*CHAPTER IX.*
*ROGER FINDS HIS MISSION.*
"And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds, For the ashes of his fathers And the temples of his gods?" --LORD MACAULAY.
Earl Roger found his Countess in the same room in which he had left herwhen he went to Fleshy. Hypocras and spices, which constituted the"void," a light meal corresponding to afternoon tea, were being servedround as he entered. Roger made his way to the side of Alianora,declined the hypocras--a light, sweet wine--and sat down by her whileshe sipped it.
"You are early, my Lord," said the Countess, whose eyes were occupied inwatching an interchange of frothy banter between a knight and a lady ata little distance.
"I had need, my Lady. Will it meet with your wishes to follow me toIreland, whether urgent cause removeth me, and without delay?"
"Ireland! What part of Ireland?"
"Kilkenny, at the first; afterward, maybe, to Trim."
"And what moveth your Lordship to go among those savages, who shouldscantly wit if you ware red velvet or blue damask?"
"Those savages are my kinsfolk, under your Ladyship's leave. Moreover,savages commonly have better sight than civil[#] men."
[#] Civilised.
"Verily, your Lordship hath some sweet kinsfolk to wake your pride!"said the Countess with a light laugh.
"Therein is your Ladyship not deceived," was the dry answer. "I leavebehind me some most sweet ones. Well, what saith your Ladyship to mypoint?"
"What, _I_ go to Ireland? Gramercy, your Lordship is pleasant! Aye,when I have cause to wear up mine old gowns and ugsome[#] head-gear,then will I think of following you in that direction. But till it sohappen, under your leave, I would as lief 'bide on Paul's Wharf or atLudlow."
[#] Ugly.
"As your Ladyship will."
"When go you? Soon, is it?--this next week?"
"I set forth as four o'clock to-morrow morning."
"And you looked for me to go withal? Verily, what unwitty[#] fantasieshave these men! Why, one might scarce fold a borel[#] cloth in thetime. What moveth you to be thus foot-hot,[#] forsooth?"
[#] Silly.
[#] A very common, coarse material.
[#] In hot haste.
"There is cause, Dame," said the Earl gravely.
"Then I bid your Lordship good even," said the Countess, laughing, "forelsewise shall you ne'er have space to put on your hood. I wish you ajoyous meeting with those your dear kinsfolk, and that they may not eatyou ere I behold you again!"
She held out her hand, and he touched his lips to it.
"May God bless my Lady!" he said very gravely.
Then he left her, and went upstairs, to say good-bye to his children.As he slowly mounted, the thought occurred to him,--What does blessingmean? If God blessed Alianora, what would He do to her? According tothe usual ideas of men, He would give her beauty, talent, wealth,luxury, and happiness. But was this what God meant by the word? Had Heno better blessings than such as these? Were not His sweetest fruitswrapped often in unsightly husks--His rarest gems in crusts whichconcealed their brilliance? Might He not be blessing Roger himself bymeans of his disappointments, and not blessing Alianora through all thegifts He showered on her? Was there not something in that Book whichRoger was beginning to know so well, and to apply instinctively to everything which happened to him, about one to whom God gave corn, and wine,and oil, and silver, and gold, which she prepared for Baal? If menturned His blessings into means of sinning, was there no fear lest Heshould turn them into curses?
Little Anne ran to meet her father as soon as she heard his step. Hestooped and took her in his arms.
"Little Nan," he said rather sadly, "what wilt thou grow to be?"
"A lady," said she readily, with brightening eyes.
"There be two sorts of women, my little maid. There be heart-comforters,and there be heart-breakers. Which wilt thou be?"
The question was beyond her in details. She replied to its scope, whichwas all that she understood.
"I will be what God makes me."
"Amen," answered the Earl. "Be what God makes thee,--not Satan, northine own foolish fantasies. Farewell, my little one. I am going a longjourney, my Nannette."
"Will you be back soon?"
"Nay, I think not. Farewell, my darling--God go with thee and blessthee!"
He kissed them all and gave them his blessing. Then he went back to hisown room, where he found Mr. Robesart awaiting him.
