How blest am I by such a man led,
Under whose wise and careful guardship
I now despise fatigue and hardship!
As soon as they were out of reach of immediate annoyance, the knight
reined in his horse, and turned to see if Shoenvelt showed any
symptoms of an inclination to follow. But all was now quiet: the gates
were shut, the drawbridge was raised, and not even an archer to be
seen upon the walls. Sir Osborne's eye, however, ran over tower, and
bartizan, and wall, and battlement, with so keen and searching a
glance, that if any watched him in his progress, it must have been
from the darkest loophole in the castle, to escape the notice of his
eye.
Satisfied at length with his scrutiny, he again pursued his journey
down the steep descent into the vast plain of Flanders, and turned his
horse towards Mount Cassel, giving Longpole an account, as he went, of
the honourable plans and purposes of the good Count of Shoenvelt.
"'Odslife! my lord," said Longpole, "let us go into that part of the
world too. If we could but get a good stout fellow or two to our back,
we might disconcert them."
"I fear they are too many for us," replied the knight, "though it
seems that Shoenvelt, avaricious of all he can get, and afraid that
aught should slip through his hands, has divided his men into tens and
twelves, so that a few spears well led might do a great deal of harm
amongst them. At all events, Longpole, we will buy a couple of lances
at Cassel; for we may yet chance to meet with some of Shoenvelt's
followers on our road."
Conversing of their future proceedings, they now mounted the steep
ascent of Mount Cassel, and approached the gate of the town, the iron
grate of which, to their surprise, was slowly pushed back in their
faces as they rode up. "Ho! soldier, why do you shut the gate?" cried
Sir Osborne; "don't you see we are coming in?"
"No, you are not," replied the other, who was a stiff old Hainaulter,
looking as rigid and intractable as the iron jack that covered his
shoulders; "none of Shoenvelt's plunderers come in here."
"But we are neither friends nor plunderers of Shoenvelt's," said the
knight: "we are his enemies, and have just made our escape from St.
Hubert's."
"Ah! a fine tale! a fine tale!" replied the soldier, through the
barred gate, which he continued slowly and imperturbably to fasten
against them. "We saw you come down the hill, but you don't step in
here to-night; so you had better ride away, before the captain sends
down to make you. We all know that you can lie as well as rob."
"By my life! if I were in, I'd split your morion for you," said the
knight, enraged at the cool _nonchalance_ of the Hainaulter.
"Doubtless," replied he, in the same sort of indifferent snuffling
tone; "doubtless: you look like it, and that's one reason why I shall
keep you out."
Sir Osborne wasted no more words on the immoveable old pikeman, but,
angrily turning his horse, began to descend the hill. A little way
down the steep, there was even then, as now, a small hamlet serving as
a sort of suburb to the town above; and towards this the knight took
his way, pausing to gaze, every now and then, on the vast,
interminable plain that lay stretched at his feet, spread over which
he could see a thousand cities and villages, all filled with their own
little interests and feelings, wherein he had no part nor sympathy,
and a thousand roads leading away to them, in every direction, without
any one to guide his choice, or to tell him on which he might expect
prosperity or disaster.
"To Aire," said he, after he had thought for some time. "We will go to
Aire. I hear that the Count de Ligny, whom I fought at Isson, is
there, and the Chevalier Bayard, and many other gallant knights and
gentlemen, who, perhaps, may welcome me amongst them. Is not that the
smoke of a forge, Longpole? Perhaps we may find an armourer. Let us
see."
As the knight had imagined, so it proved, and on their demanding two
strong lances, the armourer soon brought them forward a bundle of
stiff ash staves, bidding them choose. After some examination to
ascertain the soundness of the wood, their choice was made; and the
Fleming proceeded to adjust to the smaller end of each two
handsbreadths of pointed iron, which being fastened and clenched, the
knight and his follower paid the charge, and taking possession of
their new weapons rode away, directing their course towards
Hazebrouck, in their way to Aire.
