*CHAPTER II.*
*WATCHWORDS.*
"Then out and spake a gude auld man-- A gude death micht he dee!-- 'Whatever ye do, my gude maister, Take God your Guide to be.'" --OLD BALLAD.
While Earl Edmund was governing across the sea, his little son Rogergrew in health and stature under the loving care of his grandmother atWigmore. The Earls of March had many castles and seats, but WigmoreCastle was the family seat of the Mortimers. The old Countess wasextremely anxious that the boy should grow up a good man; the ratherbecause she recognised in him a quality beyond her own energy andactivity--that passionate, impetuous nature which belonged to hismother's blood. She brought him up on a course of philosophy, and aboveall of Scripture, in the hope of calming it down. The eradication washopeless enough; but the Scripture sank deep. Young as he was when helost her, Roger Mortimer never forgot those lessons at his grandmother'sknee. But the quiet years of holy teaching were not long. In thespring of 1381, Earl Edmund sent letters to his mother, requesting thathis eldest son might be sent over to him, as he wished him to makeacquaintance with the tenants on his Irish lands. The whole province ofUlster would lie one day at the pleasure of its future Earl.
Sir Thomas Mortimer, a distant relative of the Earl, brought his noblekinsman's letters. He was appointed the governor of little Roger, andwas to take care of him on his perilous journey. In order to impressthe Irish with a sense of the child's grandeur and importance, he was tohave a distinct establishment; and the Earl had suggested that themajority of the new servants had better come from his Welsh estates.Two Celtic races, which centuries ago were one, would, as he thought, bemore likely to amalgamate with each other than either with the Saxon.Perhaps he forgot that the meeting of two fires will scarcely extinguisha conflagration.
Sir Thomas therefore had come through Usk, where he had imparted theEarl's commands to the keeper of the Castle, ordering him to have readyby a certain day, to meet him at Holyhead, such and such persons--somany men and boys to fill so many offices--much as he might have orderedas many garments or loaves of bread. The villeins were bound to servein the menial offices; and for higher places, the neighbouring gentryand their sons would only be too glad to hear of the vacancies.
One appointment was to be made, at her son's request, by the Countessherself. This was perhaps the most important of all, for it was thechoice of a woman who should look after the child's necessities, andfill so far as possible the place of the dead mother and the absentgrandmother. The boy, having passed his seventh birthday, wasostensibly emancipated from the nursery: yet, with no lady at the headof the household, the presence of some responsible woman about the childbecame needful. The Countess's choice was soon made. It fell on her ownwaiting-woman, Guenllian, in whom she had more confidence than in anyone else. It was an additional recommendation that Guenllian had beenabout the child from his infancy, so that he would feel her to be afamiliar friend. Yet, though she was sending with him the person of allothers in whom she most relied, the Countess suffered severe anxiety inparting with her boy, who, after his father, was her one darling in allthe world. What would become of him? Suppose he were drowned incrossing the sea, and never reached his father! Suppose he weremurdered by the "wild Irish," who, in the eyes of all English people ofthat date, were savages of the most dreadful type. Or, worsestill,--suppose he grew up to be a monster of wickedness,--that prettylittle child who now lifted his pure blue eyes so honestly andconfidingly to hers! She thought it would break her heart. And strongas that heart was to cleave to God and do the right, yet, as the eventproved, it was not one to bear much suffering.
"Very dear Lady," suggested Guenllian tenderly, "can you not trust theyoung Lord into the merciful hands of God? Can my young Lord go whitherHe is not?"
"Thy faith shames mine, my maid. May God verily go with you!Wenteline, thou wilt surely promise me that my darling shall be bred upto prize this," and she laid her hand on the French Bible. "Let theWord of the Lord never be out of his reach, nor of his hearing. Risingup and lying down--coming in and going out--let him pillow his soul uponit, and be made strong."
Guenllian gave the required promise very quietly. Her mistress knew shemight be trusted.
"And if it should come--as we hear rumour afloat--that Dan John busiethhimself to render the Book into the English tongue, then will I send ito'er so soon as may be. An whole Bible in English! Ay, that day thatseeth it shall be a merry day for England."
