shoulders. - -But Aliva's first thought was for her horse. - -"Prithee, friend," she cried to the peasant, "take my palfrey and tend -him. You shall be well rewarded. I am the daughter of the lord of -Bletsoe, and if I come not to claim him myself, take him to Bletsoe -Castle when he has recovered." - -She hurried on. How to escape now she knew not. But suddenly, as she -approached the bridge, she perceived a haven of refuge. The chapel door -stood open, and the poor hunted girl stepped into the welcome sanctuary. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI.* - - _*BREATHING-TIME.*_ - - -As Aliva entered the little chapel on the bridge, she saw, in the -uncertain twilight, two figures kneeling before the altar. One was that -of a stalwart young man in the garb of a lay-brother of the Benedictine -order, and the other that of an elderly woman in the dress of a peasant. - -Both rose from their knees, disturbed by the hurried entrance of Aliva, -and were surprised to see before them a lady of the upper classes so -damp and bedraggled and hoodless. The heart of the woman was touched. - -"Lack-a-day, lady!" she exclaimed; "hast thou been in Ouse water?" she -added, with a slight shudder. - -"I have come here for rest," replied Aliva, not wishing to reveal her -story to peasant strangers. "I have indeed, as you say, suffered -somewhat by mishap in a stream, and I have lost my horse." - -As she spoke, the sound of her voice, and a closer scrutiny of her -features, increased the astonishment of the two listeners. - -"Gramercy on us!" cried the woman; "if this is not our lady from -Bletsoe!" - -Aliva looked more narrowly at her, and then at the lay-brother. - -"Our Lady be praised!" she murmured faintly; "I find friends. Are you -not the wife of Goodman Hodges; and is this not your son, the -lay-brother from St. Alban's?" - -Mother and son both made a deep obeisance, and Aliva continued:-- - -"My friends, I am in sore plight. But I know ye to be faithful to your -lord, and I trow ye will aid his daughter. I have ridden far and fast, -at peril of my life, to escape De Breaute and his men, who even now -follow hard upon my track. But I trust I am safe in this holy house, -and with--" - -But here exhausted nature gave way, and the brave girl, now that she -found herself in comparative safety, fell senseless on the chapel floor. - -Mistress Hodges, though but a peasant, was a woman of resource and -energy. - -"Alack, alack! she will die of chill in this cold chapel," she -exclaimed. "Son, we must bear her hence!" - -"But what if De Breaute's men be without, mother?" replied the cautious -lay-brother. - -"In good sooth, you speak true," replied the woman, casting an anxious -gaze round the chapel, while she supported the head of the unconscious -Aliva in her arms. Then she noticed a gleam of light shining through a -half-open door on the south side of the altar. - -"See, my son," she exclaimed, "whither that door leads. There may be -help near at hand." - -The lay-brother opened the door and looked into the apartment within. - -"'Tis a sacristy, or priest's room," he replied, with his knowledge of -ecclesiastical arrangements. "There is no one within," he added, -glancing hastily around, "and there is a fire on the hearth, and a -settle with cushions." - -The mother and son lifted up Aliva's senseless form, and carrying her -into the sacristy, laid her on the couch. - -"Go thou now," said the Mistress Hodges, "and guard the chapel door, and -I will see to the young lady. Praise be to our Lady, with warmth and -care I shall yet bring her round." - -The young man shut the door of the sacristy behind him, and crossing the -chapel to the entrance, closed the heavy door and drew its strong oaken -bar across it. He then took up his position against it, keeping a -careful and patient watch. - -The woman, left alone with Aliva, proceeded to treat her with maternal -care; for had not the young lady herself once tended her when the fever -ravaged the peasants' huts round Bletsoe Manor House? - -She removed her wet garments and chafed her cold hands and feet. As she -undressed her, she found, fastened round her waist, a wallet containing -a small flask of cordial and some food, with which the good abbess of -Elstow had provided Aliva for her journey. Mistress Hodges poured some -of the wine down Aliva's throat, and she revived. - -Delighted that her efforts had so far succeeded, the good woman -redoubled her care. She even stripped herself of some of her rough but -warm clothing, and wrapped it round Aliva, as she lay on the settle. -Then she busied herself in drying and cleaning the soiled and dripping -garments, for fortunately, in this room prepared for the priest who -served the chapel, there was a good store of firewood. - -Aliva lay watching her feebly, with the half-dazed gaze of returning -consciousness. - -"Thanks to our Lady and the blessed saints," she murmured at last in -such weak voice, "that I have happed on you, good mother; else methinks -the cold of this chapel might have finished the work the stream began." - -"The saints forfend!" ejaculated the worthy woman. "But, lady," she -added, her curiosity getting the upper hand, "might I crave your pardon, -and ask how comes it that you are in a woful plight? They said in the -village you had gone to the retreat at Elstow, which the venerable -archdeacon--" - -"Ah!" cried Aliva, "selfish wretch that I am, I had well-nigh forgotten -him in my own trouble! Know you, good mother, that it was even as he -and I were leaving the abbey of Elstow, on our return home, that this -fierce company of De Breaute and his men rode down upon us. They -scattered us as a hawk scattereth a flight of doves. I escaped by the -lucky chance that my good genet can be stopped by no fence or dike in -all this countryside. When I last saw my uncle, he was surrounded and -closed in upon by the horsemen. I wot not what became of him." - -"Alack, alack!" said Mistress Hodges, shaking her head. "These be evil -days now in the which we live, when that terrible Frenchman from over -the seas, Sir Fulke de Breaute (may the foul fiend fly off with him!), -spares neither the ministers of Holy Church nor defenceless damsels--" - -"Indeed, it would seem as if De Breaute had a grudge against me," Aliva -could not help interposing, with a half smile. "He owes me somewhat, by -my faith. He asked for my hand; he cannot say he did not get it. How -like to a drowned water-rat he looked, coated with our good honest -English mud! A pretty dance I led him, I trow," she added, with a ripple -of laughter. "He'll ne'er forgive me." - -Mistress Hodges grinned good-humouredly, pleased to see the lady's -spirits rising again. - -"In good sooth, lady, but young knights find it hard to forgive fair -ladies who will have none of them when they come a-wooing." - -The conversation was becoming too personal. Aliva flushed slightly, and -tried to turn it. - -"And now, prithee goody, it seems to me that I too may well ask, how -comes it that you and your son come so far from Bletsoe this evening?" - -The smile faded from the woman's face. - -"I am on a weary errand, fair lady," she replied. "I have come thus far -in company with my son, who is on his journey back to the abbey of St. -Alban, where he is a lay-brother. I have come but to say a prayer with -him, in this the wayfarer's chapel, to good St. Nicolas, who protects -all travellers. Alas! he will return to St. Alban's; he says it is his -duty. I have dissuaded him sore with tears and prayers, but it is of -none avail. In these bad times there is no peace even in the religious -houses, nothing but wars and rumours of wars." - -"Certes, I did hear from Dicky Dumpling--(ah, poor Dickon! how fares it -with him, I wonder? He presented a broad surface to the horsemen's -charge)--that your son had barely 'scaped with his life from that -fearful St. Vincent's Eve at St. Alban's!" - -"Gramercy, lady," replied the woman, wiping her eyes, "'twas a -hairbreadth 'scape, in good sooth! But, thanks to our Lady and the good -St. Benedict--who, my son says, preserved the humblest of his servants -to serve him further--he got off scot-free from the fire and the sword, -yea, and the water too!" - -"The water! how mean you?" asked Aliva. - -"Marry, lady, he was weary and worn, and he mistook the ford at Milton -as he was fleeing homewards. The Ouse was in full flood, and but for -that noble knight Sir Ralph de Beauchamp, whom the saints preserve--" - -"Sir Ralph de Beauchamp!" murmured Aliva, now deeply interested. "Ah," -she added, with a blush, "I mind me how soaked he was with water!" - -"Ay, a fair gallant he is," the other proceeded. "He thought naught of -riding boldly into the Ouse at full stream, and saving my poor lad in -the very nick of time, when he was being swept down the river like a -truss of hay in a midsummer flood!" - -Aliva lay listening, her large eyes fixed dreamily on the speaker. - -"It sounds like a bold deed, and a truly marvellous turn of luck for -your son. Tell on, good mother, I prithee. I would fain hear more of -the fishing out of the worthy lay-brother--thine only son, too--tell -on," added the astute maiden, playing on maternal feeling. - -Mistress Hodges' tongue was unloosed by the evident interest the young -lady of the manor evinced. His recent dangers and escapes had made the -lay-brother somewhat of a hero in the village of Bletsoe. His mother was -nothing loath to fight his battles over again, and prattled on with -maternal pride for some time ere she perceived that her fair charge had -sunk into a sound and healthful slumber, lulled by the account of her -lover's daring. - -Meanwhile De Breaute and his men had hurried up. They passed Aliva's -riderless palfrey. - -"Ah, pardie! the fair hare has run to ground, and cannot be far -distant.--Lady, thy pride is nigh unto a fall," murmured William to -himself, chuckling. - -But the rustic in charge of the horse was either naturally or -intentionally stupid. De Breaute could make nothing of him. - -Riding eagerly to the bridge-foot, he scanned its length. But he saw no -sign of Aliva's retreating figure in the fast-falling twilight, and -heard no sound save the swirl of the rushing river as it swept beneath -the arches. - -Had she escaped him? - -Leaving one of his men to guard the bridge, he proceeded to search the -cottages round. But from the trembling peasants he could only gather -that they had indeed seen a lady, in soiled and damp clothing, pass down -the village. - -But as he was thus cross-questioning and searching, he was approached by -a personage clad in ecclesiastical garb. He was a coarse-looking -individual, the expression of whose features showed a mixture of greed -and cunning. - -"William de Breaute," he asked, "thou seekest a bird? Shall I show thee -the nest where that bird is hidden?" - -"If thou meanest that thou canst tell whither the lady has escaped who -but now made her way through the village," replied De Breaute, not much -relishing the tone of familiarity in which he was addressed, "thou shalt -be well rewarded if thou dost direct me thither. And understand," he -added, trying to speak with dignity, "no harm is intended to the lady. -It is simply needful for her own protection that I conduct her to my -brother's castle at Bedford." - -"Ay, in good sooth, all are in safe keeping there!" muttered the priest -with a sneer, not brooking haughty patronage from a soldier of fortune. -"But, perchance, my secret will remain with me, and she will not take -the road to Bedford." - -William de Breaute saw that he was not going the right way to work, and -altered his tone. He had a shrewd guess that a bribe would both be -expected and received. - -"Certes, reverend father," he replied, "but I mean a reward to Holy -Church in the person of one of her ministers." - -"Knightly sir," answered the priest, "we understand each other. I am -but a minister, as you rightly say, and humblest, you would more rightly -have said, of Holy Church. Whatever her ministers receive, it is really -the Church who receiveth and benefiteth." - -And if winking were the fashion in the thirteenth century, doubtless he -winked at De Breaute as he spoke. - -"Follow me," he added. - -And he led him to the door of the chapel on the bridge. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII.* - - _*AT THE CASTLE OF EATON SOCON.*_ - - -While Aliva de Pateshulle lay in a dreamy state listening to the praises -of her lover, the said lover was far away on the other side of Bedford, -in anything but such a complacent frame of mind. - -Since the day Aliva had escaped from him up the turret stairs he had not -seen her, and she had left him in much perplexity as to whether she -intended to obey her father or to follow her own inclinations. - -But on one point his mind was made up. Ralph was determined to be off -to the Scottish war. In any case a soldier's life or perhaps a -soldier's death was still before him, and in his youthful imagination he -saw himself performing deeds of daring against the northerners, and -dying heroically in the moment of victory, leaving Aliva to mourn for -his loss and regret her own cruelty. - -To carry out these plans, however, it was necessary, in the first -instance, that he should interview his uncle, William de Beauchamp, for -it was by the latter's influence, as he had told Aliva, that Ralph hoped -to obtain a command in the royal army. - -Since they had been wrongfully deprived of their castle, Bedford was no -longer a home to the De Beauchamps. The usual gathering-place of the -family now was at Eaton Socon, some twelve miles further down the river. -The castle there has as completely disappeared as that of Bedford, but a -huge mound on the banks of the Ouse marks the site of the stronghold. -Here was established a younger branch of the De Beauchamps, and here -William de Beauchamp met Ralph and his kinsmen, to discuss the position -of the family, and to consult as to the best means of overthrowing the -robber chief at Bedford. - -"Beshrew me, Nephew Ralph," said his uncle, "if I wot what to make of -this talk of thine of fighting against the northern savages, when -savages far worse hold the castle of thy fathers." - -Ralph had been holding forth to his seniors upon the duty of a young -knight taking up his country's quarrels and joining his sovereign's -army. - -"Ay," rejoined the lord of Eaton Socon, an elderly man, "were I but of -thy age and strength, with my gilded spurs newly girt upon my heels, I -would never throw myself away on this mad Scottish scheme--craving his -majesty's pardon, if indeed so be that our young king favours it--whilst -there lacked not an excuse for the placing myself at the head of bold -men who would rally to the cry of 'A De Beauchamp! a De Beauchamp!'" - -"And, Cousin Ralph," whispered one of his uncle's married daughters, for -some of the ladies of the family were present, "they tell me there is -one in Bedford Castle with whom thou wouldest fain splinter lances, were -he but worthy to meet thee in knightly combat!" - -Something of William de Breaute's visit to Bletsoe, and of his reception -there by Aliva, had evidently leaked out. - -Ralph shook his head dismally. For the time being he was that most -unhappy individual, a wet blanket to all around him, a despondent lover. - -"Come now, coz," continued the Lady Mabel, "if our reverend elders will -dismiss us from attendance at this table, we young folk will out on to -the castle walls and take a turn. Kinsfolk do not often gather together -in these days, at least in our family, and thou knowest I have not -forgotten old times in Bedford Castle, even though I have formed new -ties. Blood is thicker than water." - -It was early afternoon. The mid-day meal, which took place at the then -fashionably late hour of noon, was just over. Ralph could not refuse -the invitation of his fair cousin, who had been to him as a sister in -his boyhood. So, with due obeisance to the others, the pair quitted the -hall, leaving their elders deep in talk over old times, and the departed -glories of the house of Beauchamp, and the days of Hugo, the Conqueror's -favourite. - -In truth, Ralph was not sorry to have a confidant to whom he could -confide his troubles. For the last few weeks both he and his uncle -William had been but melancholy guests at Eaton Socon, despite the -efforts of their cheery old kinsman to rouse them. William de Beauchamp -was naturally a taciturn, reserved man, and the loss of his affianced -bride, followed by the loss of his ancestral castle and domains, had -further increased the gloom of his character. His uncle's depression, -of course, added to Ralph's low spirits. - -"And now, fair coz," said Lady Mabel, linking her arm in Ralph's, as -they passed up a flight of stone steps leading to a walk on the top of -the encircling wall behind the battlements, "thou art to talk to me of -somewhat else than this Scottish war, or even the battering down of -Bedford Castle about the ears of that dear friend of our family, Fulke -de Breaute. Nay, seek not to deny it. I can see by thy face that thou -hast somewhat to tell me, and perchance I have somewhat to tell thee." - -"I have naught to say, sweet cousin, but what I have already spoken of -in the hall. But yet so be--" - -"I knew it!" interrupted the lady; "so it ever is with men. First they -will tell naught--those were thy very words--and then with the same -breath they go on to say much. They are parlous, like my favourite -sleuth-hound, my lord's morning gift, who at times from mere wantonness -refuseth to feed from my hand, and then when I make a show to turn away, -cannot fawn on me enough. Had I but said to thee, Let us speak of the -land of the Picts and Scots, and of the honour that, forsooth, will -never be found there by Norman knights, thou wouldest straightway have -spoken on what lies nearest thy heart nimbly enough. Now, thou art -hesitating; thou leavest me to lay the scent, and then thou wilt follow. -Yet, I gage, thou wouldest fain speak of the fair damsel of Bletsoe?" - -Ralph flushed, and the lady smiled. - -"Tell me," she added, "when thou last didst set eyes on thy lady-love?" - -The ice was broken. Ralph thawed rapidly, and related to the Lady Mabel -his meeting with the Lady Aliva on the morrow of St. Vincent's Day, and -of her sudden flight from him. - -"And, in good sooth," ejaculated the lively lady, with a shrug of her -fair shoulders, "in this slough of despondency hast thou remained ever -since! Not so should I have done had I been in thy shoes, cousin. Thou -a bold lover, Ralph, thy charger at hand! The fair damsel should have -been on the croup of thy saddle ere she could reach the turret stair. -Then hadst thou brought her hither to me, I would have guarded her -safety and honour till priest and chapel were ready, which would not -have been long waiting, I trow." - -"But, cousin," Ralph put in gloomily, "thou hast forgotten: she spake to -me unawares, as she confessed, and unmindful of her father's command -that she should wed with a De Breaute. Nay, it boots not here of -carrying off a bride. Rather let me carry off my wretched self to the -war. I spake to her of winning glory for her sake, but now, methinks, I -would rather win death." - -And folding his arms the young man leaned over the parapet of the castle -wall, and gazed dejectedly into the shining Ouse below him, as if he -would fain cast himself headlong into the stream. - -But Lady Mabel answered with such a ripply laugh that Ralph turned round -to her, now really offended at the light manner with which she met his -tragic mood. - -"And what thinkest thou, Ralph, that William de Breaute will go a-wooing -to Bletsoe Manor again?" - -Ralph's face assumed such an angry look, as he ground out something -between his teeth about "wooing" and "Bletsoe Manor," that the Lady -Mabel drew back, half frightened at the storm she had aroused. - -"William de Breaute, in good truth, came to Bletsoe!" he ejaculated; -"but when, and how? Tell me all, tell me the worst, cousin, for the -love of Heaven!" - -"Thou knewest not that he went thither?" she asked, puzzled. - -"I know naught of it," replied Ralph sulkily. - -"And that he hath gained the hand of the Lady Aliva?" she continued. - -Ralph turned upon her, furious. But the Lady Mabel laughed louder than -before. - -"Certes he did. But upon his face!" she added. - -Her cousin looked bewildered. - -"Where hast thou been, and what hast thou heard these weeks last past?" -Lady Mabel went on. - -"Thou knowest!" replied Ralph, still offended. "Here I have been at -Eaton Castle with thy father. I have heard no news;" and he heaved a -sigh, and turning away, looked out vacantly again over the Ouse valley. - -"Ay, moping like a pair of owls at noontide, had I not come hither to -bear ye company," Lady Mabel continued, "till, perchance, ye had been -driven to make two holes for yourselves in the stream yonder. By my -troth," she added, with very little of the reverence for elders which -was such a characteristic of the age, "I intend to stir my father into -life again ere I leave Eaton; and as for thee, Cousin Ralph," touching -him lightly on the shoulder, "I command thee to be of good cheer, and no -longer to look down on that vile cold water as though thou lovest it!" - -Ralph turned to her again, though still sulky under her apparently -meaningless gaiety. - -"Now hearken to me, Ralph, and I will tell thee much of the Lady Aliva -that thou wottest not of." - -And Lady Mabel went on to relate the story of the second suitor's visit -to Bletsoe, and of his reception, which had not penetrated to Ralph's -ears, shut up hermit-fashion at Eaton. - -As she continued, the light gradually broke in on Ralph's mind, and the -gloom vanished from his face; and when she described the blow inflicted -by Aliva upon William de Breaute, his eyes positively sparkled with -delight. - -Scarcely had the Lady Mabel finished her recital ere her hearer had -rushed from her. Such broken exclamations as "My brave girl!" "Still my -own!" escaping from him, he ran headlong down the steps, across the -bailey yard, and abruptly disturbed his elders' conversation round the -board in the hall. - -Hardly giving himself time to pay the usual salutation of respect which -the period demanded from juniors to elders of their house, he broke in -upon them with these words:-- - -"By thy leave, my revered uncle, and with thine, my noble kinsman, I -leave thy castle at once, tarrying but to give thee my best thanks for -thy hospitality of the last few weeks." - -In a moment, ere De Beauchamp could recover from his surprise, Ralph was -out of the hall again, and shouting eagerly in the yard for his groom, -his squire, or any one, to assist him in getting ready his horse. - -Meanwhile the guests streamed out of the hall behind him, headed by -their host and William de Beauchamp. Lady Mabel, who had followed her -cousin in his headlong career as fast as she was able, rushed to her -father. - -"Stay him not!" she exclaimed; "rather bid the varlets hasten to help -him. 'Tis no demon hath gotten possession of him--unless, in good -sooth, love may be termed a demon. Speed him on his way, and I will -tell whither he goes, and wherefore." - -Lady Mabel's laughing face dispersed any fears which might have been -entertained for Ralph's sanity, and a moment or two later, the latter, -who had hastily girded on his armour, emerged into the yard as his groom -brought round his horse. - -"Adieu, fair cousin!" he exclaimed. "Thou hast indeed removed a burden -from my heart!" he added, placing his foot in the stirrup. - -At that moment a man hurried into the castle-yard through the outer -bailey, and made his way through the group of serving-men and grooms -gathered round the hall door. - -It was a young lay-brother in the garb of a Benedictine. His long frock -was girt up round his loins, as though he had been running violently. -He was muddy and wayworn, and one side of his face was smeared with -blood, flowing apparently from a wound in the head, hastily bound up -with a bandage. - -Tottering and reeling from exhaustion, the Benedictine pushed his way up -to Ralph, his eyes staring wildly and starting from his head. - -"Sir Ralph," he cried, "the Lady Aliva hath been carried captive to -Bedford Castle!" - -And then he fell senseless into the arms of the nearest bystander. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII.* - - _*THE BIRD IN THE CAGE.*_ - - -When William de Breaute and the priest reached the door of the chapel on -Bromham Bridge, the latter simply pointed to it, saying,-- - -"There is the bird in the cage. But the key of the cage is in the -keeping of the Church." - -After this parabolic remark, he led De Breaute away again to a small -hostelry, where they entered a private room. De Breaute perceived that -the priest had a proposal to make, but waited for him to begin. - -"Thou spakest anon of guerdon to Holy Church for helping thee on with -thy plans in hand," the priest commenced. - -"Ay, in good sooth," said De Breaute, seeing that the ecclesiastic meant -business; "or a reward to her servants," he added. "Speak! what wouldst -thou--money, lands, wealth?" - -Fixing his cunning dark eyes on his companion's face, the latter -answered in one word,-- - -"Power!" - -"Ah, pardie! and what have I to do with the advancement of churchmen?" -said De Breaute, with a shrug. "Our name is in no good odour with -Mother Church at this time, forsooth!" - -The priest smiled sardonically. - -"Certes, I have no wish that your brother Fulke should recommend me for -high office among the Benedictines of St. Alban's, for example." - -The news of Fulke's penance and pardon had already spread far and wide -among the churchmen of that neighbourhood. - -"At St. Alban's, pardie!" laughed De Breaute, as he recollected his -brother's account of the scene in the chapter-house, and of the manner -in which he had, for the second time as it were, defrauded the abbey -coffers. - -But the priest suddenly changed the tone of banter in which he had -hitherto addressed De Breaute, and the sarcastic expression of his face -gave place to one of bitter anger. - -"Hearken, Sir Knight," he exclaimed. "Once I stood high in my order. -Brother Bertram was honoured, respected, rising, among the brethren of -St. ----. But I care not to tell a layman the reason of my fall. -Suffice it that I fell, and that I was expelled my order. I, of more -noble blood than all the other brethren together--I, more than half a -Norman--here have I been for the last three years, ministering to Saxon -swine who grovel in their hovels round yon bridge chapel; a mere -mass-priest, offering prayers to St. Nicolas that travellers may pass -safe, that sordid merchants may keep their chattels safe from roadside -robbers! A fair portion, forsooth, for one who might have commanded -men, been honoured, famed, obeyed!" - -De Breaute shrugged his shoulders again. - -"Marry, Sir Priest, but by my troth I see not how I am to help thee! -What power can I give thee, save the command of a party of men-at-arms?" - -"Sir De Breaute," replied the other, "your chapel is unserved. No -priest passes 'neath the castle portcullis." - -"Ay, and you speak true." - -"Hark ye," continued the priest, "the castle of Bedford will be still -more famous ere long. The star of the De Breautes riseth fast. The -fault thy brother hath committed against Holy Church hath been pardoned, -and what matter a few Saxon churls, if the Norman nobles but own him -their peer?" - -"Marry, Sir Priest, and I thank you heartily. I am, in good sooth, glad -to hear that my family are so in fortune's way. But how mattereth that -to thee?" - -"When the De Breautes rise and are ennobled, all who serve them will -rise too. The chaplain of Bedford Castle shall be no mean priest then. -As one of the secular clergy I would then lord it over the regulars, and -show the order that expelled me, Bertram de Concours, that they must -needs bow before one who stands well with a rich and powerful Norman -baron." - -"If, then, the chaplaincy of the castle is all thou dearest, I can -safely promise it shall be thine," replied De Breaute, laughing in his -sleeve at the price the other had named. "But, certes, we must have the -chapel swept out and the altar repaired. By my troth, there will be -much ado with my sister and her women when they hear there will be mass -sung again at home," he added, with a cynical laugh. "But say on now, -Sir Priest or Sir Chaplain, as I may well call thee, how about the -present work on hand?" - -"Leave that to me," returned the other. "The Church shall open her -doors, and the bird will hop out. See thou to it that thou secure her -when she is beyond my care." - -"And how so?" said William. - -"Marry, that is your affair," replied the priest. "Mine ends at the -chapel door." - -"Pardie! shall I swing her up to my saddle-bow and be off with her? By -St. Hubert, I might have done so this evening had I not bidden my -varlets loose her. A curse on my hesitation! But counsel me, prithee." - -"If it is my counsel you wish, I will not deny it. Methinks the damsel -should be conveyed through the streets of Bedford town otherwise than -swinging to a saddle like a market-wife's butter-basket. But, Sir -Knight, thou knowest far better than I how to treat a fair lady." - -"I have it!" exclaimed De Breaute. "There is the horse-litter of my -sister, in the which she sometimes is graciously permitted to go abroad, -when her ailments allow her not to mount her palfrey. She is ever -sickly, the woman. I will send to Bedford for it. Nay, I would go -myself, could I trust my men to guard." - -"Go thyself, if thou art so minded," replied the priest. "I will so far -stand, on my part, to my pledge, that I will answer for it that the bird -be not uncaged till I hear from thee. Do not thou show thyself in the -matter at all. Seest thou not that in that case thou canst anon tell -the fair one a pretty tale, of how thou callest thy men off from chasing -her, even as thou didst in the marshes, and that they captured her -without thy knowledge or consent? See," he continued, "here is this -small crucifix. Send it to me. When I receive it back from thy hands, -I shall know that all is ready--that the litter waits anon." And as he -spoke, the priest handed the soldier a small metal emblem of redemption, -the pledge of his nefarious doings. "See, also, that the Lady -Margaret's women prepare a suitable lodging for the lady. Thou wouldst, -certes, see her well attended? I have thy knightly word that she is in -honour treated, or I loose her not? Withdraw, then, thy men from guard -here, and send others more seemly to escort a lady. I plight my word -that, as I hope to be chaplain of thy brother's castle, I loose her not -till I receive thy pledge." - -"But," objected De Breaute, "how am I to warrant me she will be -conveyed--" - -"Leave that to me," said the treacherous priest. "If she be not placed -of her own free will in the litter, I shall not have done my share of -the work--that thou mayest hold sure. Have only a care, however, that -naught about the horses or the litter proclaimeth it to be from De -Breaute's stables." - -So saying he passed out of the room. De Breaute followed him. Calling -to the man who was not on guard to bring him his horse, and then to come -after him with his fellow, De Breaute rode off to Bedford, some two -miles distant from Bromham Bridge. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV.* - - _*THE SANCTUARY VIOLATED.*_ - - -"The key is in the keeping of the Church." - -At the actual moment when Father Bertram, at the beginning of the -interview recorded in the last chapter, uttered these words, the door of -the chapel was literally in the Church's charge, in the person of the -stout lay-brother, who, hearing footsteps and voices without, now stood -with his broad shoulders leaning against the oak. He could hear but -little of the conversation through the thick door, but he guessed it had -to do with his lady, and concluded that De Breaute had tracked her to -her hiding-place. - -For a time he remained uncertain how to act. Churchman as he was, it -seemed almost impossible to him that any one, even a brutal soldier, -should dare to violate the sanctuary of the chapel; but yet he feared -that those without were plotting to carry off the Lady Aliva. - -At length, when all was quiet again outside, he crossed the little -building, and knocked gently at the door of the sacristy. It was opened -by his mother, who laid her finger upon her lips as a sign to him to -keep silence. - -"My lady sleeps," she whispered, and shut the door again. Evidently no -advice was to be had from her. - -Uncertain whither to turn for aid, he recrossed the chapel, and, for the -first time since Aliva had sought refuge in it, unbarred the door and -looked out. - -It was now past midnight. The village was sunk in silence, and no one -was to be seen about. His first idea was to make his way towards -Bedford, and he passed half across the bridge over the dark river. Then -he fancied he heard the sound of a horse's hoof echoing from a distance -through the stillness of the night. Though he knew it not, it was the -sound of De Breaute spurring towards Bedford. - -But another sight close at hand called off his attention. Through the -gloom he became distinctly aware of a tall, armed figure leaning against -the parapet of the bridge. - -"Gramercy!" he said to himself, stopping short; "here is one of the -soldiers on guard! There can be no escape this way. St. Benedict aid -us!" - -Of course, unaware that in a few minutes the man would be withdrawn, the -lay-brother retraced his steps. Next he met the other man-at-arms -leading the horses toward his comrade, and his heart sank within him at -what he imagined were further measures to guard the Bedford road. He -passed the soldier unchallenged in the dark, and then a little further -met a man coming towards the chapel. - -It was the priest, straight from his conclave with De Breaute. - -Bertram de Concours approached the lay-brother. - -"A brother servant in the ministry of Holy Church, an I mistake not," -said he. - -"Nay, reverend father," returned the Benedictine, "but a lay-brother I, -of the holy house of Alban." - -"And I," returned the other, "am but the unworthy priest who serves the -altar of St. Nicolas in yonder chapel. But the chapel," he continued, -eying the lay-brother closely, "is occupied by other than its priest -to-night. A lady hath sought sanctuary there. She must be guarded, -watched, tended." - -The Benedictine was puzzled. The voice sounded to him like the voice of -him whom he had heard talking with De Breaute without the chapel door. -Should he ask his advice and help? He was the priest of the chapel; -surely he was to be trusted. - -"Tended she hath been by my mother," he answered, "and I myself have -watched and guarded the chapel door. But she must remove hence. It is -not fit that our fair lady of Bletsoe should remain in this plight, -tended by peasants only. She must to her father's house." - -Bertram saw his opportunity. - -"Sooth, thou speakest truly, brother," he said. "I would fain despatch -her thither. Not that I quite make out her case," he continued -craftily. "My people do tell me that yester evening a lady came into -the village in sore plight, and leading a steed well-nigh ridden to -death, and thou sayest she is the Lady de Pateshulle. She should to -Bletsoe. But can she walk?" - -"Walk, father! nay, in good sooth. For all my mother's care she is so -weary with her ride that she even now sleeps. Besides, do ladies such -as she tramp the country roads like a churl's wench? And her palfrey -cannot carry her!" - -"She should be carried thither in a litter," replied Bertram de -Concours; "but whither shall we fetch one? A messenger must forthwith -to Bletsoe, and acquaint the noble house of De Pateshulle with its -lady's need, and that at once." - -The bait was thrown out by which he hoped to remove the lay-brother out -of the way. The fish rose. - -"I am thy messenger, father," responded the Benedictine with eagerness. -"I will myself to Bletsoe, and devise means to transport my lady thither -in safety and comfort." - -"By my faith, brother," exclaimed Bertram, in simulated gratitude, "thou -hast well spoken. A burden is lifted from my heart. Haste thee, and -see that help is here by dawn. But tarry a moment," he continued, still -weaving his treacherous web; "we must to the chapel and let the lady -know that aid is at hand, and that she will shortly be quit of this -dangerous and unpleasant position." - -The two men entered the chapel. The old woman was still watching by the -sleeping girl, but hearing steps, she came out of the sacristy. - -"Tell thy mother to warn her charge that she may expect to journey -shortly," said the priest. - -"But my lady still sleeps softly," objected the good woman. - -"Then let her know when she awakens that thy son hath gone to Bletsoe -for aid, and that help she shall have shortly, and means of travelling -hence," said Father Bertram. - -Mistress Hodges returned to the sacristy. - -"My lady is awakened," she said. "She heard your voices. Ye should -have spoken more softly. She needs yet rest." - -"Go thou then to the door," said Bertram to the lay-brother. "She knows -thy voice, but I am a stranger. Tell her what thou purposest to do." - -The Benedictine did as he was bid. Standing at the half-open door, he -announced in a few words that he was off to Bletsoe for help. - -Aliva, barely aroused, sank back again into slumber, murmuring words of -thanks to her messenger. - -"And now haste thee on thy road," said the priest to the lay-brother; "I -myself will watch the chapel door." - -The latter set off. He did not again attempt to cross the bridge, still -guarded as he imagined by De Breaute and his men, or he would now have -found it clear of sentinels. He made his way along the right bank of -the river to the ford at Milton in the dark quietness of the small hours -that precede the dawn. But ere he reached the spot which had so -well-nigh proved fatal to him some few weeks before, the birds had begun -to twitter in the brushwood and the sedge, and on the eastern horizon - - "Lightly and brightly breaks away - The morning from her mantle gray." - - -In the uncertain light he became aware that a horseman was in front of -him, trying apparently to force a wearied steed through the ford. As he -approached, a clearer view revealed the rider to be none other than -Dicky Dumpling, the fat porter. - -"Soho, soho, Dickon! And whither so early, or so late, as you will?" - -Thus apostrophized, Dicky turned his horse and recognized the -lay-brother. - -"St. Dunstan be praised! Here is a friend from Bletsoe. O brother, -there is ill news--a sore mishap! Our Lady Aliva is chased, and carried -captive too, for aught I know, by that devil in man's shape, Fulke de -Breaute, or his brother. The livelong night have I sought her on the -road 'twixt here and Elstow, over marsh and bank, up hill and down dale. -Not a bite or a sup--" - -"Peace, Dicky, and cheer thy heart. Thy lady is safe." - -"Safe, thou sayest? Oh, the saints be praised!