CHAPTER XXI.
THE ARREST.
_Count._ If thou be he, then thou art prisoner. _Tal._ Prisoner to whom?
SHAKESPEARE.
For several days after the visit of the Lady Guendolen and her loverto the house of the verdurer of Kentmere, rumors, many of which hadbeen afloat since the catastrophe on the sands, began to increaseamong the dalesmen, of strangers seen at intervals among the hills orin the scattered hamlets, seeming to observe every thing, butthemselves carefully avoiding observation, asking many questions, butanswering none, and leaving a general impression on the minds of allwho saw them, that they were thus squandered, as it were, through thelake country, as spies, probably of some marauding band, but certainlywith no good intent. These individuals bore no sort of resemblance, itwas said, or affinity one to the other, nor seemed to have any leagueof community between them, yet there was an unanimous sentiment,wherever they came and went, which they ordinarily did in succession,that they were all acting on a common plan and with a common purpose,however dissimilar might be their garb, their occupation, or theirimmediate purpose. And widely dissimilar these were--for one of thosesuspected was in appearance a maimed beggar, displaying thescallop-shell of St. James of Compostella, in token that he hadcrossed the seas for his soul's good, and vowing that he had lost hisleft arm in a sanguinary conflict with the Saracens, who werebesieging Jerusalem, in the valley of Jehoshaphat; a second was adashing pedler, with gay wares for the village maidens, and costlierfabrics--lawns from Cyprus, and silks and embroideries of Ind, for thetaste of nobler wearers; another seemed a mendicant friar, though ofwhat order it was not by any means so evident, since, his tonsureexcepted, his apparel gave token of very little else than raggednessand filth.
Nearly a week had passed thus, when, at a late hour in the afternoon,word was conveyed to the castle of Sir Yvo, under Hawkshead, by thebailiff, in person, of the little town of Kendal, which lay aboutmidway between Kentmere and the bay, that a small body of horse,completely armed, having at their head a gentleman apparently of rank,had entered the town about mid-day, demanded quarters for the nightfor man and horse, and sent out one or two unarmed riders, as if tosurvey the country. In any part of England traversed by great roads,this would have created no wonder or surmise; for hundreds of suchparties were to be seen on the great thoroughfares every day, fewpersons at that period journeying without weapons of offense and armsdefensive, and gentlemen of rank being invariably attended by bodiesof armed retainers, which were indeed rendered indispensable by theprevalence of private feuds and personal hostilities which were neverwholly at an end between the proud barons, whose conterminous landswere constant cause of unneighborly bickerings and strife.
In these wild rural districts, however, it was quite different, wherethe roads merely gave access and egress to the country lying below themountains, but opened no thoroughfare either for trade or travel,there being no means of approach from that side, even to Penrith orCarlisle, already towns of considerable magnitude, lying but a fewmiles distant across the vast and gloomy fells and mountains, exceptby the blindest of paths, known only to shepherds and outlaws, leadingthrough tremendous passes, such as that terrible defile ofDunmailraise, famous to this day for its stern and savage grandeur.Hence it came, that, unless it were visitors to some of the fewcastles or priories in the lower valleys, such as Furness Abbey,Calder Abbey, Lannercost Priory, Gleaston Castle, the stronghold ofthe Flemings, Rydal, the splendid manor of the Ratcliffes, thisfortalice of De Taillebois, at Hawkshead, and some strong places ofthe Dacres and Cliffords, yet farther to the east, not constituting inthe whole a dozen within a circumference of fifty miles, no strangerswere ever seen in these secluded valleys, without exciting wonder, andsomething of consternation.
So it was in this instance; and so urgent did it appear to Sir Yvo,that, although he was just sitting down to supper when his officerarrived--for Kendal was his manorial town, where he held his courts,leet and baron--that he put off the evening meal an hour, until heshould have heard his report, and examined into all the circumstancesof the case.
Then commending his bailiff for his discretion, he dismissed him, withorders to make all speed home again, without signifying at Kendalwhither he had been, to give all heed and courteous attention to thestrangers, keeping ever a sharp eye on their actions, and to expecthimself in the burgh ere midnight.