"Father, it behoveth me to set forth for Ireland with the dawn, and Iwould vain have taken you withal. Can you be ready?"
"A priest is always ready," was the reply. "At what hour shall I waitupon your Lordship?"
"At four of the clock I think to set out."
"You shall find me in attendance. Can I serve your Lordship in anyother way?"
"Methinks not, save by taking that into your safe keeping," said theEarl, touching the large Bible. "I would have it go withal, as well asyou. Nought else, I thank you."
But before Mr. Robesart had quite reached the door, his young master'svoice arrested his steps.
"Father, tell me ere you go, what doth God when He blesseth us?"
"What do you, my Lord, when you bless your childre?"
"I do desire all good to hap unto them: but I may not ensure it."
"And He alway ensureth it. I see none other difference. God's blessingis God's love. Every gift of God is a loving thought of God's hearttoward His childre."
"But how, toward them that are not such?"
"'He maketh His sun to rise on the evil and on the good,'" replied Mr.Robesart. "His common, earthly blessings He gives to all alike."
"And what call you such gifts as beauty, learning, and riches? Be theyblessings, or no?"
"All things that God has made are good. They are blessings when theyleave His hand. If we would have them abide blessings, we must givethem back to Him. If we keep them to adorn ourselves withal, theybecome curses to us. God's first and greatest blessing is Himself. Letus keep Him in His right place--on the throne of the heart--and all elsewill fall into his right place, as by the wave of a magician's wand."
"Things be sorely apt to get out of their places!" said the Earl with asigh. "I thank you, Father."
"My Lord, when you find things out of their places, look and see if youhave not given leave to somewhat else to occupy His place. God give youa good even!"
A very small suite accompanied Earl Roger to Ireland; but it includedhis two best friends, Mr. Robesart and Lawrence Madison. His outsidefriends were considerably puzzled to know why he should leave England atsuch a particularly awkward moment as this, when the negotiations forthe King's marriage were in progress. The Earl of Kent, his lateguardian--since Roger's majority he had ceased to be a practical one sofar as any personal control was concerned--was specially perplexed andastonished at this step. But he knew nothing of the interview atFleshy.
To all of them Roger gave a general and vague explanation, which hadreference to the necessary care of his Irish estates. His own solefervent desire was to put himself where Gloucester could not findhim--to lose himself, as far as the conspirators were concerned. It wasthe only way that he could see just then to serve that God, and thatKing, to both of whom in his early youth he had pledged his heart'sdevotion.
Rarely has any journey been taken in more feverish haste than that ofRoger Earl of March to Ireland in the summer of 1396. He felt as thoughhe were not safe for a day until he had put the breadth of St. George'sChannel between himself and his uncle Gloucester. His journey fromLondon to Haverford was almost a flight. His unsuspecting suitecomplained bitterly of the long forced marches over the mountains ofSouth Wales which their unreasonable master obliged them to take. Twodays delay at Haverford, before the wind would serve, brought Roger'spatience to the verge of distraction.
"I _must_ go!" he said passionately to Mr.
Robesart.
"My Lord," was the grave answer, "it ill suits the archer to wear theuniform of the general. There is no must but one, and it is meet butfor the lips of the Lord of all."
"Yet surely He knoweth my necessity?"
"Soothly: but I pray your Lordship to remember that what is _must_ withyou may be _must not_ with Him."
"I cannot rest till I be hence!"
"We shall rest in the life to come," quietly replied Mr. Robesart. "Inthe life that now is, we have but to be and do God's will."
"You take it calmly, Father! But then, for you there is no such need.'Tis easy gear to counsel a man to lie still whose veins burn withfever, when your own pulse is as quiet as a mill-tarn." And Rogerlaughed, with a laugh which was not all mirth.
Mr. Robesart's answering smile was rather pathetic.
"Having lived through the fever, I may know your Lordship's feelings."
On the third day the wind changed, and they set sail from Haverford.Three weeks--a very favourable passage--landed them at Wexford; and asRoger set foot upon the shore of Ireland, he turned and looked across tothe invisible mountains of Wales.
"Fair fall thou, my native land!" he said half sarcastically. "Fromhenceforth is this land of my fathers mine own land, and thou must servethee without me."
