CHAPTER XV
It was still very early, and the narrow line of sky seen from theturret window was gilded by the bright pale-green light of morning,when Sir Eustace awoke. All around was perfectly still, and he couldhave believed himself waking merely from a dream of tumult anddisturbance, but for his feelings of pain and weakness. At some littledistance lay, on a softly-dressed sheepskin, the oriental figure of theJewish mediciner, and, at the foot of his own bed, the unexpected formof little Arthur reclined, half sitting, half lying, with his headresting on his crossed arms, and his long curls floating over them.All was a riddle to his misty remembrance, clouded by weakness; and, invague uncertain recollections and conjectures, the time rolled away,till the sounds of awakening and calls of the warders within the Castlebetokened that it was occupied by no small number of persons. StillArthur slept on, and Eustace abstained from the slightest movement thatcould disturb him, till a step stole quietly to the door, and Gaston'shead was seen cautiously and anxiously looking in. Eustace, raisinghis hand, beckoned him, and made a sign of silence.
"How is with you, Sir Eustace? It must needs be better. I see a lightin your eye once more."
"I am another man since yesterday, Gaston; but be careful--see there."
"Little fear of breaking such sleep as that," said Gaston. "'Tis anoble-hearted little fellow, and if matters go better with ushenceforth, it will be his work."
"What is become of Clisson?"
"He was riding off headlong when Master Henry Neville last beheld him,gaining thereby a sound rating from old Chandos."
"Sir John Chandos here?"
"Fast asleep in your own carved chair, with his feet on the oakensettle."
"Sir John Chandos!" again exclaimed Eustace.
"Even so. All thanks to the brave young damoiseau who--"
Here Gaston's ardour had the effect of awakening the doctor, whoimmediately began to grumble at his patient's admitting visitorswithout permission. By the time he had examined Eustace's wounds andpronounced him to be progressing favourably, the whole Castle was upand awake, and Arthur, against his will, was sent down to attend on SirJohn Chandos at breakfast, when scarce satisfied that his uncle couldspeak to him.
In process of time he came up to announce a visit from Chandos himself,and close on his steps followed the stalwart old warrior. Pausing atthe door, he looked around him, struck with the aspect of thedungeon-like apartment, still more rugged in the morning light than inthe evening gloom--the bare rough walls, an arrow sticking between thestones immediately above the Knight's head, the want of furniture, theKnight's own mantle and that of Gaston both called into requisition toprotect him from the damp chill night air, their bright hues and richembroidery contrasting with the squalid appearance of all around, as,indeed, did the noble though pale features of the wounded man himself,and the graceful attire and shining hair of the fair young boy whostood over him. But Sir John beheld all with no dissatisfaction.
"Well, my brave young Sir," said he, advancing, "how is it with youthis morning? You look cheerily; I trust we shall soon have you onhorseback again."
"Thanks to the blessed Saints and to you, Sir John," replied Eustace."I fear you fared ill last night for,"--and he looked round with asmile--"you see, I occupy the state bed-chamber."
"The better, Sir Eustace," said Chandos. "It does my heart good to seesuch a chamber as this--none of the tapestry and hangings which ouryoung Knights nowadays fence themselves with, as if they kept out thefoe--this is what it is meant for--a stronghold, and not a bower. I'llhave my dainty young Master Neville up here, to see how a good Knightshould be lodged."
"I fear he would scarce consider it as an example," said Eustace,smiling, "since all our simplicity would not have availed to protectus, but for your coming. We little dreamt to see this morning's light."
"True, but where should I look for a garrison to make such a defence asyou and your Squire have done? When I saw the spot, and looked at thenumbers, and heard how long you had held out, methought I was returnedonce more to the good old days of Calais. And here this youth of mine,not yet with his spurs, though I dare say full five years older thanyou, must needs look sour upon it, because he has to sleep on a settlefor one night--and that, too, when he has let Oliver de Clisson slipthrough his fingers, without so much as a scratch taken or given oneither side! It grieves my very soul to think on it! But all has goneto rack and ruin since the Prince has been unable to set the example."
"Is the Prince better in health?"
"Yes--so they say--but his looks tell another tale, and I never expectto see him on horseback again," said the old warrior, with a deep sigh."But I have to do his bidding here, and have much to ask of you, SirEustace; and I do it the more willingly, that I rejoice to see a braveman righted."
"Has the Prince, then, commanded an inquiry into my conduct?" exclaimedEustace, joyfully. "It is what I have ever most warmly desired."