This done, he returned to the hall, as calm as if nothing had occurredto move him, though he was indeed doubly moved, both as lord of themanor and sheriff of the country; and, merely whispering to Aradas tohave fifty lances in the saddle within an hour, and to dispatch amessenger to have the horse-boats ready on the lake, opposite toBowness, took his place at the board-head, with his fair child on hisright, and the young esquire on the left, and carved the roe venisonand moor fowl, and jested joyously, and quaffed his modicum of thepure light wines of Gascony, as if he had nothing on hand that nightbeyond a walk on the battlements, before retiring. So soon, however,as supper was over, he bade his page go up to his private apartment,and bidding Aradas look sharp, for there was little time to lose, hetold Guendolen, with a smile, that he should make her chatelaine forthe night, since he must ride across the lake to Kendal.
"To-night, father!" she exclaimed, astonished, "why, it is twentymiles; you will not be there before daybreak."
"Oh, yes, by midnight, girl, if we spur the sharper; and it is partlyon your business that I go, too, child; for I fancy there is somethingafoot, that bodes no good to your friend Kenric; but we'll nip it inthe bud, we'll nip it in the bud, by St. Agatha!"
"Ah!" said the girl, turning pale, "there will be danger, then----"
"Danger!" said the old knight, looking at her sharply, "danger, not awhit of it! It is but that villain d'Oilly, with a score of spears ofSherwood. I must take fifty lances with me, for, as sheriff, I mustkeep peace without spear-breaking; were it not for that, I would meethim spear to spear; and he should reckon with me, too, for poor SirPhilip, ere we parted, as he shall do yet, one day, although I see nothow to force him to it. So now, kiss me, silly minion, and to bed withyou while I go arm me."
And the stout old warrior strode up to his cabinet, whence hedescended in half an hour, armed _cap-a-pie_ in chain mail, platearmor not having yet come into use, with his flat-topped casque on hishead, his heater-shaped shield hung about his neck, and his huge,two-handed sword crossing his whole person, its cross-hilt appearingabove his left shoulder, and its tip clashing against the spur on hisright heel. As he entered the court of the castle, his men were all intheir saddles, sitting firm as pillars of steel, each with his longlance secured by its sling and the socket attached to the stirrup,bearing a tall waxen torch in his right hand, making their mail-coatsflash and twinkle in the clear light, as if they were compact ofdiamonds. Aradas was alone dismounted, holding the stirrup for hislord until he had mounted, when he sprang, all armed as he was, intothe saddle. The banner-man at once displayed the square banner of hislord, the trumpeter made the old ramparts ring with the old gatheringblast of the house of De Taillebois, and, two and two, the glitteringmen-at-arms, defiled through the castle gate, and wound down the steephill side, long to be traced from the battlements, now seen, now lostamong the woods and coppices, a line of sinuous light, creeping, likea huge glow-worm, over the dark champaign.
Before they reached the lake shore, however, the moon rose, round andred, from behind the Yorkshire fells; and, extinguishing theirflambeaux, they pricked rapidly forward through the country, which,intricate as it was, soon became as light as at noonday.
On the other side of the lake, circumstances of a very differentnature, though arising from the same causes, were occurring. Early inthe afternoon, while Kenric was absent on his rounds, a single rider,plainly clad, and unarmed, except his sword, made his appearance,riding up the valley from the direction of Kendal, and soon pulling upat the cottage, inquired the road to Rydal. Then, on being informedthat there was no pass through the hills in that direction, a
nd thathe ought to have turned off to the eastward, through a gap five milesbelow, he asked permission to dismount and rest himself and his horseawhile, a favor which Edith readily conceded. Oat cakes and cheese,then, as now, the peculiar dainties of the dalesmen, with home-brewedmead, were set before him, his horse was fed, and every act ofhospitality which could be done to the most honored guest was extendedto him.
He observed every thing, noted every thing, especially the crossbowwhich Eadwulf had brought with him on his late inopportune arrival,learned the name and station of his entertainer, and how he was thetenant of the Lord of Hawkshead, Yewdale, Coniston, and Kentmere, andverdurer of the forest in which he dwelt; and then, offering money,which was refused, mounted his horse, and rode back toward Kendal morerapidly then he came.
