CHAPTER XXXIX.
"THE King has sat down to supper, my good lord," said one of the youngEarl's attendants, meeting him at the door of his apartments, "andwondered that you were not there. A seat is kept for you, however."
"Is it near the Prince?" demanded Alured.
"Nay, my lord, the Prince is gone," replied the man; "did you not knowit?"
"Gone!" exclaimed the young nobleman. "Gone, whither?"
"To Leicester, my lord," said the servant. "While you and Sir Guy deMargan were conversing here, news came from Leicester of a revoltamongst the peasants there; and the Prince set out at once, with somefifty men--'tis not half an hour since."
"Why, he is to be the judge of the field the day after to-morrow!" criedthe Earl, in surprise and evident disappointment.
"I heard film tell the King myself, my lord," replied the man, "that hewould be back ere sunset to-morrow."
"This is unfortunate," murmured Alured--"this is most unfortunate; butit can't be helped!" and after making some slight change in hisapparel, and giving some orders in a low but earnest voice, he hastenedto the hall. Henry, as soon as he appeared, greeted him with lightmerriment, saying, "You are late for the banquet, noble Earl; but weforgive you, as we doubt not some fair lady held you in chains ofdalliance not to be broken."
"Nay, sire," replied the Earl, gravely, "my heart is too full of otherthings to think of levities. I was with a sick friend, and the time,though it passed heavily, was not noted."
"A sick friend is as good an excuse as a fair lady," said the King,"and one that may be pleaded at all times."
"Nay, sire," replied Mortimer, who was sitting near, "neither fair ladynor sick friend can be a moment's excuse for delay in day of battle, oreven, I hold, of tournament."
"A high question of chivalry," replied the King. "Let some of our oldknights decide it. What say you, Sir John Hardy?"
"That the matter has been decided often, my liege," said the oldsoldier, who was placed some way down the table, and who spoke withgrave deliberation on the subject which he considered all-important."No excuse on earth can be received for the man who has touched achallenger's shield, or taken an accuser's glove, or received hisleader's command to prepare for battle, if he be more than a quarter ofan hour behind the time appointed. That space is given in case ofaccident, or men's judgment differing as to time. Thus the trumpets maysound thrice, with five minutes between each blast; but if he comes notat the third call, he is held coward and recreant by all civilized men,and can plead nothing, unless it be the commands of his sovereign, ashis excuse."
"The honour of a knight," said another old soldier, in an authoritativeand somewhat pedantic tone, "should be as bright as his shield, asclear and cutting as his sword, and as pointed and steady as his lance.What he has once asserted, that he should maintain to the death; forwhatever cause there may be for retracting, an imputation on hiscourage will still lie, if he make a moment's delay in meeting an enemyin the field."
Hugh de Monthermer remained calm and pale, but the cheek of Alured deAshby flushed as if every word he heard was fire. As soon as possibleafter the banquet, he quitted the hall and sought his apartments, witha hurried and irregular step.
He found the armourers still busy in their task, as he passed throughthe outer chamber; and, pausing at the bench where they were working,he gazed down upon the weapons under their hands with a thoughtful butabstracted look. Then, with a sudden start, clenching his hand tight,he said, "See that all be firm and strong, Mapleton, yet not tooheavy."
"Fear not, my lord--fear not," replied the armourer, "there never wasbetter steel in all the world; and these poylins are a rare inventionfor the defence of the elbows and knees. I have prepared a garland,too, my lord, for your neck. I know you love it not, but 'tis muchsafer, if you will but wear it, though it does spoil the look of thehauberk, it must be confessed. But very often I have known the blow ofa lance right in the throat kill or disable a knight, though the spearwent not through the rings--'tis a trick with the Lord Hugh, too, Ihear, to aim at the throat. They say he killed two men so at Evesham,and the Soldan of Egypt's brother, when he was in Paynimrie."
Alured de Ashby had long ceased to listen; but with his brow bent andhis eyes fixed upon the arms, he stood thinking of other things, tillthe armourer ceased and looked up in his face; and then, turning away,he quitted the room without any reply. When in his own chamber, heclosed the door, and for nearly two hours his foot might be heard,walking to and fro, sometimes, indeed, pausing for a minute or two, butstill resuming its heavy tread.
