Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times

by G. P. R. James

  CHAPTER XXXI.

  It was in the small wooden house in the lower part of the town, towhich we have seen Sir William Geary lead his worthy companion Guy deMargan, that unhappy Kate Greenly sat in the recess of a window whichlooked over the meadows, and through which a faint gleam of theautumnal sun was streaming in upon her. She was as beautiful as ever,perhaps more so, for her face was paler and more refined, and thoughshe had lost the glow of rustic health, her countenance had gained apeculiar depth of expression which was fine, though sad to see.

  Her eyes were fixed intently upon those autumnal fields, with astraining gaze, and a knitted brow; but it was not of them shethought--no, nor of any of the many things which they might recal toher mind. It was not of the happy days of innocence; it was not of thecompanions of her childhood; it was not of the sports of her youth; itwas not of her father's house; it was not of the honest lover whosepure affection she had despised, whose generous heart she had well-nighbroken. No, no, it was of none of these things! It was of him who hadwronged and betrayed her, it was of him who had trampled and despised,it was of him whom she now hated with a fierce and angry hate--ay,hated and feared, and yet loved--strange as it may seem to say so,--ofhim whom she had resolved to punish and destroy, and for whom she yetfelt a yearning tenderness which made every act she did against himseem like plunging a knife into her own heart.

  Oh! had Richard de Ashby then, even then, suffered his hard and cruelspirit to be softened towards the girl whom he had wronged, if he hadsoothed and tranquillized, and calmed her, if he had used but onetender word, one of all the arts which he had employed to seduce her,Kate Greenly would have poured forth her blood to serve him, and wouldhave died ere she had followed out the stern course which she purposedto pursue. But he was all selfishness, and that selfishness was hisdestruction.

  Hark, it is his step upon the stairs! But she no longer flies to meethim with the look of love and total devotion which marked her greetingin former days. The glance of fear and doubt crosses her countenance;she dare not let him see that she has been thoughtful; she snatches upthe distaff and the wheel; she bends her head over the thread, and witha sickening heart she hears the coming of the foot, the tread of whichwas once music to her ear.

  He entered the room, with a red spot upon his brow, with his teeth hardset, with his lip drawn down. There was excited and angry passion inevery line of his face, there was a fierceness in his very step whichmade her grieve she had not avoided him. It was too late, however; forthough he scarcely seemed to see her, she could not quit the roomwithout passing by him. He advanced as if coming direct towards her,but ere he had much passed the middle of the chamber, he stopped andstamped his foot, exclaiming--"Curses upon it!" Then turning to theUnhappy girl, he cried--"Get thee to thy chamber! What dost thou idlinghere, minion? Prepare in a few days to go back to thy father--or, ifthou likest it better," he added, with a contemptuous smile,--"to thyfranklin lover; he may have thee cheaper now, and find thee a rareleman."

  Kate stood and gazed at him for a moment; but for once passion did notmaster her, and she answered, well knowing that whatever seemed herwish would be rejected--"I am ready to go back to my father. I havemade up my mind to it,--Thou treatest me ill, Richard de Ashby, I willlive with thee no longer. I will go at once."

  "No, by the Lord, thou shalt not!" he cried, resolved not to lose theobject of his tyranny. "Get thee to thy chamber, I say; I will sendthee back when I think fit--away! I expect others here!" And KateGreenly, without reply, moved towards the door.

  As she passed, he felt a strong desire to strike her, for the angrypassion that was in his heart at that moment, called loudly for someobject on which to vent itself. She spoke not, however; she did noteven look at him; so there was no pretext; and biting his lip andknitting his brow, he remained gazing at her as she moved along, with avague impression of her beauty and grace sinking into his dark mind,and mingling one foul passion with another.

  When she was gone and the door was closed, Richard de Ashby clasped hishands together, and walked up and down the room, murmuring, "That idiotMortimer!--When he had him in his hand--to leave him in his chamberwhich any child could scale!--Out upon the fool! With dungeons as deepas a well close by!--But he cares nought, so that he get the land. Howis this step to be overleaped? Ha! here they come!"

