A KNIGHT'S CHAIN
The following morning Walter put on the sober russet dress which he wore
on Sundays and holidays, for gay colors were not allowed to the
apprentices, and set out for Westminster. Although he endeavored to
assume an air of carelessness and ease as he approached the dwelling of
Earl Talbot, he was very far from feeling comfortable, and wished in his
heart that his master had accompanied him on his errand. Half a dozen
men-at-arms were standing on the steps of the mansion, who looked with
haughty surprise at the young apprentice.
"Dame Alice Vernon has sent to express her desire to have speech with
me," he said quietly, "and I would fain know if she can receive me."
"Here, Dikon," one of the men cried to another within the hall. "This is
the lad you were sent to fetch yesterday. I wondered much who the city
apprentice was who, with such an assured air, marched up to the door;
but if what thou sayest be true, that he saved the life of Dame Vernon
and her little daughter, he must be a brave lad, and would be more in
place among men and soldiers than in serving wares behind the counter
of a fat city tradesman."
"I serve behind no counter," Walter said indignantly. "I am an armorer,
and mayhap can use arms as well as make them."
There was a laugh among the men at the boy's sturdy self-assertion, and
then the man named Dikon said:
"Come along, lad. I will take you to Dame Vernon at once. She is
expecting you; and, my faith, it would not be safe to leave you standing
here long, for I see you would shortly be engaged in splitting the
weasands of my comrades."
There was another roar of laughter from the men, and Walter, somewhat
abashed, followed his conductor into the house. Leading him through the
hall and along several corridors, whose spaciousness and splendor quite
overpowered the young apprentice, he handed him over to a waiting-woman,
who ushered him into an apartment where Dame Vernon was reclining on a
couch. Her little daughter was sitting upon a low stool beside her, and
upon seeing Walter she leaped to her feet, clapping her hands.
"Oh! mother, this is the boy that rescued us out of the river."
The lady looked with some surprise at the lad. She had but a faint
remembrance of the events which occurred between the time when she
received a blow from the sword of one of her assailants and that when
she found herself on a couch in the abode of her kinsman; and when she
had been told that she had been saved by a city apprentice, she had
pictured to herself a lad of a very different kind to him who now stood
before her.
Walter was now nearly sixteen years old. His frame was very powerful and
firmly knit. His dark-brown hair was cut short, but, being somewhat
longer than was ordinary with the apprentices, fell with a slight wave
back on his forehead. His bearing was respectful, and at the same time
independent. There was none of that confusion which might be expected on
the part of a lad from the city in the presence of a lady of rank. His
dark, heavy eyebrows, resolute mouth, and square chin gave an expression
of sternness to his face, which was belied by the merry expression of
his eyes and the bright smile when he was spoken to.
"I have to thank you, young sir," she said, holding out her hand, which
Walter, after the custom of the time, raised to his lips, bending upon
one knee as he did so, "for the lives of myself and my daughter, which
would surely have been lost had you not jumped over to save us."
"I am glad that I arrived in time to be of aid," Walter said frankly;
"but indeed I am rather to be blamed than praised, for had I, when I
heard the plotting against the safety of the boat, told my master of it,
as I should have done, instead of taking the adventure upon mine own
shoulders, doubtless a boat would have been sent up in time to prevent
the attack from taking place. Therefore, instead of being praised for
having arrived a little too late, I should be rated for not having come
there in time."
Dame Vernon smiled.
"Although you may continue to insist that you are to blame, this does
not alter the fact that you have saved our lives. Is there any way in
which I can be useful to you? Are you discontented with your state? for,
in truth, you look as if Nature had intended you for a gallant soldier
rather than a city craftsman. Earl Talbot, who is my uncle, would, I am
sure, receive you into his following should you so choose it, and I
would gladly pay for the canceling of your indentures."
"I thank you, indeed, lady, for your kind offices," Walter said
earnestly; "for the present I am well content to remain at my craft,
which is that of an armorer, until, at any rate, I have gained such
manly strength and vigor as would fit me for a man-at-arms, and my good
master, Geoffrey Ward, will, without payment received, let me go when I
ask that grace of him."
