CHAPTER XLIV.
The sun had set nearly an hour. The moon had not yet risen, and theforest was all in darkness; but there were many people round the doorof the woodman's cottage. Horsemen, and men in armour, and a groomleading a beautiful white horse, evidently caparisoned for a lady.Through the chinks of the boards which covered the windows much lightwas streaming; and the scene within was an unusual one for such aplace. There were four persons standing round a table, on which waslaid a parchment; and Iola and Chartley had just signed it. The earlof Arran took the pen and gave it to the princess countess of Arran,who added her name to the act; and he, himself, then subscribed hisown.
Two or three of the attendants, male and female, attested the deedlikewise; and then the woodman, if we may still so call him, placedIola's hand in Chartley's, saying, "Now, take her, noble lord, andplace her beyond risk and danger as speedily as may be. To your honourshe is trusted; and I do believe that neither your honour nor yourlove will ever fail; but yet, remember she is not your wife till theceremonies of religion have consecrated the bond between you. I trustwe shall all meet again soon, in the presence of those who may rightlyjudge of these matters; and I promise you there to prove, that thecontract between this lady and the Lord Fulmer is utterly null andvoid, and that this contract is legal and good. To insure all,however--for who shall count upon even a single day--give this letterto the earl of Richmond, when you have joined him, and tell him itcomes from the woodman who once sent him intelligence which saved himfrom captivity, and perhaps from death. Now, God's blessing be uponyou, my children. Nay, let us have no farewells, dear Iola. Take her,Chartley, take her, and away."
"But was not Constance to meet us here?" said Iola, in a low tone. "Ithought she was to be my companion."
"I fear that has gone wrong," said the woodman. "The abbey gates wereclosed an hour before sunset, and even one of my men was refusedadmission to the mere outer court; but I shall join you soon and bringyou news. Though I can raise no great force, yet with what men I canmuster I will not fail to help the noble earl with my own hand. Sotell him."
Thus saying, he led Iola to the door of the cottage, with his ownstrong arms placed her on the horse's back, and then with one moreblessing, retired from her side. Chartley sprang lightly and happilyinto the saddle, and the whole party rode on. It consisted of sometwenty men besides the lover and his lady; and, at a quick pace, theyproceeded through the forest, taking very nearly the same directionwhich had been followed by the woodman and the bishop of Ely, but bythe general road, instead of the narrow and somewhat circuitous pathsalong which the prelate had been led.
I have not time or space to pause upon the feelings of Iola at thatmoment--at least, not to describe minutely. They were strange and newto her. She had encountered danger; she had resisted anger, withoutfear; but her circumstances now were very different. She was not onlygoing alone with the man whom she loved into the wide world, withperils, changes, and events, surrounding them on all sides like amist, through which the most piercing eye could not discover one rayof light, but she was quitting all old associations, breaking throughevery habit of thought, entering upon an entirely new state of being.The grave of a woman's first life is her marriage contract. Did shedoubt? Did she hesitate? Oh, no, she feared for the future in onesense, but in one sense alone. She believed, she knew, she felt, thatshe had chosen well, that Chartley's love would not alter, nor histenderness grow cold, that her happiness was in him, and was as secureas any fabric can be, built upon a mortal and perishable base; but shefelt that in uniting her fate to his, if she doubled the enjoymentsand the happiness of being, she doubled the dangers and anxietiesalso. She was much moved, but not by that consideration--in truth heremotion sprang not from consideration at all. It was a sensation--asensation of the awfulness of the change; and though it did not makeher tremble, yet whenever she thought of it, and all that it impliedthrough the wide long future, a thrill passed through her heart whichalmost stepped its beatings.
With Chartley it was very different. Men cannot feel such things withsuch intensity, nay, can hardly conceive them. His sensations were alljoyful. Hope, eager passion, gratified love, made his heart boundhigh, and filled it with new fire and energy. He was aware that manydangers were around them, that every hour and every moment had itsperil, and that then a strife must come, brief and terrible, in which,perhaps, all his newborn joys might be extinguished in death. But yet,strange to say, the thought of death, which had never been veryfearful to him, lost even a portion of its terrors rather thanacquired new ones, by what might appear additional ties to existence.We little comprehend in these our cold calculating days--in an agewhich may be designated "The age of the absence of enthusiasms"--welittle comprehend, I say, the nature of chivalrous love; nor, indeed,any of the enthusiasms of chivalry. I must not stay to descant uponthem; but suffice it to say, Chartley felt that, whenever he mightfall, to have called Iola his own, was a sufficient joy for one mortallife, that to do great deeds and die with high renown, loving andbeloved and wept, was a fate well worthy of envy and not regret.