So soon as Kenric returned from his rounds, he was informed of allthat had passed, when, simply observing, "Ha! it has come already, hasit? I scarce expected it so soon," he bade one of the boys get thepony ready, and prepare himself to go round the lake to the castle,and then sat down with his wife to the evening meal, which she hadprepared for him.
When they were alone, "Now, Edith, my dear," he said, "the time hascome for which we have been so long waiting. I know for certain thatSir Foulke d'Oilly is in Kendal, and our good lord will know itlikewise before this time. Therefore there is no danger that will notbe prevented almost before it is begun. That I shall be taken, eitherby violence or by legal arrest, this night, is certain--though I thinkprobably by violence, since no true caption may be made after sunset."
"Then, why not escape at once?" asked his fair wife, opening her greatblue eyes wider than their wont. "Why not go straight to the castle,and place yourself in my lord's safeguard?"
"For two reasons, wife of mine, each in itself sufficient. First, thisis my post, and I must hold it, until removed or forced from it.Second, my lord deems it best I should be taken now, and the matterended. But this applies not to you or my mother. The Normans must findneither of you here; no woman, young or old, is safe where Foulked'Oilly's men are about. You must wrap the old woman as warm as youmay, and have her off on the pony to Ambleside as quickly as may be.Ralph shall go with you. I am on thorns and nettles until you aregone."
"I will never leave you, Kenric. It is useless to speak of it--never!"
"Oh! yes, you will, Edith," he answered, quietly. "Oh! yes, you will,for half a dozen reasons; though one is enough, for that matter.First, you will not see my mother dead through your obstinacy. Second,you will not stay to be outraged yourself, before my very eyes,without my having power to aid you----"
"Kenric!"
"It is mere truth, Edith. Thirdly, it is your duty to go; and last, itis my will that you go, and I never knew you refuse that."
"Nor ever will, Kenric; though it break my heart to do it."
"Tush! tush! girl; hearts are tough things, and do not break soeasily; and when you kiss me to-morrow at the castle, you'll think ofthis no more. See, here's the boy with the pony and the pillion. Now,hurry, and coax my mother out, and get on your cloak and wimple,that's a good lass. I would not have you here when Foulke d'Oilly'sriders come, no! not to be the Lord of Kentmere. Hurry! hurry!"
Many minutes had not passed, before, after a long embrace, and a floodof tears on the part of Edith, the two women mounted on the sturdypony, the wife in the saddle, and the aged mother seated on a sort ofhigh-backed pillion--made like the seat of an arm-chair--and securedby a broad belt to the waist of her daughter, took their way acrossthe wooded hills toward Ambleside, the boy Ralph leading the animal bythe head, and two brace of noble alans, his master's property, whichKenric did not choose to expose to the cupidity of his expectedcaptors, gamboling in front, or following gravely at heel, accordingto their various qualities of age and temper.
The son and husband gazed after them wistfully, so long as theyremained in sight; and when, as they crossed the last ridge of the lowintermediate hills which divide the narrow glen of the upper Kent fromthe broader dale of Windermere, standing out in bold relief againstthe strong light of the western sky, Edith waved her kerchief, he drewhis hard hand across his brow, turned into his desolate dwelling, and,sitting down by the hearth, was soon lost in gloomy meditation.
Darkness soon fell over lake and meadow, mountain and upland. Hundredsof stars were twinkling in the clear sky, to which a touch of frost,not unusual at this early season among those hill regions, had lent anuncommon brilliance, but the moon had not yet risen.
Kenric was now becoming restless and impatient, and, as is frequentlythe case when we are awaiting even the most painful things, which weknow to be inevitable, he soon found himself wishing that the timewould come, that he might know the worst, and feeling that thesuspense was worse than almost any reality.
Several times he went to the door, and stood gazing down the valley,over the brown woods and gray, glimmering waters, to look and listen,if he might discover any signs of the coming danger. But his eyescould penetrate but a little way into the darkness, and no sounds cameto his ears, but the deep sough of the west wind among the pine boughsof the mountain top, the hoarse ripple of the brook brawling againstthe boulders which lay scattered in its bed, and the hooting of thebrown owls, answering each other from every ivy-bush and holly-brakeon the wooded hill-sides.