Their progress now became necessarily slow; for though both horses
were powerful in limb and joint, and trained to carry great burdens
and endure much fatigue, yet the weight of a heavy iron bard, together
with that of a tall strong man armed at all points, was such that in a
long journey it of course made itself felt. Evidently perceiving by
the languor of his motions that the charger which bore him was
becoming greatly wearied, Sir Osborne ceased to urge him, and proposed
to stop for the evening at the very first village that could boast of
an inn. Nevertheless, it was some time before they met with such a
one, most of the hamlets on the road being too poor and insignificant
to require or possess anything of the kind. At length, however, a
small, neat house, with a verdant holly-bush over the door, invited
their steps, and entering, Sir Osborne was saluted heartily by the
civil host, who, with brandished knife and snowy bib, was busily
engaged in cooking various savoury messes for any guest that
Providence might send him. Some specimens of his handiwork were placed
before the knight and Longpole, as soon as their horses had been taken
care of; and an excellent bottle of old wine, together with some
fatigue, induced them to linger a little at the table.
The lattice, which was open, looked out across the road to the little
village green, where was to be seen many a schoolboy playing in the
fine May evening, and mocking, in his childish sports, the sadder
doings of the grown-up children of the day. Here, horsed upon their
fellows' backs, were two that acted the part of knights, tilting at
each other with broomsticks; and there, marshalled in fair order by a
youthful captain, marched a body of young lansquenets, advancing and
retreating, wheeling and charging, with no small precision. Sir
Osborne watched them for a while, in somewhat of a moralizing mood,
till his musing was disturbed by the trotting of a horse past the
window, and in a moment after he heard the good-humoured voice of the
host addressing the person who arrived.
"Ah! Master Frederick," he said, "what! back again so soon! I told you
you would soon be tired of soldiering."
"Nay, nay, Regnault," answered a voice that Sir Osborne thought he had
heard before, "I am not tired of soldiering, and never shall be; but I
am tired of consorting with a horde of plunderers, for such are
Shoenvelt and all his followers. But while I lead my horse to the
stable, get me something to eat, good Regnault; for I do not want to
go back to the hall till I have dented my sword at least."
"What! are you going to it again?" cried the host; "stay at home,
Master Frederick! stay at home! Take care of the house your father has
left you. If you are not so rich as the baron, you have enough, and
that is better than riches, if one knew it."
"My father was a soldier," answered the young man, "and distinguished
himself; and so will I, before I sit down in peace."
Here the conversation ceased; and the host, entering the room in which
sat the knight and his follower, began to lay out one of the small
tables with which it was furnished. "That is as good a youth," said
he, addressing Sir Osborne, while he proceeded with his preparations;
"that is as good a youth as ever breathed, if he had not taken this
fit of soldiering. His father was a younger brother of old Count
Altaman, and after many years' service came to our village, and bought
a piece of ground, where he built a house: your worship may see it
from here, over the side of the hill, with the wood behind it. He has
been dead now a year, and his wife near three; and so Master Frederick
there must needs go soldiering. They say it is all love for the
baron's daughter. But here he comes."
As he spoke, the young man entered the room, presenting to Sir
Osborne, as he had expected, the face of the youth who had been sent
by Shoenvelt to welcome him on his arrival at the castle. An ingenuous
blush overspread the young Hainaulter's countenance when he saw Sir
Osborne, and taking his seat at the table prepared for him, he turned
away his head and began his meal in silence.
"Had you not better take off your corslet, Master Frederick?" demanded
the host.
"No, no, Regnault," replied the youth; "I do not know that I shall
stay here all night. Never mind! give me some wine, and leave me."
Thus repulsed, the innkeeper withdrew, and Sir Osborne continued to
watch the young soldier, who, whether it was a feeling of shame at
meeting the knight, and degradation at having been made, even in a
degree, a party to Shoenvelt's attempt to deceive him, or whether it
was bitterness of spirit at returning to his native place
unsuccessful, seemed to have his heart quite full; and it appeared to
be with pain that he ate the food which was placed before him.
Sir Osborne could feel for disappointed hopes, and after regarding him
for a moment or two in silence, he crossed the room and laid his hand
upon his shoulder.
The young man turned round with a flushed cheek, hardly knowing
whether from anger at the familiarity to vent the feelings of his
heart, or to take it in good part, and strive to win the esteem of a
man whom he had been taught to admire.