The French Bible was the Countess's parting gift to her grandson. Itwas no mean gift, for the writing of its fellow, which was to remainwith her, had cost her more than twenty pounds.
To the child himself she said comparatively little. She wished her wordsto sink deep and take root; and she knew that an important means to thatend was that they should be few. So, as her last words, she gave himtwo mottoes, in the language which was only then ceasing to be themother tongue of English nobles.
"_Fais ce que doy, advienne que fourra_." And--"_Un Dieu, un Roy,servir je day_."
And thus, with a thousand prayers and blessings, the boy left her.
"Ah, when to meet again?" she sighed, as from the castle turret shewatched him go, turning to kiss his hand to her as he rode away towardsShropshire. "O my darling, mine heart misgiveth me sore!--when to meetagain?"
Never any more, Philippa Mortimer, till both stand in the street of theGolden City, and under the shade of the Tree of Life.
Little Roger and his suite travelled, as was usual at the time, onhorseback. The charette was reserved for short journeys in civilisedplaces, where there was some semblance of a road; while the litter wasthe vehicle of ladies and invalids. A dark roan-coloured "trotter," orsaddle-horse, was selected for the little lord, and fitted with a blackvelvet saddle embroidered in gold. The harness was also black. Therewas no saddle-cloth, as this was an article used on ceremonialoccasions; and as the horse was going on a journey which would liechiefly upon turf, he was not shod.
Roger himself was dressed in a long robe of dark blue damask, relievedby narrow stripes of white and red; and over it he wore a hood of blackvelvet. On the top of this sat a brown felt hat, in shape something likea modern "wide-awake," with one dark-green plume standing straight up inits front, and fastened to the hat by a small golden clasp. A littlewhite frill surrounded his throat beneath the hood, which latter articlecould be cast aside if the weather were sufficiently warm. The sleevesof the robe were extremely wide and full, and lined with white; andbeneath them were closer sleeves of apple-green, but these were farwider than gentlemen wear them now. Dark-green boots, with whitebuttons, and spurs of gilt copper, completed the young gentleman'scostume. His stirrups were of white metal, and in his hand was anexcessively long white whip, much taller than himself.[#] It was thefirst time that Roger had been allowed to ride alone on a journey, andhe was as proud of the distinction as might be expected.
[#] This description is mainly taken from one of Creton's illuminations.Harl. MS. 1319, illum. ix.
Before the convoy went two running footmen, attired loosely in a costumesomewhat resembling the Highland kilt, one of whom bore a pennon withthe Earl's arms, and the other a trumpet, which was sounded wheneverthey drew near to any town or village. Every man carried a drinking-cupat his girdle, and his dagger served for a knife. The travellersbeguiled the long day by singing songs and ballads, among which was anew song just become popular, of which the first line only has descendedto us, and that has a decidedly minor tone--"_J'ay tout perdu mon tempset mon labour_."
Thus accoutred and equipped, conducted by two knights, eight squires,fifty men-at-arms, and a hundred archers, Roger set forth on hisjourney. A pleasant ride of eight miles brought them to Clun Castle,which belonged to Roger's cousin, the young Lord Le Despenser, and thekeeper of the castle was delighted to show hospitality to one so nearlyrelated to the owner. Here they stayed for dinner, Roger being seatedin the place of
honour at the head of the dais, and all present anxiousto gratify his slightest fancy. Eight miles more, after dinner, broughtthem to Montgomery, where the castle received its heir for the night.
In the streets of the towns, but especially on the bridges and in thechurch porches--where in Roman Catholic countries they usually lie inwait--were always congregated a larger or smaller swarm of beggars, whoinvariably seized upon a group of travellers with avidity. And asgiving of alms, however indiscriminate, was a good work in the eyes ofthe Church, Sir Thomas Mortimer had provided himself with a purse fullof pennies, out of which he doled twopences and fourpences to everycrowd of suppliants.
