CHAPTER VI.
Thrice had I loved thee Before I knew thy face or name: So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame, Angels affect us oft, and worshipped be.--Donne.
The place to which Sir Osborne Maurice was conveyed, when theservants, according to their master's commands, removed him from thebook-room, was a large dark chamber, running along beneath the wholeextent of the principal stair-case, and some way into one of thetowers beyond. The old manor-house--which for many reasons Sir Payanstill inhabited, even after dispossessing Lord Fitzbernard of ChilhamCastle--although built of brick, in a more modern style than theancient holds of the feudal nobility, had not entirely abandoned thecastellated architecture formerly in use. Here and there, upon thelong front of the building, was fastened a large square tower, uselessas a defence, and inconvenient as a dwelling; and at every angleappeared an imposthume-like watch-turret, of redder brick than therest, like carbuncles upon the face of a drunkard. The curse of smallwindows also was upon the house, making it look as sombre without asit was dark within, and the thick leafless wood that swept round it onboth sides excluded great part of that light which might otherwisehave found its way into the gloomy mansion.
Darker than all the rest was the chamber to which Sir Osborne Mauricewas conveyed; the whole of that part which was under the stair-case,receiving no light whatever, except from the other half, that, placedin one of the square towers, possessed the privilege of an unglazedwindow near the ceiling. It would be difficult to say for what purposethis chamber was originally contrived; but it is probable that at thetime the house was built (during the contentions of York andLancaster), such rooms might be necessary, even in private houses,both as places of strength and concealment, although too weak toresist long attack, and too easy of discovery to afford any verysecure lurking-place. The use to which Sir Payan Wileton applied itwas in general that of a prison for deer-stealers and other offenderswho came before him in his magisterial capacity, which offenders hetook care should ever be as numerous as there were persons of thelower orders who opposed or displeased him.
The men who conducted the young knight shut the door immediately uponhim; and thus being left to ruminate over his fate, with his armsstill tightly pinioned behind him, and scarcely light sufficient todistinguish any objects which the room contained, it may well beconceived that his meditations were not of the most pleasantdescription. But, nevertheless, indignation had roused his spirit, andhe no longer felt that depression of mind, and abandonment of hope,which for a time had overpowered him. His first thoughts, therefore,were now of escape and revenge, but for the moment no means presentedthemselves of either; and though he searched round the apartment,ascertaining the nature and extent of his prison, which only consistedof that room and a large closet containing some straw, no chancewhatever of flight from thence presented itself, and he was obliged towait in hopes of circumstances proving his friend.
In about half an hour, the voice of Sir Payan Wileton was heardwithout, giving various orders, and a moment after, the trampling ofhorses sounded as if passing by the window. To Sir Osborne, accustomedfor several years to watch with warlike acuteness every motion of ashrewd and active enemy, these sounds gave notice that his persecutorwas gone for the time, and even the circumstance of his absenceexcited in the bosom of the young knight fresh expectation of somefavourable opportunity.
Hardly had Sir Payan departed, when the lock, which might well havefastened the door of an antediluvian giant, squeaked harshly with thekey; and the tall fellow, whom we have denominated hitherto, and shallstill continue to denominate Longpole, entered, and pushed the doorbehind him.
"The devil's gone out on horseback," said he, coming near Sir Osborne,and speaking low, "and I have just got a minute to thank yourworship."
"To thank me, my friend!" said Sir Osborne, somewhat doubting theman's meaning; "for what should you thank me?"
"For throwing the man over a hedge that struck my father," saidLongpole, "and by that I see you are a true heart and a gentleman--anda knight into the bargain, I am sure, in spite of all Sir Payan'stales, and his minion's false swearing; and if I were not his swornservant I'd let you off this minute, if I could find a way."
"But is it not much worse to aid in so black a plot as this than toleave this vile suborner, who is not your born master, and never canbe lawfully, if you be the son of old Richard Heartley? Only hear me."