But there was a frankness in the knight's manner, and a noble kindness
of intent in his look, that soon removed all doubt. "So, young
gentleman," said he, "you have left Count Shoenvelt's company. I
thought you were not made to stay long amongst them; but say, was it
with his will?"
"I staid not to ask, my lord," replied the young man. "I was bound to
Shoenvelt in no way, and the moment the gates were opened after you
were gone, I rode out and came away."
Sir Osborne shook his head. "When a soldier engages with a commander,"
said he, "his own will and pleasure must not be the terms of his
service. But of all things, he ought not to quit his leader's banner
without giving notice that he intends to do so."
"But, thank God," cried the young Hainaulter, "I had not yet taken
service with Shoenvelt. He wanted to swear me to it, as he does the
rest; but I would not do so till I saw more of him and of his plans;
and so I told him."
"That makes the matter very different," replied the knight with a
smile. "I am heartily glad to hear it, for I dare pronounce him a
traitorous ruffian, and no true knight. But one more question, young
sir, if I urge not your patience. How came you to seek Shoenvelt at
first, who never bore a high renown but as a marauder?"
The youth hesitated. "It matters not, sir knight," replied he, after a
moment's pause, "to you or to any one, what reasons I might have to
seek renown as speedily as possible, and why the long, tedious road to
knighthood and to fame, first as page, and then as squire, and then as
man-at-arms, was such as I could not bear; but so it was: and as
Shoenvelt gave out that he had high commissions from the emperor, and
was to do great deeds, I hoped that with him I might find speedy means
of signalizing myself. After being two days in the castle, I
discovered that his whole design was plunder, which was not the way to
fame; and this morning he made me deliver you a message, which I knew
to be a falsehood, which was not the road to honour: so I determined
to leave him; and as the spearmen are always dropping out of the
castle by five or six at a time, to go down to the frontier, I soon
found the means of getting away."
"Yours is an error, my good youth," said Sir Osborne, "which I am
afraid we are all wont to entertain in the first heat of our early
days; but we soon find that the road to fame is hard and difficult of
access, and that it requires time, and perseverance, and labour, and
strength, even to make a small progress therein. Those who, with a gay
imagination, fancy they have made themselves wings to fly up to the
top, soon, like the Cretan of old, sear their pinions in the sun, and
drop into the sea of oblivion. However, are you willing to follow a
poor knight, who, though he cannot promise either fame or riches, will
lead you, at least, in the path of honour?"
The enthusiastic youth caught the knight's hand, and kissed it with
inexpressible delight. "What! follow you?" cried he; "follow the Lord
Darnley, the Knight of Burgundy, whose single arm maintained the
bridge at Bovines against the bravest of the Duke of Alençon's horse!
Ay, that I will, follow him through the world. Do you hear that,
Regnault?" he cried to the innkeeper, who now entered; "do you hear
that? Instead of the base Shoenvelt, I am going to follow the noble
Lord of Darnley, who was armed a knight by the emperor himself."
The honest innkeeper congratulated Master Frederick heartily upon the
exchange; for the knight was now in that part of the country where his
name, if not his person, was well known; and in that age, the fame of
gallant actions and of noble bearing spread rapidly through all ranks,
and gained the meed of applause from men whom we might suppose little
capable of appreciating it.
All preliminaries were speedily arranged, and the next morning Sir
Osborne set out by dawn for the small town of Hazebrouck, which lay at
about two leagues' distance, where he took care to furnish his new
follower with a lance, and several pieces of defensive armour that
were wanting to his equipment; and then, to ascertain what reliance
might be placed on his support in case of emergency, he excited him to
practise various military exercises with himself, as they rode along
towards Aire. To his no small surprise and pleasure, he found that the
young Hainaulter, though somewhat rash and hasty, was far more skilful
in the use of his weapons and the management of his horse than he
could have conceived; and with such an addition to his party, he no
longer scrupled to cast himself in the way of some of Shoenvelt's
bodies of marauders, to keep his hand in, as Longpole quaintly
expressed it, when he heard his lord's determination.