"And know you whom you have to thank?" said Sire John. "That youngsterwho stands at your feet--'twas he that, with little Prince Edward,burst into the council, and let not another word be said till he hadtold your need, given Fulk Clarenham the lie direct, and challenged himto prove his words. Pray when is the defiance to be fought out, SirPage?"
Arthur coloured crimson, and looked down; then raising his glowingface, said firmly, "To-morrow, if need were, Sir--for God would defendthe right!"
"Roundly spoken, Master Page! But let not your early years be alltalk, nothing worth."
"The same warning that you gave to me, Sir John," said Eustace.
"When you thought I looked coldly and churlishly on your new-wonhonours," said Sir John. "I own I thought the Prince was bestowingknighthood over lightly--and so do I say still, Sir Eustace. But Isaw, afterwards, that you were not so easily uplifted as I had thought.I saw you as diligent in the study of all that was knightly as if yourspurs were yet to earn, and I knew the Prince had a brave young servantin you."
"If he would have trusted me!" said Eustace.
"He hath been deceived by the flatterers who have gained his ear. Itshould not have been thus had I been at court; but things have beenmuch against my counsel. It may be that I have been too plainspoken--forgetting that he is not the boy who used to be committed tomy charge--it may be that he hath been over hasty--and yet, when I lookon his changed mien and wasted face, I can scarce blame him, nor mustyou, Sir Eustace, though cruel injustice hath, I fear, been done you."
"I blame our glorious Prince!" exclaimed the young Knight. "I would assoon blame the sun in heaven because the clouds hide his face from mefor a time!"
"The clouds are likely to be dispersed with a vengeance," said Chandos."The confession of yonder mutinous traitors will clear you from allthat your accusers have said, by proving their villainy and baseness!"
"How? Sanchez and his fellows? Have they surrendered?"
"Yes. They kept themselves shut up in Montfort's tower until they lostall hope of relief from their friends without; then, being in fear ofstarvation, they were forced to surrender, and came forth, praying thattheir lives might be spared. I, as you may suppose, would as lief havespared the life of a wolf, and the halters were already round theirnecks, when your dark-visaged Squire prayed me to attempt to gain aconfession from them; and, sure enough, they told a marvelloustale:--that Clarenham had placed them here to deliver you up to theenemy, whom they were to admit by a secret passage--and that they wouldhave done it, long since, save that you and your Squire not onlydiscovered the passage, but showed such vigilance, and so frustratedall their plans, that they firmly believed that you held commerce withthe foul fiend. Did you, in truth, suspect their treachery?"
"Yes," replied Eustace, looking at Arthur. "The recognition of LeBorgne Basque in the Seneschal would have been sufficient to set us onour guard."
"But the passage?" asked Sir John, "what knowledge had you of that? forthey vow that you could never have discovered it but by art magic."
"We found it
by long and diligent search."
"And what led you to search, Sir Eustace? I you can clear up thematter, it will be the better for you; for this accusation ofwitchcraft will hang to you like a burr--the more, perhaps, as you aresomewhat of a scholar!"
"It was I who warned him of it, Sir Knight," said Arthur, steppingforward.
"You, young Page!" exclaimed Sir John. "Are you jesting? Ha! then youmust have, page-like, been eaves-dropping!--I should scarce havethought it of you."
"Oh, uncle!" exclaimed Arthur, in great distress, "you do not believeme capable of aught so unknightly? Do but say that you, at least,trust my word, when I say that I learnt their plots by no meansunbecoming the son of Sir Reginald Lynwood."
"I believe you fully, Arthur," replied his uncle; "the more, that Ishould have been the last person to whom you would have broughtinformation gained in such a fashion."
"And how was it gained?" asked Sir John.
"That," said the boy, "is a secret I am bound never to disclose."
"Strange, passing strange," repeated the old Knight, shaking his head."Clarenham and Ashton would scarce have taken any into their councilswho would warn you. And you will or can tell no more?"
"No more," replied the boy. "I was bidden secretly to warn my uncle ofthe entrance to the vaults, and of the treachery of this villaingarrison. I did so, and he who says aught dishonourable of him or ofme lies in his throat."
"Can you read this riddle, Sir Eustace?" asked Chandos, looking rathersuspiciously at the very faint glow which mantled in the white cheek ofthe wounded Knight.
"I know nothing but what he has told you, Sir John," replied he.
