_A RIVER JOURNEY._
It was no light task that Leofric had set himself. The river wound in
and out through forest tracts hardly ever traversed. Trees blown down in
winter storms lay right athwart the stream. _Débris_ brought down from
above was often packed tight against such obstructions; and then there
was no way of proceeding save by dragging up the canoe out of the water
and launching it again lower down. As the forest was often very thick
and tangled along the banks of the river, this was no light matter, and
had Leofric not been gifted with a strong will and a very resolute
purpose, he might well have given up in despair.
As it was, he found travelling a great deal slower work than he had
anticipated, and already his store of provision was greatly diminished,
although he could not flatter himself that he had travelled any very
great distance. He was sometimes disposed to doubt whether, after all,
he had been wise in choosing the waterway in preference to the road.
Night was falling, and it looked as though rain was likely to come on at
moonrise. The clouds were sullen and lowering; the wind moaned and
whistled through the trees, and lashed the water into angry little
wavelets. Leofric was feeling weary and a little depressed by the
intense loneliness of his voyage, when suddenly he heard himself hailed
by a friendly voice from somewhere out of the thicket.
"Whither away, good friend, and why art thou afloat and alone at this
hour of the evening? What dost thou in yon frail craft out on the
darkling river?"
Leofric looked eagerly about him, and espied, not far away, a
ruddy-faced youth of about his own age, sitting beside the water
fishing, with a basket at his side that showed he had not thus sat in
vain. With a few strokes of his paddle he brought himself alongside the
bank. The sound of a human voice was as music to his ears after the long
silence of the forest.
"Good-even, good comrade," he answered, stepping lightly ashore; "and
welcome indeed is thy friendly voice. For four days have I been alone
upon this river, and the sight of a kindly face is like a draught of new
wine."
"But what dost thou alone upon the river?"
"Marry, that is soon told. I am a poor lad who would fain become a
clerk, and I am on my way to Oxford, there to seek to maintain myself
whilst I study the arts and win my way to a livelihood--"
Hardly had he got out these words before the other youth sprang to his
feet with a whoop of joy, and to Leofric's astonishment flung his arms
about his neck, and fairly danced in the exuberance of his delight.
"Now, what ails thee?" he asked, half amused, half bewildered. "Hast
thou taken leave of thy senses, good friend?"
"Thou mayest well ask--methinks it must even seem so; but listen, fair
youth, and soon shalt thou understand. I am the son of a farmer, but I,
too, have a great longing after letters. I have heard of this same city
of learning, and I have begged and prayed of my father, who has many
other sons, to let me fare forth and find my way thither, and climb the
tree of learning. At first he listened not, but laughed aloud, as did my
brothers. But my mother took my part, and I learned to read last winter
at the Monastery, and the kindly fathers spoke well of my progress.
Through these winter days I have gone daily thither, taking an offering
of fish, and receiving instruction from them--"
"That is how I obtained such learning as I possess," interposed Leofric
eagerly; "and my father taught me too, for he was a scholar of no mean
attainments. But it is the monks who possess the books and parchments."
"Yea, verily; and these last weeks I have mastered in some poor sort the
art of penmanship. And now my father has almost consented to letting me
go. Only he has said that I must wait until chance shall send me a
companion for the way. From time to time there pass by clerks and
scholars returning to Oxford after an absence, or making their way
thither, even as thou art doing; and my father has promised that I may
join myself to the next of these who shall pass by. Now thou dost
understand why I did so embrace thee. For if thou wilt have me for a
travelling companion, we may e'en start forth to-morrow, and find
ourselves in Oxford ere another week be passed."
No proposition could have been more welcome to Leofric. He had had
enough of loneliness, and this sturdy farmer's son would be the best
possible comrade for him. He was delighted at the notion. His canoe
would carry the double burden, and the fatigues of navigation would be
greatly lessened when shared between two.
"Come up to the farm with me," cried his new friend, "and there will be
bed and board and a hearty welcome for thee; thou shalt find there a
better lodging than in some hollow tree by the river-banks; and my
mother will give us provision enow ere we start forth upon our voyage
to-morrow."
Leofric was grateful indeed for this invitation. He made fast his canoe,
saw that his few possessions were safely protected from a possible
wetting, and followed his new friend along the narrow winding track
which led from the river-side to the clearing round the farmstead.