Who can depict all the stormy passions that agitated him at thatmoment--the struggle that was taking place in his bosom, so differentfrom that which had torn the heart of Hugh de Monthermer, though asviolent in its degree, and proceeding from the same events. Tofight in an unrighteous quarrel!--to go, solemnly appealing toHeaven for the justice of his cause, and to feel that that cause wasunjust!--deliberately to persist in charging an innocent man with ahorrible crime, of which he knew him to be innocent!--It was a fearfulcontemplation for one in whom conscience had not been smothered undermany evil deeds, notwithstanding the faults and follies which sometimesblinded his eyes to right and wrong. But yet, to retract the accusationhe had made--to acknowledge that he had erred--to own that he had beenrash and weak--to see Hugh de Monthermer triumph--all this wasrepugnant to the most powerful vices of his character--to jealous prideand irritable vanity.
Nevertheless, this he might have overcome; for, as we have shown, therewas a high sense of honour in his nature, and the voice of consciencewas strong enough, when the question was one of such mighty moment, tooverpower the busy tongue of passion, and lead him to what was right;but, alas! there was another consideration. He feared the loss ofrenown! The very suspicion of any dread of his adversary was enough toput every good resolution to flight; and, unhappily, the laws ofchivalry opposed a barrier to his pursuing the only course ofrectitude, which would have been difficult enough to surmount even hadhis natural disposition been different from what it was.
Then came back the remembrance of the conversation which had takenplace at the banquet. It seemed to him as if the two old knights, whohad declared the rules of arms, had been sitting in judgment on thecause pleaded by the disputants in his own bosom. They had pronouncedagainst the voice of conscience--they had given sentence in favour ofthat fantastic honour which was based more on personal courage than ontruth.
Good Heaven! he thought, that the world should suspect he was afraid tomeet in arms the man he had accused! That _he_ should fear Hugh deMonthermer--that _he_ should take advantage of any new risen doubt towithdraw a charge which he had solemnly made, and shrink from a combatwhich he had himself provoked! How would men jeer at his name--howsilent would the heralds stand, when he entered the court or thetilt-yard? He pictured to himself a thousand imaginary insults:--he sawknights refusing to break a lance with one who had shrunk from thewager of battle he had demanded; he saw ladies turning away their headsin scorn from the craven knight who had feared to meet an equal in thefield. He could not--he would not do it!--and yet conscience stillcried aloud; ay, and the voice of Kate Greenly rang in his ears,telling him that conscience was powerful to overthrow as well as toadmonish; prophesying to him that he would fall before the lance of theman he knowingly injured, and that shame and defeat, as well asinjustice and falsehood, would be his companions on that fatal field.
"Foul befal the girl!" he cried, "for putting such thoughts into myhead; they hang upon me like a spell--they will cling to me in the hourof battle. Many a man has fought in an unjust cause--ay, and many a onehas fallen. In this ordeal, is the judgment of God shown, or is it not?Is it possible to conceive that we can appeal to Him, and call upon Himto defend the right, and solemnly swear that our cause is just, all thetime having a lie upon our lips, and that He will not punish? He wereworse than the God of the Moslemah, if he did not. What then shall Igain? For the first time in life, I shall soil my so
ul with anuntruth--I shall take a false oath--I shall be defeated, disgraced,with the judgment of God pronouncing that I am perjured, and die,leaving a stained and blackened name behind.--And yet, to withdraw thecharge is impossible!" he continued. "Better disgraced, and hide mefrom contumely in the grave, than live and meet the scornful looks ofevery knight in Europe! My only chance is in the Prince--perhaps he maystop it. Would he were here!--I would give him the paper now! Yet Imust show no desire to recant the accusation. I remember how his proudlip curled when that braggart, De Poix, slunk from the m?l?e at theNorthampton tournament, on pretence that his horse was lame. Curses onmy own precipitate haste!--but still deeper curses on that traitor,Richard, who urged me on!--Would I could know the truth.--Oh! if Ithought that it was so, I would tear his heart from his body, andtrample it quivering in the dust.--The foul villain!--And my father sogood to him!"
