CHAPTER XIX.
_THE CHANCELLOR'S AWARD._
The story was told. Amalric stepped forward and offered to theChancellor a second long stiletto, the very fellow and counterpart ofthe one just tendered by Marlow.
"This was the weapon found buried in the heart of the dead man," hesaid; "I can testify that my friend and comrade Hugh le Barbier, whoseroom at St. George's I share, never possessed such an one. It is ofItalian workmanship, and the two weapons are a pair from the samemaker."
A low murmur had been for some time rising from the crowd; now thepeople broke forth into execrations and menaces. Somebody pulled thecowl from the head of the would-be monk, and when the untonsured headand foreign face was seen by all, the clamour of wrath and fury couldnot be kept down; indeed it needed all the authority of thosesurrounding the Constable and the Chancellor to restrain the angryclerks and citizens from setting upon the wretched criminals and tearingthem limb from limb.
But the tumult was appeased after some little delay, and the Chancellorspoke in clear and ringing accents.
"Tito Balzani, you are here confronted with the evidence of your crime.Have you anything to say in your own defence?"
The wretched criminal, cowering with fear, confessed his guilt, onlypleading in extenuation that Roger de Horn had been the leading spiritall through, and had devised the plot, whilst he had been only a tool inhis hands.
The Chancellor heard these words with stern coldness, and, deigning noreply, contented himself with handing the culprit over to the Constable,as he had no jurisdiction over the persons of other than members of theUniversity. Roger, however, claimed to be a clerk, and to be under theauthority of the Chancellor; so whilst the hapless Tito was led away tothe Constable's prison, to be dealt with hereafter by a differenttribunal, Roger remained amongst the unruly clerks, who awaited theaward of the Chancellor in some fear and trembling.
Every eye was fixed upon the face of the great man as he rose to speak.He had conferred for a while with the Constable, and now addressedhimself in the first place not to the dark-browed Roger, whose face wasa picture of lowering malignity and craven fear, but to the throng ofminor defaulters who had been accused of indiscriminate rioting in thestreets during a period of many weeks, and of acting as ringleaders inthe disturbances which were growing almost intolerable.
The Chancellor spoke with moderation but with great firmness, pointingout the folly and danger of such conduct, the interruption to study, andthe peril to the peace of the city. He then went on to say that hegreatly reprehended the practice of carrying arms--a custom which, in acity surrounded by walls and inhabited by members of a peacefulfraternity, ought not to be needful, but which the lawless violence ofthe clerks had rendered necessary. He hoped that in days to come thiscustom would die out; but for the present he should not attemptlegislation for the well-disposed and orderly members of the University.But he called upon all the turbulent clerks who had been convicted ofdisturbing the peace on many different occasions to deliver up theirarms at once into his keeping, and to refrain from bearing them againuntil they had licence to do so. The names of these persons were to betaken; and if they were found with arms upon them after this injunction,they were to be brought before him by the Proctors, and would then bedealt with more severely.
The Constable then rose and said he should make a like rule forturbulent citizens; and the ringleaders of the recent riots were broughtup one by one and bidden to lay their arms upon a table placed there forthe purpose, after which their names were taken, and they were, as itwere, bound over to keep the peace.
This act, which combined clemency with firmness, was very popular withthe multitude, and the culprits themselves were thankful for having beentreated with such leniency. A number of them left the hall on hearingthis award, but others remained to hear what would befall their oldcomrade Roger de Horn, who had not been recognized by many in hischanged condition, having in fact taken some pains to keep himself awayfrom former associates until he had carried out his plans.
The braggart and bully was led in his turn before the Chancellor, hishands still bound, but the arms he had upon him still in their place.Roger was one of those men who always carried a sword, and was of theregular swashbuckler type so common in the Middle Ages. He looked apitiable object now--fear and rage struggling for mastery in his face ashe met the steadfast gaze of the Chancellor. His spirit had deserted himunder his misfortunes, and his blotched face was white with craven fear.
"Roger de Horn, calling thyself Robert Holker, thou hast been caughtred-handed in an act of unpardonable wickedness, and hast been (if thycomrade speaks truth) deeply concerned in a murderous plot. Thy casewill be considered at leisure, and thy punishment made known when thatof Tito Balzani is likewise decided. Meantime thou wilt be kept inrestraint, and taste the wholesome discipline of prison. Take off thatsword and deliver it, in my presence, to Hugh le Barbier, whom thou hastsought so greatly to injure. Thou shalt never wear arms in this cityagain. Thou wilt do well, if ever thou dost receive liberty, to quitOxford and seek to live a different life in some other place. Here thyrecord has been nothing but one of black treachery and disgrace!"
