CHAPTER IV. ILL FARES THE COUNTRY MOUSE IN THE TRAPS OF TOWN.
We trust we shall not be deemed discourteous, either, on the one hand,to those who value themselves on their powers of reflection, or, on theother, to those who lay claim to what, in modern phrenological jargon,is called the Organ of Locality, when we venture to surmise that the twoare rarely found in combination; nay, that it seems to us a very evidenttruism, that in proportion to the general activity of the intellectupon subjects of pith and weight, the mind will be indifferent to thoseminute external objects by which a less contemplative understanding willnote, and map out, and impress upon the memory, the chart of the roadits owner has once taken. Master Marmaduke Nevile, a hardy and acuteforester from childhood, possessed to perfection the useful facultyof looking well and closely before him as he walked the earth; andordinarily, therefore, the path he had once taken, however intricateand obscure, he was tolerably sure to retrace with accuracy, even at noinconsiderable distance of time,--the outward senses of men are usuallythus alert and attentive in the savage or the semi-civilized state. Hehad not, therefore, over-valued his general acuteness in the note andmemory of localities, when he boasted of his power to refind his way tohis hostelrie without the guidance of Alwyn. But it so happened thatthe events of this day, so memorable to him, withdrew his attention fromexternal objects, to concentrate it within. And in marvelling and musingover the new course upon which his destiny had entered, he forgot totake heed of that which his feet should pursue; so that, after wanderingunconsciously onward for some time, he suddenly halted in perplexityand amaze to find himself entangled in a labyrinth of scattered suburbs,presenting features wholly different from the road that had conductedhim to the archery-ground in the forenoon. The darkness of the night hadset in; but it was relieved by a somewhat faint and mist-clad moon, andsome few and scattered stars, over which rolled, fleetly, thick clouds,portending rain. No lamps at that time cheered the steps of the belatedwanderer; the houses were shut up, and their inmates, for the most part,already retired to rest, and the suburbs did not rejoice, as the city,in the round of the watchman with his drowsy call to the inhabitants,"Hang out your lights!" The passengers, who at first, in various smallgroups and parties, had enlivened the stranger's way, seemed to him,unconscious as he was of the lapse of time, to have suddenly vanishedfrom the thoroughfares; and he found himself alone in places thoroughlyunknown to him, waking to the displeasing recollection that theapproaches to the city were said to be beset by brawlers and ruffiansof desperate characters, whom the cessation of the civil wars had flungloose upon the skirts of society, to maintain themselves by deeds ofrapine and plunder. As might naturally be expected, most of these hadbelonged to the defeated party, who had no claim to the good offices orcharity of those in power. And although some of the Neviles had sidedwith the Lancastrians, yet the badge worn by Marmaduke was considereda pledge of devotion to the reigning House, and added a new danger tothose which beset his path. Conscious of this--for he now called to mindthe admonitions of his host in parting from the hostelrie--he deemed itbut discreet to draw the hood of his mantle over the silver ornament;and while thus occupied, he heard not a step emerging from a lane at hisrear, when suddenly a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder. He started,turned, and before him stood a man, whose aspect and dress betokenedlittle to lessen the alarm of the uncourteous salutation. Marmaduke'sdagger was bare on the instant.
"And what wouldst thou with me?" he asked.
"Thy purse and thy dagger!" answered the stranger.
"Come and take them," said the Nevile, unconscious that he uttered areply famous in classic history, as he sprang backward a step or so, andthrew himself into an attitude of defence. The stranger slowly raiseda rude kind of mace, or rather club, with a ball of iron at the end,garnished with long spikes, as he replied, "Art thou mad eno' to fightfor such trifles?"
