CHAPTER XVIII.
"Keep back, my men!" exclaimed Chartley, as the two first soldiersrode down towards him; "keep back, or the peril be upon your ownheads."
The foremost of the pursuing party put his horn to his lips, and blewa loud long blast, drawing up his horse at the same time.
"Yield you, yield you!" he exclaimed, turning then to the youngnobleman; "'tis vain to resist. We have men enough to take you all,were you told ten times over."
"Call your officer then!" cried Chartley, "I yield not to a churl."
"Ay, and in the mean time the others escape," cried the man; "thatshall not be, by ----! Round, round! Over the banks," he continued,straining his voice to the utmost, to reach the ears of hiscompanions, who were galloping down, "cut them off from the abbey!"
But the others did not hear or understand the cry, and rode on towardsChartley and the rest, whom they reached, just as Iola was borne tothe postern gate.
"Hold back, sir!" shouted the young nobleman; "mark me, every one. Iresist not lawful authority! But marauders I will resist to the death.Show me a warrant--bring me an officer, and I yield at once, but notto men I know not. As to those who are gone to the abbey, you canyourselves see that they are but a lady and two of the foresters toguard her--"
"The lady is safe within the gates, noble sir," said one of thewoodmen, speaking over his shoulder.
"Thank God for that!" cried Chartley.
"We are not seeking for women," answered the soldier, "but there aretwo men there; and we will know who they are."
"They are coming back. They are coming back," cried one of the menfrom behind.
The soldiers perceived the fact at the same moment; but their numberwas now becoming so great, one horseman riding down after another,that they seemed to meditate an attack upon the little pass whichChartley defended; and some of them rode up the bank, to take theparty in the flank.
"Mark you well, good men," said the young nobleman, raising his voiceto its highest tones; "if one stroke be struck, the consequences beupon your own heads. I refuse not to surrender to a proper warrant, orany officer of the king; but, as a peer of England, I will not give upmy sword to any simple soldier who asks it; and if I am attacked, Iwill defend myself to the uttermost."
"Halt, halt!" cried one of the men, who seemed to have some commandover the rest. "Ride away for Sir William Catesby. He is on the roadjust round the corner."
"There he comes, I think," cried another of the soldiers, pointing toa large party, riding at a rapid rate down the course of the littlestream.
"No no," exclaimed the other. "I know not who those are. Quick, spursto your horse, and away for Sir William. These may be companions weshall not like. He is round the corner of the wood, I tell you."
The man rode off at full speed; and the soldiers who were left drewsomewhat closer round the little party in the mouth of the lane, whileone or two were detached to the right and left, to cut off the woodmanand the man who had accompanied him, in case they endeavoured toescape on either side.
Boyd, however, confirmed to walk slowly and quietly down from theabbey, towards the group he had left below, casting his eyes from oneside to the other, and marking all that was taking place, till atlength, descending between the banks again, the scene upon the openground was shut out from his eyes, and he could only see his ownforesters, Lord Chartley, and the party in front.
A few steps brought him to the side of the young nobleman; and hegazed at the ring of soldiers round the mouth of the lane, with asmile, saying,
"What do these gentlemen want?" and then added: "Here are your friendsand servants, coming down from Hinckley, my lord, so if you have amind to make a Thermopyl? of the lane, you may do it."
"Not I," answered Chartley. "Would to God, most learned woodman, thatthe time when Englishmen spill Englishmen's blood were at an end.Besides, I could not make it a Thermopyl?, for the only Orientals onthe field are on my side;" and he glanced his eye to the good Arab,who stood gazing upon the scene, with his arms folded on his chest,apparently perfectly indifferent to all that was taking place, butready to strike whenever his master told him.
While this brief conversation was going on, the troop which had beenseen coming down on the right approached nearer and nearer; and at thesame time a gentleman, followed by eight or ten horse, came up fromthe road which entered the wood opposite to the abbey green, riding ata light canter over the green sward that covered the hill side. Thetwo parties reached the end of the lane very nearly at the samemoment, Catesby indeed the first; and his shrewd, keen, plausiblecountenance, notwithstanding the habitual command which he possessedover its expressions, displayed some sort of trouble at seeing solarge a body of men, over whom he had no controul.
"What is this, my good lord?" shouted Sir William Arden to Chartley,before Catesby could speak. "We got news of your jeopardy, strangelyenough, and have come down at once to help you."