Such were some of the broken and disjointed thoughts which crossed themind of Alured de Ashby, and from them the reader may form some idea ofthe agitated state of his feelings during that night. He slept scarcelyat all till morning; but he then fell into a deep slumber, which lastedseveral hours, and from which he rose refreshed and calmer, but,nevertheless, stern and sad. He was restless, too, and the hesitatingand undecided state of his mind on the most pressing subject beforehim, rendered him wavering in all his actions.
In the morning, several of his servants, who had been out all night,according to orders he had given them, came in to make their report,and informed him, that though they had watched steadily at the spotwhich he had pointed out, no one had come out of the house but a priestand a little boy bearing a torch. He then sent for some of the oldretainers of the family, who had been at Lindwell when his father wasslain, and on their arrival questioned them minutely on many points;and then he told his people that he was going to the apartments of hissister; but, when he came to the foot of the stairs, he paused, turnedback again, and strode up and down the court for half an hour.
His next proceeding was to order his horses instantly, and he set outthe road to Leicester. When he was about halfway there, however, heturned his charger's head, and reached the gates of Nottingham just asnight was falling. The city warder told him, in answer to hisquestions, that the Prince had not returned, but that a messenger fromhim had arrived an hour before, and it was rumoured that Edward wouldnot be back until the following morning.
The Earl shook the bridle of his horse fiercely, and galloped up to thecastle. Before he reached it, however, the fit of angry impatience hadpassed away; and on dismounting, he proceeded direct to the apartmentsof the Prince, and sent in a page to say he wished to see the LadyLucy. He was instantly admitted to her chamber, where the sight of herfair face, bearing evident marks of tears, and full of deep andinconsolable sorrow, shook his purposes again, and added to all thebitterness of his feelings.
Alured kissed her tenderly, but he perceived that though she utterednot a word of reproach, she shrunk from him, and that was reproachenough. At his desire she sent away her maids, and then, sitting downbeside her, he took her hand in his, saying, "Lucy, I have come to seeyou--perhaps for the last time!"
She cast down her eyes, and made no reply, and he went on--"It is notfit, Lucy, that you and I should part with one cold feeling between us;and I come to ask forgiveness for any pain that I have caused youthroughout life."
"Oh, Alured!" exclaimed Lucy, "the last and most dreadful pain may yetbe avoided; but I know your stern and unchangeable heart too well tohope. You cannot but feel how horrible it is to see my brother and mypromised husband armed against each other's life--meeting in lists,from which one or the other must be borne a corpse. You cannot butknow, Alured, that to me the misery is the same, whichever is thevictor--that I have nothing to hope--that I have nothing to look for.If Hugh de Monthermer is vanquished, my brother is the murderer of himI love.--Ay, murderer, Alured!" she added, solemnly; "for you are wellaware, that in your heart you believe him innocent. If you fall beforeHugh de Monthermer's lance, the man I love becomes the butcher of mybrother, and I can never see his face again."
"Stay, Lucy, stay," said the Earl; "it is on this account that I havecome to you. I have had much and bitter thought, Lucy. Hugh deMonthermer may be innocent--God only knows the heart of man, and hewill decide; but if I die in the lists to-morrow, and he you love isproved to be innocent of my father's death, let my blood rest upon myown head; hold him guiltless of my fate, and wed him as if Alured deAshby had not been."
"Oh, Alured!" cried Lucy, touched to the heart, casting her arms aroundhim, at the same time, and weeping on his bosom. "No--no! that cannever be."
"Yes, but it must, and shall be!" replied her brother. "I will not doyou wrong, Lucy, in my dying hour. Here I have put down in a few briefwords my resolution and my wishes. Read, Lucy.--What! your eyes are dimwith tears!--Well, I will read it. Mark!--'I, Alured de Ashby, about todo battle with the Lord Hugh de Monthermer, to whom the hand of mysister Lucy was promised by my father before his decease--having latelyhad some cause to doubt the truth of the charge which I have broughtagainst the said lord, of having compassed the death of my father--dohereby give my consent to the marriage of my sister with the said Hughde Monthermer, if at any time he can prove fully, and clearly, that heis innocent of the deed; and I do beseech my sister--entreat, andrequire her, in that case, to give her hand to Hugh de Monthermer,whatever may have taken place between him and myself.'--There,girl--keep that paper, and use it when thou wilt.--Now, art thoucontented?"