The autumn and winter of that year found him at Kilkenny, spending histime in an unusual manner for a noble of the fourteenth century. Hesummoned Irish minstrels and chroniclers around him, and went deep intoIrish history. Perhaps it was a natural result that Irish history wentdeep into him. He became an enthusiastic admirer of the character andannals of the nation the blood of whose kings ran in his veins. His ownnatural impetuosity drove him along the groove which he had chosen, andere long one passionate aspiration took possession of his soul, nextafter that "_Un Dieu, un Roy_" which had possessed and would possess itfor ever. England and Ireland should be at peace, and he would be themeans of it. They should live and love as sisters, happy and tranquil,under one sceptre, having but one aim, and the glory of the one shouldbe the glory of the other. To this he would give himself as long as heshould live. He would secure it--or die in the attempt.
All the Mortimers had entertained an affection for Ireland, and couldnever forget their Irish blood. King Richard also had a liking for thatcountry, of which his uncle of Gloucester was pleased to speak veryscornfully.
"He is a fool who thinks of conquering Ireland," said Gloucester, in hisusual unwatered diction. "The Irish are a poor and wicked people, withan impoverished country; and he who should conquer it one year wouldlose it the next."
This affection of the young Earl for the Green Isle by no meansincreased his popularity with his English retainers. Saxon and Celthave always mutually looked down upon each other. The Irish saw in theEnglish intruding strangers, none the more welcome for being conquerors;the English reckoned the Irish uncivilised barbarians with whom noperson of refinement could be satisfied to associate. They were notthemselves so over-refined that they need have been particular: but thehalf-educated man (still more woman) is usually more fastidious on thescore of vulgarity than the blue-blooded noble. There were murmursamong Roger's suit that he was too accessible to the masses, and thathis heart was rather Irish than English.
When the King discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that his chosen heirhad so unexpectedly disappeared from the scene on the plea of lookingafter his Irish property, he sent him a commission of lieutenancy forUlster, Connaught, and Meath--a most convenient arrangement for Roger,since it afforded him a full excuse for not returning to England untilthe state of affairs should have changed. His Majesty was not the onlyperson who was puzzled by Roger's proceedings. But there was anotherperson who was not puzzled at all. Of one point Roger might safely havefelt assured--that, however his sudden disappearance might surprise andperplex others, his uncle Gloucester at least would not fail tounderstand it. But the fact that a particular material had provedunsuitable for his purpose was not likely to ruin the designs of sofar-seeing and scheming a conspirator as Gloucester. Having convincedhimself that his nephew of March was not the soft and malleable articlethat he had supposed him, Gloucester merely cast the useless thing onone side, and set his busy brain to work to evolve a fresh project. Itproved a very different one from the last. His new scheme involved apartition of the kingdom into four parts, of which his brother ofLancaster was to be bought off with one (a matter somewhat easier saidthan done); York, who was plastic as putty in the hands of Gloucester,was to have another; Arundel was to be rewarded with the third; and thefourth fell to Gloucester himself. March was left out altogether.
How long this sagacious disposition of political affairs would havelasted, may be very reasonably questioned: certainly not, at thefurthest, beyond the second generation. A quarter of England wouldnever have contented Derby, for whose ambitious soul the world wasscarcely wide enough, nor could Rutland have reigned an hour in hisdivision without plotting against the other three.
The end was near--the end of one phase of the political tumult. On the28th of July, Gloucester and his fellow conspirators met at Arundel, toperfect their plot. Just eight days later, in full Parliament, atWestminster, that extremely "honourable man," my Lord of Rutland, humblypresented a petition of impeachment against Gloucester, Arundel, andWarwick. Five days afterwards Gloucester was arrested and sent toCalais; and on the 8th of September he died in the Castle of that town.The King had borne with him, to use his own words, "as long as he hadbeen able"--and no other Sovereign, perhaps excepting Henry VI., wouldhave borne with him half so long.