"Edith, go and look from the window at the boats passing along the
river; and now," she went on as the girl had obeyed her orders, "I would
fain ask you more about the interview you overheard in the marshes. Sir
William de Hertford told me of the evidence that you had given before
the justice. It is passing strange that he who incited the other to the
deed should have been by him termed 'Sir Knight.' Maybe it was merely a
nickname among his fellows."
"Before I speak, lady," Walter said quietly, "I would fain know whether
you wish to be assured of the truth. Sometimes, they say, it is wiser to
remain in ignorance; at other times forewarned is forearmed. Frankly, I
did not tell all I know before the court, deeming that peradventure you
might wish to see me, and that I could then tell the whole to your
private ear, should you wish to know it, and you could then bid me
either keep silence or proclaim all I knew when the trial of these
evil-doers comes on."
"You seem to me to be wise beyond your years, young sir," the lady said.
"The wisdom is not mine, lady, but my master's. I took counsel with him,
and acted as he advised me."
"I would fain know all," the lady said. "I have already strange
suspicions of one from whom assuredly I looked not for such evil
designs. It will grieve me to be convinced that the suspicions are well
founded; but it will be better to know the truth than to remain in a
state of doubt."
"The person, then, was a knight, for I had seen him before when he came
in knightly harness into my master's shop to have two rivets put into
his hauberk. I liked not his face then, and should have remembered it
anywhere. I knew him at once when I saw him. He was a dark-faced knight,
handsome, and yet with features which reminded me of a hawk."
Dame Vernon gave a little exclamation, which assured the lad that she
recognized the description.
"You may partly know, lady, whether it is he whom you suppose, for he
said that he would detain your boat so that it should not come along
until dark, and, moreover, he told them that they would know the boat
since you would be wrapped in a white mantle."
The lady sat for some time with her face hidden in her hands.
"It is as I feared," she said at last, "and it grieves me to the heart
to think that one who, although not so nearly related in blood, I
regarded as a brother, should have betrayed me to death. My mind is
troubled indeed, and I know not what course I shall take, whether to
reveal this dreadful secret or to conceal it."
"I may say, madam," Walter said earnestly, "that should you wish the
matter to remain a secret, you may rely upon it that I will tell no more
at the trial than I revealed yesterday; but I would remind you that
there is a danger that the leader of yon ruffians, who is probably alone
acquainted with the name of his employer, may, under the influence of
the torture, reveal it."
"That fear is for the present past, since a messenger arrived from
Kingston but a few minutes since, saying that yester even, under the
threat of torture, the prisoners had pointed out the one among their
number who was their chief. This morning, however, it was found that the
warder who had charge of them had been bribed; he was missing from his
post, and the door of the cell wherein the principal villain had been
immured, apart from the others, was opened, and he had escaped."
"Then," Walter said, "it is now open to you to speak or be silent as you
will. You will pardon my forwardness if I say that my master, in talking
the matter over with me, suggested that this evil knight might be scared
from attempting any future enterprise against you were he informed that
it was known to several persons that he was the author of this outrage,
and that if any further attempts were at any time made against you, the
proofs of his crime would be laid before the king."
"Thanks, good lad," the lady said, "for your suggestion. Should I decide
to keep the matter secret, I will myself send him a message to that
effect, in such guise that he would not know whence it comes. And now, I
would fain reward you for what you have done for us; and," she went on,
seeing a flush suddenly mount upon the lad's face as he made a half-step
backward, "before I saw you, had thought of offering you a purse of
gold, which, although it would but poorly reward your services, would
yet have proved useful to you when the time came for you to start as a
craftsman on your own account; but now that I have seen you, I feel that
although there are few who think themselves demeaned by accepting gifts
of money in reward for services, you would rather my gratitude took
some other form. It can only do that of offering you such good services
that I can render with Earl Talbot, should you ever choose the
profession of arms; and in the mean time, as a memento of the lives you
have saved, you will, I am sure, not refuse this chain," and she took a
very handsome one of gold from her neck, "the more so since it was the
gift of her majesty, our gracious queen, to myself. She will, I am sure,
acquit me of parting with her gift when I tell her that I transferred it
to one who had saved the lives of myself and my daughter, and who was
too proud to accept other acknowledgment."