"Contented, Alured!" cried Lucy, looking reproachfully in hisface--"contented! Do you think I can be contented, to know that eitherhe or you must die? What you take from one scale you cast into theother. If my heart can be lightened respecting him by this generousact, how much more heavy the grief and terror that I feel for you. Oh!Alured, you say, that you now doubt his guilt. Why not boldly, and atonce, express that doubt?--Why not----"
"My honour, child--my honour, and renown!" cried Alured de Ashby. "Butyou will unman me, Lucy. Here, give this sealed packet to the Princewhenever he returns."
"Perhaps he has returned," said Lucy--"the Princess told me he would beback ere nightfall."
"He has changed his purpose," replied her brother, "and will not be inNottingham till to-morrow."
"Alas! alas!" exclaimed Lucy, "that is unfortunate."
"It cannot be helped!" answered the young Earl--"but give it to thePrince whenever he comes. Tell him, that therein are contained theproofs which have lately made me doubt the justice of my charge againstMonthermer.--He must act as he thinks fit regarding them. But,remember, Lucy, that if I fall, and you become Monthermer's wife, hetakes the retribution of blood upon him, and must pursue the murderersof our father till he approve their guilt upon them, and give them upto death.--And now, girl, fare thee well!"
"Nay, Alured!" she cried, clinging to him. "Listen to me yet one word.If you be so doubtful, can you swear----"
"Hush--hush!" he answered. "My mind is now made up beyond allalteration. I will do everything to clear me before God, and make myconscience easy; but I must never shrink from battle--I must neversully my renown--I must never bear the name of coward, or know that oneman suspects I am such.--Farewell, Lucy, farewell--not one word more!"and kissing her tenderly, he unclasped the clinging arms that wouldhave held him, and left her chamber.
For a moment, Lucy covered her eyes and wept, but the next instant,clasping her hands together, she cried, "I will go to Hugh, and willbeseech him! He is more tender; he has more trust in his own greatrenown. The victor at Damietta, the conqueror of the lists at Sidon,need fear no injurious suspicion. I will go to him. I will entreat himon my knees.--But first to the Princess, with this packet. She mustgive it to her husband.--What does it contain, I wonder?"
Lacy gazed at it for a moment, and then at the other paper which herbrother had given her. Suddenly a light like that of joy broke upon herface, and she exclaimed, "He will! he will!--Why should I fear? whyshould I doubt? He told me himself t
hat in seven days he could provehis innocence.--He will, he will!---and with this before me, I needfear no shame. But now to the Princess." And with a quick step shehurried to the apartments of Eleanor, whom, for once, she found alone.
She was too deeply agitated for courtly ceremony; and gliding in, sheapproached the Princess as she sat reading, and knelt on the cushion ather feet.
"What is it, my poor Lucy?" said the Princess, bending down her head,and kissing her fair forehead, with a look of tender compassion; "thereseems some happiness mingled with the sorrow of your look."
"'Tis that I have hope!" replied Lucy; and with rapid but with lowwords she related all that had passed between her brother and herself.She then put the packet into Eleanor's hands, saying, "It will provehis innocence, I am sure; but the Prince is absent, and I am afraid youwill not open it."
"Nay," answered Eleanor, "I must not venture on such an act as that. Iam only bold where it is to show my love for him, but not to meddle inmatters of which he alone can judge. Neither is there occasion here, myLucy; he will be back ere long."
"But Alured thought not," replied her fair companion. "He had heardthat the Prince's journey from Leicester was put off till to-morrowmorning!"
"Not so, not so!" cried the Princess; "'twas but delayed for an hour ortwo, and he sent lest I should fear the rebels had detained him. Iexpect him each minute, Lucy. But in the meantime, tell me more clearlywhat caused that look of joy just now?"
Lucy hesitated. "'Twas that a hope has crossed my mind," she said--"ahope that I might yet save them both; and surely, lady," she continued,raising her soft, dark eyes to Eleanor's face--"and surely to save boththe life of a brother and a lover; to spare them deeds that can neverbe atoned; to shield Alured, not only from Monthermer's lance, but fromthe more terrible fate of going to his God with a false charge upon hislips--a charge which he knows to be false,--a woman may well put on aboldness she would otherwise shrink from--ay, and do things whichmaiden modesty would forbid, were not the cause so great andoverpowering."
"Certainly," rejoined Eleanor, "so long as virtue and religion say notnay."