"Nay, sir knight," said Longpole; "faith I must not hear you, for Imust mind my oath, and do as I'm bid, though it be the devil bids me.I only came to thank you, before I brought the other prisoner here,and to tell you, that though I have forgotten and forgiven many hardknocks, I never forget a good turn, and that you'll find, whatever youmay think now. Every dog has his day, but the dog-days don't last allthe year."
After this quaint hint he waited for no reply, but quitted the room asfast as possible, and in a moment after returned, pushing in theunfortunate Jekin Groby almost drowned in his own tears.
"Here, I've brought your worship a great baby," cried Longpole, beforehe closed the door, "who has wasted as much salt water in five minutesas would have pickled a side of bacon."
As soon as they were alone, Sir Osborne attempted to comfort theunhappy clothier as far as he could, assuring him that he had nothingto fear; for that he was not in the least the object of the attack,which had only comprised him on account of his being present at thetime.
"But my bags! my bags!" blubbered Jekin Groby; "they've got my bags:four hundred and twelve golden angels, and a pair of excellent shears,oh! oh! oh! I know it's along of you that I've got into the scrape. Ohdear! oh dear! Why the devil didn't you tell me you had made theCornish men revolt? then I wouldn't have gone with you; I'd ha' seenyou hanged first. But I'll tell King Henry and Lord Darby, I will; andI'll have back my angels, I will. Lord! Lord! to think of my beingcommitted for aiding and abetting Osborne Maurice, alias OsborneDarling, alias Jenkins, alias Thompson, alias Brown, alias Smith, tomake the Cornish folks revolt; I that was never there in my life!"
"Nor I either," said the knight, calmly.
"Why, they all swear you were!" cried Jekin Groby, leaving offweeping; "and that you and five hundred miners burnt and sacked thetowns, and I believe carried away the steeples on your backs, for amatter of that, you did so much. They all swear it."
"And they ail swear falsely," answered Sir Osborne, "as you may verywell see, when they swear that you were there aiding and abetting me."
"Gads! that's true too," said Groby: "if they swear such big liesabout me, why mayn't they do the like about you? I thought that niceyoung lady, and that goodly old priest, would not ha' been so fond ofyour worship if you had been a robber and an insurrectionist. Lord a'mercy! I beg your worship's pardon with all my heart." As Groby lostsight of the subject of his bags, his grief abated, and looking roundthe room, he added, "I say, sir knight, is there no way of getting outof this place? What think ye o' that window?"
"If I had my hands free," said Sir Osborne, "I would try to climb upand see."
"Gads man! let's see your hands," said Groby; "mine are tied too, butI've managed many a tight knot with my teeth. Turn round, yourworship, more to the light, such as it is. Ah, here I have it, theleading cord! Now pull; well done, millstones! It gives!" And what bydint of gnawing and pulling, in about five minutes Jekin Grobycontrived to loosen the cord that fastened the knight's arms, and avery slight effort on Sir Osborne's part finished the work, and freedthem completely. The knight then performed the same good office to hisfellow-prisoner; and poor Jekin, overjoyed even at this partialliberation, jumped and sang with delight. "Hist! hist!" cried he, atlength; "if I remember, that long rascal of a fellow did not lock thedoor: let us see. No, as I live, the bolt's not shot. Let us stealout; but first I'll look through the keyhole. Out upon it! there hesits, talking to two of his fellows; ay, and there's a latch too onthe outside of this cursed door, with no way to lift it on the in."
"The window is the surest way," said the knight,
"if I can but reachit. Lend me your back, good master Groby, and I will see. The sunshines strong through it, and yet I cannot perceive that it throws theshadow of any bar or grating."
"Welcome to my back," said the clothier: "but, oh! do not leave me inthis place; pray don't ye, sir knight!"
"On my honour I will not!" replied the knight, "though it is not youthey care to keep. Once I were away, you might have your liberty thenext hour. But still I will not leave you."
"Thank you, sir knight, thank you!" said honest Jekin. "All I ask is,when you are up, help me up too; and if we can get out, leave me assoon as you like, for the less we are together, I take it, the betterfor Jekin Groby. And now upon my back; it is a stout one."