Nothing could be more calm or peaceful than the scene, nothing lessindicative of man's presence, much more of his violence and angrypassions. Not even the baying of a solitary house-dog awoke theechoes, though oftentimes the wild, yelping bark of the fox came sharpfrom the moorland, and once the long-drawn howl of a wolf, that mosthideous and unmistakable of savage cries, wailed down the pass likethe voice of a spirit, ominous of evil.
The hunter's spirit was aroused in the watcher by the familiar sound.He listened intently, but it was heard no more, and, shaking his head,he muttered to himself, "He is up in the dark corrie under Nortonpike; I noted the wool and bones of lambs, and the spoil of haresthere, when I was last through it, but I laid the scathe to the foxes.I knew not we had a wolf so nigh us. Well, if they trap not meto-night, I'll see and trap that other thief to-morrow. And thinkingof that, since they come not, I trow there is no courtesy compels meto sit up for them, and there's some thing in my head now that chimesa later hour than vespers. I'll take a night-cap, and lay me down onthe settle. Gilbert, happy dog, has been asleep there on the hearththese two hours;" and, suiting the action to the word, he drew amighty flagon of mead, quaffed it to the dregs, and, throwing a heavywooden bar across the door, wrapped his cloak about him, and, castinghimself on a settle in the chimney corner, was soon buried in deepslumber.
When he woke again, which he did with a sudden start, the moon wasshining brightly through the latticed casements, and there were soundson the air which he easily recognized as the clash of mail coats andthe tramp of horses, coming up at a trot over the stony road. Lookingout from a loop beside the door, he perceived at once that the momenthe expected had arrived. Ten men, heavily armed, but wearingdark-colored surcoats over their mail, and having their helmets casedwith felt, to prevent their being discovered by the glimmering of thesteel in the moonlight, had ridden up to the foot of the little knollon which the cottage stood, and were now concerting their futuremovements.
While he gazed, nine of the men dismounted, linking their horses, andleaving them in charge of the tenth. Four then filed off to keepwatch, and prevent escape from the rear, or either end of thebuilding; and then, at a given signal, the others marched up to thedoor, and the leader struck heavily on the panel with the haft of aheavy battle-ax, crying, "Open! on pain of death! open!"
"To whom? What seek you?" asked Kenric, whose hand was on the bar.
"To me, Foulke d'Oilly. I seek my fugitive villeyn, Eadwulf the Red.We have traced him hither. Open, on your peril, or take theconsequence."
"The man is not here; natheless, I open," replied Kenric; and, withthe word, he threw open the door; and the men-at-arms rushed in,brandishing their axes, as if they expected resist
ance. But the Saxonstood firm, tranquil, and impassive, on his hearthstone, and gave nopretext for violence.
"And who may you be, sirrah," cried the leader, checking the rudenessof his vassals for the moment, "who brave us thus?"
"Far be it from me," said he, "to brave a nobleman. I am a free Saxonman, Kenric, the son of Werewulf, tenant in fee to my Lord ofTaillebois, and his verdurer and forester for this his manor ofKentmere."
"Thou liest," said one of the men-at-arms. "Thou art Eadwulf the Red,born thrall of Sir Philip de Morville, on his manor of Waltheofstow,and now of Sir Foulke d'Oilly, who has succeeded to the same."
"Thou liest!" replied Kenric, stoutly. "And I will prove it on thybody, with permission of Sir Foulke d'Oilly, with quarterstaff orgisarme, battle-ax or broadsword."
"Art sure this is he, Damian? Canst swear to the man? Is there anyother here, who knows the features of the fellow Eadwulf, to witnessthem on oath? Light yonder cresset from the embers on the hearth;advance it to his face! Now, can you swear to him?"
The torch was thrust so rudely and so closely into his face, that itactually singed his beard; yet he started not, nor flinched a hair'sbreadth.
"I can," said the man who had first spoken, stubbornly. "That isEadwulf the Red. I have seen him fifty times in the late Sir Philip'slifetime; and last, the day before he fled and slew your bailiff ofWaltheofstow in the forest between Thurgoland and Bolterstone, inSeptember. I will swear to him, as I live by bread, and hope to seeParadise."
