CHAPTER VIII.
Let us now return within the abbey walls for a while, and see what waspassing there. The departure of the guests had left behind, at leastwith some of the fair inmates, that sensation of vacant dulness, whichusually succeeds a period of unusual gaiety, especially with thosewhose ordinary course of life is tranquil if not tedious.
Iola felt that the convent would seem much more cheerless than before;and, as she stood with her cousin Constance in the little privateparlour of her aunt, conversing for a few minutes, before they retiredto rest, upon the events of the day, her light heart could not helppouring forth its sensations, innocent and natural as they were, toher somewhat graver and more thoughtful cousin.
"Good lack, dear Constance," she said, "I wish they would not show ussuch bright scenes and give us such gay moments, if they are both tobe snatched away again the next minute. How heavy will the next weekbe, till we have forgotten all these gay feathers, and silks, andsatins, and gold embroidery, and gentle speeches, and pleasant wit."
"Nay, I hope, Iola, that you did not have too many gentle speeches,"replied her cousin, with a quiet smile; "for I saw somebody's headbent low, and caught the sound of words whispered rather than spoken,and perceived a little pink ear turned up to catch them all."
"Oh, my man was the most charming ever seen," answered Iola; "justfitted for my companion in a long ride through the forest, asthoughtless, as careless, as merry as myself; who will forget me assoon as I shall forget him, and no harm done to either. What was yourman like, Constance? He seemed as gruff as a large church bell, and asstern as the statue of Moses breaking the tables."
"He was well enough for a man," answered Constance. "He might havebeen younger, and he might have been gentler in words; for his hairwas grizzled grey, and he abused everybody roundly, from the king onhis throne to the horseboy who saddled his beast. He was a gentlemannotwithstanding, and courteous to me; and I have a strong fancy, dearIola, that his heart is not as hard as his words, for I have read insome old book that hard sayings often go with soft doings."
"Ha, ha, say you so, Constance dear?" replied Iola; "then methinks youhave been prying a little closely into the bosom of this Sir WilliamArden. Well, you are free, and can love where you list. I am like apoor popinjay tied to a stake, where every boy archer may bend his bowat me, and I do nothing but sit still and endure. I often wonder whatthis Lord Fulmer is like, my husband that is to be, God wot. I hope heis not a sour man with a black beard, and that he does not squint, andhas not a high shoulder like the king, and has both his eyes of onecolour; for I hate a wall-eyed horse, and it would be worse in ahusband--unless one of them was blind, which would indeed be acomfort, as one could be sure of getting on the blind side of him."
"How your little tongue runs," said her cousin. "It is like a lapdogfresh let out into the fields, galloping hither and thither for pureidleness."
"Well, I will be merry whatever happens," answered Iola gaily. "'Tisthe best way of meeting fate, Constance. You may be as grave anddemure as a cat before the fire, or as sad and solemn as the ivy on anold tower. I will be as light as the lark upon the wing, and ascheerful as a bough of Christmas holly, garlanding a boar's head on ahigh festival; and she sang with a clear sweet voice, every note ofwhich was full of gladness, some scraps of an old ballad very commonin those days.
"Nay, ivy, nay, It shall not be, I wis; Let holly have the mastery, As the custom is.
"Holly stands in the hall Fair to behold; Ivy stands without the door Shivering with cold. Nay, ivy, nay, etc.
"Holly and his merry men They dance and play; Ivy and her maidens Weep a well a day. Nay, ivy, nay, etc.
"Holly hath berries As red as any rose; The forester and hunter Keep them for the does. Nay, ivy, nay, etc.
"Ivy hath berries As black as any sloe; There comes the owl, With his long whoop of woe. Nay, ivy, nay, etc."