  In a moment or two after, the door of the room again opened, and fourmen came in; two dressed as noblemen of the Court, and two as inferiorpersons. Those, however, whose apparel taught one to expect that highand courteous demeanour for which the Norman nobleman was remarkable,when not moved by the coarse passions to which the habits of the timegave full sway, were far from possessing anything like easy grace, ormanly dignity. There was a saucy swaggering air, indeed, an affectedindifference, mingled with a quick and anxious turn of the eye, arestless furtive glance, which bespoke the low bred and licentious manof crime and debauchery, uncertain of his position, doubtful of hissafety, and though bold and fearless in moments of personal danger, yetever watchful against the individual enmity or public vengeance whichthe acts of his life had well deserved.

  "Well, Dickon," cried the first who entered, "we have thought of thematter well.--But what makes thee look so dull? Has the Prior of St.Peter's made love to thy paramour? Or the king won thy money at crossand pile, or----"

  "Pshaw! no nonsense, Ellerby," exclaimed Richard de Ashby; "I am in amood that will bear no jesting. What is the matter with me? By myfaith, not a little matter. Here, my bitterest enemy--you know Hugh ofMonthermer.--He was in Mortimer's hands, doomed to death, his head wasto be struck off this morning at daybreak. Mortimer and Pembroke wereto divide his lands; and I and Guy de Margan to have revenge for ourshare----"

  "I would have had a slice of the lands too," interrupted Ellerby, "or apurse or two of the gold, had I been in your place.--Well?"

  "Well! Ill I say," replied Richard de Ashby. "What would you? the foolMortimer, instead of plunging him into a dungeon where no escape waspossible, leaves him in his chamber, thinking he cannot get out,because the window is some twenty or thirty feet from the top of thewall, with a sentry pacing underneath. Of course the man who knows hislife is gone if he stays, may well risk it to fly, and when the door isopened this morning, the prisoner is gone; while on the wall of theroom, written with charcoal, one reads--'My Lord the Prince,--Takingadvantage of the permission you gave, in case the base falsehood of myenemies should prevail against me, and having been condemned to deathunheard, ere you could return to defend me, I have escaped from thischamber, but am ever ready to prove my innocence in a lawful manner,either by trial in court, or by wager of battle against any of myaccusers. Let any one efface this ere the Prince sees it, if hedare.'--With this brag he ended; and now Guy de Margan raves--butMortimer and Pembroke laugh, believing that they shall still share thelands! I threw some salt into their mead, however, telling them that asthey had left him with his head on, he had a tongue in it that wouldsoon clear him at the Prince's return, and as he had saved his lifewould save his lands, also.--Is it not enough to drive one mad, to seesuch fools mar such well-laid schemes?"

  "No, no," replied the man who had followed Ellerby, "nothing shoulddrive one a whit madder than the drone of a bagpipe drives a turnspitdog.--Give a howl and have done with it, Sir Richard."

  "I will tell you what, Dighton," said Richard de Ashby; "you men wearaway all your feelings as the edge of a knife on a grindstone----"

  "That sharpens," interrupted Dighton.

  "Ay, if held the right way," replied Richard, "but you have never knownhate such as I feel."

  "Perhaps not," answered Dighton, with a look of indifference, "for Ialways put a friend out of the way before I hate him heartily.--It isbetter never to let things get to a head. If on the first quarrel whichyou have with a man, you send him travelling upon the long road whichhas neither turning nor returning, you are sure never to have adifference with him again, and I have found that the best plan."

  "Bu
t suppose you cannot?" asked Richard de Ashby. "You may be weakerless skilful, may not have opportunity--suppose you cannot, I say?"

  "Why then employ a friend who can!" replied the bravo. "There arenumbers of excellent good gentlemen who are always ready, upon certainconsiderations, to take up any man's quarrel; and it is but from thefolly of others who choose to deal with such things themselves, thatthey have not full employment. Here is Ellerby tolerably good, both atlance and broadsword; and I," he continued, looking down with aself-sufficient air at the swelling muscles of his leg and thigh--"andI do not often fail to remove an unpleasant companion from the wayof a friend. Then if secrecy be wanting, we are as wise as we arestrong--are we not, Ellerby?"

  "To be sure," answered Ellerby, in the same swaggering manner, "we areperfect in everything, and fit for everything--as great statesmen as DeMontfort, as great soldiers as Prince Edward, as great generals asGloucester, as great friends as Damon and Pythias."

  "And as great rogues," added Richard de Ashby, who was not to be takenin by swagger--"and as great rogues, Ellerby, as--But no, I will notinsult you by a comparison. You are incomparable in that respect atleast, or only to be compared to each other."