Coloring deeply, and with tears in his eyes at the kindness and
thoughtful consideration of the lady, Walter knelt on one knee before
her, and she placed round his neck the long gold chain which she had
been wearing.
"It is a knight's chain," the lady said, smiling, "and was part of the
spoil gained by King Edward from the French. Maybe," she added kindly,
"it will be worn by a knight again. Stranger things have happened, you
know."
Walter flushed again with pleasure.
"Maybe, lady," he said modestly, "even apprentices have their dreams,
and men-at-arms may always hope, by deeds of valor, to attain a knight's
spurs even though they may not be of noble blood or have served as page
and squire to a baron; but whether as a 'prentice or soldier, I hope I
shall never do discredit to your gift."
"Edith, come here," Dame Vernon said, "I have done talking now. And what
are you going to give this brave knight of ours who saved us from
drowning?"
The girl looked thoughtfully at Walter. "I don't think you would care
for presents," she said; "and you look as if a sword or a horse would
suit you better than a girl's gift. And yet I should like to give you
something, such as ladies give their knights who have done brave deeds
for them. It must be something quite my own, and you must take it as a
keepsake. What shall it be, mamma?"
"Give him the bracelet which your cousin gave you last week," her mother
said; "I would rather that you did not keep it, and I know you are not
very fond of him."
"I can't bear him," the girl said earnestly, "and I wish he would not
kiss me; he always looks as if he were going to bite, and I will gladly
give his bracelet to this brave boy."
"Very well, Edith, fetch the bracelet from that coffer in the corner."
The girl went to the coffer and brought out the little bracelet; then
she approached Walter.
"You must go down on your knee," she said; "true knights always do that
to receive their lady's gifts. Now hold out your hand. There," she went
on in a pretty imperious way, "take this gage as a reward of your valor,
and act ever as a true knight in the service of your lady."
[Illustration: "TAKE THIS GAGE AS A REWARD OF YOUR VALOR."--Page 62]
Bending down she dropped a kiss upon Walter's glowing cheek, and
then, half-frightened at her own temerity, ran back to her mother's
side.
"And now," Dame Vernon went on, "will you thank your five comrades for
their service in the matter, and give them each two gold pieces to spend
as they will?"
"He is a noble lad," Dame Vernon had said to herself when Walter had
taken his leave. "Would he had been the son of one of the nobles of the
court! It might have been then, if he had distinguished himself in war,
as he would surely do, that the king might have assigned Edith to him.
As her lord and guardian he is certain to give her hand as a reward for
valor in the field, and it may well be to a man with whom she would be
less happy than with this 'prentice lad; but there, I need not be
troubling myself about a matter which is five or six years distant yet.
Still, the thought that Edith is a ward of the crown, and that her hand
must go where the king wills, often troubles me. However, I have a good
friend in the queen, who will, I know, exert what influence she has in
getting me a good husband for my child. But even for myself I have some
fears, since the king hinted, when last he saw me, that it was time I
looked out for another mate, for that the vassals of Westerham and Hyde
needed a lord to lead them in the field. However, I hope that my answer
that they were always at his service under the leading of my Cousin
James will suffice for him. Now, what am I to do in that matter? Who
would have thought that he so coveted my lands that he would have slain
me and Edith to possess himself of them? His own lands are thrice as
broad as mine, though men say that he has dipped deeply into them and
owes much money to the Jews. He is powerful and has many friends, and
although Earl Talbot would stand by me, yet the unsupported word of an
apprentice boy were but poor evidence on which to charge a powerful
baron of such a crime as this. It were best, methinks, to say naught
about it, but to bury the thought in my own heart. Nevertheless, I will
not fail to take the precaution which the lad advised, and to let Sir
James know that there are some who have knowledge of his handiwork. I
hear he crosses the seas to-morrow to join the army, and it may be long
ere he return. I shall have plenty of time to consider how I had best
shape my conduct toward him on his return; but assuredly he shall never
be friendly with me again or frighten Edith with his kisses."