In the meanwhile, the abbess herself had not been without occupation,for although the night was waning fast, the usual hour of rest longpast, and the nuns in general retired to their cells, yet before shewent to her own snug little room, the worthy lady saw, one after theother, several of the officers of the abbey in the great parlour. Indealing with these various personages, the worthy lady,notwithstanding her little knowledge of the world, showed a good dealof skill and diplomatic shrewdness. Her situation indeed was somewhatdelicate; for she had to prepare against events, which she could notclearly explain to those with whom she spoke, and to give orders whichwould naturally excite surprise, without such explanation. She hadprepared her story however beforehand; and she proceeded in adifferent manner with each of the different officers, as her knowledgeof their several characters pointed out to her the most judiciouscourse. To the porter of the great hall, a stout old man, who had beena soldier and had seen service, she said boldly, and at once; "Leavethe lodging in charge of your boy, Giles, and go down directly throughthe hamlet, to all the tenants and socmen within a mile. Tell themthere is danger abroad, and that they must be ready, with their arms,to come up the instant they hear the great bell ring. Bid them sendout some lads to the vassals who live farther off, with the same news.Then come back hither, for we shall want you."
The man departed without a word, his answer being merely a lowinclination of the head. The bailiff, who by right should havepresented himself before the porter, but who had been impeded by theappropriation of sundry good things left from the supper table,appeared amongst the last. To him the abbess put on a very differentcountenance.
"Well, master bailiff," she said, with a light and cheerful smile,"have you heard anything of the bands at Coleshill?"
"Sad work, lady, sad work," replied the bailiff, casting his eyes upto heaven. "Why I understand that, last night, some of them stoleJoseph Saxton's best cow, and cut it up before his face, hardly takingthe hide off."
"That shows they were very hungry," said the abbess, laughing.
"Ay, lady," rejoined the bailiff, "these are not jesting matters, Ican tell you. Why, I should not wonder if they drove some of the abbeylands before long; and we have not cattle to spare that I know of.There is no knowing what such hell-kites may do."
"That's very true," answered the abbess; "and so, my son, I think itwill be better for you to sleep in the lodge for two or three nights;for we might want you on an occasion."
"Oh, there is no fear of their coming as far as this," answered thebailiff, who had no fondness for putting his head into any dangerousposition.
"Nevertheless, I desire you to remain," answered the abbess; "'tiswell to have somebody to take counsel with in time of need."
"Why, there is the friar, lady mother," replied the bailiff, stillreluctant, "the friar, whom these young lords who were here leftbehind in the stranger's lodging. He would give you counsel andassistance."
"Ay, ghostly counsel and spiritual assistance," replied the abbess;"but that is not what I want just now, good friend; so you will stopas I said, and remember that I shall expect a bolder face this time,if anything should happen, than when the rovers were here before. Menfancied you were afraid.--However, send the friar to me now, if he bewell enough to come. I will see what counsel I can get from him."
"Well enough!" cried the bailiff. "He is well enough, Iwarrant--nothing the matter with him. Why, he was walking up and downin the great court before the chapel, with his hood thrown back, andhis bald crown glistening in the moonlight, like a coot in a watermeadow."
Part of this speech was spoken aloud, part of it muttered to himselfas he was quitting the room in a very sullen mood. He did not dare todisobey the orders he had received, for the good abbess was not one tosuffer her commands to be slighted; and yet women never, or veryrarely, gain the same respect with inferiors th
at men obtain; and thebailiff ventured to grumble with her, though he would have bowed downand obeyed in silence, had his orders come from one of the sternersex.
However that might be, hardly three minutes elapsed before the friarentered the parlour, and carefully closed the door behind him. Hisconference with the abbess was long, continuing nearly an hour, andthe last words spoken were, "Remember rightly, reverend father, themoment the bell sounds, betake yourself to the chapel, and stand nearthe high altar. You can see your way; for there is always a lampburning in the chapel of St. Clare. Lock the great door after you; andI will come to you from our own gallery."
The bishop bowed his head and departed; and the abbess, weary with thefatigue and excitement of the day, gladly sought repose. All theconvent was quiet around, and the nuns long gone to rest. Even thelady's two nieces had some time before closed their eyes in the sweetand happy slumber of youth.
Sleep soon visited the pillow of the abbess also; for she neverremembered having sat up so late, except once, when King Edward, thelibidinous predecessor of the reigning monarch, had visited the abbeyduring one of his progresses.
Still and deep was her rest; she knew nothing of the passing hours;she heard not the clock strike, though the tower on which it stood wasexactly opposite to her cell. She heard not even the baby of St.Clare, when, a little before two o'clock, it was rung sharply andrepeatedly. A few minutes after, however, there was a knock at theroom door; but, no answer being given, a lay sister entered with alamp in her hand, and roused her superior somewhat suddenly.