"Nor guess aught?" said Sir John; "but perhaps that is scarce a fairquery; and I will to the rest of my business, though it is scarceneeded--only I would have the Prince see the full extent of thefalsehoods with which he has been gulled." And he then proceeded toinquire into the circumstances of Lady Eleanor's funeral, the brawling,the violent abstraction of Arthur, and of a considerable portion of hisproperty, and the long delay, which had given his enemies so muchopportunity to blacken his character. Eustace explained all fully tothe satisfaction of Chandos, and appealed to numerous witnesses.
"That is well," said the old Knight. "We shall have it all clear asdaylight;--and the only wonder is, that the Prince could be so longdeceived by such monstrous falsehoods. Let me see--your right to thewardship is established?"
"Yes; it hath been so decided by the Bishop of Winchester."
"And let me tell you, Sir Eustace, you did yourself little good bygetting the interest of the Duke of Lancaster. Methought it stillfurther prejudiced the Prince."
"It was justice that I sought, not favour," said Eustace.
"The knightly view," said Sir John; "and it was more the work of yourfriends than yourself; but I never loved that young John of Lancaster,and still less since he hath seemed willing to make a party forhimself. I trow he hath given the Prince a distrust of all uncles.Ha! little varlet!" added he, as he met Arthur's eyes--"if you can keepone secret, keep another, or, still better, forget what I have said.Understandest thou?"
"I will answer for him," said Eustace.
"And now," said Chandos, "I must be on my way back; for that expeditionto Bescancon must be looked to. But what is to be done with the boy?"
"Oh, I remain here," cried Arthur, eagerly. "The Prince consented. Oh,I pray of you let me stay here."
"In this dismal old Castle, Arthur," said Eustace, "apart from all yourplaymates? It will not be like home, remember; for scarce ever willyou be able to go beyond the walls--and with me lying here, and Gastonalways occupied, you will find it weary work."
"Not with you, Uncle Eustace! I shall sit by you, and tend you, andread to you. It is so long since I have been with you! Oh, send menot away! I care for no playmate--for nothing in the wide world, asfor you!"
"Well, let him e'en stay," said Sir John; "it will be a better trainingfor him than among the gilded little varlets who are cockered up amongPrincess Joan's ladies."
The two Knights had next to arrange some matters respecting thegarrison; Sir John leaving a sufficient number of men to secure thecastle in case of a second attack. He was somewhat inclined to leaveMaster Henry Neville to command them; but consideration for Eustace andGaston induced him to spare the young gentleman a sojourn which hewould have regarded as so far from enviable. Nor was the leech moredesirous of a lengthened stay with a patient whom he suspected to beunable to requite him for the discomfort which he might endure in hisservice. He therefore pronounced Sir Eustace to stand in no furtherneed of his attentions; and recommending rest, and providing him withgood store of remedies, he saddled his mule to accompany Sir JohnChandos.
The old Commander took his leave, with many kind wishes for SirEustace's speedy recovery, and promises that he should ere long hearfrom Bordeaux. In ten minutes more Arthur, standing at the window,announced that the troop was riding off, with Clisson's pennon borneamong them in triumph, and Sanchez and his accomplices, with theirhands tied, and their feet fastened together beneath the bodies oftheir horses.
CHAPTER XVI
Four or five weeks had passed away since Sir John Chandos had quittedthe Chateau Norbelle.
The Knight had nearly recovered his full strength, but still wore hisbroken arm in a scarf, when, one evening, as he was sitting on thebattlements, delighting the ears of Arthur and of Gaston with aninterminable romance of chivalry, three or four horseman, bearing thecolours and badges of the Black Prince, were descried riding towardsthe Castle. Knight, Squire, and Page instantly descended to thecourtyard, which, in short space, was entered by the messengers, theprincipal of whom, an elderly man-at-arms, respectfully saluted theKnight, and delivered to him a parchment scroll, tied with silk ofscarlet and blue, supporting the heavy seal of the Prince of Wales andDuke of Aquitaine, and addressed to the hands of the honourable KnightBanneret Sir Eustace Lynwood, Castellane of the Chateau Norbelle. Thisdocument bore the signature of Edward himself, and contained hismandate to Eustace, to come immediately to his court at Bordeaux,leaving the command of the Chateau Norbelle to the bearer.
The old man-at-arms was closely questioned all the evening respectingthe state of the court, but he could give little information. Sir JohnChandos was at Bordeaux, and had daily attended the council, to whichthe Prince was devoting more attention than usual; a vessel had alsoarrived bearing letters from England to the Prince; this was all theinformation that could be obtained.