"And I," exclaimed another of the men, after examining his features,whether deceived by the real similitude between them and his brother,which did amount to a strong family likeness, though the color of thehair and the expression of the two men were wholly dissimilar, or onlydesirous of gratifying his leader. "I know him as well as I do my ownbrother. I will swear to him any where."
"You would both swear falsely," said Kenric, coolly. "Eadwulf is mybrother, son of Werewulf, son of Beowulf, once henchman to Waltheof,of Waltheofstow, and a free Saxon man before the Conquest."
"I will swear to him, also," cried a third man, who had snatched downthe fatal crossbow and bolts from above the chimney. "Kenric andEadwulf are but two names for one man; and here is the proof. Thiscrossbow, with the name Kenric burned into the stock, is that whichEadwulf carried on the day when he fled; and these quarrels tally,point for point, with those which were found in the carcass of thedeer he slew, and in the body of the bailiff he murdered!"
"Ha! What say you to that, sirrah?"
"That it is my crossbow; that my name is Kenric, by-named the Dark;that I am, as I said before, a free Saxon, and have dwelt here onKentmere since the last days of July; so that I could have slainneither deer nor bailiff, between Thurgoland and Bolterstone, inSeptember. That is all I have to say, Sir Foulke."
"And that is nothing," he replied. "So thou must go along with us.Wilt go peaceably, too, if thou art wise, and cravest no brokenbones."
"Have you a writ of _Neifty_[4] for me, Sir Foulke?" asked Kenric,respectfully, having been instructed by Sir Yvo.
[4] _De Nativo Habendo._--Howell's State Trials, 38, note.
"Tush! dog, what knowest thou of _Neifty_? No, sirrah, I seizemine villeyn, of mine own right, with mine own hand. What sayst tothat?"
"That you must seize me, to seize justly, by the sheriff; and I denythe villeynage, and claim trial."
"And I send you, and your denial, and your _Neifty_, to the fiendwho hatched them. You are my slave, my born slave; and in my dungeonsof Waltheofstow will I prove it to you. Hugo, Raoul, Damian, seizehim, handcuff his wrists behind him, drag him along if he resist."
"I resist not," said Kenric. "I yield to force, as I hold you all towitness; you above all, Gilbert," addressing the boy who stoodstaring, half-awake, while they were manacling his hands. "But I prayyou, Sir Foulke, to take notice that in this you do great wrong to mygood lord, Sir Yvo de Taillebois, both that he is the Lord ofHawkshead, Coniston, and Yewdale, and of this manor of Kentmere onwhich you now trespass, and that he is the sheriff of these countiesof Lancaster and Westmoreland, where you wrongfully seizejurisdiction. And this I notify you, that he will seek the right atyour hands, and that speedily."
"Dog! Saxon! slave! dirt of the earth! do you dare threaten me?" criedthe fierce baron, purposely lashing himself into fury; and he strodeup to the helpless man, whose arms were secured behind his back, andsmote him in the mouth with his gauntleted-hand, that the blood gushedfrom his lips, and streamed over all the front of his leathernhunting-shirt.
"That, to teach thee manners. Now, then, bring him along, men; set himon the black gelding, chain his legs fast under the brute's belly,ride one of you at each side, and dash his brains out with your axesif he look like escaping. Away! away! I would be at Kendal before theyring the prime,[5] and at Lonsdale before matins.[6] So shall we bewell among the Yorkshire fells before daybreak."
[5] Prime was the first service, and began the instant midnight had sounded.
[6] Matins was the second service, at 3 A.M.
His words were obeyed without demur or delay, and within five minutesthe Saxon was chained on the back of a vicious, ill-conditioned brute,with a savage ruffian on either side, glaring at him through the barsof their visors, as if they desired no better than a chance to brainhim, in obedience with orders; and the whole party, their horses beingquite fresh, were thundering down the dale at a pace that would bringthem to Kendal long enough before midnight.
Wager of Battle: A Tale of Saxon Slavery in Sherwood Forest Page 23