The next day was Sunday; but the only difference which it made in theday's programme was that, before the travellers set forth, they attendedmass in the fine old cruciform church of Montgomery. Mass beingconducted in a tongue unknown to the vulgar of all nations, may beattended in any country with equal advantage--or disadvantage. Thestage that day was rather shorter, but they were now among themountains, and travelling became a slow and wearisome process. Theyreached before night the village of Languadan, where they stayed thenight, Sir Thomas and his precious charge being accommodated at thevillage inn, and the guard encamping outside in the open air. A thirdday's journey of thirteen miles brought them to Kemmer Abbey, and afourth, long and fatiguing, winding round the base of Snowdon, toBeddgelert. They made up for their extra work by riding only ten mileson the Wednesday, which ended at Caernarvon. Here they returned to morecivilised life, and found better accommodation than they had done sinceleaving Montgomery. But the Thursday's journey was again long andtedious, for they had to sail across the Menai, and round Anglesey.Five boats awaited them here, the St. Mary, the Michael, the Grace Dieu,the Margaret, and the Katherine: their tonnage ran from sixty to ahundred and fifty tons. They were simply large, deep brown boats, withone mast and no deck, and neither cabin nor any other form of shelter.Sir Thomas and Roger embarked on the Grace Dieu, which was the largestof the boats, and the guard were packed into the other four, the squiresgoing with their betters.
On arrival at Holyhead, Sir Thomas was met by the deputy keeper of UskCastle, who presented to him two more squires, three "varlets," and aboy, who were to serve in the household of the young Lord. One of thesquires was named Reginald de Pageham, and his family had been in theservice of the Earls of Ulster from time immemorial. The other wasnamed Constantine Byterre, and was the son of a squire of the Earl. Thevarlets were villeins from Usk. And the boy was Lawrence Madison.
If any reader of modern ideas should desire to know how or why a childof seven years old was selected for a servant, be it known that in theMiddle Ages that was the usual period for a boy to commence service. Hewas to fill the posts of page of the chamber and whipping-boy: in otherwords, and practically, he was to fetch and carry for his little master,to learn and play with him, and when Roger was naughty and requiredchastisement,--which could scarcely be expected not to occur,--Lawrence,not Roger was to be whipped.
The combination of boy with boy was a curious one. Roger had been mostcarefully brought up, led by tender hands every step of the way hithertotraversed. Lawrence had scrambled up on hands and knees, as he might,with no leading at all except the rare catechising in church, and thepersonal influence of Beatrice and the fishes. But these three had beenfor good. The Rev. Mr. Robesart, the only one of the clergy of theparish church at Usk who cared to catechise the children, had been oneof those rare stars among the medieval priesthood who both loved theperishing souls of men, and were themselves in possession of the Breadof Life to break to them.
Little Beatrice had repeated her lessons to Lawrence, whom she waspleased to like, in a funny, patronising little way, and they had donehim at least as much good as they did to her. And the fishes had alsohad a share in his education, for their beauty had gratified his taste,and their helpless condition had stirred feelings of pity which do notoften find such ready entrance into a boy's heart as they did into thatof Lawrence Madison.
It was not on account of any intellectual or moral qualifications thatLawrence had been chosen for his post of service. It was simply becausehe was a pretty child, and would look well in the Earl's livery. Hisparents were only too thankful for such a chance of promotion for him.He was one too many for their financial resources. On Lawrence's partthere was only one person whom he was sorry to leave, and that was thelittle playmate over the way. He had gone proudly across to thefishmonger's, to show himself in his new splendours, and to sayfarewell.
"Love us, sweet Saint Mary!" was Philippa's exclamation. "How fine artthou!"
"Oh, how pretty, how pretty!" cried little Beatrice. "Lolly, wheregattest such pretty raiment?"
"'Tis my Lord his livery, child," said Blumond. "And what place hastthou, lad? Kitchen knave?"
This was the lowest position that a boy could have in a noble household.Lawrence's head went up in a style which would have amused most studentsof human nature.
"Nay, Master Blumond," said he: "I am to be page of the chamber to myLord's son."
"Gramercy, how grand we are!" laughed Blumond. "Prithee, good MasterLawrence, let me beseech thee to have a favour unto me."