A murmur of approbation followed these words. Gilbert Barbeck, who wasstanding guard over the prisoner, so far loosed his right hand as toenable him to obey the Chancellor's command. With sullen brow, and eyesthat gleamed fiercely as those of a wild beast caught in the toils,Roger detached the sword from his belt and tendered it to Hugh; but somalevolent was the look upon his face that a faint cry broke from theveiled maiden who stood nigh at hand, and drew the Chancellor's regardsupon her.
"Remove the prisoner," he said sternly; and Roger was led away, the hallalmost clearing itself as soon as the people had seen the last of thisprocession.
Around the dais at the upper end there still remained the knot ofpersons who had brought in Roger and Tito, together with those who hadaccompanied the Constable and the Chancellor. The latter turned towardsLinda, and asked in a gentle tone,--
"What dost thou still fear, fair maiden?"
She made a humble reverence and put back the hood of her cloak,permitting for the first time her fair, pure face to be seen. Her eyeslooked like those of a startled fawn, and the flitting colour came andwent in her cheek, but she spoke with a soft and gentle steadiness whichbespoke a well-ruled spirit.
"I have come to fear those evil men with a great fear," she answered."Twice have they sought to compass the death of him I love, and toobtain possession of mine own person. They are crafty and wily, as wellas fierce. I fear them sorely. No place seems safe from them; and yetone of them is mine own kinsman--my half-brother. But I fear me he hassold himself to do evil, and is the tool of a spirit more wicked thanhis own."
Here Bridget Marlow, who had been speaking apart with her husband,stepped forward and said,--
"Reverend sir, the maid speaks no more than the truth; and if Roger deHorn be let loose again, methinks peril will again threaten her safetyand ruin the peace of our home. But for the promptness and courage ofthese young gentlemen, I trow I should have been murdered and the maidcarried off ere the sun set yestere'en. Although I love her as the appleof mine eye, I fear me that our home is no safe place for her--or willnot be when Roger de Horn is set at liberty. Wherefore we do ask counseland help of thee what we shall do for her, for she was sent to us fromher father's house because that was no safe place for her; and now ourhome seems little safer, and were hurt to come to her from thence, ourgrey hairs would go down with sorrow to the grave."
Edmund de Kynaston, who had been present at this function, had been seena little while before to step to his father's side and speak earnestlywith him for a few minutes; and now the Constable stood forth, andaddressed himself partly to the Chancellor and partly to the kinsfolk ofthe maid.
"I have somewhat to say about that. This maid is of our city, andtherefore has a claim to what protection I, as keeper of the city, canafford her. I grieve that twice over she has been subjected to them
achinations of evil-doers; and since the man who plans these evildeeds may probably (since he has been artful enough to keep his handsfree from actual blood-guiltiness) be sooner or later set at liberty, itbehoves us to take measures to thwart any further schemes on his part.So, my lord Chancellor, I have a proposition to make. Within the wallsof the Castle the maid would be safe. I myself have a daughter who hasofttimes begged of me to find for her a companion of her own age andsex, to assist her in her tasks and be her friend and confidante. Thismaid is virtuous and fair; she is beloved by Hugh le Barbier, of whomall men speak well. He is ready to make her his wife so soon as hisfather shall be willing; and pending that time, I will give her anasylum in my household, and my daughter will make of her a companion andfriend. Will that content you, good people, who have played the part ofparents to the maid?"
The Marlows were overjoyed at the proposition. Greatly as they regrettedparting from Linda, they felt that their home was no safe asylum forher, and that it was scarce the fit home of one who was to wed with ascholar and a gentleman in the position of Hugh le Barbier. Lindaherself, although with some tremors, gratefully accepted the profferedboon; for she remembered pretty Alys of old, and had always loved andadmired her. To dwell near to her, in a place where she could sometimessee her lover, and have news from day to day of his safety, was anenchanting prospect; and though she shed some tears at parting from herkindly aunt and uncle, her face kindled into smiles of hope andhappiness as Edmund and Hugh presently conducted her into the presenceof Alys, who started up from her embroidery frame with a little cry ofsurprise and pleasure.
Although she had charged Edmund to carry a message to her father when arumour of what was passing below had reached her, she scarcely expectedthat the result would be so prompt and satisfactory. Ever since Hugh hadrecommenced his wooing of Linda, Alys had been to some extent in hisconfidence, and had been full of keen interest in the matter. Hugh'sdisappearance, and his sudden return with his story before dawn to-day,had filled all his friends with excitement, sympathy, and wrath; and hisfears for Linda's safety had awakened in Alys the vehement desire tobefriend her. Edmund had even gone forth to see if he could find anytrustworthy friend to dispatch to Eynsham (marvelling what had become ofLeofric, Jack, and Gilbert, who were wont to be forward with help whereany comrade was concerned), when he had met the procession coming in,and had hastened to Alys with a hurried account of what he had gleanedfrom the brief explanations of his friends. After that he and Alys hadmade this plan of befriending Linda, and now she had been brought to herapartment to be her "friend," as the girl herself called it, thoughLinda declared that it was as tirewoman or serving-maid she had come.