"Art thou in the habit of meeting one Englishman who yields his goodswithout a blow to another?" retorted Marmaduke. "Go to! thy club doesnot daunt me." The stranger warily drew back a step, and applied awhistle to his mouth. The Nevile sprang at him, but the stranger wardedoff the thrust of the poniard with a light flourish of his heavy weapon;and had not the youth drawn back on the instant, it had been good-nightand a long day to Marmaduke Nevile. Even as it was, his heart beatquick, as the whirl of the huge weapon sent the air like a strong windagainst his face. Ere he had time to renew his attack, he was suddenlyseized from behind, and found himself struggling in the arms of two men.From these he broke, and his dagger glanced harmless against the toughjerkin of his first assailant. The next moment his right arm fell to hisside, useless and deeply gashed. A heavy blow on the head--the moon,the stars reeled in his eyes--and then darkness,--he knew no more. Hisassailants very deliberately proceeded to rifle the inanimate body, whenone of them, perceiving the silver badge, exclaimed, with an oath, "Oneof the rampant Neviles! This cock at least shall crow no more." Andlaying the young man's head across his lap, while he stretched back thethroat with one hand, with the other he drew forth a long sharp knife,like those used by huntsmen in despatching the hart. Suddenly, and inthe very moment when the blade was about to inflict the fatal gash, hishand was forcibly arrested, and a man, who had silently and unnoticedjoined the ruffians, said in a stern whisper, "Rise and depart from thybrotherhood forever. We admit no murderer."
The ruffian looked up in bewilderment. "Robin--captain--thou here!" hesaid falteringly.
"I must needs be everywhere, I see, if I would keep such fellows as thouand these from the gallows. What is this?--a silver arrow--the youngarcher--Um."
"A Nevile!" growled the would-be murderer.
"And for that very reason his life should be safe. Knowest thou not thatRichard of Warwick, the great Nevile, ever spares the commons? Begone!I say." The captain's low voice grew terrible as he uttered the lastwords. The savage rose, and without a word stalked away.
"Look you, my masters," said Robin, turning to the rest, "soldiers mustplunder a hostile country. While York is on the throne, England is ahostile country to us Lancastrians. Rob, then, rifle, if ye will; buthe who takes life shall lose it. Ye know me!" The robbers looked down,silent and abashed. Robin bent a moment over the youth. "He will live,"he muttered. "So! he already begins to awaken. One of these houses willgive him shelter. Off, fellows, and take care of your necks!"
When Marmaduke, a few minutes after this colloquy, began to revive, itwas with a sensation of dizziness, pain, and extreme cold. He strove tolift himself from the ground, and at length succeeded. He was alone;the place where he had lain was damp and red with stiffening blood. Hetottered on for several paces, and perceived from a lattice, at a littledistance, a light still burning. Now reeling, now falling, he stilldragged on his limbs as the instinct attracted him to that sign ofrefuge. He gained the doorway of a detached and gloomy house, and sankon the stone before it to cry aloud; but his voice soon sank into deepgroans, and once more, as his efforts increased the rapid gush of theblood, became insensible. The man styled Robin, who had so opportunelysaved his life, now approached from the shadow of a wall, beneath whichhe had watched Marmaduke's movements. He neared the door of the house,and cried, in a sharp, clear voice, "Open, for the love of Christ!"
A head was now thrust from the lattice, the light vanished; a minutemore, the door opened; and Robin, as if satisfied, drew hastily back,and vanished, saying to himself, as he strode along, "A young man'slife must needs be dear to him; yet had the lad been a lord, methinks Ishould have cared little to have saved for the people one tyrant more."
After a long interval, Marmaduke again recovered, and his eyes turnedwith pain from the glare of a light held to his face.