Lawrence had an uneasy perception that the fishmonger was laughing athim. He struggled for a moment with the new sense of dignity which satso stiffly upon him, and then, speaking in his natural way, said,--
"I shall never forget you, Master Blumond, nor Philippa, nor Beattie.But I wis not when I shall see you all again. The little Lord goeth toIreland, and I withal."
"Where's Ireland?" asked Beattie, with wide-open eyes, "Ireland" havingimmediately presented to her imagination a large park with a castle inthe middle of it.
"That wis I not," answered ignorant Lawrence. "'Tis somewhere. I shallsee when we be there."
Blumond was a little wiser, but only a little. "Well, now, is't notacross seas?" suggested he.
Lawrence's eyes brightened, and Beatrice's grew sorrowful.
"Wilt thou ever be back, Lolly?" she said in a mournful tone.
"To be sure!" quickly responded Blumond. "He shall come back a grandyoung gentleman, a-riding of a big black courser, with a scarletsaddle-cloth all broidered o' gold and silver."
There was a general laugh at this highly improbable suggestion, whichwas checked by Philippa's query if Lawrence had taken leave of DanRobesart.
"Nay. Should I so?" asked the boy doubtfully.
"Aye, for sure. Haste thee up the hill, for he went into the church butnow."
And with a hasty farewell at last Lawrence ran off.
He found the priest pacing meditatively up and down the north aisle ofthe church, with folded arms and a very grave face.
"Didst seek me, my son?" he inquired, pausing as Lawrence came up andstood rather timidly at a little distance.
"An't please you, good Father, I go hence as to-morrow, and Philippawould have me ask you of your blessing ere I went."
"That shalt thou have, right heartily." And the thin white hand waslaid on the child's head. "Our Lord bless thee, and make thee ablessing. May He be thy Guide and Shield and Comforter; yea, may Hecover thee with His wings all the day long, and be unto thee a bucklerfrom the face of evil. Lawrence, my son, I would fain have thy promiseto a thing."
"What thing, Father?"
"Pass thy word to me, and never forget it, that in all thy life thouwilt never go any whither without asking our Lord to go with thee."
The priest had somewhat failed to realise the extreme youth and worseignorance of the child to whom he was talking. The reply recalled himto these facts.
"Where shall I find Him?--in the church? Must I hear mass everymorning?"
One of the strangest things in Romanism to a Protestant mind is thefancy that prayer must be offered in a consecrated building to bethoroughly acceptable. Of course, when a man localises the presence ofChrist as confined to a particular piece of stone, it is natural that heshould fancy he must go to the stone to find
Him. From thisunscriptural notion the Lollards had to a great extent emancipatedthemselves. Mr. Robesart therefore answered Lawrence as most priestswould not have done, for in his eyes the presence of Christ was notrestricted to the altar-stone and the consecrated wafer.
"My son, say in thine heart--thou needest not speak it loud--'Jesus, bewith me,' before thou dost any matter, or goest any whither. Our Lordwill hear thee. Wilt thou so do?"
Lawrence gave the promise, with a child's readiness to promise anythingasked by a person whom he loved and reverenced. The priest lifted hiseyes.
"Lord keep him in mind!" he said in a low voice. "Keep Thyself in thechild's heart, and bear him upon Thine before the Father!--Now, my son,go, and God be with thee."
Mr. Robesart laid his hand again on the child's head, and with a slowerstep than before, as if some awe rested upon him, Lawrence went down tothe hovel below the hill.
The journey from Usk to Ireland was a far more new and strangeexperience to Lawrence than it could be to Roger. The latter had takenvarious short journeys from one of his father's castles to another, oron occasional visits to friends and relatives of the family: but theformer had spent all his little life in the hovel at Usk, and his ownfeet were the only mode of travelling with which he had hitherto beenacquainted. The sea was something completely new to both. Lawrence wasdeeply interested in finding out that fishes lived in that mighty oceanwhich seemed alike so potent and so interminable. He wanted to go downto the bottom and see the fishes alive in their own haunts, and find outwhat was there beside them. But after timidly hinting at theseaspirations to an archer and a squire, and perceiving that both wereinclined to laugh at him, Lawrence locked up the remainder of hisfancies in his own breast, and awaited further light and futureopportunities.
