CHAPTER XXXIV.
It was night; and in the castle of Nottingham sat the Princess Eleanor,with one or two ladies working at their embroidery near. Each had asilver lamp beside her; and while they plied the busy needle, theyspoke in low tones, sometimes of the rumours of the day, sometimes ofthe colours of this or that flower, that grew up beneath their handsupon the frame. The princess was differently employed; for though anembroidery frame stood near her also, she had turned away from it, andby the light of a taper at her side was reading attentively a paperwhich she held in her hand. There was a pleased smile upon hercountenance, the high and noble expression of which was seldom what maybe called very cheerful, though rarely very sad; for as yet she neverhad cause for actual sadness; and even during the imprisonment of herbeloved husband, amidst the wild chances of civil war, and the dailydangers of faction and strife, her heart had been lighted by high hopeand confidence in the all-protecting hand of Heaven.
In every countenance that is at all capable of displaying what ispassing in the mind--every countenance, except the dull, unletteredbook, where mere animal desires appear written in their unvaryingcoarseness--there are two expressions; the one permanent, pervadingevery change and indicating the natural disposition--the inherentqualities of the spirit within; the other, altering with everyaffection of the mind, brightening with joy or hope, growing dark undersorrow and disappointment, but still receiving a peculiar characterfrom the permanent expression, as the sunshine and the cloud castdifferent light and shade upon the brown masses of the wood and thewild waters of the sea.
The permanent expression of Eleanor's countenance was calm, and full ofthat thoughtfulness which approaches, in some degree, the bounds ofmelancholy; and yet the transient expression was often gay and happy ina very high degree; for that very thoughtfulness and sensibility ofcharacter which produced the former, enabled her to love, and hope, andenjoy, with the high zest which sparkled in the latter. And now, uponher countenance was a look of well-pleased relief, as if something hadgrieved her and was taken away; and after she had read the paper, shesuffered her hand to drop over the arm of the chair, looking up, withher large, dark eyes, towards heaven, as noble minds generally do whenthe heart is busy with high and elevating thoughts.
"I was sure," she murmured to herself--"I was sure that young man wasnot guilty of that crime with which they charged him; and I amconvinced also that he is as little guilty of this that they now lay tohis account."
A page stood near the door, as if waiting for some reply, now fixinghis eyes upon the ground, now stealing a furtive glance at the prettyfaces bending over their embroidery. To him Eleanor now beckoned,saying, "Come hither; take the letter back to my dear lord, and say Ithank him for the sight of it. Tell him I would fain speak with himwhen his leisure serves; and that I beseech him, when the Lady Lucycomes, to send her to me, that I may accompany her to the presence ofthe king. She will need a friend beside her."
The boy took the letter, bowed, and retired; and Eleanor resumed herwork, pausing, from time to time, as if to think, and then busying herhands again, though her mind went on with other things. In about aquarter of an hour the door opened, and Edward entered, with a browsomewhat sad and gloomy. Nor did that expression altogether pass away,though the accustomed smile cheered it for a moment, as he met her whomhe so deeply loved.
"She cannot be long," he said, after a few words of greeting. "This isa strange as well as a dark affair."
"But you do not think him guilty?" demanded Eleanor.
"Assuredly not," replied the Prince; "but it has so happened--all hasbeen so arranged, that I fear he will seem guilty though he be not. Youread that letter, and you saw how easily he explained all that appearedsuspicious in his former conduct; and yet a body of barons, Mortimeramongst the rest, were ready enough to urge my father to put him todeath, without those forms and circumstances of customary law which arethe only safeguards of men's liberty."
"Do you think they would have executed him?" demanded Eleanor.
"They would have murdered him," replied the Prince, "for such a deathwithout law is murder."
Eleanor put her hands before her eyes, and after a moment's pause,added, "And yet he was innocent, clearly innocent--oh! I never doubtedit, Edward! I have seen him, when you knew it not, gaze upon thecountenance of my noble prince; and in his face, as in amoving picture, rise up a thousand images of kindly thoughtswithin;--affection, gratitude, esteem, and admiration; and I could havesworn that he would never plot against your father's throne, howeverreckless be the men of this world, of faith and honesty."