--safe?" - -"As safe as Holy Church can make her," replied the other. "She hath -found refuge in the chapel on Bromham Bridge." - -Dumpling gave a vast sigh of satisfaction, and his face once more -assumed its usual jolly expression. - -"That was it then! Beshrew me for a fool! I found her palfrey in -Bromham village, and though I asked up and down among the folks, no one -could tell me aught of the lady. Even the women, whose tongues go fast -enow, like the clapper of a bell at vespers time, when they are not -wanted, had nothing to say. Gramercy! safe in the chapel! But you, -brother, what doest here?" - -"On an errand thou canst well relieve me of. Four legs are better than -two. Thy Dobbin has still enow strength left in him to carry him back -to his manger. So haste thee, good Dickon, with all speed thou mayest, -and bid them at Bletsoe Castle send quickly a litter for my lady to bear -her home. She is weary and weak. I, meantime, will return to her. -Somehow it mislikes me leaving her alone with priests and women, when -those devil's servants, the Breaute varlets, are about. And 'twill -cheer her heart to hear good news of thee, for she misdoubted some -mishap to thee also." - -"I fall not lightly, brother," replied Dicky. "The armed men came with -the rush of a battering-ram. But thanks to St. Dunstan and the muddy -roads, I got off scathless.--And now, Dobbin--to our oats, Dobbin, to -our oats; and to our lady's aid." - -The lay-brother, much relieved in his mind, hurriedly retraced his -steps. It was broad daylight as he once more approached the chapel, and -while yet at a distance he plainly perceived a little crowd gathered at -the door. - -A horse-litter, consisting of a kind of curtained couch resting on two -poles, borne by two stout horses, was in waiting. On the foremost horse -rode a groom. Another mounted man stood by, leading a spare -saddle-horse. - -As the lay-brother drew nearer, he saw three figures issue from the -chapel, and recognized the Lady Aliva, his mother, and Father Bertram. - -Struck with astonishment that the desired conveyance should have -appeared so speedily, the Benedictine halted in the middle of the road. -Then the truth flashed upon him. - -It was impossible that the litter could have come from Bletsoe. There -must be treachery afoot. - -A glance at the De Breaute livery worn by the mounted groom confirmed -his suspicion. - -Without a moment's hesitation he rushed forward, exclaiming in warning -tones,-- - -"Mother! my lady! Stay, stay! for God's sake stay!" and as he spoke he -stretched out a detaining hand towards the litter. - -But ere he could grasp it, the priest, who had been assisting Aliva into -the conveyance, turned sharply round, and with the key of the chapel -door, which he still held in his hand, dealt the Benedictine a heavy -blow on the head. - -Then he shouted to the postillion to hurry off, and himself jumping on -to the spare saddle-horse, followed the litter towards Bedford, leaving -the lay-brother senseless and bleeding on the road, his mother bending -over him. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV.* - - _*RALPH RAPS AT THE CASTLE GATE.*_ - - -At the moment when the Benedictine lay-brother, haggard and wounded, -rushed into the yard of Eaton Castle, Ralph de Beauchamp was on the -point of starting for Bletsoe, reassured as to Aliva by his cousin's -account of the reception the former had given to William de Breaute. -The single sentence uttered by the Benedictine ere he fell senseless to -the ground came as a terrible reaction. His impulse had been to ride -off rapidly to Bletsoe and urge his suit with Aliva and her father; and -now, at one fell swoop, came the news that she was prisoner in the hands -of his rival, her discarded and insulted lover. Overcome with the shock -of the news, following so soon upon his late rapture, he rode out of the -castle yard, after commending the messenger to the care of the -by-standers. He was almost reeling in his saddle with mental agony. - -When the lay-brother, left senseless at the door of the bridge chapel, -had been restored to consciousness by his mother's care, his first -thought was for the young lady so treacherously kidnapped. - -Despite his mother's entreaties, he made his way into Bedford, his -bleeding head roughly bandaged; and soon learned that the horse-litter -of Margaret de Ripariis had passed through the town into the castle in -the early morning. But who might be within it no one could tell. - -Then the Benedictine hastened to tell the townsfolk of this new outrage -on the part of the De Breautes, and endeavoured, but in vain, to stir -them to action. They had lived too long under the tyranny of the Robber -Baron to have courage enough to attempt to throw off his yoke. - -Baffled and disheartened, the brave young fellow now determined to seek -Ralph de Beauchamp. The latter's devotion to the Lady Aliva was too -well known among the dependents of the De Pateshulles for the -Benedictine to think for a moment that he should implore his aid in -vain. - -Once outside the castle wall, Sir Ralph turned his horse's head towards -Bedford. What he intended to do there, alone and unaided, he perhaps -had scarcely considered. An irresistible impulse drew him to the spot -where she whom he loved was imprisoned. - -Bedford is some twelve miles from Eaton Socon, and when Ralph arrived -there he found the burghers much exercised in their minds over the event -of that morning. They had hardly recovered from the shock of seeing -Henry de Braybrooke, but the evening before, hurried through the streets -as a prisoner, ere this fresh outrage had followed. Not that it was by -any means strange to see luckless women carried off to the castle--as, -for instance, after the St. Alban's raid; but never yet had the Robber -Baron dared to treat a member of one of the noble families of the county -in this fashion. - -But though the Bedford burgesses were duly impressed with the enormity -of Fulke de Breaute's doings, they were loath to take any steps to put a -stop to them. And indeed Ralph himself was obliged to confess that any -attempt to climb those lofty stone walls, or to throw themselves on to -the spears of the armed men who kept watch and ward night and day at the -castle gate, would have been utter madness. The only hope was that, now -that one of the king's justices was actually a prisoner, the royal -forces might be sent to extirpate this nest of robbers. - -"Ah, Sir Knight," quoth one of the fathers of the town to Ralph, as he -gravely shook his head, "our goodly town has indeed grievously suffered -since thy noble family and thy renowned uncle were driven away. In the -old days the castle was a protection and a great benefit to us. But -now--alas, fair sir! thou knowest as well as we do what we suffer. We -can scarce call our souls our own." - -"Ay," put in one of the clergy of the town, who formed one of the group -which had gathered round young De Beauchamp, "see our fair church of St. -Paul. It hath stood here since the days of the Saxon Bedicanford. And -now, alas! how forlorn and shorn it standeth, even as a widow in her -weeds mourning for her lord! Thus hath she stood since the day the -impious Fulke did wickedly break down the carved work of our Zion with -axes and hammers, and carry off her stones to strengthen yon great -castle which towers above us. In the chancel resteth thy ancestor -Simon, he who finished the good work begun by his mother, the Lady -Roisia--to wit, the priory at Newenham for the canons of St. Paul's. In -good sooth, Sir Knight, thy house and Holy Church have both good reason -to curse these French intruders." - -Ralph turned dejectedly away from priests and burghers. The loss of his -family possessions hardly weighed with him, compared with the loss of -her who was more precious to him than spoils wrested from the Church. -He rode slowly and deliberately to the castle gate. - -The sentinels on duty stood at attention, ready to resist an attack -should a single horseman be so foolhardy as to ride against their -uplifted spears. - -Ralph looked upwards at the stern walls frowning down upon him, and -shook his sword at them in futile rage. - -As he did so two figures appeared above the battlement of the barbican. -They were the Robber Baron and his brother, who had been informed that -Sir Ralph de Beauchamp had ridden up to the castle. - -Fulke made the knight a mocking gesture of salutation. - -"Sir Ralph," he said, "it grieves me sore that I cannot bid thee enter -within these walls, and proffer thee the hospitality which is suitable -to thy rank. But we entertain guests already." - -So saying, he turned round and shoved forward the disconsolate-looking -judge, Henry de Braybrooke. - -"Our worthy guest here," he continued, "has not yet thought proper to -cancel those writs which he and his brethren were pleased to issue from -their court at Dunstable. In consequence, he hath been forced to -partake of the somewhat meagre hospitality of bread and water in the -dungeon-vault beneath the keep. It may perchance be even necessary to -resort to yet more painful measures." - -"Sir Ralph de Beauchamp," called out the plucky little judge, trying to -lean over the battlements, "I prithee, convey to the king, my royal -master, that his servant will never consent to any reversal of judgments -given in concert with the learned Thomas de Muleton and the learned -Martin de Pateshulle, at the bidding of the unlearned-- - -"Peace!" cried De Breaute, pushing the little man back violently; "I -brought thee not hither to speak, but to be seen.--Soho, warder! take -the justice back again to the dungeon, and see that his supper be -somewhat more scanty than was his dinner. Those who bend not must -starve." - -And the warder led away the little justice, remonstrating and quoting -legal Latin anent wrongful imprisonment and detention. - -Fulke de Breaute again looked over the parapet. - -"Yet another prisoner have I here, Sir Ralph," he said; "but she is -entertained in the lady's bower, as befits a damsel who is shortly to be -the bride of the brother to the lord of the castle. Even now our new -chaplain, Bertram de Concours, he who anon served the chapel on Bromham -Bridge, prepares our long-disused chapel for the marriage rites." - -Ralph could bear it no longer. He gnashed his teeth, and whirling his -sword round his head in impotent fury, flung it at the speaker. The -good blade shivered in two against the stone wall, and Fulke resumed his -banter. - -"Little boots it sending thy sword where thou thyself darest not -follow," said he; "but methinks thou hast tarried long enow beneath our -walls. Get thee gone ere thy churlishness be returned with usury." - -Ralph sprang from his horse. Unarmed though he was, he made for the -gate, as if he would tear it down with his bare hands. - -Fulke coolly signed to the sentinel who stood at his post over the -gate-house, with cross-bow ready strung and quarrel fitted in the slot. -The man took aim and released his string. The missile struck Ralph in a -spot where his hastily-donned armour was imperfectly fastened, and he -fell wounded to the ground. - -At the same moment two female figures reached the western end of the -walk which ran along the top of the long wall bordering the river side -of the castle, at right angles to the gate-house. - -One of them, a damsel of inquisitive disposition, hearing the twang of -the cross-bow, sprang on to the parapet to see what was happening. From -the angle she could look down upon the level space outside the gate. - -"What see you, Beatrice, that you watch so closely?" inquired a girl's -voice from the wall beneath the former's vantage-ground. - -"My lady," exclaimed Beatrice Mertoun, "the archer hath struck some -knight below, for I see the townsfolk carrying off a wounded man clad in -armour. His helmet hath rolled from his head. What curly hair! How -pale he looks, alas, poor youth! Ah, I see my lord pointing to the -helmet. There goes a man from the wicket-gate. He has picked it up; he -is bringing it in. Marry, how the burghers shrank back when he -appeared! Methought they were like to drop the wounded man. But no; -they have borne him off." - -"I wot not what this may mean," said Lady Aliva; for she was the speaker -from below. "There is no attack on the castle? There come no more -armed men?" - -"Nay, none but the wounded one," replied Beatrice. "But stay, my lady; I -will to the gate-house. Perchance I may learn somewhat." - -Impelled by curiosity, the girl made her way down from the wall, and -quickly crossed the yard. - -Fulke, when the helmet had been brought him, glanced at it and then -threw it contemptuously on one side. Then, when the burghers carrying -Ralph had disappeared into a neighbouring house, he turned away and went -to another part of the castle. - -No sooner had he vanished than Beatrice Mertoun, standing below, called -up in her most bewitching tones to the archer who had shot the quarrel. - -"Ho, Hubert--Hubert of Provence! Wilt do me a favour?" - -The man-at-arms was one of her most ardent admirers. He looked down on -the pretty upturned face. - -"A thousand, Mistress Beatrice! You have but to ask, pardie." - -"Then throw me down yon helmet your lord cast away anon." - -The man hesitated. He glanced round; but Sir Fulke was out of sight. -Beatrice pouted deliciously. - -"I said not a thousand, but one favour, Hubert. By my troth, Arnoul or -Denis would have given it me in a trice. Methinks you set less store on -my words than--" - -"Be not so cruel, fair one," exclaimed the admiring archer. "I obey -your slightest wish. Here!" - -The helmet fell at her feet. Beatrice picked it up, and then, without -so much as a look at the archer, ran back with it to Aliva. - -"See, my lady," she cried, "thou canst read these riddles of the -heralds." - -Aliva recognized on the helmet the crest of the De Beauchamps. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI.* - - _*WITHIN THE CASTLE WALLS.*_ - - -The Lady Aliva had been carried off to Bedford in a half-unconscious -state; for though she had awoke from her sleep refreshed and -restored--thanks to the kind care of Mistress Hodges--the treacherous -priest had so arranged that nothing should hinder him from carrying out -his part of the shameful contract. - -After the departure of the lay-brother he returned to the chapel. - -"Daughter," he said to Aliva, through the half-open door of the -sacristy, "thou hast done well in seeking the protection of Mother -Church, and I, the humble minister of this altar, will see that thou art -well guarded if thou remainest here." - -"Thanks, reverend father," replied the maiden; "but a short time since, -towards dawn of day, methinks (but I have slept since), this faithful -woman's son offered to set off to my father's house at Bletsoe and warn -the household there of my whereabouts." - -"Thy messenger will be yet some time ere he returneth," answered the -priest, "and if thou art minded to depart at once, we needs must find -some other means of conveyance for thee, lady. I have looked round -about since it grew light, and thy pursuers have departed," he added, -revolving in his mind how best to induce Aliva to enter the horse-litter -from Bedford, which he guessed would by now not be far off. - -"Thanks for the hospitality of this holy sanctuary," Aliva replied, "but -I would fain depart as speedily as may be," she added, not caring to -occupy the sacristy of a chapel as her apartment any longer than was -necessary, and with an indefinable dislike, if not distrust, of the -speaker. - -"So be it, lady," Bertram hastened to answer. "I will myself to Bedford. -Doubtless from some of the burghers can I procure a conveyance suited to -thy rank. Moreover, thou art doubtless weak in body, and I have taken -upon myself to order food to be brought thee." - -So saying he moved to the door and beckoned to some one without. A -woman from the village entered, bringing such food and wine as the -hostelry could supply. - -"Thou mayest eat yonder in the sacristy, my daughter, for it is not -consecrated to holy purposes." - -He followed the woman into the priest's room and then dismissed her. -This left him alone for a few moments, for Aliva had entered the chapel -to kneel down before the rude altar, and offer up a heartfelt -thanksgiving for her preservation. - -Father Bertram took a small vial from within his robe and poured some -drops from it into the wine-flask. - -He had not studied the art of drug-concocting in the infirmary of his -late monastery in vain. - -Then he passed out of the chapel, saying that he was going to Bedford. - -Aliva rose from her knees and went into the sacristy and found the food -awaiting her. But she could not swallow, famished though she was, the -rough village fare copiously seasoned with garlic. - -"Alack!" exclaimed Goody Hodges. "But thou wilt die of weakness. See -the wine-flask, lady! Drink, if thou canst not stomach the food." - -Aliva did as she advised; and when the priest shortly returned, having -brought the litter which he had found waiting on the bridge, and having -received back again the pledge of the crucifix, he found the maiden in a -half-unconscious state. - -"Alack, alack! father, she hath swooned again!" cried the deluded -peasant woman. - -"She is overwrought with her hardships," replied the priest. "We must -get her home with all speed. I have found a litter on the road, and it -is in readiness. Help me to bear her to it." - -The fresh morning air outside the chapel door partially revived Aliva. -Opening her eyes she moaned,-- - -"Where am I? where are you taking me?" - -"Home, daughter, to Bletsoe. Let me lay you in the litter!" exclaimed -Bertram hurriedly, and rudely pushing back Dame Hodges, who had stopped -short when she too recognized the De Breaute livery, and saw that she -had been deceived. - -Aliva sank back languidly on the cushions, and her eyes closed again. -She was deaf to a well-known voice imploring her to stay, and unaware of -the lay-brother's gallant attempt to detain her. - -When she recovered her senses again, the litter was jolting fearfully, -for the horses were going at the top of their speed. Bertram rightly -conjectured that Aliva had taken but little of the drugged wine, and was -alarmed lest its numbing influence should wear off ere his captive was -safely secured. So he urged the postillion along, galloping by his -side. - -With returning consciousness Aliva drew aside the curtains of the litter -and looked out. They were certainly not on the road to Bletsoe; she saw -that at once. They were swinging through streets, and curious burgesses -came to their house doors, marvelling what brought the litter of the -Lady Margaret out so early. - -While she was doubting whether she should cry for help or fling herself -from the litter, it turned under an echoing gateway, and stopped in a -courtyard before the entrance of a castle keep. - -A girl of about her own age came down the steps. - -"Lady, please to alight and follow me to the apartment prepared for -you." - -Aliva descended from the litter and looked around her, bewildered. A -group of men-at-arms were drawn up at a respectful distance, and the -grooms who had brought her stood silent by their horses. The priest had -vanished as soon as he had seen her safe into the castle. - -Aliva turned to the girl beside her. - -"Where am I?" she murmured, still half dazed. "Is this not Bedford -Castle? There has been treachery--treachery by that ill-looking priest! -This is more of De Breaute's doings, damsel." - -"Nay, lady, I can tell thee naught, save that my lord Sir Fulke bade me -prepare a lodging in the keep for a lady who was to arrive in my lady's -litter. Thy chamber is ready on the floor above the great hall, next to -my lady's bower. Prithee, let me lead thee thither." - -Aliva felt somewhat reassured by this reception. At least she found -herself in the care of women. - -Silently she allowed her conductress to show her the way across the hall -and up a turret stair to her apartment, where she sank wearily on a -couch. - -The pretty waiting-woman bustled about, offering the unhappy girl -various attentions. She brought her articles of dress