The next morning Eustace, with Gaston, Arthur, and Ingram, all full ofexpectation, and delighted at the change from the gloomy solitary oldCastle, were all posting on their way back to Bordeaux. They slept atan hostel about twelve miles from the town, first, however, by desireof the Prince's messengers, sending Ingram on to announce their speedyarrival, and about ten in the morning rode into town.
There was evidently some grand spectacle at hand, for the Bordelais,gentle and simple, in holiday habits, were proceeding in the directionof the palace; but the Knight and his attendants had no time to waitfor inquiries, and pressed on with the stream to the gates of thecourtyard, where they found warders placed, to keep back the densethrong of people. At the mention of Sir Eustace's name they readilyand respectfully admitted him and his companions into the court.
"Ha!" cried Gaston, "what means this? is there a tilt towards? Thisreminds me of the good old days, ere the Prince fell ill. The lists,the galleries, the ladies, the Prince's own chair of state, too! Oh,Sir Eustace, I could tear my hair that you cannot yet use your swordarm!"
"Can it be a challenge on the part of Fulk?" said Eustace, "or a replyto yours, Arthur? Yet that can hardly be. And see, there is nobarrier in the midst, only a huge block. What can be intended?"
"I do not see Agnes among the ladies in the galleries," said Arthur,looking up as eagerly, and more openly, than his uncle was doing. "Andoh, here comes the Princess,--yes, and Lord Edward and little LordRichard with her! And here is the
Prince himself leaning on the Earlof Cambridge! Uncle Eustace, Lord Edward is beckoning to me! May Irun to him?"
"Come with me, since I must present myself," said Eustace, dismounting,as one of the Prince's Squires held his horse.
"And, oh! who is yonder dark-browed dwarfish Knight at the Prince'sright hand?" cried Arthur.
Eustace could scarcely believe his eyes, as he looked where the boypointed.
The royal party were now seated in full array on their raised platform;the Prince upon his chair of state, with more brightness in his eye andof vigour in his movements than when Eustace had last seen him; and athis side sat his wife,--her features still retaining the majesticbeauty of Joan Plantagenet, the Fair Maid of Kent--but worn and fadedwith anxiety. She watched her princely Lord with an eye full of care,and could scarcely spare attention for the lovely child who clung toher side, and whose brilliantly fair complexion, wavy flaxen hair, highbrow, and perfectly formed though infantine features, already promisedthat remarkable beauty which distinguished the countenance of RichardII. On the other side of the Prince sat his sister-in-law, theCountess of Cambridge, a Spanish Infanta; and her husband, Edmund,afterwards Duke of York, was beside the Princess of Wales. But morewonderful than all, among them stood the Constable of France. The twoboys, Prince Edward and his cousin Henry of Lancaster, were stationedas pages on each side of the Princess, but as their play-fellow,Arthur, advanced with his uncle, they both sprang down the steps of thegallery to meet him, and each took a hand. Edward, however, firstbethinking himself of the respect which, Prince as he was, he owed to abelted Knight, made his reverence to Sir Eustace, who, at a sign fromthe Prince of Wales, mounted the steps and bent his knee to the groundbefore him.
"Nay, Sir Eustace," said the Prince, bending forward, "it is rather Iwho should kneel to you for pardon; I have used you ill, Eustace, and,I fear me, transgressed the pledge which I gave to your brother on theplain of Navaretta."
"Oh, say not so, my gracious liege," said Eustace, as tears gathered inhis eyes,--"it was but that your noble ear was deceived by the slandersof my foes!"
"True, Sir Eustace--yet, once, Edward of England would not have heard aslanderous tale against one of his well-proved Knights without siftingit well. But I am not as once I was--sickness hath unnerved me, and, Ifear me, hath often led me to permit what may have dimmed my fame. Whowould have dared to tell me that I should suffer my castles to be madeinto traps for my faithful Knights? And now, Sir Eustace, that I amabout to repair my injustice towards you, let me feel, as a man whoseaccount for this world must ere long be closed, that I have yourforgiveness."
The Prince took the hand of the young Knight, who struggled hard withhis emotion. "And here is another friend," he added--"a firmer friend,though foe, than you have found some others."
"Well met, my chivalrous godson," said the Constable du Guesclin,holding out his hand. "I rejoice that my neighbour, Oliver, did notput an end to your _faits d'armes_."
"I marvel--," Eustace hardly found words between wonder and condolence.The Prince caught the import of his hesitating sentences.
