Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood

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Varney the Vampire; Or, the Feast of Blood Page 68

by Thomas Preskett Prest


  CHAPTER LXIX.

  FLORA BANNERWORTH AND HER MOTHER.--THE EPISODE OF CHIVALRY.

  Gladly we turn from such a man as Marchdale to a consideration of thebeautiful and accomplished Flora Bannerworth, to whom we may, withoutdestroying in any way the interest of our plot, predict a much happierdestiny than, probably, at that time, she considers as at all likely tobe hers.

  She certainly enjoyed, upon her first removal from Bannerworth Hall,greater serenity of mind than she had done there; but, as we havealready remarked of her, the more her mind was withdrawn, by change ofscene, from the horrible considerations which the attack of the vampyrehad forced upon her, the more she reverted to the fate of CharlesHolland, which was still shrouded in so much gloom.

  She would sit and converse with her mother upon that subject until sheworked up her feelings to a most uncomfortable pitch of excitement, andthen Mrs. Bannerworth would get her younger brother to join them, whowould occasionally read to her some compositions of his own, or of somefavourite writer whom he thought would amuse her.

  It was on the very evening when Sir Francis Varney had made up his mindto release Charles Holland, that young Bannerworth read to his sisterand his mother the following little chivalric incident, which he toldthem he had himself collated from authentic sources:--

  "The knight with the green shield," exclaimed one of a party ofmen-at-arms, who were drinking together at an ancient hostel, not farfrom Shrewsbury--"the knight with the green shield is as good a knightas ever buckled on a sword, or wore spurs."--"Then how comes it he isnot one of the victors in the day's tournament?" exclaimed another.--"Bythe bones of Alfred!" said a third, "a man must be judged of by hisdeserts, and not by the partiality of his friends. That's my opinion,friends."--"And mine, too," said another.

  "That is all very true, and my opinion would go with yours, too; but notin this instance. Though you may accuse me of partiality, yet I am notso; for I have seen some of the victors of to-day by no means forward inthe press of battle-men who, I will not say feared danger, but who likedit not so well but they avoided it as much as possible."

  "Ay, marry, and so have I. The reason is, 'tis much easier to face ablunted lance, than one with a spear-head; and a man may practise theone and thrive in it, but not the other; for the best lance in thetournament is not always the best arm in the battle."

  "And that is the reason of my saying the knight with the green shieldwas a good knight. I have seen him in the midst of the melee, when menand horses have been hurled to the ground by the shock; there he hasbehaved himself like a brave knight, and has more than once been noticedfor it."

  "But how canne he to be so easily overthrown to-day? That speakssomething."--"His horse is an old one."

  "So much the better," said another; "he's used to his work, and ascunning as an old man."--"But he has been wounded more than once, and isweakened very much: besides, I saw him lose his footing, else he hadoverthrown his opponent.

  "He did not seem distressed about his accident, at all events, but satcontented in the tent."--"He knows well that those who know him willnever attribute his misadventure either to want of courage or conduct;moreover, he seems to be one of those who care but little for theopinion of men who care nothing for him."

  "And he's right. Well, dear comrades, the health of Green Knight, or theKnight with a Green Shield, for that's his name, or the designation hechooses to go by."--"A health to the Knight with the Green Shield!"shouted the men-at-arms, as they lifted their cups on high.

  "Who is he?" inquired one of the men-at-arms, of him who had spokenfavourably of the stranger.--"I don't know."

  "And yet you spoke favourably of him a few seconds back, and said what abrave knight he was!"--"And so I uphold him to be; but, I tell you what,friend, I would do as much for the greatest stranger I ever met. I haveseen him fight where men and horses have bit the dust in hundreds; andthat, in my opinion, speaks out for the man and warrior; he who cannot,then, fight like a soldier, had better tilt at home in the castle-yard,and there win ladies' smiles, but not the commendation of the leader ofthe battle."

  "That's true: I myself recollect very well Sir Hugh de Colbert, a veryaccomplished knight in the castle-yard; but his men were as fine a setof fellows as ever crossed a horse, to look at, but they proveddeficient at the moment of trial; they were broken, and fled in amoment, and scarce one of them received a scratch."