  "Very complimentary, indeed," said Ellerby, "especially when we comehere to do you a favour."

  "Not without your reward present and future," replied Richard de Ashby;"You come not to serve me without serving yourselves too."

  "Well, well," cried Dighton, who carried the daring of his villany to asomewhat impudent excess--"we must not fall out, lest certain otherpeople should come by their own. There's an old proverb againstit"--for the proverb was old even in his day. "But to overlook yourmatter of spleen, dearly beloved Richard, and forgetting thisMonthermer affair, let us take the affair up where Ellerby wasbeginning. We have thought well of the business you have in hand, andjudge it very feasible indeed. We are willing to undertake it. If wecan get the old man once to come out of sight of his people alone, wewill ensure that he shall never walk back into Lindwell gates on hisown feet. However, there is a thing or two to be said upon otheraffairs;--but speak you, Ellerby--speak! You are an orator. I, a mereman of action."

  "Well, what is the matter?" asked Richard de Ashby; "If you can do thedeed, the sooner it is done the better."

  "True," said Ellerby, "but there is something more, my beloved friend.The doing the deed may be easier than getting the reward. When this oldman is gone, there still stands between you and the fair lands of Ashbya stout young bull-headed lord, called Alured, who having ample fortuneand fewer vices, is likely to outlive you by half a century, andbequeath the world a thriving race of younkers to succeed to hishonours and his lands."

  "Leave him to me," replied Richard; "his bull-head, as you call it,will soon be run against some wall that will break it, as I shallarrange the matter."

  "But even if such be the case," rejoined Ellerby, "how can we be surethat Richard Earl of Ashby will not turn up his nose at us, his poorfriends--as is much the mode with men in high station--refuse us allreward but that small sum in gold which he now gives, and dare us to doour worst, as we cannot condemn him without condemning ourselveslikewise? We must have it under your hand, good Richard, that you haveprompted us to this deed, and promise us the two thousand pounds ofsilver as our reward."

  Richard de Ashby looked at him with a sneering smiles though his heartwas full of wrath, and he answered--

  "You must think me some boy, raw from the colleges, and ready to playagainst you with piped dice. No, no, Dighton! Ellerby, you aremistaken! Being all of us of that kind and character of man who doesnot trust his neighbour, we must have mutual sureties, that is clear.Now hear me:--I will make over to you by bond, this day, my castle inHereford, with all the land thereunto appertaining.--You know itwell.--In the bond there shall be a clause of redemption; so that if Ipay you two thousand pounds of silver before this day two years, thecastle shall be mine again. Such is what I propose. But, in themeantime, you shall give me a covenant, signed with your hand, to dothe deed that we have agreed upon. Then shall we all be in the powerof each other."

  "And pray what are we to have?" asked one of the two inferior men, whohad followed the others into the room, and who seemed to have beenalmost forgotten by the rest.

  "What you were promised," replied Richard de Ashby; "each of you fiftyFrench crowns of gold this night, when the deed is done!"

  "Ay," cried the spokesman; "but we must have a part of that twothousand pounds of silver."

  But Dighton took him by the breast, in a joking manner, saying, "Holdthy tongue, parson! I will settle with thee about that. If thou art nothanged before the money is paid, we will share as officer and soldier.You and Dicky Keen shall have a fourth part between you, and we two therest."

  This promise appeared to satisfy perfectly his worthy coadjutor, whoseemed to rely upon the old proverb, that "there is honour amongstthieves," for the performance of the engagement. Such, however, was notthe base with Richard de Ashby and the two superior cutthroats, whoproceeded to draw up the two documents agreed upon for their mutualsecurity.

  The bond of Richard de Ashby was soon prepared, and the only difficultythat presented itself regarded the written promise he had exacted fromhis two friends; for Dighton boldly avowed that he could not write anyword but his own name, and Ellerby was very diffident of his owncapacity, though either would have done mortal combat with any man whodenied that they were gentlemen by birth and education. Richard deAshby, for his part, positively declined to indite the documenthimself, even upon the promise of their signature; and at lengthEllerby, after much prompting and assistance, perpetrated the act withvarious curious processes of spelling and arrangement.

  "And now," said Richard de Ashby, when this was accomplished, "all thatremains is to lure the old man from the castle, which we had better setabout at once; for if Alured were to return, our plan were marred."

  "But upon what pretence," asked Dighton, "will you get him to comeforth?"