from her -mistress's coffer, and assisted Aliva to remove her travel-stained -garments and clothe herself in becoming attire. - -The latter eyed her curiously. - -"And who art thou, maiden?" she inquired. - -"My name is Beatrice Mertoun. I am the waiting-woman of the Lady -Margaret, the wife of Sir Fulke. And thou, lady, if I might make so -bold?" - -"I am Aliva de Pateshulle from Bletsoe," returned Aliva. - -"From Bletsoe!" echoed Beatrice. "Methought I remembered your face and -figure as one of the nuns at Elstow when I attended my mistress to the -retreat there. We returned but yesterday. But thou art no nun--no -sister of an abbey?" - -"Nay," replied Aliva, "but I wore the habit of a novice as a penitent -during the retreat. Doubtless," she added, sighing, "this trouble which -hath come upon me is the reward of my sins." - -"Fair lady," said Beatrice gently, "you look sad;" and she came and -knelt down at her feet. - -"Sad!" exclaimed Aliva, raising herself on her elbow and gazing down at -the waiting-maid with horror-stricken face; "I am -miserable--betrayed--undone! Ah, I see it all now--this foul plot! -William de Breaute hath encompassed my ruin!" - -"William de Breaute!" cried Beatrice. "It is he who is at the bottom of -this, forsooth! By my halidom, _I_ see daylight now! I overheard him -speaking of you with his brother--and then the chapel, repaired and -cleaned. That was what Sir Fulke meant as he watched the men at work -and said in jesting mood that from his own experience an unwilling bride -was all the sweeter for the trouble of snaring and catching her, and -William de Breaute answered that for his part he cared not for a ripe -plum that fell into one's mouth without the picking." - -"The chapel--an unwilling bride!" gasped poor Aliva. "The Lady Margaret -was such! I see it all, alas! Does my father know of this? Does he -give his consent?" - -"Alas, fair lady, I know naught! It pains me to see thee in such grief, -and in good sooth I mind me well of the stories I have heard of the -unwilling wooing, the hasty bridal of my mistress. But, lady, cheer -thee. Thou art weary and mazed. Rest here awhile, and talk no more, -and I will watch by thee." - -The bright spring afternoon was already waning when, some hours after -the events related above, the two maidens walked out upon the south wall -of the castle. Beatrice had persuaded Aliva to come thither, hoping -that the fresh air might revive her drooping spirits; and Sir Fulke had -given permission that his prisoner might repair thither when she -pleased, though the precincts of the castle were forbidden. - -As they paced up and down the terrace the fertile brain of Mistress -Beatrice, already a warm partisan of the fair young prisoner, began to -weave plans of escape. - -"Canst swim, fair lady?" she inquired. "'Twould be naught to leap into -Ouse water from yon turret! Or, better still, that thy knight (she took -it for granted that Aliva had a knight) should bring hither a skiff some -dark night, beneath the walls!" - -At that moment they heard the twang of an archer's bow sounding from the -gate-house hard by. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII.* - - _*THE KING IN COUNCIL.*_ - - -For some time Ralph lay in a precarious state in the house of one of the -burgesses of Bedford. The bolt from the cross-bow had given him a nasty -wound, which it required all the skill of the leech to heal. Moreover, -he lay fretting and fuming at the thought that his Aliva was a prisoner -in the hands of his enemy, and his mental anxiety seriously interfered -with his bodily recovery. - -As he got better, however, he received visits from many of the principal -townspeople, who were much attached to the house of De Beauchamp, and -full of pity for the young knight. - -"Sir Ralph," quoth one of these grave personages, as he sat solemnly -stroking his beard by the pallet where the young man still lay, "if one -richer in the experience of years than thou art may be permitted to -advise thee, I would show thee how useless a waste of life and blood -would be any attempt of thine, unaided, to rescue thy fair lady from her -direful plight." - -"Marry, but have I not learned that lesson already!" ejaculated Ralph -irritably; "but whither then to get aid? for get aid I must. This -emprise is of more worth to me than a dozen lives! Speak you on behalf -of your kind, Gilbert the Clothier, the other traders and craftsmen of -the town? Are ye ready to strike a blow against this tyrant?" - -"I crave thy pardon, Sir Knight, but we are men of peace, unused to -warlike weapons, and we have much to lose. With one swoop Fulke de -Breaute could burn about our ears all the amassed gain of a lifetime!" - -Ralph shrugged his shoulders impatiently. - -"'Tis vain to speak to barn-door fowls of the liberty of the hawk's -flight!" replied Ralph, somewhat ungraciously. "But, Sir Merchant, if -the only weapons ye can use be your tools and your measuring-yards, yet -methinks ye have store of wisdom in your heads, in full measure above us -who spend all our wits upon our sinews!" he added laughingly. "Prithee, -counsel me." - -"There are none in all the county round, in these days when so many of -our gentlefolks are impoverished with the wars and disturbances of these -last years, who can hope to lift a spear successfully against this rich -Frenchman," the merchant began. "We must e'en seek aid further afield. -Anon I had word brought me that the churchmen brook ill that the learned -brother of Martin de Pateshulle and Thomas de Muleton lies in the -keeping of the enemy of the Church, and are minded to stir in this -matter with the king." - -"The king!" exclaimed Ralph, half raising himself. "That is in good -sooth good news!" - -"The king holds a council shortly at Northampton, as ye know," Gilbert -went on, "and it is there they purport to lay our case before him and -his barons and bishops assembled." - -"I will to Northampton, then," cried Ralph eagerly. "Certes, I was even -purposing to go thither ere this unlucky scratch detained me. I sought -the king's favour to give me some command in this army which is about to -inarch for the north." - -"Better turn your lance-point nearer home, Sir Knight," the merchant -replied. "There will be work enow and glory enow to be gotten for all -who list in pulling down this robber Frenchman's stronghold!" - -"I will to Northampton as soon as this leech who holds me in his -clutches gives me leave to buckle on my armour again," Ralph added. - -And so it came about that, not many days later, our hero rode over to -Northampton, where he found the king in council with the bishops, -abbots, barons, and justices. - -[Illustration: The council at Northampton.] - -The youthful Henry III. was at this time only seventeen years old, -though he had been declared to be of age two years before. His trusted -guardian and adviser, Hubert de Burgh, was, however, still with him, and -was present at the council. The old chronicler tells how, while the -monarch and his advisers were thus assembled, deliberating on the -affairs of state, news was brought of the raid upon the judges, and of -the capture of Henry de Braybrooke by William de Breaute. - -Here was an unbearable insult to the royal supremacy. The attention of -the council was instantly turned from the banks of the Tweed to those of -the Ouse. - -In the storm of indignation which was aroused by the Robber Baron's -latest misdeed the voice of the Church made itself heard. The judges of -the land were at that period mostly ecclesiastics. Could they put up -with this indignity to their learned brother? Was not Fulke also a -destroyer of abbeys and churches? Had he not pulled down St. Paul's -Church at Bedford? and had not that impious raid upon St. Alban's Abbey -been but poorly atoned for by the discipline in the chapter-house? Had -any restitution been made? - -Further, doubtless, the great barons called to their master's -council--they whose sires had forced his father to sign Magna Charta on -the field of Runnymede, and who had spilt their blood for the liberties -of England--had somewhat to say against this French upstart, De Breaute, -this bastard soldier of fortune, who had ensconced himself in a fortress -where one of the old Norman families had been established ever since the -days of the Conqueror. - -Prelate and lord both agreed that the most pressing question of the day -was the overthrow of this robber chief. - -When Ralph rode into the ancient town of Northampton, now crowded with -the magnates of the land, he had no difficulty in finding men of -position and weight who were willing to introduce him, as a scion of the -De Beauchamp family, to the council. - -Henry and his advisers, in earnest discussion over this business of -Bedford, were not sorry to find one who was well acquainted with the -castle and its fortifications. Accordingly, when Ralph was presented to -the council, he was received by the young king with much cordiality. -Henry III., though one of the few weak-minded monarchs of the strong -Plantagenet line, was still so young that his character could hardly be -said to be yet formed, and any mistakes he might make were naturally set -down to his youth and inexperience. This affair of Bedford Castle, -however, was an undertaking in which he exhibited all the promptitude -and energy of his predecessors upon the throne. He resolved to attend -the siege in person, and ordered his council to suspend all other -business and direct their attention solely to the means of carrying it -out. - -The council of war, or committee, to whom were confided the necessary -preparations, took Ralph into their confidence. They were presided over -by no less a personage than Hubert de Burgh himself, who summoned the -young knight to appear before them in the chamber in Northampton Castle, -where they held their conclave. - -Ralph's feelings, as he found himself in the presence of one so -renowned, formerly the governor of Dover Castle, and the custodian in -Brittany of King John's luckless nephew Arthur, and the late guardian of -the king, were those of some shyness. He was a plain, country-born -youth, unused to courts and dignitaries, and even of late years a -landless, penniless knight, one of an outcast family. But the great -justiciary's manner reassured him. - -"Sir Ralph," he said, "we understand that thou wast brought up in -Bedford Castle, and art well acquainted with all its parts." - -"Certes, noble Hugh," replied Ralph, "always excepting those portions -where Fulke de Breaute may have made alterations and additions during -the last few years." - -"Well answered, and with a caution exceeding thy years, Sir Knight. Say -on--what alterations?" - -"By my faith, I can scarcely tell! But he hath pulled down and -well-nigh destroyed the church of St. Paul, and the stones thereof have -been used in the castle walls." - -"For new work, mean you, or for the strengthening of old work?" inquired -the justiciary. - -"That cannot I rightly say," answered Ralph, "for since my uncle was -driven forth, or rather surrendered to Fulke acting in his sovereign's -name, I have not set foot within the castle walls." - -But he added beneath his breath: "Would I were within at this moment!" - -De Burgh overheard him, and with some surprise. - -"So shalt thou be, and that shortly, and with stout men-at-arms at thy -back, an I mistake not. But for the nonce we must learn more about -these walls. How sayest thou the castle lieth?" - -"Along the banks of the Ouse, and on the north side of the stream." - -"And its defences--what be they? All say that the keep was indeed built -by thy ancestor Pain de Beauchamp, and is strong and not easily to be -assaulted." - -"The keep is indeed strong and well built," Ralph replied, "and round it -run a high wall and a deep moat. On the west side only might an attack -be made with any hope of victory, for there lie the bailey yards, the -gate-house, and the barbican. Moreover, between the outer and the inner -bailey there standeth a tower, which we call the old tower, the like of -which, I have heard tell, is not to be found in many castles, and which -commands the bridge." - -As he spoke Ralph made a sort of rough drawing. - -"Here," he said, "is the keep, upon a lofty mound. On this side only is -an entrance possible. We must e'en break through all the outer -defences, and pass on from west to east. But it will be no light -emprise." - -A gleam of pleasure came over the face of the veteran. - -"By the bones of St. Thomas," he exclaimed, "thou showest no mean -knowledge or skill, fair sir. Where hast thou learned the art of war?" - -"I have oft heard my uncle tell the story of how King Stephen besieged -the castle when our ancestor Milo de Beauchamp held it for the Empress -Matilda, nigh upon a hundred years ago," modestly answered Ralph. "He -even contended that it was so strong that no attack could prevail, and -that had it been better victualled it would never have surrendered. And -then, noble knight, if I may make so bold as to remind thee, there is -that sad passage in the history of our house which hath been seared into -the memory of my boyhood--I mean when my uncle, Sir William, surrendered -to this same Fulke, who came in the name of our late king, who was -indeed the enemy of our house. Ofttimes hath my uncle gone over that -tale with me, and hath showed me how he might yet have held the castle -had he possessed better stores and more men." - -The end of this interview was that Ralph, in consideration of the -valuable information he had proved himself willing and able to bestow, -was admitted to all the deliberations of the council, and was listened -to with attention. Neither his uncle William de Beauchamp, nor his -kinsman at Eaton Socon, had come to Northampton; the latter by reason of -his age, and the former on account of his sullen despair, and perhaps -also hindered by a latent distrust of the house of Plantagenet, which -had dealt so ill with him. Thus it happened that Ralph represented, as -it were, the De Beauchamp family. - -He was given plenty to do in the way of hastening preparations, -moreover, and as his heart was in the work, for Aliva's sake, he was -busy both night and day. - -His duties brought him into frequent communications with a personage who -was much to the front when any question of a siege was on hand--namely, -John de Standen, the chief of the miners. Ralph soon discovered that -John had considerable knowledge of Bedford Castle and its -fortifications. This puzzled him not a little at the time, and it was -not till later on that he solved the mystery. - -When the chief of the miners and his assistants had determined what -supplies of material were necessary for the siege, royal writs were -issued for their production. Timber was required for the manufacture of -the bombarding engines or _petraria_, which were to fling great stones -at the castle, and ox or horse hides were needed for the protection of -these machines. Thousands of quarrels were ordered for the cross-bows -and dart-throwing engines. Iron was ordered in great quantities, to be -worked up on the spot, and pickaxes and other tools were not forgotten. - -Moreover, writs were issued to the sheriffs of Hertford, Oxford, -Cambridge, Huntingdon, Northampton, Warwick, Leicester, Rutland, Essex, -Suffolk, Norfolk, Lincoln, and Middlesex, directing them to send two men -from each plough-land (the usual division of land in those days) to work -the aforementioned engines. Then the feeding of these men had to be -attended to. One Peter Buyam, a Burgundian merchant, was ordered to -purchase one hundred and eight casks of wine at St. Botolph's fair, at -forty-three shillings and four-pence a cask. - -From St. Briavels in Gloucestershire, the native place of John de -Standen, were brought thirty assistant miners. But carpenters, -saddlers, and leather-workers, to shape the shields for the engines, -were found nearer at hand by the sheriffs of the counties of Northampton -and Bedford, as were also the men who were to fashion the stones to be -discharged from the petraria. The whole of the midlands was astir over -the siege of Bedford Castle. - -Neither was the Church inactive. To show their horror at the outrages -of the wicked Fulke, the assembled prelates and abbots forthwith granted -the king a subsidy of half a mark for each of their plough-lands, and -also sent, for each hide of land held by them, two men to work the -engines, taking care, however, to obtain an acknowledgment from the king -that this was a special grant. The priory of Newenham, which had been -founded by the De Beauchamps, furnished the stones for the bombardment, -and the abbey of St. Alban's naturally took a deep interest in the -proceedings, which are fully chronicled in the records of the house. - -No sooner, however, was it known that a Bedfordshire maiden, the Lady -Aliva de Pateshulle, was a prisoner of the foreign interloper, than all -the men of the county rose to assist in the undertaking. Even our -stalwart friend the Benedictine lay-brother, as soon as--thanks to the -care of Lady Mabel--he had recovered at Eaton Socon from the dastardly -wound inflicted by Bertram de Concours, found his way to the -headquarters of preparations. - -Martin de Pateshulle, also, as one of those justices whose writs had -been so rudely repudiated by Fulke, was summoned to the council. This -worthy ecclesiastic, who was none the worse for his overthrow by William -de Breaute's horsemen, was much concerned over the fate of his niece. - -In him Ralph, tortured by anxiety which he was striving to drown in -work, found a friend and ready sympathizer. - -"My son," said the archdeacon one day at the close of a long sitting of -the council of war, "thou toilest in this business both as a servant of -Holy Church and as a gallant knight for the rescue of fair lady." - -Ralph sighed. - -"Indeed, venerable father, it is only when my whole heart is busy with -my work that it finds peace. I am torn with doubts and fears concerning -her whom I love. Could I but have one word, one token from her! Could -I but hear something of her, were it even ill news! But this silence, -it ofttimes is more than I can bear." - -John de Standen, still busy at the table over a rough sketch, looked up -at these words. - -"Sir Knight," he said, "thou meanest what thou sayest? Hast a stout -heart? Canst bear ill news?" - -Ralph sprang from his seat, and gripped the king's miner by the arm till -he winced. - -"Speak, man, I conjure thee! Thou hast heard aught?" - -"Speech is just what is forbidden to me," replied John. "My lips are -sealed. All the message I have for thee is: 'Haste, or it may be too -late!' Ask me no more." - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII.* - - _*HEARD UNDERGROUND.