Still he had some faint notion of what must be passing in her breast.He felt that the very situation must agitate her; he fancied that themere material danger that surrounded them might alarm her; and hehastened to cheer and re-assure her as much as might be.
"I trust, dearest Iola," he said, "that I shall not weary you by thisfast riding, after all the agitation of to-day. Once past Tamworth,and we shall be more secure; for all my men muster at Fazely; and Itrust to find myself at the head of three hundred horse."
"Do you stop at Tamworth?" asked Iola. "I have heard that there areparties of the king's troops there."
"We must leave it on the right, where the roads separate," repliedChartley. "Stanley, I hear, is retreating somewhere in this directionfrom Lichfield; but him I do not fear. If we reach Lichfield insafety, all danger is past. Ride on, dear one, for a moment, while Ispeak to some of the men in the rear. I will not be an instant ere Ireturn to your side."
He might perceive something to raise apprehension, as he thus spoke,or he might not; but Chartley dropped back, and gave orders to two ofthe men, to keep at the distance of a hundred yards behind the rest,and if the slightest signs of pursuit were observed, to give instantwarning; and then, while returning towards Iola, he paused for aninstant by the Arab. "Ibn Ayoub," he said, "in case of attack, I givethee charge of the most precious thing I have. Shouldst thou see signsof strife, seize the lady's bridle, and away for safety, wherever theroad is clear. Fleet will be the horses that can keep pace with thineand hers. A town, called Lichfield, is the place where we must meet.Thou hast once been there, and dost not forget."
"Why should the emir fight, and the slave fly?" asked Ibn Ayoub; "butbe it as thou wilt."
"It must be so," answered his lord; "now, ride up closer to us, andremember my words."
Thus saying, he spurred on and renewed the conversation with Iola, ina cheerful though tender tone, and dear words were spoken, and brighthopes expressed, which made the way seem short. They recalled thepast, they talked of the night when they had first met, and theirsojourn in the forest, and Iola forgot in part her agitation, in thethrilling dreams of memory; but every now and then she would wakefrom them with a start, and recollect that she was there withChartley--there alone--not to return in a few hours to the friends andcompanions of early youth, but in one, or, at most, two short days, tobe his wife, to renounce all other things for him, and to merge herbeing into his. It was very sweet; but it was awful too, and, as froma well in her heart, new feelings gushed and almost overpowered her.
They had passed the turning of the road to Tamworth, and were ridingon towards Fazely. All danger of an attack from that side seemed over;and Chartley's conversation became lighter and more gay, when suddenlyone of his men rode up from behind, saying:
"There are some horsemen following, my noble lord. They are but threeindeed, of that I am sure, for I rode up to that little hillock on thecommon, whence I
can see for half a mile. But I thought it best totell you."
"Spies, perhaps," said Chartley, in a calm tone. "If so, I would faincatch them, and bring them in to Fazely. Ride on, dearest Iola. I willtake ten men, and see who these gentlemen are. All is prepared for youat Fazely, and we are beyond peril now. I will follow you at once. IbnAyoub, guard the lady."
"Chartley, you would not deceive me?" said Iola; "if there be danger,I would share it at your side."
"Indeed, there is none," replied Chartley, "you heard, dear one, whatthe man said. I know no more. There are but three men. They can makeno attack, and indeed no resistance."
He turned his horse's head as he spoke, and, taking the eight last menof the troop with him, rode back to the rear. He had not far to go,however; for, about two hundred yards behind, he plainly saw thefigures of three horsemen, one in front and two following, coming at aquick pace along the road. He halted his little troop when he coulddistinguish them, and as they approached nearer, exclaimed:
"Stand! Who comes here?"
"Is that thee, Lord Chartley?" asked a voice, which the young noblemanthought familiar to his ear.
"It matters not who I am," he replied; "you cannot pass till youdeclare yourself."