"He thinks you a prisoner, Sir Bertrand," he said. "No, Sir Eustace,Messire le Connetable is captive only in his good-will to you. Iwrote, to pray him to send me his witness to those last words of yourbrother, since you had ever appealed to him, and he replied by anoffer, which does us too much honour, to become our guest."
"I am no scribe, apart from my fairy Dame Tiphaine," said Du Guesclin,abruptly. "It cost me less pains to ride hither,--besides that Ilonged to renew my old English acquaintances, and see justice done toyou, fair godson."
"Ha! Sir Bertrand, thou recreant!--so no other spell drew thee hither?Thou hast no gallantry even for such an occasion as this!" said a gayvoice.
"How should the ill-favoured Knight deal in gallantries?" said DuGuesclin, turning. "Here is one far fitter for your Grace's eyes."
"And you, discourteous Constable, were keeping him for you own behoof,when all my maidens have been speaking for weeks of no name but theKnight of the beleaguered Castle!"
And Eustace had to kiss the fair hand of the Princess of Wales.
In the meantime, the three boys were whispering together. "It is allwell, all gloriously well, is it not, Arthur, as I told you?" saidEdward. "I knew my father would settle all in his own noble fashion."
"What said the master of the Damoiseaux?" asked Arthur, as the sightof that severe functionary revived certain half-forgotten terrors.
"Oh, he, the old crab-stock!" said Henry,--"he looked sour enough atfirst; but Edward kept your counsel well, till you were safe at a gooddistance from Bordeaux; and then, though he said somewhat ofcomplaining to my Lord the Prince, it was too late to mend it. And whenSir John Chandos came back, and bade him be content, he vowed you wereenough to spoil a whole host of pages; but did not we all wish some ofour uncles would get themselves betrayed?"
"But what means all this preparation?" asked Arthur--"these lists! Oh,surely, there is not to be a tourney, which I have so longed to see!"
"No," said Edward, "that cannot be, my mother says, while my father isso weakly and ill. But there are the trumpets! you will soon see whatwill befall."
And, with a loud blast of trumpets, the gorgeously arrayed heralds rodeinto the court, followed by a guard of halberdiers, in the midst ofwhom rode a Knight in bright armour, his visor closed, but his shieldand crest marking the Baron of Clarenham.
When the trumpets had ceased, and the procession reached the centre ofthe lists, they halted, and drew up in order,--the principal herald,Aquitaine, immediately in front of the Prince. After another shortclear trumpet-blast, Aquitaine unrolled a parchment, and, in a loudvoice, proclaimed the confession of Fulk, Baron of Clarenham, of hisfoul and unknightly conduct, in attempting to betray the person of thegood Knight and true, Eustace Lynwood, Knight Banneret, with that ofhis Esquire, Gaston d'Aubricour, and of certain other trusty andwell-beloved subjects of his liege Lord, King Edward of England,together with the fortalice, called Chateau Norbelle, in the county ofGascogne, appertaining to my Lord Edward, Prince of Wales and Duke ofAquitaine, into the hands of the enemy--having for that purposetampered with and seduced Thibault Sanchez, Seneschal of the Castle,Tristan de la Fleche, and certain others, who, having confessed theircrime, have received their deserts, by being hung on a gallows--uponwhich same gallows it was decreed by the authority of the Prince, Dukeand Governor of Aquitaine, that the shield of Fulk de Clarenham shouldbe hung--he himself being degraded from the honours and privileges ofknighthood, of which he had proved himself unworthy--and his landsforfeited to the King, to be disposed of at his pleasure.
Clarenham was then compelled to dismount from his horse, and to, firstone foot, and then the other, upon the block, where a broad red-facedcook, raising his cleaver, cut off the golden spurs. Sir John Chandos,as Constable of Aquitaine, then came forward, and, taking the shieldfrom the arm of Clarenham, gave it, reversed, into the hands of one ofthe heralds, who carried it away. The belt, another token ofknighthood, was next unbuckled, and Chandos, taking the sword, broke itin three pieces across his knee, saying, "Lie there, dishonouredsteel!" and throwing it down by the spurs. Lastly, the helmet, with thebaronial bars across the visor, was removed, and thrown to the ground,leaving visible the dark countenance, where the paleness of shame andthe flush of rage alternated.