"For I am but a city maiden, and thou the daughter of a noble knight,"said Linda; whereat Alys smilingly rejoined,--
"Nay, but thou art the betrothed of one who will one day win his spurs,and rise to be as great a man as my honoured father. We love Hugh hereeven as a brother, and I have so ofttimes longed for a sister."
So the gentle Linda took up her new duties within the safe shelter ofthe Castle walls, and the life of Alys was the brighter and happier inconsequence. She was in need of a friend and confidante of her own ageand sex; for her mother kept her with strict hand, and now that she wasgrowing older, and Edmund was stronger than of yore, he and his friendscame less to that upper room which had come to be called "the maiden'sbower." Her brother was able to go forth for some of his studies, and ithad even been thought that he might soon enter as a scholar at St.George's in the Castle. Alys rejoiced in his return to greater healthand strength; but it had left her somewhat more alone, and she rejoicedgreatly when Linda came to be her companion, for she learned from herthe soft Italian tongue, and a greater proficiency upon the lute; whilstshe taught her friend those things which she had studied with herbrother, till Linda felt that a whole new world was opening out beforeher.
Those were peaceful and happy days for the two maidens. Although theworld without was full of strife, the echoes of which sometimes reachedthem in their quiet chamber, they lived with their books, their music,their needlework, and their birds, seeing the familiar faces of Edmundand his comrades day by day; but jealously watched and guarded by DameMargaret de Kynaston, who felt Linda now to be her charge, as well asher own daughter, and was well pleased--after the first surprise atAlys's "whim"--with the working of the arrangement.
It had by this time become pretty evident to the parents that Amalric deMontfort was wooing their daughter, although he had not yet declaredhimself. Sir Humphrey was well pleased, for he believed that the Earl ofLeicester was and would remain the greatest man in the kingdom--notexcepting the King himself. Dame Margaret, however, was less sanguine onthis point, and had misgivings sometimes as to the ultimate fate of thegreat leader of the Barons' party. She was not anxious for herdaughter's hand to be irrevocably pledged, and did not encourage thevisits of Amalric more than the duties of hospitality required. She was,however, willing that her Alys and Linda should have instruction inbook-learning, which they so keenly desired; and Leofric continued tocome from time to time to read to and instruct them, although Edmund wasnot so regular at these readings as he was when unable to attendlectures in the schools.
It was from Leofric that the girls learned the ultimate fate of Tito andRoger. There had been talk of condemning both to death; but since Rogerhad not struck the murderous blow, and had claimed benefit of clergy (towhich, however, he was hardly entitled), he had escaped with his life;and it had seemed hardly just to take the life of his comrade in evil,who had been his tool in this crime. Also Balzani had made a greateffort to save the life of his son, and in the end the two men had beensentenced to banishment--Tito from the realm altogether, Roger fromOxford and its environs. Both had disappeared promptly. Tito had beenguarded out of the kingdom, and was outlawed, and it was thought thatRoger had accompanied him; but although this was not certain, it wasbelieved that Oxford had seen the last of him. If he came back, he wouldcertainly be arrested, and some worse punishment dealt to him for hisinsubordination.
Hardly had these things taken place before all the city was thrown intoa state of wild excitement by the arrival of the great Earl ofLeicester, who came there on his way to the south coast, and wasreceived with open arms by the University, from the Chancellor down tothe rawest clerks fresh from the country.
By the people De Montfort was regarded as the champion of theirliberties and the defender of the realm from foreign rule and foreignspoilers. The friars supported him, and their influence went far withmen of all classes. Save for this many might have feared to giveadhesion to the cause, for the papal part of the Church sided with theKing. But the friars, and particularly the Franciscans, in this landwere no tools and slaves of papal tyranny. They were thinking men ofdeep personal piety, lovers of mankind, and champions of the poor andoppressed. They were zealous advocates of the cause of constitutionalliberty, of which De Montfort had made himself champion; and in Oxford,where their influence was widely felt, the Earl was certain of anenthusiastic welcome.
