The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle
Page 15
*CHAPTER XV.*
_*RALPH RAPS AT THE CASTLE GATE.*_
At the moment when the Benedictine lay-brother, haggard and wounded,rushed into the yard of Eaton Castle, Ralph de Beauchamp was on thepoint of starting for Bletsoe, reassured as to Aliva by his cousin'saccount of the reception the former had given to William de Breaute.The single sentence uttered by the Benedictine ere he fell senseless tothe ground came as a terrible reaction. His impulse had been to rideoff rapidly to Bletsoe and urge his suit with Aliva and her father; andnow, at one fell swoop, came the news that she was prisoner in the handsof his rival, her discarded and insulted lover. Overcome with the shockof the news, following so soon upon his late rapture, he rode out of thecastle yard, after commending the messenger to the care of theby-standers. He was almost reeling in his saddle with mental agony.
When the lay-brother, left senseless at the door of the bridge chapel,had been restored to consciousness by his mother's care, his firstthought was for the young lady so treacherously kidnapped.
Despite his mother's entreaties, he made his way into Bedford, hisbleeding head roughly bandaged; and soon learned that the horse-litterof Margaret de Ripariis had passed through the town into the castle inthe early morning. But who might be within it no one could tell.
Then the Benedictine hastened to tell the townsfolk of this new outrageon the part of the De Breautes, and endeavoured, but in vain, to stirthem to action. They had lived too long under the tyranny of the RobberBaron to have courage enough to attempt to throw off his yoke.
Baffled and disheartened, the brave young fellow now determined to seekRalph de Beauchamp. The latter's devotion to the Lady Aliva was toowell known among the dependents of the De Pateshulles for theBenedictine to think for a moment that he should implore his aid invain.
Once outside the castle wall, Sir Ralph turned his horse's head towardsBedford. What he intended to do there, alone and unaided, he perhapshad scarcely considered. An irresistible impulse drew him to the spotwhere she whom he loved was imprisoned.
Bedford is some twelve miles from Eaton Socon, and when Ralph arrivedthere he found the burghers much exercised in their minds over the eventof that morning. They had hardly recovered from the shock of seeingHenry de Braybrooke, but the evening before, hurried through the streetsas a prisoner, ere this fresh outrage had followed. Not that it was byany means strange to see luckless women carried off to the castle--as,for instance, after the St. Alban's raid; but never yet had the RobberBaron dared to treat a member of one of the noble families of the countyin this fashion.
But though the Bedford burgesses were duly impressed with the enormityof Fulke de Breaute's doings, they were loath to take any steps to put astop to them. And indeed Ralph himself was obliged to confess that anyattempt to climb those lofty stone walls, or to throw themselves on tothe spears of the armed men who kept watch and ward night and day at thecastle gate, would have been utter madness. The only hope was that, nowthat one of the king's justices was actually a prisoner, the royalforces might be sent to extirpate this nest of robbers.
"Ah, Sir Knight," quoth one of the fathers of the town to Ralph, as hegravely shook his head, "our goodly town has indeed grievously sufferedsince thy noble family and thy renowned uncle were driven away. In theold days the castle was a protection and a great benefit to us. Butnow--alas, fair sir! thou knowest as well as we do what we suffer. Wecan scarce call our souls our own."
"Ay," put in one of the clergy of the town, who formed one of the groupwhich had gathered round young De Beauchamp, "see our fair church of St.Paul. It hath stood here since the days of the Saxon Bedicanford. Andnow, alas! how forlorn and shorn it standeth, even as a widow in herweeds mourning for her lord! Thus hath she stood since the day theimpious Fulke did wickedly break down the carved work of our Zion withaxes and hammers, and carry off her stones to strengthen yon greatcastle which towers above us. In the chancel resteth thy ancestorSimon, he who finished the good work begun by his mother, the LadyRoisia--to wit, the priory at Newenham for the canons of St. Paul's. Ingood sooth, Sir Knight, thy house and Holy Church have both good reasonto curse these French intruders."
Ralph turned dejectedly away from priests and burghers. The loss of hisfamily possessions hardly weighed with him, compared with the loss ofher who was more precious to him than spoils wrested from the Church.He rode slowly and deliberately to the castle gate.
The sentinels on duty stood at attention, ready to resist an attackshould a single horseman be so foolhardy as to ride against theiruplifted spears.
Ralph looked upwards at the stern walls frowning down upon him, andshook his sword at them in futile rage.
As he did so two figures appeared above the battlement of the barbican.They were the Robber Baron and his brother, who had been informed thatSir Ralph de Beauchamp had ridden up to the castle.
Fulke made the knight a mocking gesture of salutation.
"Sir Ralph," he said, "it grieves me sore that I cannot bid thee enterwithin these walls, and proffer thee the hospitality which is suitableto thy rank. But we entertain guests already."