"He wakes, Father,--he will live!" cried a sweet voice. "Ay, he willlive, child!" answered a deeper tone; and the young man muttered tohimself, half audibly, as in a dream, "Holy Mother be blessed! it issweet to live." The room in which the sufferer lay rather exhibitedthe remains of better fortunes than testified to the solid mean
s of thepresent possessor. The ceiling was high and groined, and some tintsof faded but once gaudy painting blazoned its compartments and hangingpendants. The walls had been rudely painted (for arras [Mr. Hallam("History of the Middle Ages," chap. ix. part 2) implies a doubt whethergreat houses were furnished with hangings so soon as the reign of EdwardIV.; but there is abundant evidence to satisfy our learned historianupon that head. The Narrative of the "Lord of Grauthuse," edited by SirF. Madden, specifies the hangings of cloth of gold in the apartments inwhich that lord was received by Edward IV.; also the hangings of whitesilk and linen in the chamber appropriated to himself at Windsor.But long before this period (to say nothing of the BayeuxTapestry),--namely, in the reign of Edward III. (in 1344),--a writ wasissued to inquire into the mystery of working tapestry; and in 1398 Mr.Britton observes that the celebrated arras hangings at WarwickCastle are mentioned. (See Britton's "Dictionary of Architectureand Archaelogy," art. "Tapestry.")] then was rare, even among thewealthiest); but the colours were half obliterated by time and damp. Thebedstead on which the wounded man reclined was curiously carved, with afigure of the Virgin at the head, and adorned with draperies, in whichwere wrought huge figures from scriptural subjects, but in the dressof the date of Richard II.,--Solomon in pointed upturned shoes, andGoliath, in the armour of a crusader, frowning grimly upon the sufferer.By the bedside stood a personage, who, in reality, was but little pastthe middle age, but whose pale visage, intersected with deep furrows,whose long beard and hair, partially gray, gave him the appearance ofadvanced age: nevertheless there was something peculiarly striking inthe aspect of the man. His forehead was singularly high and massive; butthe back of the head was disproportionately small, as if the intellecttoo much preponderated over all the animal qualities for strength incharacter and success in life. The eyes were soft, dark, and brilliant,but dreamlike and vague; the features in youth must have been regularand beautiful, but their contour was now sharpened by the hollowness ofthe cheeks and temples. The form, in the upper part, was nobly shaped,sufficiently muscular, if not powerful, and with the long throat andfalling shoulders which always gives something of grace and dignity tothe carriage; but it was prematurely bent, and the lower limbs were thinand weak, as is common with men who have sparely used them; they seemeddisproportioned to that broad chest, and still more to that magnificentand spacious brow. The dress of this personage corresponded with theaspect of his abode. The materials were those worn by the gentry, butthey were old, threadbare, and discoloured with innumerable spots andstains. His hands were small and delicate, with large blue veins, thatspoke of relaxed fibres; but their natural whiteness was smudged withsmoke-stains, and his beard--a masculine ornament utterly out of fashionamong the younger race in King Edward's reign, but when worn by theelder gentry carefully trimmed and perfumed--was dishevelled into allthe spiral and tangled curls displayed in the sculptured head of someold Grecian sage or poet.
On the other side of the bed knelt a young girl of about sixteen, with aface exquisitely lovely in its delicacy and expression. She seemedabout the middle stature, and her arms and neck, as displayed by theclose-fitting vest, had already the smooth and rounded contour ofdawning womanhood, while the face had still the softness, innocence, andinexpressible bloom of a child. There was a strong likeness between herand her father (for such the relationship, despite the difference ofsex and years),--the same beautiful form of lip and brow, the same rarecolour of the eyes, dark-blue, with black fringing lashes; and perhapsthe common expression, at that moment, of gentle pity and benevolentanxiety contributed to render the resemblance stronger.
"Father, he sinks again!" said the girl.
"Sibyll," answered the man, putting his finger upon a line in amanuscript book that he held, "the authority saith, that a patient socontused should lose blood, and then the arm must be tightly bandaged.Verily we lack the wherewithal."
"Not so, Father!" said the girl, and blushing, she turned aside, andtook off the partelet of lawn, upon which holiday finery her young eyesperhaps that morning had turned with pleasure, and white as snow was theneck which was thus displayed; "this will suffice to bind his arm."
"But the book," said the father, in great perplexity--"the book tellethus not how the lancet should be applied. It is easy to say, 'Do this anddo that;' but to do it once, it should have been done before. This isnot among my experiments."
Luckily, perhaps, for Marmaduke, at this moment there entered an oldwoman, the solitary servant of the house, whose life, in those warliketimes, had made her pretty well acquainted with the simpler modes ofdealing with a wounded arm and a broken head. She treated with greatdisdain the learned authority referred to by her master; she bound thearm, plastered the head, and taking upon herself the responsibility topromise a rapid cure, insisted upon the retirement of father and child,and took her solitary watch beside the bed.
"If it had been any other mechanism than that of the vile human body!"muttered the philosopher, as if apologizing to himself; and with that herecovered his self-complacency and looked round him proudly.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 7