"Come, Frederick," said the knight, "I will not go on to Aire, as I
had determined; but, in order to gratify your wish for renown, we will
lie about on the frontier, like true errant knights of old, at any
village or other place where we may find shelter; and if we meet with
Shoenvelt, or any of his, mind you do honour to your arms. We shall
always have the odds of eight or nine against us."
"No, no, sir knight!" cried the young soldier; "do not believe that.
It is one of his falsehoods; there are not above ten in any of the
bands, and most of them are five or six. I know where most of them
lie."
"Hush, hush!" cried Sir Osborne, raising his finger; "you must tell me
nothing; so that, if you should chance to break a lance with him, your
hand may not tremble at thinking you have betrayed his counsel. Nay,
do not blush, Frederick. A man who aspires to chivalry must guide
himself by stricter rules than other men. It was for this I spoke.
Here is the fair river Lys, if I remember right."
"It is so, sir knight," replied the other; "there is a bridge about a
mile lower down."
"What! for a brook like this?" cried Sir Osborne, spurring his horse
in. "Oh, no; we will swim it. Follow!"
The young Hainaulter's horse did not like the plunge, and shied away
from the brink. "Spur him in, spur him in!" cried Longpole. "If our
lord reaches the other bank first, he will never forgive us. He swims
like an otter himself, and fancies that his squires ought to be
water-rats by birthright."
"Down with the left rein!" cried the knight, turning as his horse
swam, and seeing the situation of his young follower. "Give him the
spur, bring him to a demivolte, and he must in."
As the knight said, at the second movement of the demivolte, the
horse's feet were brought to the very brink of the river, and a slight
touch of the mullet made him plunge over; so that, though somewhat
embarrassed with his lance in the water, Frederick soon reached the
other bank in safety.
One of the beautiful Flemish meadows, which still in many parts skirt
the banks of the Lys, presented itself on the other side; and beyond
that, a forest that has long since known the rude touch of the heavy
axe, which, like some fell enchanter's wand, has made so many of the
loveliest woods in Europe disappear, without leaving a trace behind.
The one we speak of was then in its full glory, sweeping along with a
rich undulating outline by the side of the soft green plain that
bordered the river, sometimes advancing close to the very brink, as if
the giant trees of which it was composed sought to contemplate their
grandeur in the watery mirror, sometimes falling far away, and leaving
a wide open space between itself and the stream, covered with thick
short grass, and strewed with the thousand flowers wherewith Nature's
liberal hand has fondly decorated her favourite spring. Every here and
there, too, the wood itself would break away, discovering a long glade
penetrating into the deepest recesses of its bosom, filled with the
rich, mellow forest light, that, streaming between every aperture,
chequered the green, mossy path below, and showed a long perspective
of vivid light and shade as far as the eye could reach.
It was up one of these that Sir Osborne took his way, willing to try
the mettle of his new follower, and to initiate him into the trade of
war, by a few of its first hardships and dangers, doubting not that
Shoenvelt had taken advantage of that forest, situated as it was
between Lillers and Aire, to post at least one party of his men
therein. From what the youth had let drop, as well as from what he had
himself observed, the knight was led to believe that the adventurer
had greatly magnified the number of his forces; and he also concluded
that, to avoid suspicion, he had divided his men into very small
troops, except on such points as he expected the King of France
himself to pass; and even there, Sir Osborne did not doubt that thirty
men would be the extent of any one body, Francis's habit of riding
almost unattended, with the fearless confidence natural to his
character, being but too well known on the frontier.
To meet with Shoenvelt himself, and if possible to disappoint his
schemes of plunder, was now the knight's castle in the air; and though
the numbers of his own party were so scanty, he felt the sort of
confident assurance in his own courage, his own strength, and his own
skill, which is ever worth a host in moments of danger. Longpole, he
was also sure, would be no inefficient aid; and though the young
Hainaulter might not be their equal in experience or skill, Sir
Osborne did not fear that, in time of need, his enthusiastic courage
and desire to distinguish himself would make him more than a match for
one of Shoenvelt's company.
Under these circumstances, the knight would never have hesitated to
attack a body of double, or perhaps treble, his own number; and yet he
resolved to proceed cautiously, endeavouring in the first place to
inform himself of the situation of Shoenvelt's various bands, and to
ascertain which that marauder was likely to join himself.