"Well, Walter, has it been such a dreadful business as you expected?"
the armorer asked the lad when he reentered the shop. "The great folks
have not eaten you, at any rate."
"It has not been dreadful," Walter replied with a smile, "though I own
that it was not pleasant when I first arrived at the great mansion; but
the lady put me quite at my ease, and she talked to me for some time,
and finally she bestowed on me this chain, which our lady, the queen,
had herself given her."
"It is a knight's chain and a heavy one," Geoffrey said, examining it,
"of Genoese work, I reckon, and worth a large sum. It will buy you
harness when you go to the wars."
"I would rather fight in the thickest _melee_ in a cloth doublet,"
Walter said indignantly, "than part with a single link of it."
"I did but jest, Walter," Geoffrey said, laughing; "but as you will not
sell it, and you cannot wear it, you had best give it me to put aside in
my strong coffer until you get of knightly rank."
"Lady Vernon said," the lad replied, "that she hoped one day it might
again belong to a knight; and if I live," he added firmly, "it shall."
"Oh! she has been putting these ideas into your head; nice notions truly
for a London apprentice! I shall be laying a complaint before the lord
mayor against Dame Vernon, for unsettling the mind of my apprentice and
setting him above his work. And the little lady, what said she? Did she
give you her colors and bid you wear them at a tourney?"
Walter colored hotly.
"Ah! I have touched you," laughed the armorer; "come now, out with the
truth. My lad," he added more gravely, "there is no shame in it; you
know that I have always encouraged your wishes to be a soldier, and have
done my best to render you as good a one as any who draws sword 'neath
the king's banner, and assuredly I would not have taken all these pains
with you did I think that you were always to wear an iron cap and trail
a pike. I too, lad, hope some day to see you a valiant knight, and have
reasons that you wot not of for my belief that it will be so. No man
rises to rank and fame any the less quickly because he thinks that
bright eyes will grow brighter at his success."
"But, Geoffrey, you are talking surely at random. The Lady Edith Vernon
is but a child; a very beautiful child," he added reverently, "and such
that when she grows up the bravest knight in England might be proud to
win. What folly for me, the son of a city bowyer, and as yet but an
apprentice, to raise mine eyes so high!"
"The higher one looks the higher one goes," the armorer said
sententiously. "You aspire some day to become a knight, you may well
aspire also to win the hand of Mistress Edith Vernon. She is five years
younger than yourself, and you will be twenty-two when she is seventeen.
You have time to make your way yet, and I tell you, though why it
matters not, that I would rather you set your heart on winning Mistress
Edith Vernon than any other heiress of broad lands in merry England. You
have saved her life, and so have made the first step and a long one. Be
ever brave, gentle, and honorable, and, I tell you, you need not
despair; and now, lad, we have already lost too much time in talking;
let us to our work."
That evening Walter recalled to Geoffrey his promise to tell him the
causes which had involved England in so long and bloody a war with
France.
"It is a tangled skein," Geoffrey said, "and you must follow me
carefully. First, with a piece of chalk I will draw upon the wall the
pedigree of the royal line of France from Philip downward, and then you
will see how it is that our King Edward and Philip of Valois came to be
rival claimants to the throne of France.
PHILIP,
King of France.
|
,---------'-----------------------,
| |
PHILIP LE BEL, CHARLES,
King of France. Count
| of Valois.
,-----------,-----'-----,-------------, |
| | | | |
LOUIS PHILIP CHARLES ISABELLA, PHILIP,
LE HUTIN. LE LONG. LE BEL. Queen Count
of England. of Valois.
|
|
EDWARD III.