It was asserted by the King's enemies, long afterwards, and is nowgenerally believed, that Gloucester was "murdered" by being smotheredbetween two feather beds. Unfortunately for the assertion, this veryreport was spread, with the view of aspersing the King, while Gloucesterwas still alive. The subsequent elaborate account, therefore, wassimply a more carefully revised version of the old slander. The truth isthat Gloucester was either privately executed, or that he died ofapoplexy before the execution took place. Why a man under sentence ofdeath, approved as inevitable by his own brother, the just and humaneLancaster, should not have suffered execution, must be left to thosemodern writers of the "follow-my-leader" school, who persist in termingthe execution a murder. How many times the penalty had been deserved itwould not be easy to reckon.
Things were not now, as previously, done by halves--except in one item,and that spoiled the whole. The Earl of Arundel was beheaded on the 21stof September. The Archbishop, Norfolk, and Warwick, were banished forlife. If one other execution had taken place, the rebellion would havebeen crushed, and King Richard's life would have been safe. It wasentirely his own fault that it did not. Derby had been engaged in amultitude of plots--more than any one knew except himself--he hadplotted the death of the King, and had drawn his sword upon him in theQueen's presence: he had been twice, if not three times, condemned todeath by his own father. The Duke of Bretagne had said to the King ontheir last interview, "You will never be safe while Henry of Lancasterlives." Richard knew all this, but his heart failed him. For all theprovocation received both as monarch and as man, that true and tenderheart refused to condemn the old playmate, and instead of it lifted himto honour. He fancied this step would ensure the love and fidelity of aman who knew not what love and faithfulness were. He laid this adder towarm in his bosom, and like the adder that it was, it stung him todeath.
While these stirring events were passing in England, Earl Roger of Marchmaintained that distance and silence which he had evidently perceived tobe the only safe course for himself. How far was he neglecting hisduties in so doing? is a question which may reasonably be asked. Thedate at which he returned to England seems to show that he was actuated,not by a cowardly fear for his personal safety--a suppositioncontradicted by every other action of his life--but by a fear of hisname being dragged into the contest on the wrong side, and without hisown consent. As soon as he could feel sure that Glou
cester had laidaside the idea of making a tool of him, and before any appearance ofretribution had overtaken Gloucester, Roger returned to Usk. The littlecloud which had overhung the Lollard party had been long dispersed, andduring the period of that shadow Roger had sought safety not in flight,but in silence.
The Countess was still in London, and she made no attempt to join herlord in Monmouthshire. He felt so hopeless of her doing so, that he didnot even ask her. But one other thing he did--he sent for his children.Beyond his natural wish for their occasional company, was his strongdesire to rescue them from the contamination of the society into which,so soon as they were old enough, their mother was likely to plunge them.He was anxious to accomplish a project which had occurred to him, andwhich he did not expect her to oppose--to obtain his old foster-mother,Guenllian, to take the same position with respect to his children.Their mother cared too little about them to care who was with them, solong as it was some one who would take all responsibility off hershoulders. Guenllian, on her part, was ready enough to return to hersometime nursling, whom she had always loved the best of all hercharges. Roger was more easy when he had secured her. With her cameBeatrice, who had always been her satellite since she entered service,and was considered as an indispensable appendage.
The following Michaelmas brought a magnificent ceremony, in the creationof some dozen new peers at Westminster. The list was headed by thetraitor Derby and the treacherous Rutland, who were respectively createdDukes of Hereford and Aumerle. But the heir presumptive of the Crownkept away from both politics and pageants in his seclusion at Usk, andnever showed himself until the ensuing January, when he was summoned tothe Parliament at Shrewsbury, to take an oath which had beenadministered to all the peers, and which March was the last of the peersto take. It was a particularly useless one, for a member of any partycould have taken it with a clear conscience. It was sworn by the bodyof the peers on the shrine of St. Edward, and by March alone upon thecross of Canterbury (probably as being portable, which the shrine wasnot): and it bound him who took it "to hold, sustain, and maintain welland loyally, without fraud or evil intent, all statutes, etc., made inthis present Parliament, without ever going contrary thereto or to anypart of them, and never to revoke nor annul them, nor never to suffertheir repeal, living nor dying--saving to the King his royalty andliberty, and the rights of the Crown." The last item annulled all therest so far as the royalists were concerned; the whole was useless asdirected against the traitors.
