CHAPTER IV. THE DESTRIER.
It was three days afterwards that the earl, as, according to custom,Anne knelt to him for his morning blessing in the oratory where theChristian baron at matins and vespers offered up his simple worship,drew her forth into the air, and said abruptly,--
"Wouldst thou be happy if Richard of Gloucester were thy betrothed?"
Anne started, and with more vivacity than usually belonged to her,exclaimed, "Oh, no, my father!"
"This is no maiden's silly coyness, Anne? It is a plain yea or nay thatI ask from thee!"
"Nay, then," answered Anne, encouraged by her father's tone,--"nay, ifit so please you."
"It doth please me," said the earl, shortly; and after a pause, headded, "Yes, I am well pleased. Richard gives promise of an illustriousmanhood; but, Anne, thou growest so like thy mother, that whenever mypride seeks to see thee great, my heart steps in, and only prays thatit may see thee happy!--so much so, that I would not have given thee toClarence, whom it likes me well to view as Isabel's betrothed, for, toher, greatness and bliss are one; and she is of firm nature, and canrule in her own house; but thou--where out of romaunt can I find a lordloving enough for thee, soft child?"
Inexpressibly affected, Anne threw herself on her father's breast andwept. He caressed and soothed her fondly; and before her emotion waswell over, Gloucester and Isabel joined them.
"My fair cousin," said the duke, "hath promised to show me thyrenowned steed, Saladin; and since, on quitting thy halls, I go to myapprenticeship in war on the turbulent Scottish frontier, I wouldfain ask thee for a destrier of the same race as that which bears thethunderbolt of Warwick's wrath through the storm of battle."
"A steed of the race of Saladin," answered the earl, leading the way tothe destrier's stall, apart from all other horses, and rather a chamberof the castle than a stable, "were indeed a boon worthy a soldier's giftand a prince's asking. But, alas! Saladin, like myself, is sonless,--thelast of a long line."
"His father, methinks, fell for us on the field of Towton. Was it notso? I have heard Edward say that when the archers gave way, and thevictory more than wavered, thou, dismounting, didst slay thy steed withthine own hand, and kissing the cross of thy sword, swore on that spotto stem the rush of the foe, and win Edward's crown or Warwick's grave."["Every Palm Sunday, the day on which the battle of Towton was fought,a rough figure, called the Red Horse, on the side of a hill inWarwickshire, is scoured out. This is suggested to be done incommemoration of the horse which the Earl of Warwick slew on that day,determined to vanquish or die."--Roberts: York and Lancaster, vol. i. p.429.]
"It was so; and the shout of my merry men, when they saw me amongsttheir ranks on foot--all flight forbid--was Malech's death-dirge. Itis a wondrous race,--that of Malech and his son Saladin," continued theearl, smiling. "When my ancestor, Aymer de Nevile, led his troops tothe Holy Land, under Coeur de Lion, it was his fate to capture a ladybeloved by the mighty Saladin. Need I say that Aymer, under a flag oftruce, escorted her ransomless, her veil never raised from her face, tothe tent of the Saracen king? Saladin, too gracious for an infidel, madehim tarry a while, an honoured guest; and Aymer's chivalry became sorelytried, for the lady he had delivered loved and tempted him; but the goodknight prayed and fasted, and defied Satan and all his works. The lady(so runs the legend) grew wroth at the pious crusader's disdainfulcoldness; and when Aymer returned to his comrades, she sent, amidst thegifts of the soldan, two coal-black steeds, male and mare, over whichsome foul and weird spells had been duly muttered. Their beauty, speed,art, and fierceness were a marvel. And Aymer, unsuspecting, prized theboon, and selected the male destrier for his war-horse. Great were thefeats, in many a field, which my forefather wrought, bestriding hisblack charger. But one fatal day, on which the sudden war-trump made himforget his morning ave, the beast had power over the Christian, and borehim, against bit and spur, into the thickest of the foe. He did all aknight can do against many (pardon his descendant's vaunting,--so runsthe tale), and the Christians for a while beheld him solitary in themelee, mowing down moon and turban. Then the crowd closed, and the goodknight was lost to sight. 'To the rescue!' cried bold King Richard, andon rushed the crusaders to Aymer's help; when lo! and suddenly the rankssevered, and the black steed emerged! Aymer still on the selle, butmotionless, and his helm battered and plumeless, his brand broken,his arm drooping. On came man and horse, on,--charging on, not againstInfidel but Christian. On dashed the steed, I say, with fire burstingfrom eyes and nostrils, and the pike of his chaffron bent lance-likeagainst the crusaders' van. The foul fiend seemed in the destrier's rageand puissance. He bore right against Richard's standard-bearer, and downwent the lion and the cross. He charged the king himself; and Richard,unwilling to harm his own dear soldier Aymer, halted wondering, till thepike of the destrier pierced his own charger through the barding, andthe king lay rolling in the dust. A panic seized the cross-men; theyfled, the Saracens pursued, and still with the Saracens came the blacksteed and the powerless rider. At last, when the crusaders reached thecamp, and the flight ceased, there halted, also, Aymer. Not a man darednear him. He spoke not, none spoke to him, till a holy priest and palmerapproached and sprinkled the good knight and the black barb with holywater, and exorcised both; the spell broke, and Aymer dropped to theearth. They unbraced his helm,--he was cold and stark. The fierce steedhad but borne a dead man."