"And now, away with the traitor, away with the recreant Knight! outupon him!" cried in a loud voice Sir John Chandos, while the shout wastaken up by a deafening multitude of voices--in the midst of which thedegraded Knight and landless Baron made his way to the gate, and, as hepassed out, a redoubled storm of shouts and yells arose from without.
"Out upon the traitor!" cried Harry of Lancaster with the loudest."Away with him! But, Edward, and you too, Arthur, why shout you not?Hate you not traitors and treason?"
"I would not join my voice with the rabble," said Edward, "and it makesme sad to see knighthood fallen. What say you, Arthur?"
"Alas! he is my mother's kinsman," said Arthur, "and I loved his namefor her sake as for that of Agnes too. Where is Agnes?"
"In the Convent of the Benedictine nuns," said Edward. "But in yourear, Arthur, what say you to our plan that she shall be heiress of herbrother's lands, on condition of her wedding--guess whom?"
"Not mine uncle! Oh, Lord Edward, is it really so? How rejoiced oldRalph would be!"
"Speak not of it, Arthur--it was my mother who told me, when Agnescraved permission to go to the Convent, and I feared she would becomeone of those black-veiled nuns, and I should never see her more."
"Where is my uncle?" asked Arthur, gazing round. "I thought he wasstanding by the Lady Princess's chair--"
"He went to speak to Sir John Chandos but now," said Prince Henry, "butI see him not. Mark! what a lull in the sounds without!"
In fact, the various cries of execration which had assailed FulkClarenham on his exit from the gates of the Castle, after sounding moreand more violent for some minutes, had suddenly died away almost intostillness--and the cause was one little guessed at within the court.The unhappy Fulk was moving onwards, almost as in a dream, without aimor object, other than to seek a refuge from the thousand eyes thatmarked his disgrace, and the tongues that upbraided him with it; but,in leaving the court, he entered upon a scene where danger, as well asdisgrace, was to be apprehended. The rabble of the town, ever pleasedat the fall of one whose station was higher than their own, mindful ofunpaid debts, and harsh and scornful demeanour, and, as natives,rejoiced at the misfortune of a foreigner, all joined in one cryof--"Away with the recreant Englishman!--down with him!--down withhim!" Every hand was armed with a stone, and brief would have beenFulk's space for repentance, had not the cry in its savage tones struckupon the ear of Eustace as he stood in the lists, receiving thecongratulations of Sir John Chandos and of other Knights, who, withchanged demeanour, came to greet the favoured hero.
"They will murder him," exclaimed Eustace; and breaking from his newfriends, he made his way to the gate, and hurried into the town, justas Fulk had fallen to the ground, struck by a heavy stone hurled by thehand of no other than John Ingram. He rushed forward amid the hail ofstones, and, as he lifted Clarenham's head, called out, "How is this!Brave men of Bordeaux, would you become murderers! Is this likehonourable men, to triumph over the fallen!"
They held back in amazement for a second; then, as Eustace knelt by himand tried to recall his consciousness, murmurs arose, "Why interfereshe with our affairs? He is English," and they all held together."Another of the purse-proud English, who pay no debts, and ruin thepoor Bordelais." "His blood we will have, if we cannot have his money.Away, Master Knight, be not so busy about the traitor, if you would notpartake his fate."
Eustace looked up as the stones were uplifted, and more than one FreeCompanion had drawn his sword. "Hold," he exclaimed in a clearfull-toned voice that filled every ear. "Hold! I am Eustace Lynwood,the Castellane of Chateau Norbelle!"
There was an instant silence. Every one pressed forward to see him,whose recent adventures had made him an object of much interest andcuriosity, and the attention of the crowd was entirely diverted fromthe former unhappy subject of their pursuit. Whispers passed of "NobleKnight! flower of chivalry! how generous and Christian-like he bendsover his enemy! Nay, if he revenge not himself, what right have we?And see, his arm is still in a scarf from the treachery of thosevillains! Well, I would yet give yon ruffian his desert."
By this time Eustace having observed Ingram among the crowd, summonedhim to his side, and at the same time courteously craving the aid ofone of the by-standers (who, of course, though collectively lions, wereindividually lambs), succeeded in conveying Clarenham, whose senses hadso far returned that he was able to rise with their assistance, to thedoor of a monastery chapel, the porch of which opened upon the street.
"Holy Fathers," said Eustace, "I crave the protection of the Church foran unhappy, and, I trust, a penitent man, praying you will tend himwell to aid and relief alike of body and soul, until you hear from meagain."
With these words he quitted the chapel before his late enemy hadsufficiently recovered his faculties to recognize his preserver.