Many songs were composed in honour of the idol of the city; and as herode into it, escorted by a large following of clerks who had gone forthto meet him, they burst into the following ditty, sung in Norman-French,but which may be translated thus:--
"Right many were there men of fame, But all of them I cannot name, So great would be the sum; So I return to Earl Simon, To tell the interpretation, From whence his name has come.
"Montfort he is rightly called-- He is the _mount_, and he is _bold_ (fort), And has great chivalry: The truth I tell, my troth I plight, He hates the wrong, he loves the right, So shall have mastery.
"Doubtless the _mount_ he is indeed; The Commons are with him agreed, And praise is due to them: Leicester's great Earl right glad may be, And may rejoice full heartily, To gain such glorious fame."
And then, excitement and enthusiasm working mightily within them, theclerks commenced sh
outing and singing all manner of couplets which hadbeen made at different times whilst the Provisions of Oxford had beenunder discussion.
"Totam turbat modica terram turba canum, Exeat aut pereat genus tam profanum."
Which may be rendered in English,--
"A paltry set of curs is troubling all the land, Drive out or let them die, the base ungodly band."
The Earl received the adulation of the motley crowd with a courteousdignity; but he could not linger long in Oxford. It was part of hispolicy to make sure of the hearts of his friends, and show himself invarious places where a welcome was certain. But just now he was on hisway to Dover, which it was necessary to secure for the cause. He hadbeen already in Wales and the West, taking practical possession of manycities--expelling the King's sheriff from Gloucester because he was analien, and the Savoyard Bishop of Hereford on the same ground. It wassmall wonder that the clerks greeted him with songs of praise, or thatthe old couplet anent the "foreign dogs" should be lustily revived.
The Earl was in arms, and had a following of nobles with him, but as yetthe peace of the country had not been materially broken. The Welsh warafforded excuse to the Barons for mustering under arms; although allfar-seeing persons felt that it would scarcely be long before the swordwas unsheathed in England also.
During the weeks and months which followed, news came in which kept thewhole city in a tumult of excitement. From the fact that Amalricremained as a student in Oxford, it was natural that intelligence of thegreat Earl's movements should be brought regularly and constantly to thetown. Sometimes it was Guy de Montfort who came himself, and stayed fora few nights at the Castle; sometimes dispatches were brought toConstable or Chancellor by a travel-stained messenger, and more thanonce the whole city and University had been on the tiptoe of excitementand uncertainty, expecting every day to hear that some collision hadtaken place, and that the long-expected conflagration had burst out.
Dover and the Cinque Ports had declared for De Montfort and the Barons.London had received him with open arms, and the King was practically aprisoner in the Tower.
Once the Earl had been in great personal peril. He had ridden forth fromLondon with a following of only a few men-at-arms, when some followersof the King's managed to get possession of the keys of the Southwarkgate, and threw them into the river. After this they gathered a numberof troops together, and lay in wait for the Earl upon his return, hopingto cut him off and slay him on the spot. Indeed, so great was the perilthat De Montfort and his followers gave themselves up for lost, signedthemselves with the cross, and prepared to sell their lives as dearly aspossible; but the citizens of London, hearing of his danger, rushed outto his defence, broke open the locked gate, and drove back the King'ssoldiers with much loss. They carried their hero in triumph into thecity, and demanded the instant death of the traitors who had planned thedeed. The Earl, however, interposed on their behalf, and they were letoff with a heavy fine, which was employed in strengthening the defencesof the city.
Later on, the Earl returned for a while to Kenilworth, and there setabout strengthening that already formidable fortress. He garrisoned itmore strongly, and brought thither many warlike engines which he hadtransported with him from the Continent. For he was beginning to seethat there was imminent danger of civil war, although for the presentmoment he hoped to avoid it.
What gave to him and his followers the keenest anxiety was the attitudetaken up by Prince Edward. He had succeeded in escaping from the Towerto Windsor, and was now gathering about him a party of moderate men whohad the welfare of the realm at heart, yet who had no desire for anyupheaval of existing conditions. He had drawn to himself a number ofimportant personages, one of whom was his cousin, Henry of Almain, sonof Richard King of the Romans, the King's brother, who until now hadbeen sworn to the cause of the Barons.
This latter had had the courage to go and tell De Montfort of hisdefection, though ready then to promise never to take up arms againsthim; but the Earl's reply had not been conciliatory. It was one of thethings which militated against De Montfort that he could not alwayscommand his temper in moments of irritation.
"Lord Henry," he said, "I grieve not for the loss of your sword, but forthe inconstancy which I see in you. Go and take arms as you will, for Ifear you not at all."
Young Henry had joined his cousin at Windsor with many other good men.All now knew that war must come--unless, indeed, the arbitration talkedof by the French King should lead to pacification.
A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War Page 19