Wilsten having let drop that he and the count, as the two leaders of
their whole force, were to set out the next morning, Sir Osborne saw
that no time was to be lost in reconnoitring the ground, in order to
ascertain the real strength of the adventurers. He resolved,
therefore, to take every means to learn their numbers; and if he found
the amount more formidable than he imagined, to risk nothing with so
few, but to provide for the king's safety, by giving notice to the
garrison of Aire that the monarch was menaced by danger; and then to
aid with his own hand in ridding the frontier of such dangerous
visitors, though he felt a great degree of reluctance to share with
any one an enterprise full of honourable danger. It was likewise
necessary to ascertain where Francis I. was; for Shoenvelt might have
been deceived, or the king might have already quitted the frontier, or
he might be accompanied by a sufficient escort to place his person in
security; or, in short, a thousand circumstances might have happened,
which would render the enterprise of the adventurers abortive, and his
own interference unnecessary, if not impertinent.
Revolving all these considerations in his mind, sometimes proceeding
in silence, sometimes calling upon his companions for their opinion,
Sir Osborne took his way up one of the deep glades of the forest,
still keeping a watchful ear to every sound that stirred in the wood,
so that not a note of the thrush or the blackbird, nor the screaming
of a jay, nor the rustle of a rabbit, escaped him; and yet nothing met
his ear which might denote that there were other beings hid beneath
those green boughs besides themselves and the savage tenants of the
place: the stag, the wild boar, and the wolf.
The deep ruts, formed by heavy wood-carts in the soft, mossy carpet of
the glade, told that the route they were pursuing was one which most
probably communicated with some village, or some other road of greater
thoroughfare; and after following it for about a mile, they perceived
that, now joined to another exactly similar to itself, it wound away
to the left, leaving nothing but a small bridle-way before them, which
Sir Osborne judged must lead to some spot where the wood had been
cleared.
As their horses were now rather fatigued, and the full sun shining
upon the forest rendered its airless paths very oppressive, the knight
chose the little path before him, hoping it would lead to a more open
space where they might repose for a while, and at the same time keep a
watch upon the roads they had just quitted. His expectations were not
deceitful; for after having proceeded about two hundred yards, they
came to a little grassy mound in the wood, which in former times might
have monumented the field of some Gallic or Roman victory, piled up
above the bones of the mighty dead. Even now, though the forest had
grown round and girt it in on every side, the trees themselves seemed
to hold it in reverence, leaving it, and even some space round it,
free from their grasping roots; except, indeed, where a group of idle
hawthorns had gathered impudently on its very summit, flaunting their
light blossoms to the sun, and spreading their perfume on the wind.
It was the very spot suited to Sir Osborne's purpose; and,
dismounting, the three travellers leaned their lances against the
trees, and letting their horses pick a meal from the forest grass,
prepared to repose themselves under the shadow of the thorns. Previous
to casting himself down upon the bank, however, the knight took care
to examine the wood around them; and seeing a sort of yellow light
shining between the trees beyond, he pursued his way along what seemed
a continuation of the little path which had brought them thither.
Proceeding in a slanting direction, apparently to avoid the bolls of
some enormous beeches, it did not lead on for above ten or twelve
yards, and then opened out upon a high road cut through the very
wildest part of the forest, at a spot where an old stone cross and
fountain of clear water commemorated the philanthropy of some one long
dead, and offered the best of Nature's gifts to the lip of the weary
traveller. Sir Osborne profited by the occasion, and communicated his
discovery to his companions, who took advantage of it to satisfy their
thirst also. They then lay down in the shade of the hawthorns on the
mound; and, after some brief conversation, the heat of the day so
overpowered the young Hainaulter that he fell asleep. Such an example
was never lost upon Longpole, who soon resigned himself to the drowsy
god; and Sir Osborne was left the only watcher of the party.
Whether from his greater bodily powers, on which fatigue made but
slight impression, or from deeper feelings and thoughts that would not
rest, sleep came not near his eyelids; and, lying at his ease in the
fragrant air, a thousand busy memories came thronging through his
brain, recalling love, and hope, and joy, and teaching to believe that
all might yet be his.