*_ - - -On the twenty-second of June 1224, the king arrived at Bedford, and the -siege of the castle commenced almost immediately. Outside the town, on -the Northampton road, pavilions were pitched for himself, for Hubert de -Burgh the justiciary, and other great officers, while the troops and -their officers, Ralph de Beauchamp among them, were quartered in rude -shelters near the castle, or billeted upon the townsfolk, that they -might be ready to repel any sortie which the besieged might make with a -view of burning the engines of war. Close to these latter were encamped -the men who worked them, together with the miners, carpenters, and other -artificers ready for their respective turn of duty. - -Before any hostile movement was commenced, however, the king, in due -form, summoned the castle to surrender. An ecclesiastic was detailed -for the purpose; for priests in those days often performed strange -functions. - -It was but an empty form, for no one expected that the king's command -would be obeyed. Moreover, Sir Fulke de Breaute himself was not in the -castle. With the astute craftiness which pervaded all his actions, he -had gone away some little while before, leaving his brother in command. -He took himself off into Wales, where he joined the Earl of Chester, -who, though siding for some time with the king, had left him, in -conjunction with some other barons, under somewhat suspicious -circumstances. - -As was to be expected, William de Breaute made answer to the -archdeacon--for such was the office of the king's messenger--that he had -received no orders from his brother to surrender the castle, and that he -certainly should not do so without authority from him. So the siege was -begun without delay. - -The method of taking a castle in those days was much the same as that -which continued in vogue till, long afterwards, stone walls gave place -to earthworks. The walls were first battered by stones thrown from the -petraria, and when a breach had been made a storming-party rushed in. -The only change consequent upon the introduction of gunpowder was that -cannon then took the place of the stone-throwing engines. - -The machines were placed one or two on each side of the castle, and they -must have been of considerable size and strength, as one of them -projected stones right across the river. The men who worked them were -protected against the quarrels, arrows, and other missiles directed at -them from the walls, by screens made of ox and horse hides. Two lofty -erections, which towered far above the fortifications of the castle, -were manned by slingers and cross-bowmen, who thence shot down upon the -garrison on the walls and in the baileys below them. - -Close up against the face of the wall itself was pushed a movable -screen, called the "cat," the object of which was to protect John de -Standen and his men as they carried on their work of undermining the -walls. - -Ralph was ordered by his superior officer, a grim old baron who had been -one of those assembled at Runnymede when John signed the charter, but -who now supported his son, to pay special attention to the mining -operations. To Ralph and John de Standen attached himself one who could -hardly be called a soldier, though he exhibited all the courage and zeal -which are the necessary qualities of a man of war. This was the young -lay-brother from St. Alban's. He was received as a sort of volunteer, -and was granted permission to serve in the mining work, for his -religious vows, he said, forbade him to carry sword or spear. This -young man proved, however, a valuable assistant. - -A kind of friendly rivalry went on between the two branches of warfare -into which the besiegers were divided. Those who had charge of the -engines favoured the notion of pounding the walls till they battered -them down. The sappers and miners, however, built their hopes of -reducing the fortress upon their methods of burrowing underneath it. -But before these latter were able to push on far with their works, the -besiegers above ground gained two important advantages. They carried by -assault the barbican or outer defence of the gate, and with but a loss -of four or five men. By this means they were able to rush the gate -itself, and in a second assault forced their way into the outer bailey -or yard, the first one on the west side. - -Here were the store-houses, and here also were kept the horses and live -stock which the besieged took care to have always within the castle -walls. Forage, grain, and such like bulky articles as could not be -removed into the keep were likewise stored in the yard. All these fell -into the hands of the besiegers, who removed the arms, the horses, and -the pigs, and burned the buildings which contained the corn and hay. -The besieged retreated within the inner wall, which defended the lesser -bailey. - -But between the upper and lower bailey there stood--a rather unusual -feature in a Norman castle--a strong building known by the name of the -"old tower." It had probably something to do with fortifications which -at an earlier date protected the bridge across the Ouse, before the -castle precincts were prolonged westwards. Here the besieged gathered -in strength and made an obstinate stand. - -The assistance of John de Standen and his men was now necessary. The -other defences, the barbican and the wall of the outer bailey, had been -carried by assault, the soldiers climbing the walls and forcing their -way within. But the wall which separated the two baileys, protected as -it was by the old tower, proved a more formidable obstacle. The king's -troops intrenched themselves in the outer bailey, and the cat was -wheeled into position ready for the operations of the miners. - -These latter worked with a will. Ere long they were able to report to -Ralph de Beauchamp, as their superior officer, that the foundations of -the old tower were undermined, and that the building would fall directly -the stays and struts with which they had propped it up should be -removed. - -So Ralph went down into the mine with John de Standen, that he in his -turn might report to his superiors that the underground work was indeed -finished, and that the soldiers might be held in readiness to storm the -inner bailey. - -With some professional pride the king's miner conducted the knight -through the dark passages he had burrowed, explaining as he went the -manner in which the supports should be removed directly he received the -signal to do so. - -They were just beneath the old tower, and John de Standen was enlarging -on the excellent arrangements which he had made for the overthrow of the -building, when, to their intense astonishment, a woman's voice was heard -speaking in the vault overhead. - -"By my faith," cried John de Standen, "but I wot not that we had dug so -close to the lower vault of the tower. Methinks I must be out of my -reckoning, Sir Knight, or mayhap your recollection of the place plays -you false." - -"In good sooth we are close beneath the tower," replied Ralph. "How -thinkest thou, good John? Has the enemy countermined, or are they about -to break in upon our works?" - -Before John de Standen could vouchsafe an opinion, the voice again was -heard from above. - -"Ho, royal miners, are ye below?" - -"We be miners sure enow," called John de Standen in reply. "But who be -ye above there?--They cannot be for Sir Fulke," he added in a lower tone -to Ralph, "or they would not let us hear them. Methinks, too, the voice -is that of a woman or a boy." - -"I am for the king and his miners," spoke the voice again. "But tell -me, prithee, is your master, John de Standen, with thee?" - -"I, John de Standen, myself am here, and speak; and with me is no one -save Sir Ralph de Beauchamp," replied the miner. "But speak; who art -thou? Woman or boy; no man, I trow?" - -"Now fie upon thee, John de Standen," said the unseen speaker, "that -thou knowest not the voice of Beatrice Mertoun." - -"Beshrew me, Beatrice, if I can know thy voice, an it _be_ thou, if it -come to me through these plaguy paving-stones," cried De Standen. -"Moreover, why askest _thou_, hearing me speak, if I am John de -Standen?" - -"Marry," exclaimed Beatrice, "in the night all cats are gray. All men's -voices sound the same. But mind thee, John, how oft thou hast sworn -that thou wouldest know my voice anywhere." - -John de Standen felt he was getting the worst of the argument. He -changed the subject. - -"And prithee, fair Beatrice, what art doing above us?" - -"Hush! not so loud," she answered. "I have but a few moments. The -guard watch closely the vault ever since that machine of thine was -dragged up against the tower. I marvel much that they have not heard -the noise of thy workers, and broken in upon thee. But for many days -have I too watched, hoping to get a word with thee, for I have a message -to send to a knight. But stay--didst not say one Sir Ralph de Beauchamp -was with thee?" - -"In good sooth I am here," replied Sir Ralph, both amused and puzzled by -this unexpected and remarkable meeting between the king's miner and a -lady who seemed an old acquaintance, if nothing nearer. "I am here, lady -fair, whosoever thou art, for methinks a fair face must e'en suit so -sweet a voice." - -"She is the waiting-woman of the Lady Margaret de Ripariis, and a mighty -comely damsel withal," explained the bold miner. - -"Now a truce to fair speeches! I have somewhat to say to Sir Ralph that -ill brooks delay. The Lady Aliva, who is prisoner here-- - -"The Lady Aliva! I know it well!" shouted Ralph, forgetful of the -caution to speak softly. "But tell me quick, I pray thee, is she safe? -is she well?" - -"Safe as yet," replied Beatrice. "But there is mischief brewing against -her. Say, did I not see thee carried away wounded from before the -castle gate not many weeks since? They brought thy helmet into the -castle. I showed it to the Lady Aliva, and she knew it for thine by the -crest. And then darkness seized her mind, for not long after came Fulke -de Breaute to her, and told her that thou wast slain!" - -"The lying scoundrel!" cried Ralph hotly. "Could I but meet him, he -would see I am yet alive!" - -"Ere he quitted the castle he came oft to her with suit of marriage for -his brother," Beatrice went on, lying down upon the stone floor above -and speaking with her mouth to an open joint she had discovered between -two of the paving slabs. "Canst hear me, Sir Knight? The guards -approach; I must tell thee in few words, for I hear the warders relieved -not many posts away. William de Breaute came himself to the lady to -plead his suit. But she hates him. She told him so to his face." - -"She told him so on his face!" muttered Ralph. - -"But the chapel hath been prepared," continued the waiting-woman, "and -that traitor priest, Bertram de Concours, was ready. They dragged the -lady thither by force. Sir Fulke and William de Breaute were waiting. -What might have happened I know not, but my Lady Margaret stepped -forward, and shamed the shameless man into respect for a lady." - -"And all this while she was faithful to me, though believing me dead!" -exclaimed Ralph, half to himself. - -"But Sir Fulke, ere he left for the marches of Wales, swore a great oath -he would find her wedded ere he return, or else--And William de Breaute, -he apeth the fine French gentleman. He maketh sweet speeches, and vows -that when the king's troops be driven back, and the care of the castle -be passed from him, he will return to bask once more in the sunlight of -his lady's eyes! Faugh! the smooth-tongued villain! He has sung the -same song to me, but not to my honour. But hist! they come!" - -A sound, as of the trampling of armed men, penetrated to those below. -Then the eager listeners there caught some words in a rough man's voice. - -"Pardie! pretty maiden, what doest here? Must pay forfeit with a kiss -ere thou depart!" - -Then there was the sound of a struggle and a scream, and John de Standen -shook his fist in mute rage at the floor above him. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX.* - - _*FEARS AND HOPES.*_ - - -William de Beauchamp, the taciturn and melancholy, had not attended the -council at Northampton. But he could not well absent himself when an -attack was made upon the castle which once had been his; and for his own -benefit, for the king had promised to reinstate him as soon as the -Robber Baron should have been driven out. He had been given a command -in the royal force, and found himself in the anomalous position of -besieging his own castle. - -But the march of events did not, as might well have been imagined, raise -his drooping spirits. He was, indeed, more dismal than ever, having got -a fixed idea in his head that he should never come to his own again. -Though he had escaped unhurt from the two first assaults, by which the -barbican and the outer bailey had been won, he was well aware that yet -more serious struggles were before the besiegers ere they might hope to -win the inner bailey and the keep. These assaults, he had made up his -mind, he should not survive, and in his gloomiest, most funereal manner, -called Ralph to him at the close of a summer's evening, when they were -resting from duty in the house of Gilbert the Clothier, where they were -quartered, and prepared to deliver to him what he supposed to be his -last wishes and dispositions. - -"Nephew Ralph," he began, in his most lugubrious tones, "thou hast been -as a son to me, since my only son was cut off in early childhood." - -"True, uncle much revered by me," replied Ralph, puzzled at this solemn -address. "I know not quite if I have been a good son to thee, but thou -hast, in good sooth, given me all the father's care I have ever known." - -"And now, Nephew Ralph," William de Beauchamp continued, "I am about to -confide to thee a very precious and holy message. Thou hast heard tell -of the Lady Margaret de Ripariis?" - -"Ay, certes," replied Ralph. - -"And now that my time is at hand, and that the sands of my life are--" - -"Thy time is at hand! By my faith, uncle, what mean these words?" - -"Thou wottest that ere long we attack the old tower and the inner -bailey," the uncle proceeded, in a tragic manner. - -"I have but just come from the old tower, where John de Standen hath -showed me how nigh is its overthrow." - -"Hark ye, nephew. I shall fall then; I know it of a certainty. I have -seen in a dream that I shall not survive the assault. I shall ne'er -again set eyes on the Lady Margaret, now for many years the unhappy wife -of Fulke de Breaute. Once, when we were young and she was fair, we -plighted our troth, and I have never forgotten it, though a cruel fate -tore us asunder. My wife, who was ne'er to me as the first love of my -youth the Lady Margaret, hath been dead these many years; and had the -time come for the end of the miserable Fulke, I would fain have offered -myself again to my once affianced bride. But I die before him. I feel -it. For us there is no hope." - -Ralph began to perceive the gloomy forebodings that had seized his -uncle, and tried, but in vain, to reassure him, pointing out how much -danger he had already escaped, and bidding him hope for the best. - -"For eight long years thou hast pined an exile from the halls of thine -ancestors, uncle. But to-day our star is again in the ascendant, and -fortune smiles once more upon the De Beauchamps." - -William shook his head sadly. - -"It may not be, nephew. But bear thou to the Lady Margaret my last -words of unalterable affection for the love of my youth." - -"Nay, uncle, thou shalt bear them thyself, when Fulke shall have gone to -the perdition reserved for him! But cease these dark meditations, and -list awhile to a sprightly wooing I overheard 'twixt one of those within -the castle, and no less a person than the king's miner, in the old -tower, this very noontide." - -And to turn his uncle's thoughts, Ralph proceeded to relate the strange -meeting between John de Standen and Beatrice. - -But at the very hour these two talked thus together in Master Gilbert's -guest-chamber, the subject of their conversation, the Lady Margaret, sat -with her waiting-woman in the deep window of the lady's bower. - -The latter was brimming over with eagerness to impart to Aliva the good -news she had just ascertained as to Ralph's safety, but deemed it -prudent to confide it first to her mistress. - -"By'r Lady, mistress mine, I vow I heard him, though I cannot say I saw -him, and he is whole and in good heart." - -"The saints be praised!" ejaculated Lady Margaret. "It hath grieved me -sore that this sweet maiden should be thus held prisoner by my -evil-disposed brother, and yet sadder am I to think that she should have -been told her knight was slain." - -"And such a knight, lady! Fair spoken, and of good courage. I heard it -in the ring of his voice, as he hasted to ask after her welfare, how -much he loveth her." - -"Thou knewest that he was the Lady Aliva's knight, then, Beatrice?" - -"Ever since the affair of the helmet, lady. My Lady Aliva could not -contain herself then, when she knew him wounded, and told me all. She -is as true to him as the pole-star to the north, or as I to--" - -"I know it, Beatrice, and it would be a deadly sin, and one I will stand -out against as long as I draw breath, were she to be forced to wed -William. The lying wretch! he will stick at naught to gain his end. To -tell Aliva Sir Ralph was dead! Alas, alas! But peace, Beatrice; here -she comes. I will tell her the news." - -Inwardly chafing at being deprived of the pleasure of imparting such -delightful information, Beatrice retreated behind the chair of her -mistress as Aliva entered. - -The weary weeks the latter had spent as a prisoner since that fatal -morning when she was hurried into the castle, and the intense mental -anguish she had endured since the helmet of the wounded knight had been -handed to her on the ramparts that same evening, had left their traces -on Aliva's pale cheek. The listless attitude in which she sank upon a -stone seat, and gazed with mournful eyes out into the fast-falling -summer twilight, contrasted strangely with the natural vigour and -vivacity of the brave horsewoman who had led William de Breaute such a -chase over the Ouse marshes. Something akin to despair had crushed her -soul since Sir Fulke had brought her the news of Sir Ralph's death. - -"Daughter," began Lady Margaret, tenderly drawing the fair head which -leaned so wearily upon the thin hand down upon her knee, "I have -somewhat to say to thee. This suit of my husband's brother--methinks -Sir Fulke knew, as well as thou and I, how vain it was to urge it while -thy true knight yet lived--" - -"It were ever vain, lady, were Ralph alive or dead. Death would be -sweeter to me than marriage with William de Breaute," replied Aliva -mournfully. - -"He hath used treachery once to gain his end; what if he hath also used -deceit of words?" Lady Margaret went on. "Other De Beauchamps than thy -knight bear the crest thou sawest on the casque." - -"Ah, lady," moaned Aliva, "beguile me not with vain hopes. Did not -Beatrice here see him fall?" - -"In good sooth! But, lady, I saw him not die." - -"Mind you how the townsfolk bore him off with much care? Perchance -Hubert of Provence aimed not o'er true with his quarrel--" - -"He is but a sorry wight in many things, lady," put in Beatrice -scornfully. - -"And the leeches are possessed of marvellous skill, as thou well -knowest, and Sir Ralph is young and strong--" - -"_Was_ young and strong, you mean, lady. O prithee, peace! Open not -thus afresh a wound which bleeds, ay, and will bleed for ever!" - -"My lady means what she says, and naught else," interrupted Beatrice, -unable to restrain herself any longer. "He is young and strong, or -beshrew me for a deaf old crone, for I trow his voice was strong enough -this noontide!" - -"His voice!" exclaimed Aliva, raising herself eagerly, and a faint -colour overspreading her pallid cheek. "O Beatrice, mock me not!" - -"Thou mockest thyself, daughter," said Lady Margaret, smiling. "Take -heart o' grace. Beatrice speaks true; she hath heard him not many hours -since." - -And Beatrice, coming forward and falling at her lady's knees, poured -forth her wonderful tale in a torrent of words. - -When she paused for lack of breath, Aliva rose, like one waking from a -dream, and clutched Beatrice's arm. - -"Beatrice, an thou lovest me, take me to this chink in the vault of the -old tower. Haste thee, haste thee! Let me hear him speak again." - -"Alas, lady! but this very evening William de Breaute hath ordered that -all women keep within the keep, as the enemy presseth us round so -close." - -A merry laugh as of old, the first which had rung from her since she had -been a prisoner, and the first to which the lady's bower had re-echoed -for many a day, burst from Aliva's lips. With the violent revulsion of -feeling born of her youth and high mettle, she waved her hand scornfully -and laughed again. - -"William de Breaute! Oh, he may command and order, in good sooth, if it -please him. What for him now, or for his commands! Methinks his time -comes apace, and Ralph de Beauchamp will be master here. My Ralph--to -think they had dared to tell me that he was slain!" - -And then she fell to bidding Beatrice tell her story all over again. - -"Pretty Beatrice, an could I, I would give thee a lapful of gold nobles -for this news thou hast brought. It is to me worth a king's ransom. I -feel like one risen from the dead. But I trow, Mistress Beatrice," she -added archly, "that thou hast had thy reward, in that the bold miner was -also below. But tell me once more the very words Sir Ralph spake." - -"Nay, nay, maidens," put in Lady Margaret; "it is already night, and joy -oft wearies as much as grief. Let us now to rest while we may. The -strife will begin again at dawn." - -"Lady," cried Aliva, embracing the elder woman with tenderness, "go thou -and rest if thou canst. I could not close my eyes for very joy.