"I have ordered my knave to bring you a furred dressing-gown, and abottle of essence of maydew," cried Sir Edward Hungerford, with alight laugh; "supposing you must be cold, with your forest lodging,and your complexion sadly touched with the frosty air. But what doesthe magnanimous Sir William Catesby do, cantering abroad at this hourof the morning? Beware of rheums, Sir William, beware of rheum! Don'tyou know that the early morning air is evil for the eyes, and makes aman short-breathed?"
"This is no time for bantering, sirs," exclaimed Catesby. "Are youprepared to resist the royal authority? If so, I have but to order oneblast upon a trumpet, and you will be surrounded by seven hundredmen."
"We come to resist no lawful authority, but merely to help a friend,"replied Sir Wilhelm Arden; "and, in doing so, I care not whose head Isplit, if it comes in my way."
"Peace, peace, Arden," cried Chartley, "Let me answer him. What do youwant with me, Sir William? and why am I assailed by your men, if theyare yours, while peaceably pursuing my way?"
"Pooh, pooh, my lord," answered Catesby. "Do not assumeunconsciousness. Where is the bishop? Will you give him up?--or, ifyou like it better, the friar who rode with you from Tamworthyesterday?"
"As for a bishop," answered Chartley, laughing, "I know of no bishops;and as for the friar, if he be a bishop, it is not my fault; I did notmake him one. Friar I found him, and friar I left him. He remainedbehind, somewhat sick, at the abbey."
"Then what do you here, my lord?" demanded Catesby, "tarrying behindin the forest, while all your company have gone forward?"
"In truth, good Sir William," answered the young nobleman; "whenever Iam brought to give an account of all my actions, you shall not be myfather confessor. I will have a more reverend man. But you have notyet answered my question; why I am menaced here by these goodgentlemen in steel jackets?"
"You shall have an answer presently," replied Catesby; and, stoopingdown over his saddle bow, he conversed for a moment or two with one ofthe men who had been first upon the ground, and who now stooddismounted by his side. Then raising his head again, he said: "Therewere three people left your company, my lord, a moment or two since.Two have returned, I am told, and one was received into the abbey. Whowas that person?"
"You must ask those who went with her," replied Chartley. "They haveknown her longer than I have, and can answer better. My acquaintancewith her"--he added, as he saw a meaning smile come upon Sir EdwardHungerford's lip--"my acquaintance with her has been very short, andis very slight. I have acted as was my devoir towards a lady, and havenought farther to say upon the subject."
"Then your would have me believe it was a woman," rejoined Catesby.
"Ay, was it, master," answered the woodman, standing forward andspeaking in a rough tone; "or rather, as the lord says, a lady. Shewas sent out by the lady abbess, as the custom sometimes is, to thecell of St. Magdalene, there upon the hill; and when she would havegone back, she found the houses on the green in a flame, and all thewood surrounded by your soldiers. I wish I had known it in time, and Iwould have contrived to get her back again, in spit
e of all yourplundering thieves. But the king shall know of all you have done, if Iwalk on foot to Leicester to tell him."
"If it was a lady, pray, goodman, who was the lady?" demanded SirEdward Hungerford, laughing lightly.
"What is that to you?" exclaimed the woodman, turning sharply uponhim. "If she was a lady, forsooth!--I might well say when I look atyou, 'If you are a man,' for of that there may be some doubt; butnobody could look at her face, and ask if she were a lady."
A low laugh ran round, which heightened the colour in Sir EdwardHungerford's smooth cheek; but Catesby, after speaking again to theman beside him in a low tone, fixed his eyes upon the woodman, anddemanded--
"Who are you, my good friend, who put yourself so forward?"
"I am head woodman of the abbey," answered Boyd, "and master forester;and by the charter of King Edward III. I am empowered to stop and turnback, or apprehend and imprison, any one whom I may find roaming theforest, except upon the public highway. I should have done so beforethis hour, if I had had force enough; for we have more vagabonds inthe forest than I like. But I shall soon have bills and bows enough atmy back; for I have sent, to raise the country round. Such things ashave been done this night shall not happen within our meres, and gounpunished;" and he crossed his arms upon his broad chest and gazedsternly in Catesby's face.
"Upon my life you are bold!" exclaimed Richard's favourite. "Do youknow to whom you are speaking?"