"I was sure also," answered Edward, "for I know him well, and amconvinced that when, with a mistaken zeal, he was once found in armsagainst us, 'twas that he thought duty and honour called him to do thatwhich wounded his own heart even in the doing.--But 'twas not alonethat conviction which made me think the late accusation false," hecontinued, in a lower tone, that the women near might not catch hiswords--"I knew the men who made it, Eleanor: I knew Mortimer to becruel and treacherous; I knew Pembroke to be cold, and hard, andselfish. And now I find," he added, with a smile, "they were to dividehis lands between them. Here was Guy de Margan, too--a thing so lightand frail, one would scarce think that such a delicate vessel couldhold strong passions and fierce hatreds; yet 'tis evident to me thatthere was no slight rancour there."
"Oh! I know, I know!" replied Eleanor. "One night, when Lucy and herlover--with my connivance, I will own--walked by the moonlight underthe southern cloisters at Eltham, this Guy de Margan, with some threeor four other young idlers of the court, would have stopped her byforce as she was returning to me, when the knight, whom she had justleft, came up, and felled him with a blow. But hark! she is coming,Edward. See if that be the Lady Lucy, Alice."
One of the ladies who sat near, rose, went to the door, and returnedimmediately, bringing Lucy de Ashby with her. She was pale and verysad, but not less beautiful than ever; and as she came forward to thePrincess, and knelt down upon the cushion at her feet to kiss her hand,she kept her dark eyes fixed upon the ground, as if she feared that,should she open them, the fountain of tears, which had so lately sprungup, would well over.
"The King has sent for you, fair lady," said Prince Edward, afterEleanor had spoken a few words of consolation to her--"the King hassent for you to ask you some questions with his own voice upon a mattervery painful to you in all respects, I fear. But be comforted; thebitter loss you have sustained is one that every child who lives theordinary length of life must undergo. The death of those we love is asalutary preparation for our own; and, as to the other cause of theanxiety and pain which may mingle with your feelings to-night, beassured that the noble lord who has fallen under some wrongfulsuspicion has now a friendly voice near to do him justice, and beraised in his behalf. We are confident of his innocence, and willmaintain him to be guiltless till he can appear in person and defendhis own cause."
The Prince paused, as if for an answer; but Lucy would not trust hervoice with many words, merely replying, "I thank you deeply, my mostgracious lord."
"I will go then to the King," continued Edward, "who has been expectingyour arrival for some time. The Princess will accompany you to hispresence, when he is ready to receive you. So be calm, dear lady, andfirm; and, ever before you reply, think well what you are saying."
The Prince quitted the room, and Eleanor proceeded to give that womanlycomfort to her fair young friend which was better calculated to supportand calm her than even the Prince's encouraging tone; for whatever maybe the wisdom and the strength of man's exhortations, there is aroughness in them far different from that soothing balm which was givento the lips of woman to enable her to tranquillize and console.
But little time, however, was afforded them for conversation, a summonsbeing almost immediately received for the lady Lucy to appear beforethe King; and drawing the fair girl's arm through her own, Eleanor ledher to the hall where Henry was seated. The first glance of the King'scounte
nance shewed that he was in an irritable state of mind. Weak andvacillating, as well as oppressive, he yielded, it is true, to theinfluence of his wiser and nobler son, but not without impatience andresistance.
The Prince was now standing on his right hand, a circle of nobles wasformed in front, and next to Edward appeared Alured de Ashby--his browsbent, his eyes cast down upon the ground, and his left hand restingupon the hilt of his sword. He gave no glance towards his sister as sheentered, but remained stern and gloomy, without moving a feature or amuscle. The Princess seated herself in a chair beside the King, butstill holding Lucy's hand, and drawing her gently close to her side.
"Lady," said Henry, smoothing down his look, and affecting a tone ofsadness, "we have been compelled to send for you, even though wethereby break in upon the sanctity of your sorrow; for it becomesnecessary immediately, or at least as speedily as may be, to ascertainthe author of a terrible crime, which has deprived you of a father, andus of a loving subject and faithful friend. Speak, then, and tell uswhat you know of this matter."
"Sire, I know nothing," replied Lucy, "but that my poor father left mein health some short time before the hour of three yesterday, and thatlong after, while I was speaking with my cousin Richard, who had justarrived from Nottingham, news came that my father was murdered."
"Nay," said the King, "we must hear what took place previouslyregarding the gentleman accused of this offence."
"I know not who is accused, sire," replied Lucy, looking up with an airof surprise; "I have not heard that the murderer was discovered."
"The gentleman on whom strong suspicion lights," rejoined the King, ina stern tone, "is an escaped prisoner from this castle, Hugh deMonthermer."