"May I never wear aught but a sorry-coloured cloth cloak and brownhosen," cried the other, "if that be not Chartley's tongue. I am SirEdward Hungerford; do you not know me?"
"Faith, Hungerford!" replied Chartley, laughing; "like a kingfisher,you are better known by your feathers than your voice. But what bringsyou this way?"
"Seeking you, good my lord," replied Hungerford, riding up. "I havebeen over at Atherston enquiring for you, and then upon a certaingreen near a certain abbey; and I fear me, by riding through theseroads, in this dusty August, I have utterly polluted a jerkin of skyblue satin, of the newest and quaintest device--would you could seeit; and yet now 'tis hardly fit to be seen, I doubt--but faith, allthe news I could get of you, was that you had ridden away towardsFazely, where your musters are making, and, as I rode down to thebridge on the Coleshill road, I caught a sound of horses' feet, andfollowed."
"But what might be your object?" asked Chartley; "what your pressingbusiness with me?"
"Nay, I will tell you, when we get to Fazely," replied Hungerford;"and we had better ride on quick, for I must bear back an answer toTamworth to-night."
The society of Sir Edward Hungerford, at Fazely, was by no means whatChartley desired; and he determined on his course at once.
"Gramercy, Hungerford!" he said; "these are perilous times, whichbreak through courtesies and abridge ceremonies. Fazely is inpossession of my merry men. It is an open undefended village, and Iwill let none into it, but my own people."
"Why, you do not look on me as a spy," replied Hungerford, in anoffended tone; "your hospitality is scanty, my lord Chartley."
"If you have to return to Tamworth to-night, Hungerford, it is nothospitality you seek," answered Chartley; "true, I do not look on youas a spy, or ought, but the best-dressed man of honour in the land;but I do hold it a point of prudence, in times like these, to let noone know the numbers and disposition of my little force, when one cannever tell in what ranks one may see him next. In a word, my gentlefriend, I have heard that you have been of late with good Lord Fulmer,down in Dorsetshire; and Lord Fulmer is much doubted at the court, letme tell you--of his love for me there is no doubt. Now, if you wereseeking me at Atherston and elsewhere, you can speak your errand hereas well as at Fazely."
"But you cannot read a billet here as well as at Fazely," repliedHungerford, "no, nor smell out the contents--though I had it scentedbefore I brought it, which he had omitted."
"Who is he?" asked Chartley.
"My noble friend, Lord Fulmer, to be sure," answered the gay knight.
"Ah, then, I guess your errand," replied Chartley; "here, let usdismount and step aside. Mundy, hold my horse." Springing to theground, he walked to a little distance from his men, with Sir EdwardHungerford.
"Now my good friend," he said, "let me have it in plain words, and asbriefly as may suit your courtly nature."
The message, which Hungerford delivered in somewhat circuitous terms,and with many fine figures of speech, was what Chartley anticipated;and he replied at once--
"I will not baulk him, Hungerford, though good faith, he might havechosen a more convenient season. Yet I will not baulk him; but, as theperson challenged, I will dictate my own terms."
"That is your right," said Hungerford, "we can have the cartel fairlydrawn out, and signed by each."
"Good faith, no," answered Chartley; "the first of my conditions is,that there be no cartel. We have no time for fooleries. Events aredrawing on, in which all personal petty quarrels must be lost; butstill, although I might refuse, and refer our difference to a futuretime, when peace is restored, yet I will not seek delay, if he willdemand no other terms but those I can grant at once. Thus then, I willhave no parade of lists, and witnesses, and marshals of the field; butI will meet him sword to sword, and man to man, my bare breast againsthis. Alone too let it be. There is no need of mixing other men in ourquarrels. It must be immediate too; for I have not time to wait uponhis pleasure. To-morrow at dawn, tell him, I will be alone upon thetop of yonder little hill, behind which the moon is just rising, ifthat silver light in the sky speaks truth. There we can see over thecountry round, so that his suspicious mind cannot fear an ambush. Iwill be alone, armed as I am now, with sword and dagger only. Let himcome so armed likewise, and he shall have what he seeks. These are myconditions, and thereon I give you my hand. Be you the witness of ourterms; and if either take advantage, then rest shame upon his name."