"Pardon, lady mother, pardon," she said; "but I am forced to wake you,for here is Dick the under forester come up to tell you, from Boyd,the head woodman, that enemies are coming, and that you had bettertake counsel upon it immediately. There is no time to be lost, hesays, for they are already past the Redbridge turn, not a mile and ahalf off, and, alack and a well-a-day, we are all unprepared!"
"Not so little prepared as you think, sister Grace," replied theabbess, rising at once, and hurrying on her gown. "You run to theporter, and tell him to toll the great bell with all his might,opening the gate to the men of the hamlet and the tenants, but keepingfast ward against the rovers. Then away with you, as soon as you havedelivered that message, up to the belfry tower. The moon must be stillup--"
"She's down, she's down," cried the nun, in great alarm.
"Then light the beacon," cried the abbess. "That will give lightenough to see when they come near. As soon as you perceive menmarching in a band, like regular soldiers, ring the little bell togive the porter notice; and, after watching what they do for a minuteor two, come and tell me. Be steady; be careful; and do not let frightscare away your wits."
The nun hurried to obey; and in a minute after, the loud and sonorousalarm bell of the abbey was heard, shaking the air far and wide overthe forest, with its dull and sullen boom.
Having delivered her message to the porter, the poor nun, with herlamp in her hand, hurried up the numberless steps of the beacon tower,trembling in every limb, notwithstanding the courageous tone of hersuperior. Upon the thick stone roof at the top she found an immensepile of faggots, ready laid, and mingled with pitch, and, lying atsome distance, a heap of fresh wood, to be cast on as occasionrequired, with a large jar of oil and an iron ladle, to increase theflame as it rose up.
Fortunately, the night was as calm as sleep, and not a breath of windcrossed the heavens; otherwise the lamp would assuredly have beenblown out in the poor sister's trepidation and confusion. As it was,she had nearly let it fall into the midst of the pile, in the firstattempt to light the beacon; but the next moment the thin dry twigs,which were placed beneath, caught the fire, crackled, nearly went outagain; and then, with a quantity of dull smoke, the fire rushed up,licking the thicker wood above. The pitch ignited; the whole pilecaught; and a tall column of flame, some sixteen or seventeen feethigh, rose into the air, and cast a red and ominous light over thewhole country round. The buildings on the little green becamedistinctly visible in a moment, the houses of the priests andchoristers, the cottages of the peasants and the labourers; andrunning her eye along the valley beyond, in the direction ofColeshill, the lay sister saw, coming through the low ground, justunder the verge of the wood, a dark mass, apparently of men onhorseback, at the distance of less than half a mile. At the same time,however, she beheld a sight which gave her better hope. Not only fromthe cottages on the green were men issuing forth and hurrying to thegreat portal of the abbey, but, along the three roads which she couldespy, she beheld eighteen or twenty figures, some on foot, but some onhorseback, running or galloping at full speed. They were all separateand detached from each other; but the flame of the beacon flashed uponsteel caps and corslets, and spear heads; and she easily judged thatthe tenants and vassals, warned beforehand and alarmed by the sound ofthe great bell, were hastening to do the military service they owed.
When she looked again in the direction of the mass she had seen on theColeshill road, she perceived that the head of the troop had halted;and she judged rightly that, surprised by the sudden lighting of thebeacon and tolling of the bell, the leaders were pausing to consult.
For a moment, a hope crossed her mind that they would be frightened atthe state of preparation which they found, and desist; but the nextinstant the troop began to move on again; and remembering the orderswhich she had received, she rang a lesser bell which hung near thebeacon, still keeping her eyes fixed upon the party advancing up thevalley.
Steadily and cautiously they came on; were lost for a minute or twobehind the houses the hamlet; then reappeared upon the little green;and, dividing into three troops, the one remained planted before thegreat gates, while the others, gliding between the cottages and thewalls of the abbey, filed off to the right and left, with the evidentpurpose of surrounding the whole building, and guarding every outlet.The poor nun, however, fancied, on the contrary, that they were goneto seek some favourable point of attack; and murmuring to herself,"The Blessed Virgin have mercy upon us, and all the saints protect us!There will never be men enough to protect all the walls," she hurrieddown to make her report to her superior; but the abbess was not to befound.