--Go, -Beatrice, and leave me here a while alone, that I may think it all o'er -again. Go to thy dreams of mines and miners!" - -Left to herself, Aliva sat down in the deep window-seat where Lady -Margaret had sat when Sir Fulke related to her a less pleasant vision of -the night than that which probably haunted the couch of Beatrice--a -dream which now seemed in fair way of coming true. The short July -darkness had fallen. Across the river the petraria were at rest, and in -the silence of the night Aliva only - - "Heard the sound, and could almost tell - The sullen words of the sentinel, - As his measured step on the stone below - Clanked as he paced it to and fro." - - -Aliva gazed out into the beautiful balmy night, and a peace to which she -had long been a stranger stole in upon her heart. The world was at -rest, and it seemed sad to think that in a few short hours, when the -darkness should be over, man would be once more at his cruel work of -war. But the stars, shining deep in the purple overhead and reflected -in the placid stream below, seemed to her stars of hope. - - "It is the hour when lovers' vows - Seem sweet in every whispered word, - And gentle winds and waters near - Make music to the lonely ear." - - -As she gazed she thought she heard her name called softly from out of -the gloom below. - -"Aliva!" said a voice, "Aliva!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XX.* - - _*LOVE LAUGHS AT LOCKSMITHS.*_ - - -When the interview with his uncle had ended and Ralph's endeavours to -cheer the latter's gloom had in a measure succeeded, the young knight -went off to make his report upon John de Standen's operations to his -superiors. Evening was falling fast ere he found himself free, and then -it suddenly came into his mind to pay a kind of unofficial visit to the -sentries on the south side of the river, and see if they were on the -alert. Perhaps, also, he was impelled by an uncontrollable desire to -gaze from as close a point as was possible on that stern keep, where he -had that noontide learned from Beatrice Mertoun that his lady-love -lingered in much doubt and distress. - -He crossed the bridge and walked along the river-bank, giving the -required password to each post, and adding a few syllables of caution. -In so doing, he told himself he was but fulfilling the object of his -nocturnal ramble. Ere long he found himself facing the huge keep, -rising on the opposite shore of the river black against the northern -sky. - -Ralph knew every window of the southern face of the keep, and well-nigh -every stone. He perceived a light in one of the large openings of the -upper story. He knew that window well. It was that of the lady's bower, -which had been his cousin's apartment in the old days, and was probably -now occupied by the Lady Margaret. - -Dark though the night was, the young man's eyesight was keen, and as he -gazed at that window, a crowd of tender thoughts flooding his heart, he -saw in the opening two figures in dark profile against the light behind -them. - -Seized by an uncontrollable impulse, Ralph hastily doffed his armour, -and, clad only in the soft leathern dress which knights wore beneath -their harness, dropped into the stream so quietly as to be unperceived -by the nearest sentry on the river-bank. - -Starting from a well-known old pollard willow, Ralph breasted the stream -manfully, making, as nearly as the sweep of the current and the darkness -of the night would allow him, for certain iron stanchions which he -remembered he had fixed, when a boy, into the castle wall. - -To his great joy he found they had not been removed. He caught hold of -the lowest, which was near the water's edge, and quickly scaled the -wall. When he reached the top he looked eagerly down and around. - -No one was near. William de Breaute, whose garrison was but scanty, had -judged that no attack would be made upon the river side of the castle, -except by boat, and accordingly had contented himself with posting -sentries at each end of the long river-wall, concentrating his principal -strength on the landward side of the castle. - -Ralph slid down the other side of the wall, and cautiously crossed the -open space which separated him from the huge mound on which stood the -keep. He was still unperceived; so, climbing the steep side of the -mound, he crouched down against the lofty wall, immediately beneath the -lighted window. - -Were those two figures still there? - -Twice he softly called Aliva by name, and then, to his intense rapture, -sweet as an angel's voice from heaven to him, came the words from -above,-- - -"Ralph! Ralph! can it be thou?" - - "Stone walls do not a prison make, - Nor iron bars a cage." - - -Love laughs at locksmiths. In this case it made light, too, of some -forty perpendicular feet of massive stone wall. After five weary months -of uncertainty, all doubts, mistrusts, and tortures of anxiety were -swept away in a breath, as these two heard, each one once more, the -loved voice neither had expected ever to hear again; and old Father -Ouse, rippling sluggishly on between the willows through the dark summer -night, had never listened to warmer raptures, to more passionate -protestations of love. - -But some one else was listening too. - -In the thickness of the wall, at the south-east corner of the keep, on -the same floor as the great hall, was the small chapel of the castle. -It was a tiny apartment, affording room for but few worshipping besides -those attending on the ministrations of the priest. Behind a round -arched arcading in a stone gallery were accommodated the ladies and the -household of the lord's family; but the bulk of the congregation would -have to stand in a sort of antechapel opening out of the great hall, and -join in the mass from that position. - -Up and down the narrow space in front of the altar--freshly repaired and -cleaned for the bridal of Aliva and De Breaute--paced restlessly at -midnight Bertram de Concours. His thoughts were not pleasant ones. The -freshly-appointed chaplain of Bedford Castle had conceived that his new -position would be one which would lead him to power and authority, and -probably give him an opportunity to triumph over those whom he -considered his enemies, the ecclesiastical superiors who had dishonoured -and disowned him. But now, instead of rising to power with the De -Breaute family, he found his new patrons in sore distress. He was well -aware that the two assaults which had already been made on the castle -had been completely successful, and that all the outer defences had been -taken. He gleaned, from the talk of De Breaute and his under-officers, -that if the walls were really undermined, and a fresh attack should be -made with the same vigour, nothing could avert the fall of the castle. - -For the fate of De Breaute and his men Bertram de Concours cared -nothing, but in the event of his own capture he clearly foresaw for -himself condemnation in the ecclesiastical court. The sentence would be -perpetual imprisonment in the cell of some stringent order, where -offending priests were subjected to even more severe discipline than -that voluntarily assumed by the most austere monks themselves. - -"Fool that I was," he muttered to himself, "to have thrown in my lot -with these French upstarts! Why did I not see this maiden safe to her -father's house, and so have won me the eternal gratitude of this -love-sick knight, and what is more, the favour of his family?" - -As he moved restlessly to and fro, he paused, and opening the rude -shutter which closed the narrow window on the south, looked out into the -silent summer night. The calm freshness seemed to mock the consuming -uneasiness in his mind. - -But as he gazed he heard voices. He leaned out and listened intently. - -Yes, he was not mistaken: a voice there was above him--a -woman's--answering to a man's below in the darkness. - -"Escape, my Ralph, ere dawn break! There are watchers at each end of -the long wall, and they will certes espy thee if thou lingerest till it -grows light. How it came that thou crossedst the glacis, and scaledst -the keep mound unseen, I cannot tell. May the saints bear thee safe -across the river!" - -And then another female voice went on,-- - -"And take my message to thy revered uncle, bold young Sir Knight. Tell -him that Margaret de Ripariis has but lived these long years in sorrow -and mourning for the false step into which she was both forced and -betrayed, and that she hath ever held his memory dear." - -Then a man's voice answered from below,-- - -"Fare thee well, my heart's darling, Aliva!--My Lady Margaret, I salute -thee. Forget not the signal. When the last assault comes--as come full -soon it must--and we attack this mighty keep, hang your scarves from the -windows of the chamber to which ye retreat, and I will come and convey -ye both away in safety." - -Then Bertram heard the speaker cautiously feeling his way among the -loose stones which lay at the foot of the keep. - -He drew a short, sharp breath, and clinched his teeth. - -"By the mass," he exclaimed, "though naught can undo my folly in the -past, yet I will have vengeance now! Ho, warder, ho!" he cried, -hurrying from the chapel into the hall, and shouting to the sentry on -duty at the entrance; "ho! quick to the window, and take thy aim at yon -figure hastening down to the river wall. 'Tis the young knight De -Beauchamp. It grows light enow for thee to see thy mark." - -At that moment William de Breaute entered the hall from the turret -staircase in the corner. He had been taking a few hours' sleep in one -of the upper chambers, and was now about to sally out on his early -morning rounds, fearing an attack when his guards were weary and drowsy. - -"How sayest thou, Sir Chaplain?" he exclaimed; "Ralph de Beauchamp -here--beneath the castle wall! 'Tis not possible!" - -"Nay, Sir William, not so impossible," replied the priest. "I trow he -hath been drawn across the Ouse by a lodestar within these walls. From -the chapel window I heard him e'en now hold converse with the Lady Aliva -at a window above." - -With a furious volley of French oaths William de Breaute rushed wildly -out of the hall, calling upon all the sentries near to stop or kill Sir -Ralph. - -It was a maddening race. From the upper window the girl watched it in -agony. The cross-bow bolts flew thick and fast around Ralph as he -hurried to the wall. Some shattered themselves against the stones as he -scaled it. - -For a brief moment he stood out clearly upon the summit against the gray -dawn, an easy mark for the archers. Then, without waiting to descend by -the iron stanchions, he took a desperate plunge into the stream. - -[Illustration: A desperate plunge.] - -Aliva saw him rise to the surface, and watched him swimming with all his -might to the opposite bank. - -But as he leaped from the top of the wall she saw another figure reach -it, and she recognized the pursuer to be William de Breaute. - -He held in his hand a ready-strung cross-bow which he had snatched from -one of the warders. - -Aliva saw him take aim and loose the shaft. - -The figure of the swimmer half rose in the water, and then disappeared -from view beneath its surface. - -With a faint cry Aliva fell back swooning into the arms of Lady -Margaret. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI.* - - _*THE CASTLE FALLS.*_ - - -The unfortunate Lady Aliva was in despair. - -The cup of happiness had been rudely dashed from her lips. After all -her perils and anxieties of the last few weeks, her lover had been -suddenly restored to her; once more she had heard his voice, had -listened to his vows and caressing words, but only to see him slain, as -she imagined, by his rival before her very eyes. From the summit of -unexpected joy she was plunged into a depth of misery tenfold harder to -bear than that which had gone before. All hope seemed over. - -But within some twenty-four hours she was rudely awakened from her grief -by the horrible din of the assault, which at dawn of day commenced -against the old tower and the inner bailey. - - "Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain, - Shakes with the martial music's novel din! - The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign, - High-crested banners wave thy walls within. - Of changing sentinels, the distant hum, - The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnished arms, - The braying trumpets, and the hoarser drum - Unite in concert with increased alarms." - - "The wall is rent, the ruins yawn, - And, with to-morrow's earliest dawn, - O'er the disjointed mass shall vault - The foremost of the fierce assault." - - -The storm of war reached nearer to the ladies in the keep than it had -ever yet done. Through the crack of the closely-shuttered windows they -could watch the fray below, and catch the sound of angry voices borne up -to them, and mingling with the crash of falling masonry. - -The Lady Margaret, whose shattered nerves could ill bear such tumult, -betook herself to the little chapel in the angle of the wall, and passed -the time upon her knees in prayer. But Aliva and Beatrice, impelled by -the curiosity of youth, could not forbear to see what was to be seen. - -The point of interest was the old tower. The girls knew it to be -undermined, and watched anxiously to see it totter to its fall. - -"I see a mass of soldiers gathering under the outer wall and halting as -if for a signal," cried Aliva. - -"The tower will soon fall, and these are ready to rush in," said -Beatrice. - -"But how falls it?" asked Aliva. "Thou art in the miner's secrets; -tell, prithee." - -"They tie ropes to the great wooden beams and props on which John hath -supported the foundations. At a safe distance stand men ready to pull -them away; and then--ah, our Lady have them in her keeping!" - -And as she spoke a sound was heard, a rumbling as of thunder, followed -by a cloud of blinding dust, which obscured everything--court-yard, men, -and masonry. There was a fearful crash, and the girls shrank with -terror and looked at each other. - -"Oh, this is horrible!" whispered Aliva, hiding her face. - -"My lady, my lady, I can see! The tower is down--it is a heap of -rubble; and they come, they come! O lady, you are saved!" - -"Saved!" said Aliva with a sad smile, shaking her head; "what boots it -now? What wish have I for aught but death?" - -"Death, lady? and in the moment of victory? Oh, speak not so! See the -king's men, how they hurry, they scramble, they pour through the breach! -'Tis a noble sight. Forward, forward! Down with the Breaute!" shouted -the excited waiting-woman, opening the shutter wide and craning out her -neck. - -"Beatrice, have a care. They will let fly a bolt at thee, and what will -say the master miner? _Thou_ hast some one to live for!" - -"If I die for it, I must look!" protested Beatrice. "Oh, the king's men, -how they fall! Alas, alas! William de Breaute hath well posted his men -in all the best places for defence! But on they come--they waver not! -By my halidom, there comes a gallant band, though small! How fast that -knight leads them across the inner bailey! They make for the steps of -the door of the keep. But how thick the arrows fly! William must have -lined every loophole in the donjon and in the hall with men!" - -"But how the royal men-at-arms pour in! De Breaute is far -outnumbered--his men fly--they fall back--they seek to gain the steps," -gasped Aliva, looking over Beatrice's shoulder. - -"Gallantly done, gallantly done! That little close band follows them -hard up the steps. Well led, Sir Knight! (Hold my hand, prithee, lady, -lest I fall out and break my neck! I _must_ see.) But our men make a -stand upon the steps; that is to gain time to close the door. The -swords are at it now--I hear the ringing. Ah me! it is Sir William -himself defends the steps. He raises his sword; he will smite that bold -knight who leads them! He _has_ smitten--By our Lady, 'twas a near -thing! Who was that parried the stroke with his staff? I see! a man -in monkish dress. And now the knight falls--he rolls down the -steps--his armour is heavy--he strives in vain to rise, but alack, -alack!" - -"What seest thou? speak, Beatrice!" - -"The poor brother, lady, he who saved the knight--he has fallen. Oh, he -moves not! Alack, he is slain!" - -"They are all falling back; what means it, Beatrice?" - -"I cannot see, lady; the wooden porch over the steps hinders me. But -the knight has risen--he is unhurt--he calls his men back." - -"They retreat--they retreat?" - -"Meseemeth Sir William and his men have shut to the door, lady," replied -Beatrice, drawing in her head; and as the two girls stared blankly in -each other's faces, the Lady Margaret, pallid and haggard, entered the -apartment. - -"Daughters," she exclaimed, "the king's men have won the inner bailey; -the old tower is down; we now only hold the keep!" - -That evening sore disappointment reigned in the camp of the besiegers. -Had they but been able to reach the door ere it was closed, the keep -would have been theirs; but as it was, they were compelled to draw off -after considerable loss from the storm of arrows which rained upon them -from the loopholes. - -All had to be begun over again. John de Standen and his men once more -set to work. The cat was wheeled up close to the walls of the keep, and -the digging recommenced. This time the task was more laborious and -difficult than ever. The foundations were strongly laid. The work of -Pain de Beauchamp was built to last, and the besieged did all they could -to hinder the operations. It was not till the fourteenth of August that -De Standen could report that his work was ready. - -Late that afternoon the fourth and last attack commenced. The miners -sprung a huge fissure in the wall of the keep. Simultaneously another -agent was set to work--fire. A light was set to the wooden porch over -the steps. - -The work was finished. The flames, caught the woodwork within, and -broke out in some of the apartments. Through fire and smoke the -besiegers stormed the breach, the besieged fighting desperately, and -only yielding step by step. - -[Illustration: "Through fire and smoke the besiegers stormed the -breach."] - -At last, however, William de Breaute was forced to acknowledge himself -beaten. - -"My brother cannot say I did not do my utmost," he gasped to one of his -officers as they leaned exhausted against the pillar of the turret -stair. - -"Yield thee, now yield thee, William de Breaute!" cried a voice through -the din. - -"I yield me to the king's mercy," began the Frenchman, "but not to -thee," he added, as the tall form and gloomy visage of William de -Beauchamp loomed down upon through the smoke. "To a De Beauchamp? -never!" - -His men had ceased to offer any resistance, and stood with spears and -swords point downwards and cross-bows unstrung. William looked around. - -"My Lord Lisle of Rougemount, I surrender to you, rescue or no rescue." - -The baron thus addressed seized De Breaute's outstretched sword, and -signalled to his men. They closed round the prisoner and his immediate -attendants, and prepared to march them off to the dungeon. - -But as they crossed the great hall they met a young knight, followed by -two or three men-at-arms, hurrying towards the turret stair. - -"Ho, nephew!" exclaimed Sir William de Beauchamp, pointing to Lord -Lisle's prisoner with the nearest approach to a smile of which his -lugubrious features were capable; "see here! He hath tried long enough -how it feels to sit in our great hall; we go now to give him a taste of -our dungeon." - -William de Breaute turned his head, and for the first time, and for a -few moments only, found himself face to face with his rival, Ralph de -Beauchamp. He cast upon him a look in which malignant hatred was -mingled with the haggard despair of frustrated hopes. - -"Dog!" he ejaculated, "methought thou liedst safe at the bottom of thy -muddy Ouse!" - -"Not so safe as thou wilt shortly lie in our donjon vaults," retorted -Ralph, scarcely deigning to glance at him. "I can dive, man." - -The guards led on. - -To engage in such open rebellion against Henry was a somewhat different -matter to joining in the confederation of barons against the tyranny and -injustice of King John, as William de Beauchamp had done: and as William -de Breaute and his men were led away down the steep stairs to the gloomy -cells beneath the keep, they felt that their doom was sealed. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII.* - - _*RALPH TO THE RESCUE.*_ - - -As William de Breaute was being marched to his fate, Ralph hurried up -the winding turret stair, half choked by the blinding smoke which poured -from the burning wood-work, and much impeded in his impetuous course by -the chain of soldiers engaged in passing up water to extinguish the -conflagration. - -Even in the heat and din of the final assault his keen lover's eye had -found time to look for and to note the signal promised by Aliva. High -up from one of the windows hung her scarf. But when Ralph and his men -had toiled thither they found the room empty. - -Ralph experienced a painful tightening of the heart. Whither had the -bird flown? - -But it was the smoke which had driven the ladies from their apartment, -and Ralph, exploring higher still, up a rude stone stair, found them -collected on the flat wooden roof covering the inner space between the -lofty parapets and the four corner turrets. - -Aliva, standing out tall and slim against the August twilight, was -assisting Beatrice Mertoun to support the Lady Margaret, who was quite -overcome with all that was taking place. - -Ralph fell on his knee before Aliva, and kissed her hand with a rapture -too deep for words. But Aliva bent over him, and throwing up his visor, -kissed his face. - -A voice sounded behind them. "Tut, children! this is neither time nor -place to tarry to make love.--Ladies, haste you, and get you gone to a -place of safety. We have conquered our enemies, but not yet subdued the -fire.--Lady Margaret, permit that I assist thee down these -stairs.--Nephew Ralph, bring the Lady Aliva." - -And the whole party, guided by De Beauchamp, hurried down into the hall, -and thence into the _debris_ and confusion which reigned in the bailey -yards. The fast-falling darkness added to the weirdness of the -scene--the ruins, the dead and dying, the shouts and cries of the -victors, the crackling of the flames, and the crash of the charred beams -as they fell. - -Somehow or other in the tumult Ralph and Aliva got separated from the -rest, and found themselves, when once clear of the fortifications, -obliged for a few moments to stand aside on the river-bank to let a -company of men-at-arms pass by with wounded and prisoners. - -Suddenly, from behind some dark corner, a figure rushed at them in the -gloom, and fell on his knees before Aliva. She started violently, and -Ralph drew his sword. - -"Misericorde, misericorde! for the love of Heaven and our Lady!" whined -a familiar voice, that of Bertram de Concours. "Fair lady, as you hope -for mercy, show some to me, and mind you how I succoured you in the -chapel, when De Breaute and his men might have--ah!" - -He never finished. A trampling of armed feet was heard behind, and he -turned his head to see a guard advancing upon him. - -"Better a watery grave than a living tomb!" he shrieked, and, before -Ralph could stop him, plunged into the stream. - -"Plague take the traitor priest! We have lost him," growled the veteran -man-at-arms in command. - -"Old Ouse will have naught of such foul spawn, I trow," corrected Ralph. -"There are but two feet of water 'neath this bank at harvest-time. Fish -him out; he sticketh in the mud, and is set fast.--But come, sweet -Aliva," he added, turning to the maiden at his side; "let us hasten. -The Lady Margaret hath without doubt ere now gained the house of good -Master Gilbert the Clothier, who bade me offer thee his hospitality." - -Aliva moved on, clinging to her lover's arm. Behind them, into the -darkness, the guard marched off the bedraggled priest. As regards the -latter's ultimate fate the chronicler is silent, beyond relating the -fact that he was committed for trial in the court of the archbishop, and -doubtless the ambitious Bertram de Concours fretted away the remainder -of his days a prisoner in the cell of some austere order. But the -little episode had awakened another memory in Aliva's breast. - -"My Ralph," she exclaimed, "and what of the other, the Benedictine -lay-brother, the Bletsoe youth, who did in all truth and fidelity -succour me and strive to bring me aid?" - -Sir Ralph looked down on the fair face resting on his arm, and then up -to the purple sky of the summer night-- - - "The azure gloom, - When the deep skies assume - Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven." - - -"God rest his soul!" he answered, in a low voice. "I owe it to his -strong arm and ready wit, as he parried with his mace the blow De -Breaute aimed at me, that I am here to-night with thee." - -Ralph only waited to see the ladies safely bestowed in the worthy -burgess's abode ere he hurried back again to the castle. There was no -rest for him that night. Not the least onerous part of a commander's -duty in those rough times was to restore order and discipline among his -men after the capture of a fortress which had held out against them. It -was a melancholy sight to the young knight this sacking and firing of -his ancestral castle, the home of his boyhood. It stood there with -ruined walls and a huge rift in the side of the great keep like a -lightning-stricken oak. - -And morning light brought more work. Hubert de Burgh, the king's -justiciary, opened a court of justice in his sovereign's name, and -before it were brought William de Breaute and eighty of his men. - -Late in the afternoon Beatrice Mertoun, devoured with curiosity as to -what was happening, and chafing at her restraint in Master Gilbert's -house, persuaded one of Lady Margaret's women to come with her towards -the castle, intending, under cover of the twilight, to secure such of -their possessions as the fire and the plunderers should have spared. -But they returned quicker than they went, and empty-handed, driven back -by horror; for in the bailey yard they came suddenly upon a rude gallows -on which, grim and stark in the dim twilight, hung William de Breaute -and seventy-three of his men. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII.* - - _*A TETE-A-TETE RIDE TO ELSTOW ABBEY.*_ - - -Contrary to his dream and to the gloomy forebodings which he had been -hugging to himself after the manner of certain dismal natures which -delight to make themselves miserable, William de Beauchamp, as we have -seen, escaped unscathed from the assaults on the castle. But lest his -melancholy should lack food, as it were, fate had another blow in store -for him. No sooner had the castle of Bedford been captured than the -royal mandate went forth that it should be destroyed. - -Henry III., young though he was, was too well aware of the difficulties -which his father had experienced with his barons not to be convinced -that his best policy lay in curbing their power. Now the chief strength -of a medieval noble lay in his castle. In the taking of Bedford an -excellent opportunity seemed ready to Henry's hand for getting rid of -one of the most important and substantial fortresses in his kingdom. - -He was, moreover, completely in his rights in so doing. King John had -granted the castle to Fulke de Breaute as a reward for his services, -more especially in turning out the De Beauchamps. But now that De -Breaute had rebelled against John's successor, deprivation brought the -castle once more into royal hands. What came absolutely to the king, -the king could destroy. - -This determination was a severe blow to William de Beauchamp. He was -grievously hurt when he learned that the destruction of his ancestral -home was definitely settled, but he was unable to take any steps to -preserve it. It was, however, intimated to him that the site of the -castle would be granted to him, together with certain of the lands and -manors thereunto appertaining, after the fortress itself had been pulled -down. No occupier or owner of a house could then proceed to fortify or -crenellate--that is, erect defensive parapets--without the royal -license; and William de Beauchamp was informed that though he might -build within the castle precincts as suitable a dwelling as he pleased, -on no account would such permission be granted. - -So he had no choice in the matter, but found himself under the painful -necessity of silently beholding the mighty keep where he had been born, -and in which all his early days had been spent, destroyed before his -very eyes. - -The work of destruction, however, was no easy one. Securely and solidly -had Pain de Beauchamp erected his fortress, less than a century and a -half before. It was necessary to employ John de Standen and his men -again. For many a long day after the king and his justiciary, and the -barons, ecclesiastics, soldiers and labourers who had been gathered -together for the siege had dispersed, the crash of falling masonry was -to be heard. Mines had to be dug and the walls overthrown, just as -though the siege were still proceeding, with the important difference -that the miners could work unmolested by attacks, and with no need of -the protecting "cat." - -John de Standen seemed in no wise to regret that the work of demolition -detained him so long at Bedford. In the midst of his duties he -contrived to find many opportunities for visits to Master Gilbert's -house, where Beatrice Mertoun was also detained in attendance upon her -mistress, who was prostrated by illness consequent on the anxieties she -had undergone during the siege. Aliva de Pateshulle also stayed with -the Lady Margaret, loath to leave her and return to Bletsoe till she -should be quite recovered; for she felt she owed the lady a debt of -gratitude for her care of her during her imprisonment, and also for -interposing on her behalf with Fulke and his brother, which she could -never sufficiently repay. - -The consequence was that the king's miner did not appear surprised to -run against Sir Ralph de Beauchamp issuing one evening from the ladies' -temporary abode. - -"By my troth, Sir Knight," exclaimed John de Standen, with a merry -laugh, "methinks we come both on the same errand here. You seek the -lady; I seek the maid. But it is easier work than when we had to break -through stone walls and swim broad rivers to get speech of them." - -"Certes, bold miner. Meseemeth I have now discovered whence thou -gottest that close knowledge of Bedford Castle which stood thee in such -good stead at the Council of Northampton. I warrant me thou wast oft -enow within its walls ere thou breakedst through in the breach not many -days since, and I doubt not thou hast paid many a visit to fair Mistress -Beatrice when no paving-stones came between ye. But thy siege is over -now, bold miner. Thou hast won thy bride. I have yet to win the -fortress of De Pateshulle the sire," he added, with a sigh. - -"If the lord of Bletsoe be what I take him for," the miner responded -consolingly, "he will not say nay for his daughter to such a knight as -Sir Ralph hath proved himself in this tough work." - -"I hope from my heart thou speakest true," replied Ralph; "but naught -hindereth _thy_ bridal?" - -"Nay, certes. Beatrice is an orphan with no friend but her lady, who -took charge of her when she was but a child. And as it would seem the -Lady Margaret purposeth to betake her to a nunnery, she is quite ready -to hand over the maiden to one who asks no less than to burden himself -with her!" laughed the miner. - -And so it turned out. One bright September morning, not long after the -fall of the castle, and when John de Standen had completed his work of -destruction, he and Beatrice were married in the chapel of St. -Thomas-at-bridge, the little edifice where she had occasionally been -allowed to attend mass with her mistress when Sir Fulke was in a more -benign mood than usual. The ceremony was graced by the presence of Lady -Margaret and Sir Ralph, but Lady Aliva had already returned to her -father's house. - -When the marriage was over the Lady Margaret prepared to start for -Elstow. In her present forlorn condition, the forsaken wife of an -outlawed and fugitive baron dispossessed of all his lands, homeless and -sickly, the unfortunate lady had implored shelter within the abbey -walls, and not in vain. But short as was the distance from Bedford, in -the present shattered condition of her nerves it was impossible for her -to take the journey alone. Sir Ralph had offered to be her escort, but -at the last moment he was detained by some duty in connection with the -destruction of the castle which was really John de Standen's business, -but which the worthy miner's marriage had hindered him from seeing to. - -Ralph found an unexpected substitute. When the Lady Margaret emerged -from Master Gilbert's hospitable door to mount her palfrey, she beheld -to her surprise Sir William de Beauchamp waiting to assist her. - -"I crave thy pardon, lady, if I intrude upon thee. But to my nephew and -me it beseemed ill-fitting that Margaret de Ripariis should arrive -unattended at the gates of Elstow. I beseech thee, grant me the -melancholy joy of escorting thee thither." - -It was many years since William de Beauchamp and his once affianced -bride had found themselves alone together. During the days of Fulke's -power there had been no meetings between De Breaute's and De Beauchamps. -It was only once during the confusion of the capture of the castle that -the two _quondam_ lovers had set eyes on each other. As they somewhat -silently started on their _tete-a-tete_ ride, the groom in charge of the -sumpter mule lagging a little distance behind, they had ample time to -observe in each other the changes wrought by time. - -"How strange it seemeth to miss the sight of the great keep, rising -proud and stately to the north across the river!" began the lady, -turning her head as they were crossing the bridge. - -"Alack, lady, what a change! Was ever luckless man doomed to see such a -destruction of his own, and not be able to lift a hand or to utter a -word?" - -"But I am told that thou purposest to build thyself a fair dwelling -between the inner and outer baileys, with a goodly hall and large -apartments." - -"Alack! what boots a fair dwelling and a goodly hall to one whose whole -life has been marred--a solitary man whose years creep on--who finds -himself alone?" - -"Alone!" murmured Lady Margaret. "Free, unshackled by a bondage worse -than death, not trembling lest a hateful tyrant return at any moment and -claim his rights. 'Twere good to be so alone!" - -"Alack, lady," said Sir William, "can naught be done to aid thee? Will -not Holy Church loose this unholy bondage, forced upon thee unwillingly -by the king's command?" - -"Alas, no, Sir Knight! On that score have I sought advice of the -venerable archdeacon and other ecclesiastics, but they offer me no hope. -Therefore I go hide me in a nunnery, lest Sir Fulke return. We must -e'en each bear our fate. We each have our woes. Thou hast lost thy -castle." - -"Is thy memory so short, lady, that thou sayest it is only my castle I -have lost, most miserable of men that I am? Hast forgotten the days--" - -"When I came to Bedford Castle with my father and his train to the great -tourney," interrupted Lady Margaret, wishing to turn the conversation, -and reining in her palfrey that she might turn round to survey the -ruins, "'twas a noble sight. How the banners waved from the pavilions -on the tilt-ground, and the trumpets blared, and the horses pranced! -How like silver ran old Ouse that merry summer's morning, when I sat -'neath the canopy--" - -"The Queen of Beauty, fair lady, and rightly so! And how your bright -eyes dazzled a certain youth on whom you had deigned to bestow your -favour to wear on his crest, and who ill deserved such an honour!" - -"But who acquitted himself right gallantly. I can see him still! But -all is changed: the castle is no more; we are not what we were; only the -old river runs the same. But come, Sir Knight; the reverend mother -waits me." - -"Lady, it grieveth me sore that the way 'twixt Bedford and Elstow is so -short. See how near loometh the abbey tower." - -"To me it riseth like the beacon of a port to the weary, wind-driven -mariner. Would I could find rest within its walls for aye!" - -"Say not so, lady; it sounds to my heart like a funeral knell." - -"No fear, Sir Knight; as long as Sir Fulke draws breath no cloister may -receive me. The reverend mother tells me that so long as my vows to him -are unloosed by death, I can ne'er plight any others; so long as I am -his wife, I cannot become the spouse of Christ." - -"Alack, lady, how woful a fate is mine! I, too, once plighted vows. -Dost recall them, lady? Nay, I received others in return. I can hear -them yet. Vows they were, not less sacred than those made to priest -before altar. Yet here I stand alone, like some wind-swept oak on the -hill-side, bowed before the blast." - -"Yet the helpless ivy would fain twine round the proud lord of the -woods," replied the lady, somewhat coyly. "Be thou sure, Sir Knight, my -heart grieveth sore for thee. I promise thee that thou shalt have my -prayers." - -And shortly afterwards the pair parted at the abbey gate. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV.* - - *"*_*DE MORTUIS.