  "I have one ready," answered Richard de Ashby; "one that will serve mypurpose in other respects, too. But who we shall get, to bear theletter, is the question."

  "Why not the woman you have with you?" said Ellerby. "We could dressher up as a footboy."

  "No," replied Richard de Ashby, thoughtfully, "no!--I did buy her apage's dress to employ her in any little things that might requireskill and concealment, for she is apt and shrewd enough; but in thismatter I dare not trust her. When the old man and the note were foundshe would tell all.--She needs some further training yet, and she shallhave it; but at present we must deal by other hands.--You must get somerude peasant boy as you go along, and only one of you must show himselfeven to him. But I will write the note and come along with you myself.There is no time to spare."

  Richard de Ashby then--who was, as we have hinted, a skilfulscribe--sat down and composed the fatal letter to his kinsman which wasto draw him from his home and give him to the hands of the murderers:and, knowing well the Earl's character, he took care so to frame theepistle as to insure its full effect. The handwriting, too, hedisguised as much as might be; though never having seen that of theperson whose name he assumed, he endeavoured to make it as much likethe hand of a clerk or copyist as possible. The note was to thefollowing effect:--

  "To the most noble and valiant Lord the Earl of Ashby, greeting.

  "Dear and well-beloved Lord,

  "A false, cruel, and horrible accusation having been brought againstme, and I having been doomed to death unheard by the ears of justiceand clemency, have been compelled to seek my own safety by flight fromthe castle of Nottingham, leaving my fair fame and characterundefended. Now I do adjure you, as one who has ever been held themirror of chivalry, and the honour of arms and nobility, to meet methis day at the hour of three, by what is called the Bull's Hawthorn;which you, my lord, know well, and which is but one poor mile from yourmanor of Lindwell. I will there give to you, my lord, the mostundoubted proofs of my perfect innocence, beseeching you to become
myadvocate before the King and the Prince, and to defend me as none butone so noble will venture to do. Lest you should think that I seek toentangle you more on my behalf, I hereby give you back all promisesmade to me regarding the Lady Lucy, your daughter, and declare themnull and void, unless at some future time you shall think fit toconfirm them. It is needful, as I need not say, that you should cometotally alone, for even the chattering of a page might do me to death.

  "HUGH DE MONTHERMER."

  Richard de Ashby mentioned to none of his companions what the lettercontained; but folding it, he tied it with a piece of yellow silk andsealed it, stamping it with the haft of Ellerby's dagger.

  "Now," he cried--"now all is ready; let us be gone.--Are your horsesbelow?"

  "They are at the back of the house," said Dighton.

  "Quick, then, to the saddle!" cried their companion. "I will get mine,and join you in a minute, to ride with you some way along the road; forI must have speedy tidings when the deed is done."

  "By my faith," said Ellerby, walking towards the door, "you are growinga man of action, Richard!--But keep us not waiting."

  "Not longer than to come round," replied Richard de Ashby, descendingthe stairs with them; and in a minute after, the heavy door of thehouse banged to behind the party of assassins.

  Scarcely were they gone, when poor Kate Greenly ran into the room, andsnatched up a large brown wimple which lay in the window, casting itover her head as if to go forth. Her eyes were wild and eager, her facepale, her lips bloodless, and her whole frame trembling. She seemedconfused, too, as well as agitated, and muttered to herself, "Oh,horrible! Where can I find help?--What can I do?--I will seek thesemen; but it will be too late if I go afoot. I will take the page'sdress again, and hire a horse."

  She paused, and thought for an instant, adding, "But the mere is farfrom Lindwell,--'tis the other way. It will be too late! it will be toolate!"

  Her eyes fixed vacantly on the window, and a moment after she uttered aslight scream, for she saw a head gazing at her through the smallpanes. Shaken and horrified, the least thing alarmed her, so that shecaught at the back of a tall chair for support, keeping her eyes fixed,with a look of terror, upon the face before her, and asking herselfwhether it was real, or some frightful vision of her own imagination.

  "It is the boy!" she cried, at length, "it is the dwarf boy I saw withthem in the wood!" and, running forward with an unsteady step, sheundid the great bolt of the casement.

  Tangel instantly forced himself through, and sprang in, exclaiming,"Ha! ha! I watched them all out, and then climbed to tell you----"

  But, before he could end his sentence, Kate Greenly sank fainting uponthe floor beside him.