Chapter 3: A Strange Encounter.
"Let me go," said Paul; "I should like the walk through the wood. Iam quite strong again now, and I am weary of doing nothing frommorning to night."
"Well, I don't know why you should not if it pleases your fancy,"said the farmer. "You will be welcome at the Priory, as all guestsare who come with news for the holy brothers from the worldwithout. 'Tis less than four miles away, and you have got the useof your legs. Go, and welcome, if you will."
"I would go with you, were I not bound to go to Chelmsford myself,"quoth Jack, the farmer's ruddy-faced son, of whom mention has notyet been made.
Paul had indeed seen but little of him so far, as his time wasmainly spent in the fields, and he had been absent from home on hisfirst arrival there, buying some fat sheep to be killed and salteddown for consumption in the winter.
"I like well enough a visit to the Priory. There is always goodcheer there enough and to spare. They know what good living means,those holy men. If all other trades failed, I would not mindturning friar myself."
"Nay, brother, jest not upon the holy men," quoth his sister in atone of gentle reproof. Then turning to Paul, she added, withsomething of pleading in her tones, "But, sir, why peril yourselfby venturing into the forest alone? You have still but the use ofone arm, and were the robbers to be on the watch for you, you wouldfall an easy prey into their hands."
But Paul laughed, as also did Jack.
"I trow the robbers have something else to do than to play the spycontinually on me and my movements," he said. "They cannot alwaysbe on the watch, and the wood is dark and full of hiding places.Were I to hear the sound of pursuit, I warrant me I could hidemyself so that none should find me. I have done the like many atime before now. In this part of the country one must needs go intothe forest if one is ever to leave the shelter of the house at all.Have no fear for me; I will take care not to run into danger."
Joan looked as if hardly satisfied, though she was unable to upholdher case by argument; for it was very true that if their guest wasto be anything but a close prisoner, he must adventure himself fromtime to time in the forest. Jack, however, broke into one of hishearty laughs, as he looked at Paul, and said:
"Those same robbers are not such bad fellows, after all, as some ofour good folks would make out. True, they help themselves to ourgoods from time to time; but they are capital company if you chanceto fall upon their haunts, and they make you welcome. I've spentmore than one night amongst them, and never a bit the worse. Menmust live; and if the folks in authority will outlaw them, why,they must jog along then as best they may. I don't think they domore harm than they can well help."
Mistress Devenish shook her head in silence over the rather wildtalk of her son, but she said nothing. She was used to Jack's ways,and she was proud of his spirit, though afraid sometimes that itwould lead him into trouble. She had noted of late that he had beenunwontedly absent from home during the long evenings of the summerjust gone by, and had wondered what took him off, for he seldomgave account of himself. She noted, too, that he spoke in a verydifferent fashion from others of the robber band that was such aterror to the village folks. She did not know whether or not to putthese two facts together as connected with each other; but shelistened eagerly to all he said on the subject, trying to discoverwhat might be the meaning of this strange leniency of opinion."It is different for you, brother--they owe you no grudge," saidJoan, with a slight shiver; whilst the farmer broke in roughly:
"Tut, tut, Jack! what mean you by trying to make common cause withthe ruffians who would have carried your sister off as a prey ofthat graceless scamp well-called Devil's Own? I marvel to hear suchwords from you. You should know better."
"They are not all brutes like Devil's Own," muttered Jack in a lowtone; but he did not speak aloud, for the fashion of the dayforbade the young to argue with the old, or children to answer backwhen their parents spoke to them in reproof.
But Paul was still resolved that he would be the messenger to carryto the Priory that day the two fat capons the worthy mistress hadin readiness for the prior's table. They had been bespoken sometime, and could be no longer delayed. Paul was weary of an idlelife, and eager to see something of the country in which he foundhimself. He was in comfortable quarters enough at the farm; but hewas growing stronger each day, and was beginning to fret againstthe fetters which held him from straying far from the farm.
He did not much believe in the lasting anger of the robber band. Heknew that those gentlemen would have other matters on hand thanthat of revenging themselves upon him for his frustration of theircaptain's design. He was content to rest yet awhile beneath thehospitable roof of the Figeons, so long as he knew that hispresence there might be something of a protection and gain to itsinmates; but he had no intention of being a prisoner. His youngblood stirred within him, and he longed to be out in the free airof heaven again. His strength had all come back, and even thebroken arm was mending so fast that he felt it would not be longbefore he should gain its full use again. The love of adventure,strong within him, made him fearless even of a second encounterwith the robbers. He felt certain he could hold his own against oneor two, and a whole band would never take him unawares. He shouldhear or see them in plenty of time to hide away in some tree orthicket. It was absurd to be chained within doors any longer.