"God forbid that I should sin against either!" replied Lucy, eagerly."That could never be, lady--But there be small forms, and prudentcautions, reserves, and cold proprieties, which, in the ordinaryintercourse of life, are near akin to virtues, though separate. Thesesurely may be laid aside, when the matter is to rescue from crime, fromdeath, or from disgrace, beings so much beloved as these?"
"Assuredly!" exclaimed Eleanor, "who can doubt it? To save my Edward,what should stand in my way? Nothing but that honour which I know hevalues more than all earthly things, or even life itself."
"Thanks, lady, thanks!" cried Lucy; "you confirm me in my purpose."
"But what is your purpose, my sweet cousin?" asked the Princess. "I donot yet comprehend you."
"Will you promise me," said Lucy, "that if I tell, you will let me havemy will; that you will put no bar or hindrance in my way, nor informany one of my scheme, but with my leave."
Eleanor smiled. "I may well promise that," she answered, "for if youplease, you may conceal your scheme, and then I am powerless. No bar orhindrance will I place, dear Lucy, but kind remonstrances, if I thinkyou wrong. What is this plan of yours?"
"This, this!" cried Lucy. "Here on this paper has my brother writtendown that he doubts Hugh de Monthermer's guilt; that he so much doubtsthe truth of the charge which he himself has made, as to require hissister to overlook the shedding of his blood, and unite her fate withthe man who slays him, if he should fall in those fatal lists.--Nay,lady, look you here; he puts no condition, but that Hugh de Monthermershould prove his innocence."
"Well," said Eleanor, "I see he is kind and generous, and evidentlybelieves the charge was rashly made, and is not just."
"Yet nought will keep him," replied Lucy, "from sustaining that chargeto-morrow at the lance's point, although he knows it to be false.Tears, prayers, entreaties, appeals to conscience and to honour, areall in vain with him: he will die, but yield no jot of what he thinkshis fame requires. He would not withdraw the accusation if an angeltold him it were untrue. But Hugh is not so stern and cruel, lady; hewill listen to reason and to right. He told me himself that he wouldhave laid down his battle hand, would but the King have named a fewdays later; for he is as sure as of his own life, to prove the guiltupon another man. Oh, lady! in that long, sad interview, he was as muchshaken as I, a poor weak girl. Yet what could I say, what could I do,so long as my brother maintained the charge in all its virulence? Now,however, now I will hie to him--ay, lady," she continued, "even to hischamber! I will beseech him, for mercy's sake, for my sake, for ourlove's sake, to avoid this unholy encounter; for the peace, for thecomfort throughout life of the lady that he loves, to quit this placeere morning's dawn to-morrow."
"He will not do it," answered Eleanor, sadly; "you will but wring hisheart, and break your own.--He will not do it."
"I will soften him with my tears!" said Lucy vehemently, "I will kneelto him on the ground; I will cover his hand with my kisses and water itwith my eyes--"
Eleanor shook her head.
"I will offer to go with him!" said Lucy, in a low and thrilling tone,fixing her eyes, with a look of doubt and inquiry, on the Princess'sface.
"Ha!" cried Eleanor, starting, while, for a moment, the colour mountedinto her cheek. But the next instant she cast her arms round Lucy, andbent her head towards her with a smile, saying--"And thou wiltconquer!--Dear, devoted girl, I dare not altogether approve andsanction what you do; yet, I will add, hard were the heart, anddiscourteous were the lip, to blame thee. The object is a mighty one;no common means will reach it; and, surely, if thou dost succeed insaving thy brother both from a great crime and a great danger, andproving thy lover innocent, without risking his renown, thou shaltdeserve high praise and honour, and no censure, even in thisfoul-tongued world in which we live. But stay yet awhile, Edward willsoon be here, and perchance this letter itself may render the trialneedless. You say that it contains proofs of your lover's innocence?"
"So my brother told me!" replied Lucy--"proofs that have shaken evenhis stern spirit; but, lady, you must not betray my secret to thePrince, for he will stop our departure."
"If I tell him," answered Eleanor, "my promise shall bind both; but,doubtless, the King, if there be any clear proofs here, in thesepapers, will order the wager of battle to be delayed. But go--get theeready for thy task, dear Lucy; when Edward comes, I will send for theeagain."
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