Leonard Ashton, for whom Eustace inquired, had, it appeared, savedhimself by making full confession, and had been sent home, in deepdisgrace, though spared public dishonour.
It was some few days after these events that the presence of Lady Agnesde Clarenham was requested in the parlour of her nunnery, which wassome miles distant from Bordeaux, by a person who, as the porteressinformed her, was the bearer of a message from the Princess of Wales.She descended accordingly, but her surprise was great on beholding,instead of one of the female attendants of her mistress as she hadexpected, the slender figure of the young Knight with whom she had lastparted at the hostelry.
Her first feeling was not one of kindness towards him. Agnes hadindeed grieved and felt indignant when she saw him oppressed and indanger from her brother's treachery, but, in these days of favour, shecould not regard with complacency the cause of her brother's ruin, andof the disgrace of her house. She started, and would have retreated,but that he prevented, by saying, in a tone which had in it more ofsorrow than of any other feeling, "Lady Agnes, I pray you to hearme--for you have much to forgive."
"Forgive! Nay, Sir Eustace, it is you who have so much to forgive myunhappy house! Oh, can you," she added, as the countenance and mannerrecalling long past days made her forget her displeasure, "can you tellme where the wretched one has shrouded his head from the shame whicheven I cannot but confess he has merited?"
"I heard of the Bar--of your brother this very morn," said Eustace,"from one of the good brethren of the Convent where he has takenshelter, the Convent of the Augustine friars of St. Mary; they spoke ofhim as amended in health, and, though sorely dejected, returning, theyhoped, to a better spirit.'
"Thanks, Sir Eustace, even so do I hope and pray it may be--sincerepentance is the only good which can yet be his. But tell me, SirEustace--for vague rumours only reach us in this lonely cell--was ittrue that the populace pursued the fallen one with clamours, and mighteven have slain him, but for his rescue by a gallant Knight, who bravedtheir utmost fury?"
"It was even so, Lady," said Eustace, with some embarrassment.
"Oh! who was that noblest of Knights, that I may name him in my mostfervent prayers? who has that strongest claim on the gratitude of thebroken-hearted sister?"
"Nay, Lady, it was but common duty, the mere mercy of a Christian man,who could not see a fellow-creature die such a death, withoutattempting to save him."
"Oh, Sir Eustace! it is not like your former self to deny the greatnessof a noble deed! I will not be robbed of my gratitude! Tell me thename of that most noble of men!"
He half smiled, then looking down, and colouring deeply: "Do youremember, Lady Agnes, the Knight whom you bound by a promise, that incase of the triumph of his cause--"
"Eustace, Eustace! Oh, I should have known that nothing was too greatand high for you, that you would not disparage the nobleness of anyother than yourself. Oh, how shall I ever render you my thanks! Aftersuch cruel treachery as that from which you have, and, I fear me, arestill suffering! Alas! alas! that I should be forced to use such harshwords of my own brother!"
"I trust you may still be comforted, Lady," said Eustace. "From whatthe good Fathers tell me, there is hope that Fulk may yet be an alteredman, and when the pilgrimage to the Holy Land, which he has vowed, isconcluded, may return in a holy temper."
"Return; but whither should he return?" said Agnes, in a broken,despondent tone,--"landless, homeless, desolate, outcast, what shelteris open to him? For if the porteress's tale spoke truth, his lands andmanors are forfeited to the King."
"They are so, in truth; but there is one way, Agnes, in which they maystill be restored to their true owner."
"How so? What mean you, Sir Eustace?"
"Agnes, I would not have broken upon your sorrow by
speaking thusabruptly, but that the Prince's, or rather the King's desire wasurgent, that the matter should be determined without loss of time. Toyou, in all justice, does he will that the castles and manors ofClarenham should descend, but on one condition."
Agnes raised her eyes, and, while she slowly shook her head, lookedanxiously at him as he paused in considerable embarrassment.
"On condition that you, Lady Agnes, should permit the King and Princeto dispose of your fair hand in marriage."
Agnes gave a slight cry, and leant against the grate of the parlour."Oh, that may never be, and--but how advantageth that poor Fulk?"