Paul was looking now a very different object from the battered andway-worn traveller who had rescued Joan from the robbers. A coupleof weeks' rest and good feeding had given a healthy glow to hischeek, had brightened his eye, and brought back the nativeboyishness and brightness to his face. He was stronger, gayer,blither than he had been since the never-to-be-forgotten day whenhe had closed his dead mother's eyes, and been obliged to fly forhis life from his ancestral halls, ere the rapacious scions of theHouse of York fell upon him there, to take into their ownpossession all that should have been his. For his father andbrothers lay in a bloody grave, killed in one of those many risingsand insurrections scarce mentioned in history, whereby theadherents of the Red Rose sought to disturb Edward's rule inEngland, and incite the people to bring back him they called theirrightful king.
Those days had changed Paul, a mere lad of seventeen, into a graveand sad-faced man; but the impression had gradually worn somewhatfaint during the three years in which he had been a wanderer and anoutcast from his home. Of late it had seemed to him that his lostyouth was returning, and certainly there was that in his brightglance and erect and noble bearing which won for him universaladmiration and affection.
He was, in truth, a right goodly youth. His features were veryfine, and the dark-gray eyes with their delicately-pencilled browswere full of fire and brilliance. The lips readily curved to abright smile, though they could set themselves in lines of resolutedetermination when occasion demanded. The golden curls clusteredround the noble head in classic fashion, but were not suffered togrow long enough to reach the shoulders, as in childhood's day; andthe active, graceful, well-knit figure gave indication of greatstrength as well as of great agility.
Paul's dress, too, was improved since we saw him last; for one ofthe travelling peddlers or hawkers who roamed the country withtheir wares, and supplied the remote villages with the greater partof those articles not made at home, had recently visited Figeon'sFarm, and Paul had been able to supply himself with a new andserviceable suit of clothes, in which his tall figure was set offto the best advantage.
It was made of crimson cloth and the best Spanish leather, and wascut after one of the most recent but least extravagant fashions ofthe day. Paul had been able to purchase it without difficulty, forhe had by no means exhausted the funds he had in his possession,and the leather belt he wore next his person was still heavy withbroad gold pieces.
Lady Stukely had seemed to have a prevision of coming trouble forher youngest-born son for many long years before the troublesactually came, and she had been making preparation for the samewith the patience and completeness that only a mother's heart wouldhave prompte
d. She had made with her own hands a stout leatherbelt, constructed of a number of small pouches, each one of whichcould contain a score of broad gold pieces. She knew full well thatlands might be confiscated, valuables forfeited, houses taken inpossession by foes, but the owner of the current gold of the landwould never be utterly destitute; so for years before her death shebad been filling this ingeniously contrived belt, and had storedwithin its many receptacles gold enough to be a small fortune initself. This belt had been in Paul's possession ever since the sadday when she had kissed him for the last time and had commended himto the care of Heaven. He had by no means yet exhausted itscontents, for he had often won wages for himself by following oneor another great noble in his private enterprises against somelawless retainer or an encroaching neighbour.
A little money went a long way in those days, when open house waskept by almost all the great of the land, and free quarters andfood were always to be had at any monastery or abbey to whichchance might guide the wanderer's feet. So Paul had not been forcedto draw largely upon his own resources, and was a man of somesubstance still, although his compact little fortune was so wellhidden away that none suspected its presence.
And now, his health restored, his strength renewed and his outerman refurbished in excellent style, Paul began to weary of theseclusion and monotony of the farm, and was eager to enjoy even themild relaxation of a walk across to the brothers of theneighbouring Priory. The basket was soon packed, and was intrustedto his care; and off he set down the easy slope which led fromFigeon's to Much Waltham, whistling gaily as he moved, and swinginghis heavy burden with an ease that showed how little he made of it.
Will Ives, the blacksmith's son, was looking out from the rudeforge as he passed, and came out to speak a friendly word to thefine young gentleman, as he now looked to rustic eyes. HonestWill's face had grown somewhat gloomy of late, though Paul did notknow it, and he was suffering, if the truth must be told, from thekeen pangs of jealousy. For he had long been courting JoanDevenish, and hoped to make her his wife before the year's end, andhe fancied that she was disposed to his suit, although she hadnever given a direct reply to his rather clumsy but ardent wooing.
Of course it seemed to the young smith that every man in the worldmust be equally enamoured of his sweetheart, and he was terriblyafraid that this fine young gentleman, with his handsome face andgraceful figure, and pleasant voice and ways, would altogether cuthim out with saucy Mistress Joan, who, it must be confessed, wasfond of teasing her faithful swain, and driving him to the verge ofdistraction. So it showed Will's good-heartedness that he did notshun and dislike his rival, but rather, when he found him bent onan errand into the forest, offered to go with him part of the way,to make sure that all was safe.