"I will tell him, my good lord," replied Hungerford, "but I cannotanswer he will come; for these conditions are unusual. 'Tis mostunpleasant fighting before breakfast. Men have more stomach for ahearty meal, than a good bout of blows."
"Good faith, if he have no stomach for the meal I offer, he may evenleave it," answered Chartley. "'Tis the only time, and only mannerthat he shall have the occasion. You own, yourself, I have a right toname the terms."
"Undoubtedly," replied Hungerford. "Yet still the manner is mostuncustomary, and the hour comfortless. If I were a general I wouldnever let my men fight till after dinner: An Englishman gets savage indigestion, owing to the quantity of hard beef he eats, and alwaysshould be brought to fight at that hour when he is fiercest. However,as such is your whim, I will expound it to Lord Fulmer; and now, mynoble lord, I trust you will not hold my act unfriendly, in bearingyou this billet, which I will leave with you, although I havedelivered the substance."
"Not in the least, Hungerford," replied Chartley. "I believe, likemany another man, you are better, wiser, than you suffer yourself toseem."
"Thanks, noble lord," replied the knight, moving by his side towardstheir horses; "but there was one important matter, which I forgot tomention, though I have borne it in my mind for several months."
"Ay, what was that?" demanded Chartley, stopping.
"That last night at Chidlow," replied Hungerford, "your doublet waslooped awry. Were I you, I would strictly command the valet of mywardrobe to begin at the lowest loop, and so work upwards; for it hasa singular and unpleasant effect upon the eye to see apparel out ofplace, especially where slashings and purfling, or bands, or slips, orother regular parts of the garment are out of symmetry. For my part Icannot fancy any fair lady looking love upon such a disjointedgarment."
"I will follow your sage advice," replied Chartley, laughing; "andnow, good night, Hungerford. Another evening I trust to entertain youbetter."
Thus they parted; and Chartley, putting his horse to speed, rode afterIola and her companions. They had reached Fazely, however, before heovertook them; and the young lord found the master of his household,with all due reverence, showing the lady Iola to the apartments in thelarge farm-house which had been prepared for her.
The place was not a palace assuredly; but many a little gracefuldecoration had been added to its pl
ain accommodations, sinceChartley's messenger had arrived that evening. Garlands of flowers hadbeen hung above the doors, fresh rushes strewed the floors, andwreaths of box hung upon the sconces.
All was bustle too in the village. Groups of men in arms were seenlingering about; and merry sounds came from the ale-house opposite.Iola's heart, however, sunk a little, when she saw the many signs ofapproaching warfare, although those who were to take part therein, andperil life and happiness, seemed to treat it as a thoughtless May-daygame. A buxom country girl was waiting to attend upon her, some lightrefreshments were spread out in the hall; and when Chartley's step andChartley's voice were heard, the momentary sensation of dread passedaway, and she felt that the first perils were passed.
An hour, a little hour, they stayed together, in sweet dreamy talk;and then Chartley led her to her chamber, where a bed had also beenprepared for the maid. With a kind and gentle adieu, Chartley bade herrest well, that she might be refreshed for their march on thefollowing day, and then returned to hear reports, and give directions.
The next was a busy hour. Orders, inquiries, the receipt ofintelligence, the examination of rolls and accounts, filled up thetime; and then, dismissing all to repose, the young lord sat down towrite. Two or three letters were speedily finished; one to LordStanley, one to the Earl of Richmond, and one to Sir William Arden. Afew brief tender lines to Iola he folded up and put in his own bosom;after which he wrote some directions upon paper, sealed them, and thenmarked upon the back--"To be opened and followed if I be not returnedby eight of the clock--Chartley."
And then he sat, and leaned his head upon his hand, and thought. Hewould not retire to rest, lest he should not wake in time; but thehours of the night slipped by; and at length he rose, and broke theslumbers of his drowsy master of his household, who, though startledat seeing his lord by his bed-side, could hardly be brought tounderstand what was said to him.
"Here, take these orders," said Chartley. "Put them under your pillowfor to-night, and see that they be executed at the hour namedto-morrow."
"I will, my lord. Yes, my lord, I will," replied the man, rubbing hiseyes; and having given him the paper, Chartley procured a cup of coldwater, drank it for refreshment after his sleepless night, and thenproceeded to the stable. There, with his own hands, he saddled hishorse; then mounted, and rode away.