So saying, he turned round and shoved forward the disconsolate-lookingjudge, Henry de Braybrooke.
"Our worthy guest here," he continued, "has not yet thought proper tocancel those writs which he and his brethren were pleased to issue fromtheir court at Dunstable. In consequence, he hath been forced topartake of the somewhat meagre hospitality of bread and water in thedungeon-vault beneath the keep. It may perchance be even necessary toresort to yet more painful measures."
"Sir Ralph de Beauchamp," called out the plucky little judge, trying tolean over the battlements, "I prithee, convey to the king, my royalmaster, that his servant will never consent to any reversal of judgmentsgiven in concert with the learned Thomas de Muleton and the learnedMartin de Pateshulle, at the bidding of the unlearned--
"Peace!" cried De Breaute, pushing the little man back violently; "Ibrought thee not hither to speak, but to be seen.--Soho, warder! takethe justice back again to the dungeon, and see that his supper besomewhat more scanty than was his dinner. Those who bend not muststarve."
And the warder led away the little justice, remonstrating and quotinglegal Latin anent wrongful imprisonment and detention.
Fulke de Breaute again looked over the parapet.
"Yet another prisoner have I here, Sir Ralph," he said; "but she isentertained in the lady's bower, as befits a damsel who is shortly to bethe bride of the brother to the lord of the castle. Even now our newchaplain, Bertram de Concours, he who anon served the chapel on BromhamBridge, prepares our long-disused chapel for the marriage rites."
Ralph could bear it no longer. He gnashed his teeth, and whirling hissword round his head in impotent fury, flung it at the speaker. Thegood blade shivered in two against the stone wall, and Fulke resumed hisbanter.
"Little boots it sending thy sword where thou thyself darest notfollow," said he; "but methinks thou hast tarried long enow beneath ourwalls. Get thee gone ere thy churlishness be returned with usury."
Ralph sprang from his horse. Unarmed though he was, he made for thegate, as if he would tear it down with his bare hands.
Fulke coolly signed to the sentinel who stood at his post over thegate-house, with cross-bow ready strung and quarrel fitted in the slot.The man took aim and released his string. The missile struck Ralph in aspot where his hastily-donned armour was imperfectly fastened, and hefell wounded to the ground.
At the same moment two female figures reached the western end of thewalk which ran along the top of the long wall bordering the river sideof the castle, at right angles to the gate-house.
One of them, a damsel of inquisitive disposition, hearing the twang ofthe cross-bow, sprang on to the parapet to see what was happening. Fromthe angle she could look down upon the level space outside the gate.
"What see you, Beatrice, that you watch so closely?" inquired a girl'svoice from the w
all beneath the former's vantage-ground.
"My lady," exclaimed Beatrice Mertoun, "the archer hath struck someknight below, for I see the townsfolk carrying off a wounded man clad inarmour. His helmet hath rolled from his head. What curly hair! Howpale he looks, alas, poor youth! Ah, I see my lord pointing to thehelmet. There goes a man from the wicket-gate. He has picked it up; heis bringing it in. Marry, how the burghers shrank back when heappeared! Methought they were like to drop the wounded man. But no;they have borne him off."
"I wot not what this may mean," said Lady Aliva; for she was the speakerfrom below. "There is no attack on the castle? There come no morearmed men?"
"Nay, none but the wounded one," replied Beatrice. "But stay, my lady; Iwill to the gate-house. Perchance I may learn somewhat."
Impelled by curiosity, the girl made her way down from the wall, andquickly crossed the yard.
Fulke, when the helmet had been brought him, glanced at it and thenthrew it contemptuously on one side. Then, when the burghers carryingRalph had disappeared into a neighbouring house, he turned away and wentto another part of the castle.
No sooner had he vanished than Beatrice Mertoun, standing below, calledup in her most bewitching tones to the archer who had shot the quarrel.
"Ho, Hubert--Hubert of Provence! Wilt do me a favour?"
The man-at-arms was one of her most ardent admirers. He looked down onthe pretty upturned face.
"A thousand, Mistress Beatrice! You have but to ask, pardie."
"Then throw me down yon helmet your lord cast away anon."
The man hesitated. He glanced round; but Sir Fulke was out of sight.Beatrice pouted deliciously.
"I said not a thousand, but one favour, Hubert. By my troth, Arnoul orDenis would have given it me in a trice. Methinks you set less store onmy words than--"
"Be not so cruel, fair one," exclaimed the admiring archer. "I obeyyour slightest wish. Here!"
The helmet fell at her feet. Beatrice picked it up, and then, withoutso much as a look at the archer, ran back with it to Aliva.
"See, my lady," she cried, "thou canst read these riddles of theheralds."
Aliva recognized on the helmet the crest of the De Beauchamps.