"We haven't seen anything of the robbers round here lately, andthey always give the Priory a wide berth, being half afraid ofincurring the ban of Holy Church, though they care little aboutanything else. Anyway, I'll walk a part of the way with you, andcarry the basket for a spell. Not but what you look brave andhearty again, in good faith."
Paul was ready enough for company, and Will soon got talking of hisown private affairs, and presently it all came out--how he hadloved Joan ever since they had been children together; how he hadworked hard these past three years to save money to furbish up alittle home for her; and how he was now building a snug littlecottage under shelter of his father's larger one, so that he mighthave a little place for her all her own, seeing that she had beenused to the space and comfort of the farm. To all this Paullistened with good-humoured interest, only wondering why Will'sface kept so lugubrious, as if he were speaking of something whichhe had hoped for, but which could never be.
"You will have to look a little brighter when you come a-wooing,"he said at length, "or Mistress Joan will be frightened to look atyou. And why have you kept away so much these last days? She hasbeen quite offended by it, I can tell you. It's always being saidthat you are sure to come today; and when the day goes by and youcome not, she pouts and looks vexed, and casts about for all mannerof reasons to account for it. You had better not be too slack, oryou will offend her altogether."
Will's face brightened up marvellously.
"Then you think she cares?"
"Why, of course she does. She's forever talking of you and all youhave done, and what a wonderful Will you are. When she sits at herwheel and chatters to me as I lounge by the fire, she is alwaystelling of you and your sayings and doings. Why, man, did you notknow that for yourself? Did you think all the love was on yourside?"
"I daresay I was a fool," said Will, getting fiery red. "But Ithought, perhaps, she would not care for a clumsy fellow like meafter she had seen a gentleman like you. You saved her life, youknow, and it seemed natural like that you should care for eachother afterward. I know I'm nothing like you."
"No, indeed. I'm a mere wanderer--here today and gone tomorrow; asoldier and an outcast, who could never ask any woman to share hislot. My good sword is my bride. I follow a different mistress fromyou. I may never know rest or peace till the House of Lancaster isrestored to its ancient rights. You need not fear me as a rival,good Will; for no thought of marriage has ever entered my head, andsometimes methinks it never will."
The smith's face was a study as he listened to these welcome words,and Paul laughed as he read the meaning of those changingexpressions.
"Give me the basket, and get you gone to Figeon's, and make yourpeace with your offended lady," he said, laughing. "You are but asorry wooer if you yield so soon to depression and despair. But Iwarrant she will forgive you this time; and if you will but pleadyour cause in good earnest, it may be that I shall yet have thepleasure of treading a measure at your wedding feast."
The blushing smith was easily persuaded to this course, and badefarewell to his companion in eager haste. He was clad only in hisworking apron, and his hands were grimy from his toil; but his openface was comely and honest enough to please the fancy of anymaiden, and Paul thought to himself that Mistress Joan would scarcereject so stalwart a champion after the fright and the shock of theprevious week but one. As Will Ives's wife she would be safer andbetter protected than as Farmer Devenish's unwedded daughter.
As for himself, thoughts of love and marriage had seldom enteredhis mind, and had always been dismissed with a light laugh. As hehad said to Will, he was wedded to a cause, to a resolute aim andobject, and nothing nearer or dearer had ever yet intruded itselfupon him to wean away his first love from the object upon which ithad been so ardently bestowed. The little prince--as in histhoughts he still called him sometimes--was the object of hisloving homage. King Henry was too little the man, and QueenMargaret too much, for either of them to fulfil his ideal or winthe unquestioning love and loyalty of his heart; but in Edward,Prince of Wales, as he always called him, he had an object worthyof his admiration and worship.
Everything he heard about that princely boy seemed to agree withwhat he remembered of him in bygone years. He and not the gentleand half-imbecile king would be the real monarch of the realm; andwho better fitted to reign than such a prince?
The kindly welcome he received at the Priory from Brother Lawrenceand the prior himself was pleasant to one who had so long been amere wanderer on the face of the earth. The beautiful medievalbuilding, with its close-shorn turf and wide fish ponds, was astudy in itself, and lay so peacefully brooding in the paleNovember sunshine, that it was hard to realize that the countrymight only too soon be shaken from end to end by the convulsions ofcivil war.