"Holy Paul!" cried Gloucester, with seeming sanctimony, though a covertsneer played round the firm beauty of his pale lips, "a notable tale,and one that proveth much of Sacred Truth, now lightly heeded. But,verily, lord earl, I should have little loved a steed with such apedigree."
"Hear the rest," said Isabel. "King Richard ordered the destrier to beslain forthwith; but the holy palmer who had exorcised it forbade thesacrifice. 'Mighty shall be the service,' said the reverend man, 'whichthe posterity of this steed shall render to thy royal race, and greatglory shall they give to the sons of Nevile. Let the war-horse, now dulyexorcised from infidel spells, live long to bear a Christian warrior!'"
"And so," quoth the earl, taking up the tale--"so mare and horse werebrought by Aymer's squires to his English hall; and Aymer's son, SirReginald, bore the cross, and bestrode the fatal steed, without fear andwithout scathe. From that hour the House of Nevile rose amain, in fameand in puissance; and the legend further saith, that the same palmerencountered Sir Reginald at Joppa, bade him treasure that race ofwar-steeds as his dearest heritage, for with that race his own shouldflourish and depart; and the sole one of the Infidel's spells whichcould not be broken was that which united the gift--generation aftergeneration, for weal or for woe, for honour or for doom--to the fate ofAymer and his House. 'And,' added the palmer, 'as with woman's love andwoman's craft was woven the indissoluble charm, so shall woman, whetherin craft or in love, ever shape the fortunes of thee and thine.'"
"As yet," said the prince, "the prophecy is fulfilled in a golden sense,for nearly all thy wide baronies, I trow, have come to thee through thefemale side. A woman's hand brought to the Nevile this castle and itslands; [Middleham Castle was built by Robert Fitz Ranulph, grandson ofRibald, younger brother of the Earl of Bretagne and Richmond, nephew tothe Conqueror. The founder's line failed in male heirs, and the heiressmarried Robert Nevile, son of Lord Raby. Warwick's father held theearldom of Salisbury in right of his wife, the heiress of Thomas deMontacute.] from a woman came the heritage of Monthermer and Montagu,and Salisbury's famous earldom; and the dower of thy peerless countesswas the broad domains of Beauchamp."
"And a woman's craft, young prince, wrought my king's displeasure! Butenough of these dissour's tales; behold the son of poor Malech, whom,forgetting all such legends, I slew at Towton. Ho, Saladin, greet thymaster!"
They stood now in the black steed's stall.--an ample and high-vaultedspace, for halter never insulted the fierce destrier's mighty neck,which the God of Battles had clothed in thunder. A marble cisterncontained his limpid drink, and in a gilded manger the finest wheatenbread was ming
led with the oats of Flanders. On entering, they foundyoung George, Montagu's son, with two or three boys, playing familiarlywith the noble animal, who had all the affectionate docility inheritedfrom an Arab origin. But at the sound of Warwick's voice, its ears rose,its mane dressed itself, and with a short neigh it came to his feet, andkneeling down, in slow and stately grace, licked its master's hand. Soperfect and so matchless a steed never had knight bestrode! Its hidewithout one white hair, and glossy as the sheenest satin; a lady'stresses were scarcely finer than the hair of its noble mane; theexceeding smallness of its head, its broad frontal, the remarkable andalmost human intelligence of its eye, seemed actually to elevate itsconformation above that of its species. Though the race had increased,generation after generation, in size and strength, Prince Richard stillmarvelled (when, obedient to a sign from Warwick, the destrier rose, andleaned its head, with a sort of melancholy and quiet tenderness, uponthe earl's shoulder) that a horse, less in height and bulk than theordinary battle-steed, could bear the vast weight of the giant earl inhis ponderous mail. But his surprise ceased when the earl pointed outto him the immense strength of the steed's ample loins, the sinewycleanness, the iron muscle, of the stag-like legs, the bull-like breadthof chest, and the swelling power of the shining neck.