Lucy clasped her hands with a start, and turned as pale as death. Butthe next instant, the blood rushed glowing into her face, and throwingback her head with a sparkling eye and a curling lip, she cried--"It isfalse! my lord the King--it is false!--I know whence this foulsuspicion has arisen. Ay, and perhaps art may have overdone itself. Ihave gained a light I never thought of till now, which may yet perhapsbring the felon to justice."
The King seemed somewhat surprised at the sudden energy which had takenpossession of the fair and gentle being before him.
"Pray tell me," he said, after gazing at her for a moment "whence youthink this suspicion has arisen, since you say you know."
"It has sprung, sire," replied Lucy, in a calmer tone--"it has sprungfrom a letter which was given to my father shortly before his death. Hewas with me at the time. We were speaking of him who is now accused ofa deed that he never dreamed of, and my father showed me the letter,saying, it came from him. I answered instantly that it was not hiswriting, which I have often seen. My father replied that he must havemade some clerk write for him, as is so common. The explanationsatisfied me, and I thought no more of it till this moment; but now Isee that letter was a forgery to lure my poor father to his death."
"You read the letter, then?" enquired the King.
"I did," replied Lucy.
"Can you repeat what it contained?" asked Edward, with a look of keenanxiety.
"The matter, not the words," answered Lucy, her voice slightlyfaltering. "It told my father that Hugh de Monthermer, doomed to deathunheard, though innocent, had escaped from the castle of Nottingham,leaving behind his fair fame undefended; and it besought the Earl tomeet him alone at the place called the Bull's hawthorn."
"The very place where he was murdered," said a voice from the circle.
"Peace, Sir Guy de Margan," cried Prince Edward, turning suddenly uponhim; "you are a known enemy of the man accused."
"I, my lord!" exclaimed Guy de Margan.
"Ay, sir," replied the Prince, "we know more than you suppose. You hatehim for chastising your insolence towards a lady; and we little doubtthat you were well aware the friar whom you accused of carryingtreasonable communications between him and Sir John Lemwood, had onlybeen sent by the old Earl of Monthermer to beseech Sir John not to riskthe life and honour of his friends by hopeless rebellion. I have it,sir, under the knight's own hand, and have also reason to believe youknew it when you made the charge. Let me not discover that you arebringing other false accusations, for there is a punishment for suchoffences."
"Go on, lady," said the King, as Guy de Margan shrunk back from thestern eye of the Prince. "Go on. What more did the letter say?"
"I think it promised, sire," replied Lucy, "to give my father fullproof of the innocence of the Lord Hugh, and it besought him to comealone, not even bringing a page with him. But I assert now, my lord,that letter was a forgery of some one to decoy my poor father to hisdeath."
"May it not," asked the King, "have been the letter of an angry anddisappointed man, seeking means to wreak his vengeance upon one who haddenied him his daughter's hand, and disappointed his hopes? Here it isproved, fair lady that your lover and your father quarrelled, and thatthe Earl promised to meet him--wherefore, or when, no one knows,--andthat as soon as this young stubborn lord makes his escape from thiscastle of Nottingham, your father receives a letter from him, callingupon him to come alone to a secluded place. Your father is there foundmurdered; the boy that bears the letter is bidden to tell no one thatit comes from Hugh de Monthermer; it wants but the letter to be in hiswriting to make the whole case clear enough."
"My lord," replied Lucy, earnestly, "clear your mind from the falsetales of deceitful men. Hugh and my father did not quarrel; thoughnatural disappointment regarding one whom he loved--though scarcelyworthy of such love--might make the friend of your noble son speak loudand hasty words, even to the father of his promised wife. But they didnot quarrel, sire. My father saw him go, in the full hope that he wouldprove his innocence before your Majesty, and induce you to withdraw thebar you had placed against our union--He came and told me so, themoment Hugh was gone. Then, sire, as to the promised meeting, I cantell you, wherefore, and when, and where, from my dead parent's lips.It was to be here in this presence; it was to be at one hour after noonyesterday it was to hear him fully exculpate himself of the charge thenmade against him, not only in the presence of your Majesty, but in thepresence of Prince Edward also; and the noble Prince himself knows thatmy father sent a messenger to him, calling him to Nottingham with allspeed, lest the voice of many enemies without one friend might prevaileven with your majesty."
"It is true," replied Edward, "the messenger came, and had he not beenkept from me somewhat foolishly, I should have been here shortly afternoon this day."
"He did wrong," said the King, "to suspect that we would not do himjustice."