Paul was eagerly questioned as to what he knew of the feeling ofthe country, and he could not deny that there was great discontentin many minds at the thought of the return to power of theLancastrian king. The monks and friars shook their heads, andadmitted with a sigh that they feared the whole county of Essex wasYorkist to the core, and that it was the leaven of hereticalopinions which was at the root of their rebellion against theirlawful king. It was difficult to believe that the warlike Edwardwould long remain an exile, content to d
eliver up a kingdom whichhad once been his without striking a single blow, especially whenhis own party was so powerful in the land.. London, a hotbed ofLollardism, would soon raise its voice in the call for Edward ofYork. The present hour was calm and bright, and Henry of Windsorwore his crown again; but the mutterings of the coming storm seemedalready to be heard in the distance, and the brothers of themonastery did not blind their eyes to the fact that the wheel offortune might still have strange turns in store.
"Wherefore we must walk warily, and not stir up strife," quoth therubicund prior, who looked at once a benevolent and a strong-willedman. "We will pray for the restoration--the permanent restorationof the good king; but we must avoid stirring up the hearts of hissubjects in such a way as will make them his foes.
"Young sir, what think you of your hosts at the farm? Are theyquiet and well-disposed people, seeking in all things the good ofthe people, and giving due reverence to Holy Church?"
Paul answered eagerly in the affirmative. He had heard or seennothing of a suspicious character of late, and had grown very fondof the kindly folks, who made him so welcome to the best of whatthey had. His reply was considered very satisfactory, and the priordismissed him with his blessing; for Paul had no wish to be belatedin the forest, and proposed to return immediately after the middaymeal which he had shared with the brothers.
It was in somewhat thoughtful mood that he pursued his way throughthe woodland paths. Conversation about the burning questions of theday always left him with a feeling akin to depression. He longedfor the restoration of the house he loved and served, but knew thata transitory triumph was not a true victory. There was still muchto be done before Henry's seat upon the throne could be calledsecure; and what would be the result of the inevitable struggle ofthe next months?
He had unconsciously stopped still in deep thought as he askedhimself this question, and was leaning in meditation against agreat oak tree, when he suddenly became aware of a rapid treadapproaching along the narrow track. It seemed as if some youth wereadvancing toward him, for he heard the clear whistle as of a boyishvoice, and the springy tread seemed to denote youth and agility.
Although Paul was by no means afraid of a chance encounter in theforest, he was well aware that it was possible to be overreachedand taken prisoner by some of the robbers, and that he was anobject of special hatred to some amongst them. He decided,therefore, to act with caution; and as the spot in which he hadhalted was rather an open one, through which meandered a littlebrook, he resolved to slip silently into the thicket hard by, andwatch from that place of security what manner of person it wasadvancing.
A moment later he had effectually concealed himself, and hardly hadhe done so before a figure came into view through the dim aisles ofthe wood.
The figure was that of a tall, slim, graceful youth of singularlywinning aspect. His frame displayed that combination of strength,lightness, and agility which is the perfection of training, and hisface was as full of beauty as his frame of activity and grace. Thefeatures were exceedingly noble, and the poise of the head upon theshoulders was almost princely in its unconscious majesty. The eyeswere a deep blue gray, and looked out upon the world as if theirowner were born to rule. The hair was golden in hue, and clusteredround the head in manly fashion, not in the flowing love locks thatsome in those days affected. The dress he wore was very simple, andsomewhat faded, and in his cap a little silver swan was fastened,forming the only adornment on his person.
Paul, as he lay in his ambush, gazed and gazed as if fascinatedupon the figure now standing stationary in the midst of the greenspace. Instinctively he felt for the little silver swan in his owncap, and looked to see if he had on by mistake the faded dress hehad previously worn, so like the one he now gazed upon. For itseemed to him as though he saw his own double--or someone closelyresembling himself--and his heart began to beat almost tosuffocation; for had not this same experience been his before? andcould there be another, a third youth in the realm, whose face andfigure he had so accurately copied? Paul had not the royal mien ofthis wanderer--he had not even the same absolute beauty of featureor peculiar delicacy of colouring; but for all that the likenesswas so striking that it was bewildering to him to see it, and theimages and visions at once conjured up before his mind's eye wereof a nature to excite him beyond the bounds of consecutive thought.Holding his breath, and still uncertain if he might not bedreaming, he fastened his eyes upon the apparition, and waited forwhat should happen.
The youth paused and looked round him, and then spoke aloud:
"Have I come on a fool's errand after all? Shall I ever accomplishmy object? Methinks if I had but a trusty comrade at hand somewhatmight be done; but I fear my poor Jacques never reached the landalive, and I had trusted to him to be my guide and counsellor in myquest. Alone I feel helpless--stranded--bewildered.