"Now, you see that our King Edward is nephew of Charles le Bel, the last
King of France, while Philip of Valois is only nephew of Philip le Bel,
the father of Charles. Edward is consequently in the direct line, and
had Isabella been a man instead of a woman his right to the throne would
be unquestionable. In France, however, there is a law, called the Salic
law, which excludes females from the throne; but it is maintained by
many learned in the law, that although a female is held to be
incompetent to reign because from her sex she cannot lead her armies to
battle, yet she no way forfeits otherwise her rights, and that her son
is therefore the heir to the throne. If this contention, which is held
by all English jurists, and by many in France also, be well founded,
Edward is the rightful King of France. Philip of Valois contends that
the Salic law not only bars a female from ascending the throne, but also
destroys all her rights, and that the succession goes not to her sons,
but to the next heir male; in which case, of course, Philip is rightful
king. It is not for me to say which view is the right one, but certainly
the great majority of those who have been consulted have decided that,
according to ancient law and usage, the right lies with Edward. But in
these matters 'right is not always might.' Had Isabella married a French
noble instead of an English king it is probable that her son's claims to
the throne would have been allowed without dispute, but her son is King
of England, and the French nobles prefer being ruled by one of
themselves to becoming united with England under one king.
"At the time of the death of the last king, Edward was still but a boy
under the tuition of his mother, Philip was a man, and upon the spot,
therefore he was able to win support by his presence and promises, and
so it came that the peers of France declared Philip of Valois to be
their rightful monarch. Here in England, at a parliament held at
Northampton, the rights of Edward were discussed and asserted, and the
Bishops of Worcester and Coventry were dispatched to Paris to protest
against the validity of Philip's nomination. As, however, the country
was not in a position to enforce the claim of their young king by arms,
Philip became firmly seated as King of France, and having shown great
energy in at once marching against and repressing the people of
Flanders, who were in a state of rebellion against their count, one of
the feudatories of the French crown, the nobles were well satisfied with
their choice, and no question as to his right was ever henceforth raised
in France. As soon as the rebellion in Flanders was crushed, Philip
summoned the King of England to do homage for Aquitaine, Ponthieu, and
Montreuil, fiefs held absolutely from the crown of France. Such a
proceeding placed Edward and his council in a great embarrassment. In
case of a refusal the whole of the possessions of the crown in France
might be declared forfeited and be seized, while England was in no
condition to defend them; on the other hand, the fact of doing homage to
Philip of Valois would be a sort of recognition of his right to the
throne he had assumed. Had Edward then held the reins of power in his
hands, there can be little doubt that he would at once have refused, and
would have called out the whole strength of England to enforce his
claim. The influence of Isabella and Mortimer was, however,
all-powerful, and it was agreed that Edward should do homage as a public
act, making a private reservation in secret to his own councilors,
taking exception to the right of Philip.
"Edward crossed to France and journeyed to Amiens, where Philip with a
brilliant court awaited him, and on the appointed day they appeared
together in the cathedral. Here Edward, under certain protestations, did
homage for his French estates, leaving certain terms and questions open
for the consideration of his council. For some time the matter remained
in this shape; but honest men cannot but admit that King Edward did, by
his action at the time, acknowledge Philip to be King of France, and
that he became his vassal for his estates there; but, as has happened
scores of times before, and will no doubt happen scores of times again,
vassals, when they become powerful enough, throw off their allegiance to
their feudal superiors, and so the time came to King Edward.
"After the death of Mortimer and the imprisonment of Isabella, the king
gave rein to his taste for military sports. Tournaments were held at
Dartford and other places, one in Westcheape. What a sight was that, to
be sure! For three days the king, with fourteen of his knights, held the
list against all comers, and in the sight of the citizens and the ladies
of the court jousted with knights who came hither from all parts of
Europe. I was there each day, and the sight was a grand one, though
England was well-nigh thrown into mourning by an accident which took
place. The gallery in which the queen and her attendants were viewing
the sports had been badly erected, and in the height of the contests it
gave way. The queen and her ladies were in great peril, being thrown
from a considerable height, and a number of persons were severely
injured. The king, who was furious at the danger to which the queen had
been exposed, would have hung upon the spot the master workman whose
negligence had caused the accident, but the queen went on her knees
before him and begged his life of the king. The love of Edward for
warlike exercises caused England to be regarded as the most chivalrous
court in Europe, and the frequent tournaments aroused to the utmost the
spirits of the people and prepared them for the war with France. But of
the events of that war I will tell you some other night. It is time now
for us to betake us to our beds."