Jekin now bent his head against the wall, making a kind of step withhis two clasped hands, by means of which Sir Osborne easily got hiselbows on the deep opening of the window, which, from the thickness ofthe wall, offered a platform three feet wide, and with an effort heswung himself up. "Clear, all clear!" cried he, joyfully. "And now, mygood Jekin, let us see how we can get you up. Stay, let me kneelhere;" and turning round, he knelt down, holding out his hands toJekin Groby. But it was in vain that Sir Osborne, with all his vaststrength, strove to pull up the ponderous body of the Kentishclothier. He succeeded, indeed, in raising him about a foot from theground, and holding him there, while he made a variety of kicksagainst the wall, and sundry other efforts to help himself up, allequally ineffectual; but at length Sir Osborne was obliged to let himdown, and still remained gazing upon him with a sorrowful countenance,feeling both the impossibility, with any degree of honour, to leavehim behind, and the impracticability of getting him out.
Poor Jekin, well understanding the knight's feeling, returned hisglance with one equally melancholy; and after remaining for a momentin profound silence, he made a vast effort of generosity that againunloosed the flood-gates of his tears, in the midst of which heblubbered forth: "Go, sir knight, go, and God speed you! Heaven forbidthat I should keep you here! Go!"
Sir Osborne jumped down, and shook him by the hand. "Never!" said he,"never! But there seems still some hope for us. That tall fellow, thatwe called Longpole this morning, is more friendly to us than he seems;and I can tell him something that will perhaps make him serve us morecompletely, if he will but hear me. Let me see whether he is nowalone." And by the same means that Jekin Groby had before used toascertain that the man was there, Sir Osborne discovered that the twoother servants had left him, and that he was alone. "Hist! RichardHeartley!" said Sir Osborne, putting his mouth to the keyhole; "hist!"
"Who calls?" cried Longpole, starting up.
"'Tis I," said Sir Osborne; "open the door, and speak to me."
"I dare not! I must not!" cried Longpole. "Have patience!" hewhispered, "have patience! I will come to you after dark."
"Yet listen to me," said Sir Osborne; but at that moment a sound ofhorses' feet was again heard through the open window, and,unwillingly, he was obliged to desist.
The arrival of some guest now took place, as Sir Osborne judged by thesounds which made themselves heard: the inquiries for Sir Payan, thedirections for tending the horses, and the orders to have them at thegate in an hour, the marshalling to the banquet-hall, the cries of theserving men, and all the fracas that was made, in that day, in honourof a visitor.
"By heaven!" said Sir Osborne, "it is Lady Constance de Grey! Iremember she proposed coming here towards noon. If we could but lether know that we are here, or good old Dr. Wilbraham, her people wouldsoon free us. But never does it fall better. Longpole has gone fromhis watch, or he might tell her. However, the door is only held bythis latch; let us try to force it. Place your shoulder with mine,good Groby. Now a strong effort!" But in vain. The giant door stoodunmoved, and Sir Osborne was obliged to resign himself to his fate.
Presently the noise of serving the repast in the chief hall died away,and the servants, retiring to their own part of the house, left therest in quiet, while not a sound stirred to communicate to the bosomsof the prisoners any sensation either of hope or expectation. Afterabout a quarter of an hour's pause, however, a door opened, and thevoice of Lady Constance was heard speaking to Dr. Wilbraham. "Nay, mygood father," she said, "do not go yourself to seek them. Though wehave been treated with but little courtesy, yet we may stay a quarterof an hour longer. Perhaps the servants have not dined, and that isthe reason they do not come."
"By your leave, lady, I will go," said the chaplain, "and will seethat the horses be brought up; for to my poor mind we have staid heretoo long already for the civility we have received. I will not belong."
"Doctor Wilbraham!" cried Sir Osborne, as the door shut; "DoctorWilbraham?" But the good tutor turned another way, and passed onwithout hearing the voice of his former pupil, and silence resumed herdominion over the part of the house in which they were placed. In aminute or two after, however, a heavy foot announced to the watchfulears of the young knight the approach of some other person; but heturned away towards the hall where Lady Constance had been left, andseemed to enter.
Shortly the voice of the lady made itself heard, speaking high andangrily, in a tone to which the lips of Constance de Grey seldom gaveutterance.
"I do not understand what you mean, sir," said she, coming out of thehall. "Where are my servants? Where is Dr. Wilbraham?"
"That was not your way, my pretty lady," cried the voice of thePortingal captain. "Let me kiss your loafly hand, and I will show youthe way."
"Stand off, sir!" exclaimed Lady Constance. "Dare you insult me in mycousin's house?"
"This way! this way! Lady Constance de Grey," cried Sir Osborne, in avoice that shook the hall. "This way there are friends. Throw up thelatch!"
At that moment the unscrupulous Portingal seems to have offered somestill greater insult to the young lady; for, with a scream, she dartedtowards the spot to which the voice of Sir Osborne directed her, andthrowing up the latch, as he called to her to do, ran in, followedclosely by the Portingal. Urged by fear, Lady Constance flew directlyto the knight, and recognising a friend, clung to him for protection.The captain, not observing that his hands were freed, did not scrupleto pursue her, even close to the side of the prisoner, calling to hernot to be afraid; that he would show her the way. But Sir Osborneraised his arm, and in a moment laid the Portingal grovelling on theground, with the blood gushing from his mouth and nostrils.
Lady Constance still clung to the knight, who totally forgetting thepossibility of escape, endeavoured to soothe her and calm heragitation. Not so Jekin Groby: after pausing for a moment, confoundedby the whole business, he at length bethought him, that as the doorwas open he might as well walk out, and with this intent made a quickstep or two towards it. His purpose, however, was defeated by thePortingal, who recovered from the blow, and perceiving the design ofthe clothier, started upon his feet, and jumping through the opendoor, banged it in the face of honest Jekin, at the same time makingthe whole house ring with his cries of "Help! help! The lady isletting out the prisoners, and they shall all get loose! Help! help!"And getting hold of the rope of the alarum, he rang such a peal assoon brought the whole household, together with the servants of theLady Constance, round the door of the strong room.
Various were now the cries and exclamations: "What's the matter?" "Arethey out?" "Which way did they go?" "Where's the lady?" "Oh Lord!" "Ohlauk!" "Oh dear!" "Dear me!" "How strange!" "Who'd have thought it!"While the Portingal, with his face all streaming with blood, explainedto them that Lady Constance wished to let the prisoners out; and thathe, notwithstanding their efforts, had shut them up all together, bythe valour of his invincible arm, and he called his bloody muzzle tobear testimony to the truth of his asseveration.
"You lie, you vagabond thief!" cried one of the young lady's servants."It was you stole my riding whip, when you ran away in such a hurryfrom the inn last night."
"You must make a great mistake, my friend," said Dr. Wilbraham, whohad come up amongst the rest. "Lady Constance de Grey has too muchresp
ect for the law to assist any prisoners to escape from the houseof a magistrate. Let me in here, and we shall soon hear the truth ofall this."
"And let me in!" "And let me in!" "And let me in too!" cried a dozenvoices; and all prepared to rush into the room the moment any oneraised the latch, on which Longpole had his hand for the purpose.
"Devil a one of you!" cried Longpole. "Curiosity, I've heard say, wasone of the great vices of the old gentlewoman of Babylon, and socertainly I shall not gratify yours. March every one; for his worship,when he went away, gave me charge of the prisoners, and I am to answerfor them when he comes back. The only one who goes with me shall behis reverence, who, God bless him, taught me to read and write, andspeak French, when I was little Dick Heartley, the porter's son at theold castle."
"And art thou little Dick Heartley?" exclaimed Doctor Wilbraham. "Weare both changed, Dick; but open me the door, good Dick, for by thatPortingalo's speech I fancy the young lady is here also with theprisoners, though I conceive not how."
Heartley accordingly opened the door sufficiently to allow theclergyman to pass, and then following, he shut it, taking care to puthis dagger under the latch, to prevent its obstructing his exit, incase of the servants' leaving the spot during his stay.
At first the change from a bright light to comparative obscurityprevented the good tutor from distinguishing clearly the objects inthe apartment to which he was admitted by Longpole; but who canexpress his astonishment when he beheld Sir Osborne? Forgetting LadyConstance and every other circumstance, he clasped his hands in a sortof agony. "Good God!" exclaimed he, "is it possible? You here! You, mylord, in the power of your bitterest enemy? Oh! Osborne, Osborne! whatcan be done to save you? And is it you," cried he, raising his voice,and turning to Longpole, in a tone of bitter reproach, "and is it you,Richard Heartley, that do the work of jailer upon your own born lordand only lawful master?"
"My born lord!" cried Heartley, springing forward; "what does yourreverence mean? Who is he? They told me his name was Maurice--OsborneMaurice."
"Osborne Darnley, they should have said," replied the young knight."Your old lord's son, Dick Heartley."
Heartley threw himself at his lord's feet. "Why did not you tell me?Why did not you tell me?" cried he. "I'd sooner have chopped my handoff. I that first taught you to draw a bow and level an arrow! I thatsought you all through the camp at Terrouenne to be your servant andservitor, as in duty bound, only that you were away guarding the fortbridge on the Lambre! Cut my hand off! I'd rather have ripped myselfup with my dagger."
It may be supposed that the surprise of Lady Constance and of JekinGroby was somewhat analogous to that expressed by Longpole on findingthat the person they had known only as Osborne Maurice, or at best asSir Osborne Maurice, an adventurous soldier, whose necessitous couragehad obtained for him the honour of knighthood, was in fact the youngLord Darnley, whose misfortunes and accomplishments had alreadyfurnished much employment for the busy tongue of fame. To the younglady, especially, this discovery gave a sensation of timid shame, forthe interest she had so unguardedly displayed in his fate; an interestwhich nevertheless she might perhaps feel heightened when she foundall that she had heard of Lord Darnley identified with all that sheknew of Osborne Maurice. "I too may ask, my lord," she said, "why youdid not tell me; or rather, why you did not tell my father, who everexpressed the deepest interest in your fate, and in his life-timemight have served you?"
"Your noble father, lady," replied Lord Darnley, "was well aware who Iwas, even when I was a guest at his mansion; and he, as well as therest of my friends, thought it best that I should still conceal myname while in England, in order to veil me from the machinations of aman whose unaccountable interest at court, and unscrupulous nature,were almost certain to carry through whatever villanous attempt heundertook against me. Our lands and lordships he holds, not as we did,by chivalry and tenure of possession, but only as steward of DoverCastle, an office given and recalled at pleasure. You now see how wisewas the precaution, since here, in the midst of the most civilisedcountry in Europe, I have been unlawfully seized, on the king'shighway, accused of fictitious crimes, and destined to a fate thatonly time will show. To think that I, a man-at-arms, long used tocamps, and, without boasting, on bad soldier either, should be, likean infant, in the hands of this deep-plotting usurper! 'Tis enough todrive me mad!"
"No, no, my lord," said Heartley, or, as we have called him, Longpole,"don't you fear. They say that when Old Nick stirs the fire, he issure to burn his fingers, and when he salts a birch broom, he picklesa rod for his own back. But stay, let me see that there is no one atthe door listening: no, there they are, at the farther end of thehall, but they can't hear. So, my lord, I'll undertake to get you outthis blessed night. My oath to Sir Payan is up at twelve o'clockto-night."
"No oath can bind you to commit a crime," said the clergyman; "andthat it is a crime to aid in any way in detaining your lord here, caneasily be proved."
"Oh! your worship," said Heartley, "I can't reason the matter withyour reverence, you'd pose me in a minute; but, nevertheless, I'llkeep my oath, and I can give you a good reason for it. It would do mylord no good if I was to break it: there are twenty people round aboutwho would all join to stop him if I were to let him out this moment,and with my young lady's three servants to boot, we should still bebeaten by the numbers. We must wait till after dark; ay, and tillafter the bell rings to bed at eleven; but then I will find means tofree my lord."
"But may they not have thus time to commit some evil deed?" demandedLady Constance, "and your tardy succour may come too late."