"Ha! what is that? Who comes this way?"
"Your faithful servant, gracious prince," cried Paul, springing outof his concealment and throwing himself at young Edward's feet. "Mydear, dear lord, how come you here alone, unarmed, defenceless, inthe midst of a hostile country? Methinks I do but dream; but yetthe face, the voice--I cannot be mistaken. O sweet prince, did wenot truly say that we should meet again? Do you remember me?"
"Remember you, good Paul? Of a truth I do, and that right well; andit is indeed a happy chance that has thrown you across my path thisday. But Paul, on your life, on your loyalty as a subject, call menot prince again. It might cost me my life, and you yours.
"Hush! I will be obeyed, and I will explain in brief. I am hereunknown to all. I stole away from my mother's side, even as I stoleinto the forest with you when we were but boys together. She thinksme with her sister, the Princess Yolande. But I had my own purposein coming thus alone and disguised to our royal realm of England.They say my father reigns here once again. The crown has beenplaced upon his head by one I have almost the right now to call myfather-in-law. But what rule has he, in truth, who reigns not inhis people's hearts? What use to seek the empty glory of a goldencrown, who wins not the priceless guerdon of a nation's love?
"Listen then, Paul. They tell me that in my hands will the kinglypower soon be placed. If that is to be so, I would fain learn formyself the temper of my people. And this is not to be learned byEdward, Prince of Wales, seated in the midst of proud nobles at hisfather's court; but it may be learned by a humble wayfarer, whotravels from place to place seeking information from whence it maytruly be culled--namely, from the artless sons of the soil, whospeak not to please their listener but as their heart dictates.
"Paul, tell me I have done well--smile upon me again; for I am verylonely, and my heart sometimes sinks. But I love my people, andwould be loved by them, only I needs must grow to know them first."
"O my lord," cried Paul enthusiastically, "how can they help lovingyou when they see you? But how come you alone, and in these wildwoods, too, infested by fierce robber bands? It is not meet thus toperil your royal life."
The prince placed his hand smilingly on Paul's lips.
"Use not that word again," he said smilingly, yet with a certainimperiousness of manner that became him well. "I am thus solitarythrough the untoward accident that drowned the faithful followerwho alone shared my design, and I knew not that I was in peril fromthese lawless men in one part of the realm more than the other.Paul, if I ever wield the kingly power, I will put down these bandsof marauders with a strong hand. My peaceful subjects shall not goin terror of their liberties and lives. I would learn all theirwrongs that I may right them. They shall know at last that a princewho loves them has been in their midst."
"And, my lord, if you are thus alone and unattended, take me withyou on your travels. Did you not promise me long years ago that theday would come when we should roam the world together? and has notthe time come now?"
"Why, verily I believe it has," cried Edward, with brighteningeyes. "But, Paul, I have not asked you of yourself. Have you noother tie--no stronger claim? And how comes it that you are here
,so far away from your home? I have asked not your history, though Ihave told mine own."
"Mine is soon told, sweet prince," said Paul. "I crave your pardon,but I know not how else to frame my speech."
Then in a few graphic words he sketched the history of himself andhis kindred during those troubled years of civil strife and ofEdward's reign; and young Edward listened with a sorrowful air anddrooping mien, and heaved a deep sigh at the conclusion.
"Another faithful house ruined--another tale of woe for which itseems we unhappy princes are the cause. Nay, Paul, I know what youwould say, brave loyal heart; but it lies heavy on my soul for allthat. And having suffered thus, why tempt your fate anew by linkingyour fortunes with those of the hapless House of Lancaster? Whynot--"
"My lord, break not my heart by rejecting my poor services," criedPaul, plunging anew into the tale of his longing and ambition to beone day called the servant of the Prince of Wales; and then as bothwere young, both ardent, hot-headed, and hopeful, all stern andsorrowful thoughts were laid aside, and the two youths began toplan with eager vehemence the future of adventure which lay beforethem.
"And first, Paul, this you must learn once and for all: I am princeno more, but Edward alone, Edward Stukely--for I will e'en borrowyour good name--your younger brother, who seeks his fortune withyou. I will pass as cousin here, where you are known, but elsewhereit shall be as brothers we will travel. This strange likeness willbe my best safeguard, for none will doubt that we are close akin.Not as knight and squire, as once we thought, will we roam theworld in search of adventure. This little realm of England willsuffice us, and hand in hand as brothers will we go. But methinkswe shall surely meet as many strange adventures as in our dreams;and if I ever sit at last on England's throne, this journey ofthine and mine will be for years the favourite theme of minstrelsto sing in bower and hall."
In the Wars of the Roses: A Story for the Young Page 4