Meditations of this kind did not trouble Roger. He found quite enough tolook at in the visible world, without puzzling his brain by speculationsconcerning the unseen. His nature disposed him at all times to actionrather than thought.
Two months were consumed on the voyage to Ireland: not by any means anunreasonable time, when that period or longer was frequently requiredbetween Dover and Calais. They were detained previously at Holyhead,waiting for a south-east wind, only for a fortnight, which was rather amatter for congratulation; as was also the fact that they were onlytwice in danger of their lives during the voyage. Perils in thewilderness, and perils in the sea, were much more intelligible to ourforefathers than to ourselves.
Roger was growing dreadfully tired of sea and sky long before the shoreof Antrim was sighted. Lawrence was tired of nothing but his ownignorance and incapacity to understand what he saw. He wanted toknow--to dive to the bottom of every thing, literally and figuratively:and he did not know how to get there, and nobody could or would tellhim. Surely things had an end somewhere--if one could only find it out!
The voyage came to one, at any rate; and on a beautiful summer morning,the keel of the Grace Dieu at last grated upon the shingle of Ulster.Half-a-dozen of the crew jumped out into the surf, and twice as manycame to help from the land. The great boat was dragged on shore by thehelp of ropes, a ladder set against her side, and Roger carefullycarried ashore by a squire. Lawrence was left to climb down as he bestcould. Both reached the ground in safety, and found themselves inpresence of a crowd of officers and retainers in the Earl of Ulster'slivery; from among whom in a moment the Earl himself came forward, andgave a warm fatherly welcome to his little son. After mutual greetingshad been sufficiently exchanged between old residents and new-comers,the Earl mounted his horse, a superb bay caparisoned with a scarletsaddle-cloth, and Roger having been lifted on a white pony beside him,they rode away to the Castle of Carrickfergus.
Ulster was in the fourteenth century, as it still is in the nineteenth,in a much more settled, and to English eyes a more civilised condition,than the Milesian parts of Ireland: but even there, that hatred of rentwhich seems characteristic of the Irish race, flourished quite asluxuriantly as now. Fifty years before this date, Maud of Lancaster,the girl-widow of the murdered Earl of Ulster, and great-grandmother oflittle Roger, had been constrained to address piteous appeals to KingEdward III. for his charity, on the ground that while nominallypossessed of large property, she had really nothing to live upon, sinceher Irish tenants would not pay their rents.
The English mind, which is apt to pride itself upon its steady-going,law-abiding tendencies, was much exercised with this Irish peculiarity,which it could not understand at all. Why a man should not pay rent forland which the law affirmed was not his own, and what possible objectionhe could have to doing so beyond a wish to keep his money in his pocket,was wholly unintelligible to the Saxon mind, which never comprehendedthat passionate love for the soil, that blind clinging to the homestead,which are characteristic of the Celt. Those who have those qualities,among our now mixed race, whatever their known pedigree be, may restassured that Celtic blood--whether British, Gaelic, or Erse--has enteredtheir veins from some quarter.
The Irish, on their part, were for ever looking back to that day whenthey were lords of the soil, before the foot of the stranger had everpressed the turf of the Green Isle. It was the land which they yearnedto emancipate rather than themselves. In Celtic eyes a monarch is kingof the land, and the people who dwell on it are merely adventitiouscoincidences: in Saxon eyes he is king of the people, and the land issimply the piece of matter which holds the people in obedience to thelaw of gravitation. The latter must necessarily be an emigrating andcolonising race: the former as certainly, by the very nature of things,must feel subjection to a foreign nation an intolerable yoke, and exileone of the bitterest penalties that can be visited on man. How arethese two types of mind ever to understand each other?
It has been well said that "there is not only one Mediator between Godand man, but also one Mediator between man and man, the Man ChristJesus." Never, as Man, was a truer patriot, and yet never was a morethorough cosmopolitan, than He whose eyes as God are always upon theLand of Israel, and who hath loved Zion. Can we not all learn of Him,and bear with each other till the day comes when we shall see eye toeye--when there shall be one nation upon the mountains of Israel, andone King over all the earth,--one flock, and one Shepherd?