"Because, Lady Agnes--because it is to me that they would grant thathand which I have so long loved passionately and hopelessly. Agnes, itwas not willingly, but at the command of the Prince, that I came hitherwith a suit which must seem to you most strangely timed, from one whohas been the most unwilling cause of so much misery to you, whom, fromearliest years, he has ever loved more than his own life. I know, too,that you cannot endure to rise on the ruin of your brother, nor could Ibear to feel that I was living on the lands of a kinsman and neighbourwhose overthrow I had wrought. But see you not, that jointly we can dowhat we never could do separately, that, the condition fulfilled, wecould kneel before King Edward, and entreat for the pardon andrestoration of Fulk, which, to such prayers, he would surely grant?"
Agnes' tears were gathering fast, and she spoke in a broken voice, asshe said, "Eustace, you are the most generous of Knights," and then,ashamed of having said so much, covered her face with her veil andturned away. Eustace stood watching her, with his soul in his eyes;but before either had summoned courage to break the silence, theporteress came hurrying in, "Good lack! good lack! if ever my eyes sawthe like--here is the Princess of Wales herself at the gate, and allher train--where is sister Katherine? where is the mother abbess?Alas, alas! that nought should be ready to receive her! Oh, and I havemislaid the key of the great gate!" While the good woman was bustlingon in her career, Eustace had time to say, "Yea, Agnes, the Princess iscome, in case you hear my suit favourably, to conduct you back toBordeaux. Think of a true and devoted heart, think of Fulk ere youdecide!" As he spoke, the whole train of black-veiled nuns camesweeping into the parlour, whence Agnes hastily escaped to collect herthoughts during the few instants before she could be summoned to attendthe Princess, while Eustace walked into the Convent court, which was bythis time filled by the gay party which accompanied the Princess.
Agnes quickly gained her cell, and sank down on her bed to make themost of the minutes that might be her own. Never, probably, had ladyshorter time in which to decide, or did it seem more impossible to cometo a resolution; but Agnes had known Eustace all her life, had nevermet one whom she thought his equal, found him raised a thousand-fold inher estimation by the events of the day, and could not bear to think ofdisappointing the hopes which had lighted up that bright eye andanimated that whole face.
Then, too, why by her act completely ruin her brother? The thoughtsflashed through her mind in rapid succession, and she did not rise withmuch reluctance when called to meet the Princess, though longing formore time, which after all would but have enabled her to harass herselfmore.
"Well, my gentle Agnes," said the Princess, "what say you? Come youback to the court, where my boys are wearing for their playfellow?Hasten, then sweet maiden, for I promised little Edward to bring youback, and I know not how to face his wrath if you come not."
Agnes, still almost dreaming, offered no opposition, but allowed herdress to be arranged, took leave of the abbess and her nuns, andshortly found herself, she scarcely knew how, mounted on her palfrey inthe Princess's train, with Sir Eustace Lynwood at her side.
And old Ralph Penrose was one of the happiest of mankind, when hebeheld his pupil return the first Knight in the county--the honoured ofthe Prince.
For the next seven years the Clarenham vassals rejoiced in the gentle,noble, and firm rule of their new Lord and Lady; yet it was remarked,with some surprise, that the title of Baron of Clarenham was dropped,and that Sir Eustace and Dame Agnes Lynwood, instead of living at theirprincipal Castle, took up their abode at a small manor which haddescended to the lady from her mother, while the Castle was placedunder the charge of Gaston d'Aubricour, beneath whose care thefortifications assumed a more modern character, and the garrison learntthe newest fashions of handling their weapons.
At the end of that time Sir Eustace and his Lady travelled to thecourt, where, alas! of all the royal party who had rejoiced at theirmarriage, they found only the Young King Richard II. and his mother,the Princess Joanna, once the Fair Maid of Kent, but now sadly aged bytime and sorrow, who received kindly, though tearfully, those whoreminded her of those last bright days of her life at Bordeaux, andreadily promised to forward their request at the council, "where,alas!" she said, shaking her head, "Lord Henry of Lancaster, now Earlof Bolingbroke, too often loved to oppose her and her son."
No one at the council could refuse, thought the amazement of all wasgreat, when the request was made known that King Richard would bepleased to reinstate in his titles, lands, and manors, Fulk, late Baronof Clarenham, in consideration of his good services to Christendom,rendered on the coast of Africa under the banner of the Knights of St.John, whose Grand Master attested his courage and faithfulness.
Soon Clarenham Castle opened its gates to receive its humbled,repentant, and much-changed Lord, who was welcomed by all the gentleblood in the county--at the head of whom rode Sir Eustace with hisSquire, and his nephew Arthur, now a gallant young man, only waitingthe summons, promised him by the Princess, to receive knighthood at thesame time as his royal master, Richard II.
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends