CHAPTER XXXII
THE SUBTERRANEAN PASSAGE
It was about ten o’clock on the night of the 17th of May, 1216, that aman and a boy--the one mounted on a strong Flemish charger, the other onone of those common riding horses then known as a “haquenée”--made theirway up the banks of the Kennet, and halted by the spot from which sorecently Pedro the page had emerged from subterranean darkness into thelight of day.
There need be no mystery, so far as the reader is concerned, as to whothe riders were. One was William de Collingham, the other was Wolf, theson of Styr, and it was clear from the caution with which they moved,that they were bent on some enterprise to the success of which secrecywas essential.
“Sir knight,” said the boy, in a low tone, “this is the spot.”
“Art thou certain?” asked the knight, looking round.
“As certain as that I serve the Icinglas, and that I played the part ofa goblin page in Chas-Chateil.”
“Good,” said the knight, pulling up his steed, and taking his bugle-hornfrom his belt as to sound a blast. However, he did not blow the roundnotes, but gave a low, peculiar whistle, which brought a man from amongthe trees. It was one of those obscure nights common in the month ofMay, and the moon affording but a dim light, the knight could not makeout the figure of the person who approached.
“Friend or foe?” cried Collingham.
“The Black Raven,” was the reply; and as the man drew near the knightand Wolf recognised Styr the Saxon.
“All right?” said Collingham.
“All is right,” replied the Saxon. “We have nothing to do but commendourselves to the saints and proceed to the work before us.”
“In God’s name, then, let it so be,” said the knight. “Summon the menwho are assembled, and let us to the business. By this hour, I doubtnot,” added he, “that the drunken governor is going through hisnocturnal exercises.”
Collingham, as he spoke, dismounted, gave his horse into the care ofWolf, and getting under the shadow of the trees, kept humming the songof “I go to the Greenwood, for Love invites me,” till Styr returned witha hundred men at his back, all armed, and prepared to attack or resistfoes just as occasion should arise. Some of them were simply peasants,others fighting men in the knight’s pay; but most of them were neithermore nor less than forest outlaws. Each of them was dressed in a shortgreen kirtle, hose of the same colour, a leathern cap or head-piece, andarmed with a short sword, a horn slung over his shoulder, a long bow inhis hand, and a bunch of arrows in his belt. A formidable band it was,though not numerous, and destined ere long, when increased tenfold, tobe celebrated by minstrels as holding out bravely against the invader,when all others fled before his sword or crouched at his feet. At thetime of which I write the existence of Collingham’s band was not evenknown to the French. Ere twelve months passed over, the cry of the BlackRaven was more terrible to Louis and his captains than an army withbanners.
“All is ready,” was the reply.
“Then let us proceed, in the name of God and good St. Edward,” said theknight, and he moved towards the entrance of the subterranean passage bywhich Pedro the page--or, rather, Wolf the varlet--had escaped.
Taking Wolf with him to act as a guide, and leaving a band of six pickedmen to keep guard at the mouth, Collingham, having ordered all thebriars and stones to be cleared away from the entrance, caused a numberof torches to be lighted.
“Now, my merry men,” said he, “let us enter this passage, which willconduct us to the hall of the castle. When we arrive there, if need be,we must break the door forcibly open, and combat all who oppose us. ButI would fain hope that we may enter noiselessly, overpower the garrison,and do what is needful, without shedding blood. However,” added he, “ifit prove necessary, be not squeamish, but strike boldly, and spareneither the oppressor nor such as serve him. What better standard doEnglishmen want than the gory head of a Norman tyrant?”
“We will! we will! we will most cheerfully obey you,” answered the men,whose excitement had reached a high pitch. “Neither Hugh de Morevillenor Anthony Waledger can look for much mercy at our hands; neither formercy nor justice have our race ever been beholden to them.”
“But shed not a drop of blood unnecessarily,” added Collingham, as,stooping down, he entered the cavern, and told Wolf to lead the way, hismen following, and Styr the Saxon bringing up the rear, with his sworddrawn, and firmly resolved to slay any man who attempted to turn back.
Marching noiselessly along the passage, they at length reached the stairthat led to the door into the private chamber, and this both Collinghamand Wolf exerted all their ingenuity to open, but in vain. The springcould only be acted on from within; and, after repeatedly makingfruitless attempts, the knight gave up in despair.
“My hopes were vain,” said he, at length, “and we only waste time. Bringforward the hammers to break the door, and let every man draw his bladeand be ready to follow me.”
One of the peasants, a Dane, who, as far as strength and stature wereconcerned, might have compared to advantage with Siward, the old Earl ofNorthumbria, advanced with a sledge-hammer, and with one blow smashedthe door to pieces.
“Forward!” said Collingham; and the peasant, passing into the secretchamber, followed by the knight, with another blow smashed the door thatled from the chamber into the great hall. Still the garrison gave noindications of having taken alarm; and Collingham, guided by Wolf, wentstraight to the apartment where Sir Anthony Waledger was engaged incombat with imaginary foes, took the governor prisoner, and shut him uptill the work was complete.
But by this time the alarm had been given, and caught the ears of a manwhose presence at Chas-Chateil Collingham did not even suspect. It wasRalph Hornmouth, who had arrived that very morning, and who, owing torecent fatigue, luckily for the assailants, slept sounder than was hiswont. Springing from his bed, Hornmouth hastily armed himself, rushedfrom his dormitory, roused and called the garrison, and, with his sworddrawn, and the soldiers at his back, made for the great hall, to whichCollingham had just returned, and, with shouts of “St. Moden! St. Moden!Down with the robber herd!” rushed upon the intruders. But Collinghamfaced Hornmouth with a courage that equalled his ferocity, and theoutlaws answered the cry of “St. Moden!” with loud shouts of “Ho, ho,for the Black Raven! Out! out!”
And now the great hall was filled with combatants, and a bloody conflicttook place, both parties fighting furiously. Collingham and Hornmouthsingled each other out, and between the gigantic knight and the hugesquire was fought a desperate hand-to-hand fight, no man interferingwith them. For a time neither had the advantage, and the rafters rangwith the echoes of their blows. At length Collingham’s sword broke, andhis fate seemed sealed, but he drew back, grasped his terrible club, andrenewed the combat, which grew fiercer and fiercer. What might have beenthe issue it is difficult to guess; but Hornmouth’s foot slipped just asa terrible blow alighted on his crest, and he lay senseless on thefloor. In vain the garrison attempted to rescue him. The outlaws, if notthe better men, had a mighty advantage over soldiers taken by surprise,roused out of their first sleep, and hastily armed; and ere long theyyielded to their fate, ceased to struggle, and sullenly laid down theirarms.
And now Collingham lost no time in completing the business which hadbrought him there. Guided by Wolf, he proceeded to the chamber in whichOliver Icingla was a prisoner, and knocked.
“Who knocks?” cried a stern voice.
It was Oliver’s, and very bold in tone; though what the young Englishmanintended to do if there had been danger it is difficult to guess,inasmuch as he had not even a weapon.
“It is I, William de Collingham,” was the reply; and forthwith the dooropened and revealed Oliver standing in the dim moonlight as guard overthe women who had appealed to him for protection. It is needless torelate what followed. Suffice it to say that in half an hour the castlewas left to its mortified and wounded garrison; the outlaws haddispersed through the woods; and Collingham and Oliver Icingla,
withWolf perched behind Oliver on the white “haquenée,” were ridingleisurely in the direction of London.
But Oliver Icingla, eager as he might be for liberty and action, did notleave Chas-Chateil without a sigh.
“Noble demoiselle,” said he, as he took leave of De Moreville’sdaughter, “I once said that when I left the castle I should carry withme one pleasant memory; and now that I have the prospect of freedombefore me, beshrew me if I do not deem it dearly purchased at the costof a departure from the place which your presence consecrates in myheart. But, farewell! May the saints watch over you, and may we meet inmore peaceful days and on a happier occasion!”
“Amen!” said the Norman maiden, in a soft whisper, as Oliverchivalrously carried her soft hand to his lips, and the tear from hereye alighted on his hand. “May God so order it.”
Alas! alas! for the vanity of human wishes! It was neither on a peacefulday nor a happy occasion that Oliver Icingla and Beatrix de Morevillewere to meet again.
Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter Page 34