*_*"* - - - "O God, that it were possible, after long years of pain, - To find the arms of my true love around me once again!" - - "The walls where hung the warriors' shining casques - Are green with moss and mould; - The blind worm coils where queens have slept, nor asks - For shelter from the cold." - - -Three years had passed since John de Standen pulled down the stronghold -of the De Beauchamps. William de Beauchamp, making the best of the -necessity which was forced upon him, set to work to erect himself a -house between the inner and outer bailey. It still went by the name of -the castle. Unfortunately no plan or description of this building has -been handed down to us. It only existed for about twice as long as its -predecessor, the Norman keep of Pain de Beauchamp. Camden, writing in -the reign of Queen Elizabeth, describes it as a stately ruin overhanging -the Ouse; and an old map of about the same time shows that these ruins -occupied a pleasant position a little back from the river, and looking -south. As it was strictly an unfortified mansion, we may opine that it -was much such a building as that which we have described at Bletsoe, -consisting of a large, long hall, with private apartments at one end one -story high, but larger and built of stone. - -In one of these apartments, one afternoon in the summer of 1227, sat -Aliva de Pateshulle, now Aliva de Beauchamp, with her baby-boy upon her -knee. She was looking out of the round, arched window, which was -somewhat larger than the shuttered apertures in the old keep. The house -was intended for a comfortable dwelling, and not for a place of defence. -The walls were not half the thickness of those which had enclosed her -prison of three years before, though built of identically the same -stones. The rooms, too, were lighter, larger, and more habitable. The -science of domestic architecture was beginning. - -Aliva herself was also a more fully developed specimen of beautiful -young womanhood. The angularity of her tall figure had disappeared, and -there was more ripeness and fulness about her cheeks and mouth. But her -large gray eyes remained unchanged. Her beautiful fair hair, perhaps a -shade darker than it had been when it hung down over her shoulders that -morning in the garden at Bletsoe, was partly covered with the ugly -wimple, the matronly head-dress of the period, which had replaced the -maidenly fillet. - -Aliva was gazing from the window, which commanded a view of the river, -and was apparently watching for the approach of some one from the -entrance to the west. Presently she waved her hand in that direction, -and holding up the boy to the window, bade him look down at his father. - -Ralph entered the house, crossed the large hall, and made his way to his -wife's apartment. He also had somewhat altered in three years. His -massive frame had filled out, and with his large limbs more covered with -flesh and muscle, he looked even more like a young giant than he had -done that eve of the Assumption when he had fought his way into the -keep. - -He strode into the room, his face lighting up with a smile as his little -son clambered down from his mother's knee and toddled to meet him. He -lifted the boy up and kissed him. Then he kissed his wife; and she, -returning his embrace, began forthwith with feminine curiosity,-- - -"Well, sweetheart mine, what news?" - -Ralph was in his riding-dress. He had come in from a journey, and this -was why Aliva was watching for him so anxiously from the window. The -country had, indeed, much quieted down since the siege of Bedford Castle -and the ejection of the De Breaute marauders. During the period which -elapsed between the revolt against King John and the wars of the barons, -which troubled the latter end of his successor's reign, there intervened -a period of peace. Nevertheless, Aliva was always glad to see her -husband safe home again. - -"And so, Ralph mine, if thou hast news, prithee tell it me. Here naught -has passed out of the common. The boy and I have played together, and -awaited the home-coming of father." - -"My business for which I set forth is ended," began Ralph; "but, marry, -'twas dull work! 'Tis ill to deal with scriveners and such like folk! -But as I rode through St. Alban's I bethought me of turning in to the -abbey gate, and making my obeisance to the reverend father abbot. Thou -knowest that a De Beauchamp is ever welcome in a house of Holy Church." - -"Ah, St. Alban's!" cried Aliva; "and, prithee, didst give my message -relating to the incised stone to the memory of my protector, who was -slain at the siege, the bold young lay-brother of Bletsoe?" - -"Ay, verily I did," replied Ralph. "And the father abbot was well -pleased to learn that one of their house, who fell in fighting for Holy -Church (for thus, thou knowest, these priests always speak of the -siege), should sleep in our fair church of St. Paul at Bedford. He hath -given me an inscription to have writ on the slab. He saith it should be -cut in letters as is cut the inscription to Muriel Colt on the north of -the high altar. But hearken, wife," he added, sitting down beside her; -"I have other news for thee." - -"And good news, prithee?" - -"Heaven forfend that I should speak hastily or harshly of a dead enemy!" -continued Ralph gravely. "Sir Fulke is no more. The reverend father -hath instructed me that I may say, an if I will, 'Rest his soul in -peace.' For it seemeth he died free from the censure of Holy Church." - -Aliva received the news in silence. Her thoughts flew back to those few -terrible weeks when she was an unwilling guest in Fulke's castle. Then -she replied,-- - -"I, too, would say, 'God rest his soul.' As thou knowest, I scarce saw -him here, for he fled to Wales when he heard that the council had -determined to attack the castle. But his brother--" - -She paused, for even now she could not make the least allusion to -William de Breaute without a shudder. - -"Tell me all thou hast heard," she added. - -"I will give the tale in few words," Ralph answered. "Thou mindest how, -after he had submitted himself to our lord the king in Bedford here, he -was given, as an enemy of Holy Church, into the safe-keeping of my Lord -Eustace, the Bishop of London." - -"Ay," put in Aliva. "Some time since, when I went to Elstow to visit -Lady Margaret, the reverend mother told me how she had restored the -sword into the hands of the figure of St. Paul in the abbey church, as -soon as it was told her that the holy apostle had the destroyer of St. -Paul's Church safe in the keeping of the Bishop of St. Paul's in -London." - -"But see here," Ralph went on. "The good father has had writ out for me -a copy of the entry of Sir Fulke's history, as recorded by the scribe of -the monastery to be laid in the scriptorium. I will e'en read it to -thee, if I have not forgot the Latin the old chaplain taught me when I -was a boy." - -And Ralph read out the following history, which is still preserved to us -in the chronicles of St. Alban's:-- - -"Fulke, after that he was pardoned at London, and because he was marked -with the cross, was allowed to depart for Rome. After crossing the sea -he applied for a passport at Fiscamp, and was detained by the bailiffs -of France. At last, the following Easter, after that he had been -released from prison, he went to Rome, and sent very piteous letters to -the king, asking that his wife and his lands might be restored to him." - -"Alack! The poor Lady Margaret!" put in Aliva, with a sigh. - -"Whereupon the king, with his barons," read on Ralph, "sent word to our -lord the Pope of the treachery of Fulke; and the latter, having had his -refusal, set off for Troyes; and after staying there a year, was sent -out of France, because he would not pay homage to the king. He went to -Rome, and again, with much entreaty, begged that his wife and his -patrimony might be restored to him; and on his return from that city, -burdened with debt, he died at St. Cyriac." - -"His wife would ne'er have returned to him!" ejaculated Aliva -indignantly. - -"Neither had he any patrimony here, either in the castle or in the -manors," added Ralph. "Were they not wrested from my uncle and from -others, and given to him as a reward for his evil services to our late -king John? And hark ye, my Aliva, the father abbot showed me also, -written by his learned scribe, the whole account of the siege of the -castle; and he saith that, in after ages, the history of Bedford will be -known ever as it is known now. Perchance our names are mentioned, but I -read not that portion of the chronicle." - -His wife scarcely heeded. She was thinking of the present, and not of -the future. Woman-like, her mind was running on match-making. - -"Does the Lady Margaret know of Sir Fulke's death?" she asked. - -"I trow not," answered Ralph. "The news hath but even now reached -England, and hath but just been set down by the abbey scribe at the end -of his history of the siege. But doubtless news will be sent to Earl -William de Warenne, who, as thou knowest, has charge of the lands and -possessions which were hers ere she married, and which have been -restored to her." - -"Then she is free!" mused Aliva. - -"Ay, free, poor lady. The priests decided, when she sought to be -released, that there had been no impediment of canon law to her -marriage, and that it could not, even if it had been in a manner forced, -and the bride unwilling, be dissolved by the authority of the Church. -Death hath loosed her bonds." - -There was a stirring of the heavy curtain which hung in the doorway of -the apartment. But so engrossed were the two speakers that no one -noticed it but the child, who, after looking towards it, began to toddle -uncertainly in that direction. - -"She is free," repeated Aliva thoughtfully. "Her husband is dead, and -she hath not yet bound herself by the vows of a religious life, even did -she wish it, which, often as I have talked with her these three years -past since she hath sought shelter at Elstow, I doubt much." - -"True, wife; if any one should know the Lady Margaret's mind, it should -be thou, who art to her as a daughter. But beshrew me if I wot what -thou art driving at, sweetheart." - -Aliva sprang up, and throwing her arms round her husband's neck, -exclaimed, with an arch smile,-- - -"How oft dunder-headed men are where love is concerned! Ralph, we shall -see the Lady Margaret the _chatelaine_ of Bedford again!" - -And then a most extraordinary thing occurred. Behind, in the doorway, -they heard a joyful laugh. - -There stood their uncle, Sir William, who never within the memory of -either of them had been known even to smile. - -He advanced hurriedly into the room, and catching up his great-nephew in -his arms, kissed his little flaxen head, and laughed again. - - - - THE END. - - - - - * * * * * * * * - - - - - *Nelson's "Royal" Libraries.* - - *THE TWO SHILLING SERIES.* - -IN TAUNTON TOWN. E. Everett-Green. -IN THE LAND OF THE MOOSE. Achilles Daunt. -TREFOIL. Margaret P. Macdonald. -WENZEL'S INHERITANCE. Annie Lucas. -VERA'S TRUST. Evelyn Everett-Green. -FOR THE FAITH. Evelyn Everett-Green. -ALISON WALSH. Constance Evelyn. -BLIND LOYALTY. E. L. Haverfield. -DOROTHY ARDEN. J. M. Callwell. -FALLEN FORTUNES. Evelyn Everett-Green. -FOR HER SAKE. Gordon Roy. -JACK MACKENZIE. Gordon Stables, M.D. -IN PALACE AND FAUBOURG. C. J. G. -ISABEL'S SECRET; or, A Sister's Love. -IVANHOE. Sir Walter Scott. -KENILWORTH. Sir Walter Scott. -LEONIE. Annie Lucas. -OLIVE ROSCOE. Evelyn Everett-Green. -QUEECHY. Miss Wetherell. -SCHOeNBERG-COTTA FAMILY. Mrs. Charles. -"SISTER." Evelyn Everett-Green. -THE CITY AND THE CASTLE. Annie Lucas. -THE CZAR. Deborah Alcock. -THE HEIRESS OF WYLMINGTON. E. Everett-Green. -THE SIGN OF THE RED CROSS. E. Everett-Green. -THE SPANISH BROTHERS. Deborah Alcock. -THE TRIPLE ALLIANCE. Harold Avery. -THE UNCHARTED ISLAND. Skelton Kuppord. -THE WIDE, WIDE WORLD. Miss Wetherell. -THE BRITISH LEGION. Herbert Hayens. -THE SWISS FAMILY ROBINSON. -SALE'S SHARPSHOOTERS. Harold Avery. -A TRUSTY REBEL. Mrs. H. Clarke. -BEGGARS OF THE SEA. Tom Bevan. -HAVELOK THE DANE. C. W. Whistler. - - - - *Nelson's "Royal" Libraries.* - - *THE EIGHTEENPENCE SERIES.* - -SECRET CHAMBER AT CHAD. E. Everett-Green. -SONS OF FREEDOM. Fred Whishaw. -SONS OF THE VIKINGS. John Gunn. -STORY OF MADGE HILTON. Agnes C. Maitland. -IN LIONLAND. M. Douglas. -MARGIE AT THE HARBOUR LIGHT. E. A. Rand. -ADA AND GERTY. Louisa M. Gray. -AFAR IN THE FOREST. W. H. G. Kingston. -A GOODLY HERITAGE. K. M. Eady. -BORIS THE BEAR HUNTER. Fred Whishaw. -"DARLING." M. H. Cornwall Legh. -DULCIE'S LITTLE BROTHER. E. Everett-Green. -ESTHER'S CHARGE. E. Everett-Green. -EVER HEAVENWARD. Mrs. Prentiss. -FOR THE QUEEN'S SAKE. E. Everett-Green. -GUY POWER'S WATCHWORD. J. T. Hopkins. -IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. W. H. G. Kingston. -IN THE WARS OF THE ROSES. E. Everett-Green. -LIONEL HARCOURT, THE ETONIAN. G. E. Wyatt. -MOLLY'S HEROINE. "Fleur de Lys." -NORSELAND TALES. H. H. Boyesen. -ON ANGEL'S WINGS. Hon. Mrs. Greene. -ONE SUMMER BY THE SEA. J. M. Callwell. -PARTNERS. H. F. Gethen. -ROBINETTA. L. E. Tiddeman. -SALOME. Mrs. Marshall. -THE LORD OF DYNEVOR. E. Everett-Green. -THE YOUNG HUGUENOTS. "Fleur de Lys." -THE YOUNG RAJAH. W. H. G. Kingston. -WINNING THE VICTORY. E. Everett-Green. -TRUE TO THE LAST. E. Everett-Green. -WON IN WARFARE. C. R. Kenyon. - - - - *Nelson's "Royal" Libraries.* - - *THE SHILLING SERIES.* - -ACADEMY BOYS IN CAMP. S. F. Spear. -ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Miss Gaye. -ESTHER REID. Pansy. -TIMOTHY TATTERS. J. M. Callwell. -AMPTHILL TOWERS. A. J. Foster. -IVY AND OAK. -ARCHIE DIGBY. G. E. Wyatt. -AS WE SWEEP THROUGH THE DEEP. Gordon Stables, M.D. -AT THE BLACK ROCKS. Edward Rand. -AUNT SALLY. Constance Milman. -CYRIL'S PROMISE. A Temperance Tale. W. J. Lacey. -GEORGIE MERTON. Florence Harrington. -GREY HOUSE ON THE HILL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. -HUDSON BAY. R. M. Ballantyne. -JUBILEE HALL. Hon. Mrs. Greene. -LOST SQUIRE OF INGLEWOOD. Dr. Jackson. -MARK MARKSEN'S SECRET. Jessie Armstrong. -MARTIN RATTLER. R. M. Ballantyne. -RHODA'S REFORM. M. A. Paull. -SHENAC. The Story of a Highland Family in Canada. -SIR AYLMER'S HEIR. E. Everett-Green. -SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. Harold Avery. -THE CORAL ISLAND. R. M. Ballantyne. -THE DOG CRUSOE. R. M. Ballantyne. -THE GOLDEN HOUSE. Mrs. Woods Baker. -THE GORILLA HUNTERS. R. M. Ballantyne. -THE ROBBER BARON. A. J. Foster. -THE WILLOUGHBY BOYS. Emily C. Hartley. -UNGAVA. R. M. Ballantyne. -WORLD OF ICE. R. M. Ballantyne. -YOUNG FUR TRADERS. R. M. Ballantyne. -MARTIN'S INHERITANCE. -OUR SEA-COAST HEROES. Achilles Daunt. -GIBRALTAR AND ITS SIEGES. -THE SECRET CAVE. Emilie Searchfield. -LIZZIE HEPBURN. -VANDRAD THE VIKING. J. Storer Clouston. - -..vspace:: 3 - - *AT ONE SHILLING AND SIXPENCE.* - - *LIBRARY OF TRAVEL AND ADVENTURE.* - - A Selection of Stories, etc.: Mainly for Boys. Uniformly - Bound and Finely Illustrated. - -IN SAVAGE AFRICA. Verney Lovett Cameron, R.N. - An adventurous journey from the Gold Coast to Zanzibar. - -TWIN CASTAWAYS, THE. Harcourt Burrage. - A tale of peril on the sea. - -ADVENTURERS ALL! K. M. Eady. - A story of a contraband cargo graphically told. - -ALIVE IN THE JUNGLE. Eleanor Stredder. - A fascinating story of a child stolen by a wolf and reared in its - lair. - -CABIN IN THE CLEARING, THE. Edward S. Ellis. - -CASTAWAYS, THE. Captain Mayne Reid. - This book by a favourite author is crammed full of incident. - -LOST IN THE BACKWOODS. Miss Traill. - This story abounds in pulsating adventures and romantic - incidents. - -WITH STANLEY ON THE CONGO. M. Douglas. - A most interesting and well-written account of Stanley's - explorations on the great river. - -LOST IN THE WILDS OF CANADA. Eleanor Stredder. - An excellent story of "Wild West" life, full of incident. - -THREE TRAPPERS, THE. Achilles Daunt. - A Canadian story by a son of the land. - -THROUGH FOREST AND FIRE. Edward S. Ellis. - A story of life in a lonely settlement of the United States. - - - - *"THE" BOOKS FOR BOYS.* - - *AT TWO SHILLINGS.* - - *By W. H. G. KINGSTON.* - - "The best writer for boys who ever lived." - - -DICK CHEVELEY. W. H. G. Kingston. - A stirring tale of a plucky boy who "ran away to sea." - -IN THE EASTERN SEAS. W. H. G. Kingston. - The scenes of this book are laid in the Malay Archipelago. - -IN THE WILDS OF AFRICA. W. H. G. Kingston. - The adventures of a shipwrecked party on the coast of Africa. - -IN THE WILDS OF FLORIDA. W. H. G. Kingston. - A bustling story of warfare between Red Men and Palefaces. - -MY FIRST VOYAGE TO SOUTHERN SEAS. W. H. G. Kingston. - A tale of adventure at sea and in Cape Colony, Ceylon, etc. - -OLD JACK. W. H. G. Kingston. - An old sailor's account of his many and varied adventures. - -ON THE BANKS OF THE AMAZON. W. H. G. Kingston. - A boy's journal of adventures in the wilds of South America. - -SAVED FROM THE SEA. W. H. G. Kingston. - The adventures of a young sailor and three shipwrecked - companions. - -SOUTH SEA WHALER, THE. W. H. G. Kingston. - A story of mutiny and shipwreck in the South Seas. - -TWICE LOST. W. H. G. Kingston. - A story of shipwreck and travel in Australia. - -TWO SUPERCARGOES, THE. W. H. G. Kingston. - An adventurous story full of "thrills." - -VOYAGE ROUND THE WORLD. W. H. G. Kingston. - A young sailor's account of his adventures by land and sea. - -WANDERERS, THE. W. H. G. Kingston. - The adventures of a Pennsylvanian merchant and his family. - -YOUNG LLANERO, THE. W. H. G. Kingston. - A thrilling narrative of war and adventure. - - - - *"THE" BOOKS FOR BOYS.* - - *AT TWO SHILLINGS.* - - *By R. M. BALLANTYNE.* - - -CORAL ISLAND, THE. R. M. Ballantyne. - The author of "Peter Pan" says of "The Coral Island": "For the - authorship of that book I would joyously swop all mine." - -DOG CRUSOE AND HIS MASTER. R. M. Ballantyne. - A tale of the prairies, with many adventures among the Red - Indians. - -GORILLA HUNTERS, THE. R. M. Ballantyne. - A story of adventure in the wilds of Africa, brimful of exciting - incidents and alive with interest. - -HUDSON BAY. R. M. Ballantyne. - A record of pioneering in the great lone land of the Hudson Bay - Company. - -MARTIN RATTLER. R. M. Ballantyne. - An excellent story of adventure in the forests of Brazil. - -UNGAVA. R. M. Ballantyne. - A tale of Eskimo land. - -WORLD OF ICE, THE. R. M. Ballantyne. - A story of whaling in the Arctic regions. - -YOUNG FUR TRADERS, THE. R. M. Ballantyne. - A tale of early life in the Hudson Bay Territories. - - - - *FAVOURITE TEMPERANCE STORIES.* - - *AT TWO SHILLINGS.* - - -FRANK OLDFIELD. Rev. T. P. Wilson, M.A. - A very popular book, now appealing to a new generation. It is - a story of life in a Lancashire mining village, and is remarkable - for its record of simple heroism and piety. - -LIONEL FRANKLIN'S VICTORY. E. Van Sommer. - A powerfully written tale on an old but by no means negligible - theme--namely, that he who conquers must suffer. - -EVERYDAY DOINGS. Hellena Richardson. - A prize temperance tale, founded on fact and "written for an - earnest purpose." - -NARESBOROUGH VICTORY. Rev. T. Keyworth. - A well-constructed tale advocating temperance. The style is - excellent, and the story is a favourite. - -OWEN'S HOBBY. Elmer Burleigh. - This prize temperance tale is replete with touching scenes - pleasantly relieved by humorous incidents. - -SOUGHT AND SAVED. M. A. Paull. - A prize temperance tale for the young. The book succeeds in - its purpose without labouring the moral. - -THROUGH STORM TO SUNSHINE. William J. Lacey. - A temperance story which opens in gloom and ends in sunshine. - It presses home a moral lesson unobtrusively, and therefore - effectively. - -TIM'S TROUBLES. M. A. Paull. - The hero of this temperance tale is an Irish lad who owes - everything in after life to the lessons learned - at a Band of Hope which - he joined in boyhood. - - - - T. NELSON AND SONS, London, Edinburgh, Dublin, and New York. - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROBBER BARON OF BEDFORD -CASTLE *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44374 - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no one -owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation (and -you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without permission -and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth in the -General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to copying and -distributing Project Gutenberg(tm) electronic works to protect the -Project Gutenberg(tm) concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a -registered trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks, -unless you receive specific permission. 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