  "Then they hadn't stood the shock of the foeman?"--"No; that's certain."

  "But still I should like to know the knight,--to know his name verywell."--"I know it not; he has some reason for keeping it secret, Isuppose; but his deeds will not shame it, be it what it may. I can bearwitness to more than one foeman falling beneath his battle-axe."

  "Indeed!"--"Yes; and he took a banner from the enemy in the last battlethat was fought."

  "Ah, well! he deserves a better fortune to-morrow. Who is to be thebridegroom of the beautiful Bertha, daughter of Lord de Cauci?"--"Thatwill have to be decided: but it is presumed that Sir Guthrie de Beaumontis the intended."

  "Ah! but should he not prove the victor?"--"It's understood; becauseit's known he is intended by the parents of the lady, and none would beungallant enough to prevail against him,--save on such conditions aswould not endanger the fruits of victory."

  "No?"--"Certainly not; they would lay the trophies at the foot of thebeauty worshipped by the knights at the tournament."

  "So, triumphant or not, he's to be the bridegroom; bearing off the prizeof valour whether or no,--in fact, deserve her or not,--that's thefact."--"So it is, so it is."

  "And a shame, too, friends; but so it is now; but yet, if the knight'shorse recovers from the strain, and is fit for work to-morrow, itstrikes me that the Green Shield will give some work to the holidayknight."

  * * * * *

  There had been a grand tournament held near Shrewsbury Castle, in honourof the intended nuptials of the beautiful Lady Bertha de Cauci. She wasthe only daughter of the Earl de Cauci, a nobleman of some note; he wasone of an ancient and unblemished name, and of great riches.

  The lady was beautiful, but, at the same time, she was an unwillingbride,--every one could see that; but the bridegroom cared not for that.There was a sealed sorrow on her brow,--a sorrow that seemed sincere andlasting; but she spoke not of it to any one,--her lips were seldomparted. She loved another. Yes; she loved one who was far away, fightingin the wars of his country,--one who was not so rich in lands as herpresent bridegroom.

  When he left her, she remembered his promise; it was, to fight on tillhe earned a fortune, or name that should give him some right to claimher hand, even from her imperious father. But alas! he came not; andwhat could she do against the commands of one who would be obeyed? Hermother, too, was a proud, haughty woman, one whose sole anxiety was toincrease the grandeur and power of her house by such connections.

  Thus it was pressed on by circumstances, she could no longer hold out,more especially as she heard nothing of her knight. She knew not wherehe was, or indeed if he were living or dead. She knew not he was nevernamed. This last circumstance, indeed, gave her pain; for it assured herthat he whom she loved had been unable to signalize himself from amongother men. That, in fact, he was unknown in the annals of fame, as wellas the probability that he had been slain in some of the earlierskirmishes of the war. This, if it had happened, caused her some pain tothink upon; not but such events were looked upon with almostindifference by females, save in such cases where their affections wereengaged, as on this occasion. But the event was softened by the factthat men were continually falling by the hand of man in such encounters,but at the same time it was considered an honourable and praiseworthydeath for a soldier. He was wounded, but not with the anguish we nowhear of; for the friends were consoled by the reflection that thedeceased warrior died covered with glory.

  Bertha, however, was young, and as yet she knew not the cause of herabsent knight's silence, or why he had not been heard of among the mostfo
rward in the battle.

  "Heaven's will be done," she exclaimed; "what can I do? I must submit tomy father's behests; but my future life will be one of misery andsorrow."

  She wept to think of the past, and to dream of the future; both alikewere sorrowful to think upon--no comfort in the past and no joy in thefuture.

  Thus she wept and sorrowed on the night of the first tournament; therewas to be a second, and that was to be the grand one, where her intendedbridegroom was to show himself off in her eyes, and take his part in thesport.

  * * * * *

  Bertha sat late--she sat sorrowing by the light of the lamps and theflickering flame of the fire, as it rose and fell on the hearth andthrew dancing shadows on the walls.