"No, no, my lady," replied Longpole; "I heard yon Portingallo, who isjust riding away, tell his rascally slavish crew, as he was lockingthem up in the granary, that at half-past one he was to be back; andthen they were to carry down the two prisoners to the ship, for whichthey were to have two hundred gold angels amongst them. Now, we shallbe far enough before half-past one."
"At all events, my lord," said Lady Constance, "it will not be longbefore we are at Canterbury, from whence we can send you sufficientsuccour, backed with authority competent to procure your release."
"But remember, lady," said the knight, "that I am but Sir OsborneMaurice, and no one must know me as anything else if it can beavoided; for it is of the utmost consequence to my interest, that atpresent I should not appear before our noble but somewhat waywardking, as I really am. And now, let me return you a thousand and athousand thanks for your kind interest past and present; to which butadd one favour. When I am free, give me but one little glove from thisfair hand," and he raised it to his lips, "and I will place it on mypennon's pike, and write underneath it, _gratitude_; and if it fall inthe listed field, or the battle plain, Darnley is dead."
"Nay, nay, my lord," replied Lady Constance, with a blush and smile,"too gallant by half! But you are a prisoner, and I believe promisesmade in prison are not held valid. Wait, therefore, till you are free,and in the mean time you shall have my prayers and best wishes, andsuch aid as I can send you from Canterbury I will."
There is a witchery in the sympathy of a beautiful woman, whoseinfluence all men must have experienced, and all women understand; andthough our hero felt the most devout conviction that he was not theleast in love in the world with Lady Constance de Grey, there is noknowing how far his gratitude for the interest she took in his fatemight have carried him, had she remained there much longer; and evenwhen she left him, and he heard the horses' feet repass the window ofhis prison, he felt as if he were ten times more a prisoner thanbefore.
There was something so kind and so gentle in her manner, and her smileilluminated her countenance with such angelic light, that while shewas there, even though speaking of them, his sorrows and his dangersseemed all forgot. She was so young, and so beautiful too, and therewas in her look and her gesture and her tone so much of that undefiledsimplicity which we love to suppose in a higher nature of beings, thatthe young knight, as an admirer of everything that is excellent, mightwell mak
e the fair creature that had just left him the theme of histhoughts long after she was gone; and in such dreams absorbed, hepaced up and down the strong-room, finding out that loss of rank andfortune was a much greater misfortune than ever, till then, he haddeemed it.
At the same time that Lady Constance departed, our friend Longpolealso left the prisoners; promising, however, to see them from time totime during the day, and to find means of liberating them at night. Inthis arrangement Jekin Groby took care to be specially included; andtrusting implicitly to the promises of Dick Heartley on the score ofhis freedom, his only farther consideration was concerning his bags.
"Don't you think, my lord," said he, after waiting a moment or two inorder to see whether Lord Darnley would finish his meditativeperambulations; "don't you think King Harry will make this Sir Payan,or Sir Pagan as they ought to call him, refund my angels? Hey! mylord?"
"If there be justice in the land," replied Darnley; "but mark me, goodJekin; you call me my lord. You have heard me say that it may be ofthe utmost detriment to my interest if I be known as Lord Darnley.Circumstances have put you in possession of my secret; but if youwould pleasure me, if you would not injure me, forget from this momentthat I am any other than Sir Osborne Maurice: call me by no othertitle, think of me under no other name."
"No, indeed, my lord," said Jekin; "I promise your lordship never tocall you my lord again; I won't indeed, my lord! Lord! There, onlysee, my lord, I have called you my lord again! Well, it does come sonatural to one, when one knows that you are my lord, to call you mylord. What a fool I am! But your lordship will forgive me; and so I'llgo and sleep in that straw in the closet, and forget it all, for Ishan't get my natural rest to-night, that's clear."
So saying, Jekin nestled himself in the straw, which had attracted hisattention, and shutting the door to exclude all light, he was soonburied in a profound sleep; while Sir Osborne (which, according to hiswish, we shall not cease to call him) continued his meditations,walking up and down, as if on guard at some dangerous post.
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