Roger did not remain at Shrewsbury. He followed the King and Parliamentto Bristol, and as soon as he was released from his parliamentaryduties, he came on to London. He was there for a few weeks, until signsappeared in the political world of another tumult. It is popularly saidthat when thieves fall out, honest men come by their own: and in thisinstance the thieves, who were Hereford and Norfolk, fell out mostdecidedly. They appeared together before the King, each of thembringing against the other a charge of that disloyalty of which bothwere as guilty as any man could well be. A rumour of disturbances inIreland afforded Roger a chance of getting out of the way, before eitherof these most honourable men should drag him into their toils, or bringcharges against him which, however untrue, he might find it difficult torefute.
Once more he offered to Alianora the choice of accompanying him. Theyhad been separated for nearly two years, and had only met a few weeksbefore. But the Countess could not think of it. In fact, she declaredherself quite astonished that her lord could be so unreasonable as toask for her company. Her new dresses for Whitsuntide were in course ofpreparation, and had cost her a month's reflection. Did he suppose thatthey could be finished in a day? or if they had been finished, how couldhe imagine that she would be satisfied to waste their resplendency on ahandful of common knights and squires, or a horde of Irish barbarians?Leave Town in the beginning of April! It was perfectly preposterous,impossible. And she was quite sure he did not want her--which last wassaid in a tone decidedly indicative of the companion fact that she didnot want him.
He did not want her as he had once done. His wish for the company ofthe real woman whom he had long seen her to be, was far less than it hadbeen erewhile for the society of the loved and loveable ideal which hewas now convinced that she was not. Still the old love, though stifled,repressed, and repulsed, was yet alive, and might have been blown into aflame had Alianora cared to take the trouble. Roger sighed as he turnedaway.
"Be it so, Dame," he answered, speaking more lightly than he felt. "Butyour Ladyship will scarce look for me to rest content in being utterlybereft of the company of ladies. I shall take Nannette withal fromUsk."
"Gramercy! to what end?" demanded Alianora, opening her handsome eyes inastonishment.
A smile of rather bitter amusement played round the lips of the Earl."Choose your Ladyship the reason," said he, still lightly. "You have nogrudge thereunto?"
"I? Good lack, nay! An' it like your Lordship to burden you with amaid of nine years, you be welcome of very inwitte.[#] I shall have thelesser charge."
[#] Most heartily.
Her husband might reasonably have inquired what charge she had evertaken of the children, or how it was to be lessened when they werealready out of her care: but he passed it by.
"Wenteline will ease you thereof," said he. "Your Ladyship grudgethnot, methinks, that she should bide hence with the childre?"
"Not I, forsooth! Have with them whom you will," was the carelessanswer. "I love none of them so dear that I may not live without them."
Roger knew as well as Alianora that the pronoun included himself. Hesent Anne into raptures, and Guenllian into much surprise, by an orderthat they should be ready to accompany him. His male friends wereinclined to be exceedingly merry over this odd notion of the Earl. Thathe should have taken even his heir, at that early age, would have seemedto them amusing; but to choose a girl of nine for his companion struckthem as a preposterous absurdity. Earl Roger paid no attention to them.Extremely sensitive to the lightest censure from lips that he loved, hewas now perfectly callous alike to ridicule and to anger from others.
Of the four children, Anne was his special darling. She and her brotherRoger took after himself in character, while Edmund and Alianora weretheir mother's children. Least attractive of them was Edmund, in whosedisposition indolence and selfishness were already manifestingthemselves strongly. When the children were summoned in the morning,Anne and Roger were always up in a moment, while Edmund had to be dugout of bed amid a storm of grumbles. All that Anne owed to her motherwas that graceful and gracious manner, which with the mother was merelyartificial polish, but in the daughter was ingrained as a part of hercharacter. The child's affection for her father was intense: she alwaysshrank from her mother. The instinct of her true heart discerned theutter hollowness of Alianora, and the two natures could neveramalgamate.
April had almost bloomed into May when the party reached Trim Castle,where Roger meant to remain for a few weeks.