  "Oh, why, Arthur Home, should you thus be absent? Absent, too, at such atime when you are more needed than ever. Alas, alas! you may no longerbe in the land of the living. Your family is great and your nameknown--your own has been spoken with commendation from the lips of yourfriend; what more of fame do you need? but I am speaking withoutpurpose. Heaven have mercy on me."

  As she spoke she looked up and saw one of her women in waiting standingby.

  "Well, what would you?"--"My lady, there is one who would speak withyou," said the hand-maiden.

  "With me?"--"Yes, my lady; he named you the Lady Bertha de Cauci."

  "Who and what is he?" she inquired, with something like trepidation, ofthe maiden.--"I know not, my lady."

  "But gave he not some token by which I might know who I admit to mychamber?"--"None," replied the maiden.

  "And what does he bear by way of distinguishing himself? What crest ordevice doth he bear?"--"Merely a green shield."

  "The unsuccessful knight in the tournament to-day. Heaven's! what can hedesire with me; he is not--no, no, it cannot be--it cannot be."--"Willyou admit him, lady?"

  "Indeed, I know not what to do; but yet he may have some intelligence togive me. Yes, yes, admit him; but first throw some logs on the fire."

  The attendant did as she was desired, and then quitted the room for thepurpose of admitting the stranger knight with the green shield. In a fewmoments she could hear the stride of the knight as he entered theapartment, and she thought the step was familiar to her ear--she thoughtit was the step of Sir Arthur Home, her lover. She waited anxiously tosee the door open, and then the stranger entered. His form and bearingwas that of her lover, but his visor was down, and she was unable todistinguish the features of the stranger.

  His armour was such as had seen many a day's hard wear, and there wereplenty of marks of the battle about him. His travel-worn accoutrementswere altogether such as bespoke service in the field.

  "Sir, you desired to see me; say wherefore you do so, and if it is newsyou bring." The knight answered not, but pointed to the femaleattendant, as if he desired she would withdraw. "You may retire," saidBertha; "be within call, and let me know if I am threatened withinterruption."

  The attendant retired, and then the knight and lady were left alone. Theformer seemed at a loss how to break silence for some moments, and thenhe said,--

  "Lady ----" "Oh, Heavens! 'tis he!" exclaimed Bertha, as she sprang toher feet; "it is Sir Arthur Home!"

  "It is," exclaimed the knight, pulling up his visor, and dropping on oneknee he encircled his arm round the waist of the lady, and at the samemoment he pressed her lips to his own.

  The first emotion of joy and surprise over, Bertha checked hertransports, and chid the knight for his boldness.

  "Nay, chide me not, dear Bertha; I am what I was when I left you, andhope to find you the same."

  "Am I not?" said Bertha.--"Truly I know not, for you seem more beautifulthan you were then; I hope that is the only change."

  "If there be a change, it is only such as you see. Sorrow and regretform the principal causes."--"I understand you."

  "My intended nuptials ----" "Yes, I have heard all. I came here butlate in the morning; and my horse was jaded and tired, and my impatienceto attend the tournament caused me a disaster which it is well it came noton the second day."

  "It is, dear Arthur. How is it I never heard your name mentioned, orthat I received no news from any one about you during the wars that haveended?"--"I had more than one personal enemy, Bertha; men who would havebeen glad to see me fall, and who, in default of that, would not haveminded bribing an assassin to secure my death for them at any riskwhatever."

  "Heavens! and how did you escape such a death from such people,Arthur?"--"By adopting such a device as that I wear. The Knight of theGreen Shield I'm called."

  "I saw you to-day in the tournament."--"And there my tired and jadedhorse gave way; but to-morrow I shall have, I hope, a differentfortune."

  "I hope so too."--"I will try; my arm has been good in battle, and Isee not why it should be deficient in peaceful jousts."

  "Certainly not. What fortune have you met with since you leftEngland?"--"I was of course known but to a few; among those few were thegeneral under whom I served and my more immediate officers, who I knewwould not divulge my secret."

  "And they did not?"--"No; kept it nobly, and kept their eyes upon me inbattle; and I have reaped a rich harvest in force, honour, and riches, Iassure you."

  "Thank Heaven!" said Bertha.--"Bertha, if I be conqueror, may I claimyou in the court-yard before all the spectators?"

  "You may," said Bertha, and she hung her head.--"Moreover," said SirArthur, "you will not make a half promise, but when I demand you, youwill at once come down to me and accept me as your husband; if I be thevictor then he cannot object to the match."

  "But he will have many friends, and his intended bride will have manymore, so that you may run some danger among so many enemies."--"Neverfear for me, Bertha, because I shall have many friends of distinctionthere too--many old friends who are tried men in battle, and whose deedsare a glory and honour to them; besides, I shall have my commander andseveral gentlemen who would at once interfere in case any unfairadvantage was attempted to be taken of my supposed weakness."

  "Have you a fresh horse?" inquired Bertha.--"I have, or shall have bythe morning; but promise me you will do what I ask you, and then my armwill be nerved to its utmost, and I am sure to be victorious."

  "I do promise," said Bertha; "I hope you may be as successful as youhope to be, Arthur; but suppose fortune should declare against you;suppose an accident of any kind were to happen, what could be donethen?"--"I must be content to hide myself for ever afterwards, as adefeated knight; how can I appear before your friends as the claimant ofyour hand?"

  "I will never have any other."--"But you will be forced to accept thisGuthrie de Beaumont, your father's chosen son-in-law."

  "I will seek refuge in a cloister."--"Will you fly with me, Bertha, tosome sequestered spot, where we can live in each others society?"

  "Yes," said Bertha, "anything, save marriage with Guthrie deBeaumont."--"Then await the tournament of to-morrow," said Sir Arthur,"and then this may be avoided; in the meantime, keep up a good heart andremember I am at hand."

  * * * * *

  These two lovers parted for the present, after a protracted interview,Bertha to her chamber, and the Knight of the Green Shield to his tent.

  The following morning was one of great preparation; the lists had beenenlarged, and the seats made more commodious, for the influx of visitorsappeared to be much greater than had been anticipated.

  Moreover, there were many old warriors of distinction to be present,which made the bridegroom look pale and feel uncomfortable as to theresults of the tournament. The tilting was to begin at an early hour,and then the feasting and revelry would begin early in the evening,after the tilting had all passed off.

  In that day's work there were many thrown from their saddles, and manybroke their lances. The bridegroom tilted with several knights, and cameoff victorious, or without disadvantage to either.

  The green knight, on the contrary, tilted with but few, and alwaysvictorious
, and such matches were with men who had been men of some namein the wars, or at least in the tilt yard.

  The sports drew to a close, and when the bridegroom became thechallenger, the Knight of the Green Shield at once rode out quietly tomeet him. The encounter could not well be avoided, and the bridegroomwould willingly have declined the joust with a knight who had disposedof his enemies so easily, and so unceremoniously as he had.

  The first encounter was enough; the bridegroom was thrown to a greatdistance, and lay insensible on the ground, and was carried out of thefield. There was an immediate sensation among the friends of thebridegroom, several of whom rode out to challenge the stranger knightfor his presumption.

  In this, however, they had misreckoned the chances, for the challengedaccepted their challenges with alacrity and disposed of them one by onewith credit to himself until the day was concluded. The stranger wasthen asked to declare who he was, upon which he lifted his visor, andsaid,

  "I am Sir Arthur Home, and claim the Lady Bertha as my bride, by thelaws of arms, and by those of love."

  * * * * *

  Again the tent was felled, and again the hostelry was tenanted by thesoldier, who declared for one side and then for the other, as the cupsclanged and jingled together.

  "Said I not," exclaimed one of the troopers, "that the knight with agreen shield was a good knight?"--"You did," replied the other.

  "And you knew who he was?" said another of the troopers.--"Not I,comrades; I had seen him fight in battle, and, therefore, partly guessedhow it would be if he had any chance with the bridegroom. I'm glad hehas won the lady."

  It was true, the Lady Bertha was won, and Sir Arthur Home claimed hisbride, and then they attempted to defeat his claim; yet Bertha at onceexpressed herself in his favour, to strongly that they were, howeverreluctantly compelled, to consent at last.

  At this moment, a loud shout as from a multitude of persons came upontheir ears and Flora started from her seat in alarm. The cause of thealarm we shall proceed to detail.

 

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