"And after all," added the earl, "both in man and beast, the spiritand the race, not the stature and the bulk, bring the prize. Mort Dieu,Richard! it often shames me of mine own thews and broad breast,--I hadbeen more vain of laurels had I been shorter by the head!"
"Nevertheless," said young George of Montagu, with a page's pertness, "Ihad rather have thine inches than Prince Richard's, and thy broad breastthan his grace's short neck."
The Duke of Gloucester turned as if a snake had stung him. He gave butone glance to the speaker, but that glance lived forever in the boy'sremembrance, and the young Montagu turned pale and trembled, even beforehe heard the earl's stern rebuke.
"Young magpies chatter, boy,--young eagles in silence measure the spacebetween the eyry and the sun!"
The boy hung his head, and would have slunk off, but Richard detainedhim with a gentle hand. "My fair young cousin," said he, "thy words gallno sore, and if ever thou and I charge side by side into the foeman'sranks, thou shalt comprehend what thy uncle designed to say,--how, inthe hour of strait and need, we measure men's stature not by the bodybut the soul!"
"A noble answer," whispered Anne, with something like sisterlyadmiration.
"Too noble," said the more ambitious Isabel, in the same voice, "forClarence's future wife not to fear Clarence's dauntless brother."
"And so," said the prince, quitting the stall with Warwick, while thegirls still lingered behind, "so Saladin hath no son! Wherefore? Can youmate him with no bride?"
"Faith," answered the earl, "the females of his race sleep in yonderdell, their burial-place, and the proud beast disdains all meaner loves.Nay, were it not so, to continue the breed, if adulterated, were but tomar it."
"You care little for the legend, meseems."
"Pardieu! at times, yes, over much; but in sober moments I think thatthe brave man who does his duty lacks no wizard prophecy to fulfil hisdoom; and whether in prayer or in death, in fortune or defeat, his soulgoes straight to God!"
"Umph," said Richard, musingly; and there was a pause. "Warwick,"resumed the prince, "doubtless, even on your return to London, thequeen's enmity and her mother's will not cease. Clarence loves Isabel,but Clarence knows not how to persuade the king and rule the king'swomankind. Thou knowest how I have stood aloof from all the factionsof the court. Unhappily I go to the Borders, and can but slightly servethee. But--" (he stopped short, and sighed heavily).
"Speak on, Prince."
"In a word, then, if I were thy son, Anne's husband, I see--I see--Isee--" (thrice repeated the prince, with a vague dreaminess in his eye,and stretching forth his hand)--"a future that might defy all foes,opening to me and thee!"
Warwick hesitated in some embarrassment.
"My gracious and princely cousin," he said at length, "this proffer isindeed sweet incense to a father's pride. But pardon me, as yet, nobleRichard, thou art so young that the king and the world would blameme did I suffer my ambition to listen to such temptation. Enough, atpresent, if all disputes between our House and the king can be smoothedand laid at rest without provoking new ones. Nay, pardon me, prince, letthis matter cease--at least, till thy return from the Borders."
"May I take with me hope?"
"Nay," said Warwick, "thou knowest that I am a plain man; to bid theehope were to plight my word. And," he added seriously, "there be reasonsgrave and well to be considered why both the daughters of a subjectshould not wed with their king's brothers. Let this cease now, I praythee, sweet lord."
Here the demoiselles joined their father, and the conference was over;but when Richard, an hour after, stood musing alone on the battlements,he muttered to himself, "Thou art a fool, stout earl, not to havewelcomed the union between thy power and my wit. Thou goest to a courtwhere without wit power is nought. Who may foresee the future? Marry,that was a wise ancient fable, that he who seized and bound Proteuscould extract from the changeful god the prophecy of the days to come.Yea! the man who can seize Fate can hear its voice predict to him. Andby my own heart and brain, which never yet relinquished what affectionyearned for, or thought aspired to, I read, as in a book, Anne, thatthou shalt be mine; and that where wave on yon battlements the ensignsof Beauchamp, Monthermer, and Nevile, the Boar of Gloucester shall liegeit over their broad baronies and hardy vassals."
BOOK VI
WHEREIN ARE OPENED SOME GLIMPSES OF THE FATE BELOW THAT ATTENDS THOSEWHO ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS, AND THOSE WHO DESIRE TO MAKE OTHERS BETTER.LOVE, DEMAGOGY, AND SCIENCE ALL EQUALLY OFF-SPRING OF THE SAME PROLIFICDELUSION,--NAMELY, THAT MEAN SOULS (THE EARTH'S MAJORITY) ARE WORTHTHE HOPE AND THE AGONY OF NOBLE SOULS, THE EVERLASTING SUFFERING ANDASPIRING FEW.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 38