"I neither know nor care," answered the woodman; "but I think I shallbe able to describe you pretty well to the king; for he will notsuffer you, nor any other leader of hired troops, to burn innocentmen's houses and spoil the property of the church."
Catesby looked somewhat aghast; for the charge, he knew, put in suchterms, would not be very palatable to Richard.
"I burned no houses, knave," he said, with a scoff.
"'Tis the same thing if your men did," answered the woodman. "You areall of one herd, that is clear."
"Shall I strike the knave down, sir?" demanded one of the fiercesoldiery.
"I should like to see thee try," said the woodman, drawing histremendous axe from his girdle; but Catesby exclaimed--
"Hold, hold!" and Chartley exclaimed--
"Well, sir, an answer to my question. We are but wasting time, andrisking feud, by longer debating these matters here. For your conductto others this night, for the destruction of the property of thechurch, and the wrongs inflicted on innocent men, either by yourorders or with your connivance, you will of course be made responsibleelsewhere; but I demand to know why I, a peer of England, going inpeaceable guise, without weapons of war; am pursued and surrounded, Imay say, by your soldiery?"
"That question is soon answered," replied Catesby. "I might indeedsay, that no one could tell that you were a peer of England when youwere found a-foot walking with foresters, and such like people, belowyour own degree. But in one word, my lord, I am ordered to apprehendyour lordship, for aiding and comforting a proclaimed traitor. Do yousurrender to the king's authority? Or must I summon a sufficient forceto compel obedience?"
"I surrender at once, of course, to the king's authority," answeredChartley; "and knowing, Sir William, your place and favour with theking, will not even demand to see the warrant. But I trust my servantswill be allowed to ride with me to Leicester, where I appeal theimmediate consideration of my case to the king himself."
"So be it, my lord," answered Catesby; "but if I might advise for yourown good, you would not bring so many men with badges of livery underthe king's eyes; for you know the law upon that subject, and that suchdisplays are strictly prohibited."
Chartley laughed.
"Good faith!" he said; "I am not the thoughtless boy you take me for,Sir William. I have a license under king Edward's hand for these samebadges and liveries, which has never been revoked. Methinks it willpass good even now."
"Be it as you will, my lord," replied Catesby. "I advised you but as afriend. Nay, more; if you can find any other gentleman to be boundwith you for your appearance at Leicester, within three days, I willtake your lordship's parole to deliver yourself in that city to theking's will. I do not wish to pass any indignity upon a gentleman ofworth, though lacking somewhat of discretion mayhap."
"I'll be his bail," cried Sir William Arden at once. "I am a foolperhaps for my pains, as he indeed is a fool who is bail for any man;but the lad won't break his word, although leg bail is the best bailthat he could have, or any one indeed, in this good kingdom ofEngland, where accusations are received as proofs, and have been forthe last thirty years, whichever house was on the throne. There wasnought to choose between them in that respect."
"You should be more careful, Sir William," answered Catesby with agrim smile. "The house which is on the throne is always the best.However, I take your pledge, and that of Lord Chartley; and now I willback to my post, taking it for granted, my lord, that this was reallya woman who was with you, and that, even in such a case as this, a liewould not sully your lips."
"I am not a politician, Sir William," replied Chartley, somewhatbitterly; "so I have no excuse for lying. The person who just nowentered the abbey was a lady, seemingly not twenty years of age; and Ipledge you my word of honour, that her chin never bore a beard, norher head received the tonsure, so that she is assuredly neither man,friar, nor bishop."
"Give you good day, then," said Catesby; and turning his horse he rodeaway, followed by the soldiers, who resumed their post around thewood.
"There goes a knave," said the woodman aloud, as Richard's favouritetrotted down the slope. "Had it not needed two or three men to guardyou, my good lord, your parole would have been little worth in theCat's eyes."
"On my life, Boyd, you had better beware of him," rejoined LordChartley. "He does not easily forgive; and you have spoken somewhatplainly."
"Humph! I have not been the only one to speak my mind this day," saidthe woodman. "I did not think there was anything in the shape of alord, at the court of England, who would venture to show such scornfor a minion--unless he was on the eve of falling."
"No hope of such a thing in this case," answered Chartley; "he is tooserviceable to be dispensed with. But now I must have my horse. Bygood fortune, 'tis on the other side of the wood; so they will let usget it without taking it for a bishop."