The colour came into Edward's cheek, and he bent down his eyes upon theground, feeling the ridicule of his father talking of justice, when sogross an act as the late condemnation of Hugh de Monthermer had justbeen committed. But Henry went on to cross-question poor Lucy, to whomzeal and anxiety for her lover had given a temporary strength which wasnow failing rapidly.
"You said, lady," he continued, "that the explanation which your fathergave of this letter being written in another hand satisfied youcompletely at the time. What makes you think now that it is aforgery?--Has love nothing to do with the defence?"
The colour mounted into Lucy's cheek, and Eleanor was about tointerpose, to shield her from such questions, before such an assembly.But the poor girl gained courage both from the depth and strength ofher own feelings, and from the discourteous mockery of the King.She raised her eyes, bright and sparkling, to his face, andanswered--"Perhaps love has, my lord. But has hate no part in theaccusation?--God in his mercy grant that it may have none in thejudgment!"
A dead silence succeeded for a moment to this bold reply; and thenLucy, turning pale again and dropping her eyes, went on to say--"Youasked me why I think it forged, my lord? Because I now see a motive forthe forgery, which I did not see before--because I perceive no causewhy Hugh de Monthermer should not write with his own hand--because hecould have had still, less to kill the father of her beloved--becausehe did not even sign the letter; fo
r the name was not hiswriting--because not even the seal was, from his signet. These arestrong reasons, sire--even," she added, with the tears rising into hereyes--"even if there were not a reason stronger still:--that he hasever been honest, honourable, and true; that no mean, dark act lieschronicled against him; that his whole life gives the lie to theaccusation; and that he has never taken advantage of any opportunity todo a thing that he thought to be wrong, even when the opinion of theworld might have extolled the act."
She wiped the tears from her yes, for they were now running; over fast,and Eleanor rose from her seat, saying, "I beseech you, sire, let herdepart. She is grieved and faint--I see it."
"One more question," rejoined Henry, "and she shall go. You say, lady,that you see a motive for the forgery;--is it that you have anysuspicion of another having done this deed?" Lucy ran her eye round allthe circle, suffering it to pause for a moment upon the face of Richardde Ashby, which turned pale under her glance. She carried it round tothe other extreme, however, and then replied, "I have a strongsuspicion, sire."
"Of whom?" demanded the King, eagerly.
"Forgive me, gracious lord," answered Lucy; "though strong, it is butsuspicion, and I, for one, will not make a charge upon suspicion alone.But let me warn my brother Alured, who is too noble to doubt and toobrave to be prudent, that those who have destroyed the father may nothave any greater tenderness for the son."
Again her words were followed by a silent pause, and Eleanor, takingadvantage of it, drew Lucy away, saying, "We have your leave, sire--isit not so?"
The King bowed his head; and the moment the Princess, her faircompanion, and her attendants, had departed, a buzz ran round the room,while the Prince and the King spoke in a low tone together.
The young Earl of Ashby, let it be remarked, had not uttered one wordduring the whole of his sister's interrogation, and had scarcely moveda muscle from the time she entered, excepting changing his handoccasionally from the pommel of his sword to the hilt of his dagger.But he now stepped forward, as soon as Edward raised his head, saying,"Sire, this is a doubtful case, which, without farther evidence, cannotbe tried by an ordinary court. Perhaps Lucy is right, and Hugh deMonthermer innocent. She loves him, and I love him not; but still Iwill do justice to him, and own that the case is not proved againsthim, so far as to warrant his peers in condemning him; but there is aneye that sees, though ours be blinded--there is a Judge to decide,though mortal judges are debarred of proof. To that great Judge I willappeal the cause, and my body against his try, under God's decision,whether this man be guilty or not guilty. A son must not sit quiet,even under a doubt concerning his father's murderer; and I do beseechyou, sire, to cause proclamation to be made over the whole land, thatHugh de Monthermer stands charged with the murder of William, Earl ofAshby, and is bound to appear and clear himself within fourteen days ofthis time."
"I must not refuse," replied the King; "the request is just andlawful."
"I must, moreover, entreat you, my lord," continued the young Earl,"not to proclaim the name of the accuser. I say it in no vanity, for,though my lance be a good one, there is not a better in all Christendomthan that of Hugh de Monthermer. But yet I doubt that he would meet mein the field, on such a quarrel as this. For his love's sake, he wouldnot bar himself for ever from Lucy's hand, by risking the death of herbrother--that is to say, if he be innocent."
"That is fair, too," replied the King; "Lord Pembroke, see suchproclamation made!--and now to more cheerful thoughts! for, by myfaith, our time passes here but gravely."
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