While thus indulging waking visions, he thought he heard a distant
horn, and listening, the same sound was again borne upon the wind from
some part of the forest. It was, however, no warlike note, but
evidently proceeded from the horn of some huntsman, who, as Sir
Osborne concluded from the time of the year, was chasing the wolf, to
whom no season gives repose.
Falling back into the position from which he had risen to listen, Sir
Osborne had again given himself up to thought, when he was once more
roused by the sound of voices and the trampling of horses' feet on the
road hard by. Rising silently, without disturbing his companions, he
glided part of the way down the path leading to the fountain, and
paused amidst some oaks and shrubs, through the leaves of which he
could observe what passed on the highway, without being seen himself.
Nearly opposite to the cross already mentioned appeared two horsemen,
one of whom allowed his beast to drink where the water, gurgling over
the basin of the fountain, formed a little streamlet across the road,
while the other held in his rein about a pace behind, as if waiting
with some degree of respect for his companion. As soon as the horse
raised its head, the first cavalier turned round, and presented to Sir
Osborne's view a fine and princely countenance, whose every feature,
whose every glance, bespoke a generous and noble spirit.
In complexion the stranger was of a deep tanned brown, with his eyes,
his hair, and his mustachio nearly black; his brow was broad and
clear; his eyes were large and full, though shaded by the dark
eyelashes that overhung them; his nose was straight, and perhaps
somewhat too long; while his mouth was small, and would have been
almost too delicate, had it not been for a certain marked curl of the
upper lip, which gave it an expression, not of haughtiness nor of
sternness, but of grave, condescending dignity. His dress was a rich
hunting suit, which might well become a nobleman of the day,
consisting of a green pourpoint laced with gold and slashed on the
breast, long white hose half covered by his boots, and a short green
cloak not descending to his horse's back. His hat was of velvet, with
the broad brim slightly turned up round it, and cut in various places
so as somewhat to resemble a moral crown, while from the front, thrown
over to the back, fell a splendid plume of ostrich feathers which
almost reached his shoulder. His only arms appeared to be a dagger in
his girdle, and a long heavy sword, which hung from his shoulder in a
baldrick of cloth of gold. The other stranger was habited nearly like
the first, very little difference existing either in the fashion or
the richness of their apparel. Both also were tall and vigorous men,
and both were in the prime of their days; but the countenance of the
second was very different from that of his companion. In complexion he
was fair, with small blue eyes and rather sandy hair; nor would he
have been otherwise than handsome, had it not been for a certain
narrowness of brow and wideness of mouth, which gave a gaunt and eager
expression to his face, totally opposed to the grand and open
countenance of the other.
As we have said, when his horse had done drinking, the first traveller
turned towards the spot where Sir Osborne stood, and seemed to listen
for a moment. At length he said, "Hear you the hunt now, Count
William?"
"No, your highness," replied the other; "it has swept away towards
Aire."
"Then, sir," rejoined the first, "we are alone!" and drawing his sword
from the scabbard, he laid it level before his companion's eyes,
continuing abruptly, "what think you of that blade? is it not a good
one?" At the same time he fixed his eye upon him with a firm,
remarking glance, as if he would have read into his very soul. The
other turned as pale as death, and faltered something about its being
a most excellent weapon.
"Then," continued the first, "I will ask you, sir count, should it not
be a bold man, who, knowing the goodness of this sword, and the
strength of this arm, and the stoutness of this heart, would yet
attempt anything against my life? However, Count William of
Firstenberg, let me tell you, that should there be such a man in this
kingdom, and should he find himself alone with me in a wild forest
like this, and fail to make the attempt he meditated, I should look
upon him as coward as well as traitor, and fool as well as villain."
And his dark eye flashed as if it would have struck him to the ground.
Count William[16] faltered, trembled, and attempted to reply, but his
speech failed him; and, striking his hand against his forehead, he
shook his bridle-rein, dug his spurs into his horse's sides, and
darted down the road like lightning.
"Slave!" cried the other, as he marked him go; "cowardly slave!" and,
turning his horse, without further comment he rode slowly on the other
way.