"And who is this bishop they are seeking?" asked Sir William Arden, ashe walked down on foot at Chartley's side, by a somewhat circuitouspath, to the cottage of the woodman.
"The only bishop whose name is proclaimed," replied Chartley, avoidinga direct answer to the question; "is Doctor Morton, bishop of Ely; butI trust and believe that he is far out of their reach. However, Iwould have you take care, Boyd," he continued, turning towards thewoodman, who was following; "and, if you should meet with the bishopin the wood, give him no help; for these men will visit it savagely onthe head of any one against whom they can prove the having succouredhim--I would fain hear how this hunting ends," he continued; "for Ihave seldom seen such a curious chase. Can you not give me intimationat Leicester?"
"And pray add," continued Sir Edward Hungerford, in a low tone, "someinformation concerning the sweet Lady Iola. Her beautiful eyes," headded, as Chartley turned somewhat sharply towards him, "have hauntedme all night, like a melodious song which dwells in our ears for daysafter we have heard it."
"Or a bottle of essence," said the woodman, "that makes a man smelllike a civet cat for months after it is expended."
"Drown me all puppies," exclaimed Arden. "A young cat that goesstraying about with her eyes but half open, and her weak legs farapart, is more tolerable than one of these orange flowers of thecourt, with their smart sayings, which they mistake for wit;" andimitating, not amiss, the peculiar mode of talking of Hungerford andhis class, he went on, "Gad ye good den, my noble lord! Fore Heaven, apretty suit, and well devised, but that the exceeding quaintness ofthe trimming is worthy of a more marvellous furniture.--Pshaw! I amsick of their mewing; and if we have not a war soon, to mow down someof these weeds,
the land will be full of nettles."
"Take care they don't sting, Arden," said Sir Edward Hungerford.
The other knight looked at him from head to foot, and walked on afterLord Chartley, with a slight smile curling his lip.
The party met no impediment on the way to the woodman's cottage.Chartley's horses were soon brought forth; and after lingering for amoment, to add a private word or two to Boyd, the young noblemanprepared to mount. Before he did so, however, he took the woodman'shand and shook it warmly, much to the surprise of Sir EdwardHungerford; and then the whole company resumed the road to Hinckley,passing a number of the patroles round the wood as they went, andhearing shouts and cries and notes upon the horn, which only called asmile upon Chartley's lips.
When they had passed the wood, however, and were riding on through theopen country, Sir Edward Hungerford fell somewhat behind, to talk witha household tailor, whom he entertained, upon the device of a new sortof hose, which he intended to introduce; while Sir William Arden,naturally a taciturn man, rode on by Chartley's side, almost insilence. The young nobleman himself was now very grave. The excitementwas over. All that had passed that night belonged to the past. It wasa picture hung up in the gallery of memory; and he looked upon thevarious images it contained as one does upon the portraits of deadfriends. He saw Iola, as she had sat beside him at the abbey in gaysecurity. He felt the trembling of her hand upon his arm, in the hourof danger. Her cheek seemed to rest upon his shoulder again, as it haddone, when, weary and exhausted, she had slept overpowered by slumber.Her balmy breath seemed once more to fan his cheek. The time since hehad first known her was but very short; but yet he felt that it hadbeen too long for him. That, in that brief space, things hadbeen born that die not--new sensations--immortal offspring of theheart--children of fate that live along with us on earth, and go withus to immortality.
"She cannot be mine," he thought. "She is plighted to another whom sheknows not--loves not." He would fain have recalled those hours. Hewould fain have wiped out the sensations they had produced. Heresolved to try--to think of other things--to forget--to be what hehad been before. Vain, vain hopes and expectations! Alas, he sought animpossibility. No one can ever be what he was before. Each act of lifechanges the man--takes something, gives something--leaves himdifferent from what he was. He may alter; but he cannot go back. Whathe was is a memory, and never can be a reality again; and moreespecially is this the case with the light careless heart of youth.Pluck a ripe plum from the tree--touch it as tenderly as you will; thebloom is wiped away; and, try all the arts you can, you can neverrestore that bloom again, nor give the fruit the hue it had before.Happy those buoyant and successful spirits who can look onward atevery step, from life's commencement to its close, and are nevercalled upon to sit down by the weary way side of being, and long forthe fair fields and meadows they have passed, never to behold again.