On the way he learned that his companion's name was John
Dugdale--commonly called Jack. The farm where he had lived all his life
was situated not more than five miles from the town of Banbury. Jack had
plainly heard more of the news of the world than had reached Leofric in
his quiet home on the upper river. Something of the stir and strife that
was agitating the kingdom had penetrated even to this lonely farm.
The great Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, had passed through
Banbury on his way from Kenilworth to London, not long ago. There was a
great stir amongst the people, Jack told Leofric, and men spoke of the
Earl as a saviour and deliverer, and he was received with something very
like royal honours when he appeared. Leofric asked what it was from
which he was to deliver the people, and Jack was not altogether clear as
to this; but it had something to do with the exactions of the King and
the Pope; and he was almost certain that the clergy themselves were as
angry with the King as the Barons could be. He had heard it said that
half the revenue of the realm was being taken to enrich the coffers of
the Pope, or to aid him in his wars. More than that Jack could not say,
rumours of so many kinds being afloat.
"But let us once get to Oxford, good comrade, and we shall soon learn
all this, and many another thing besides. I want to know what the world
is saying and thinking. I am weary of being stranded here like a leaf
that has floated into some backwater and cannot find the channel again.
I want to know these things; and if there be stirring times to come for
this land, as many men say there will, I would be in the forefront of it
all. I would wield the sword as well as the pen."
This was a new idea to Leofric, who had contented himself hitherto with
dreams of scholastic distinction, without considering those other
matters which were exercising the ruling spirits of his day. Jack's
words, however, brought home to him the consciousness that there would
be other matters of interest to engross him, once let him enter upon
the life of a rising city. Oxford could not but be a centre of vitality
for the whole kingdom. Once let him win his way within those walls, and
a new world would open before his eyes.
Talking eagerly together, the lads pursued their way through the forest
path, and suddenly emerged upon the clearing where the farmhouse stood.
Lights shone hospitably from door and window; a barking of dogs gave a
welcome to the son of the house; and Leofric speedily found himself
pushed within a great raftered kitchen, lighted by the blaze of a goodly
fire of logs, where he was quickly surrounded by friendly faces, and
welcomed heartily, even before Jack had told all his tale and explained
who the stranger was.
The Dugdales were honest farmer folks, always glad to welcome a passing
stranger, and to hear any item of news he might come furnished with.
Leofric had little enough of this commodity; but the fact that he was
making his way to Oxford as a prospective clerk there was a matter of
much interest to this household. Farmer Dugdale was a man of his word.
He had promised Jack to let him go so soon as he should find a companion
to travel with. He would have preferred as companion one who had had
previous experience of University life; but he would not go back on his
word on that account. Leofric's handsome and open face and winning
manner gained him the good-will of all at the farm: they pressed him to
remain their guest for a few days, whilst Jack's mother made her simple
preparations for sending out her boy into the world for an indefinite
time, and the two companions learned to know each other better.
Leofric was willing enough to do this. He was very happy amongst these
hearty, homely people, and became attached to all of them, especially to
Jack. Together they strengthened the canoe, made a locker in which to
stow away sufficient provision for the journey, and a second paddle for
Jack to wield, which he quickly learned to do with skill and address.
Jack's mother took Leofric to her motherly heart at once, and she made
sundry additions to his scanty stock of clothing, seeing that his
equipment equalled that of her own son. It was little enough when all
was said and done; for times were simple, and luxuries unknown and
undreamed of, save in the houses of great nobles. The boys felt rich
indeed as they beheld their outfits made ready for them, and there was
quite a feast held in their honour upon the last evening ere they
launched forth upon their long journey.
Happy as Leofric had been at the farm, he was still conscious of a
thrill of pleasure when he and Jack dipped their paddles and set forth
upon their journey together. The Dugdale family, assembled on the banks,
gave them a hearty cheer. They answered by an eager hurrah, and then,
shooting round a bend in the stream, they found themselves alone on the
sparkling waterway.
To Leofric this voyage was very different from the last. There were the
same obstacles and difficulties to be overcome, but these seemed small
now that they were shared between two. Jack was strong, patient, and
merry. He made light of troubles and laughed at mishaps. They fared
sumptuously from the well-stocked larder of the farm, and the weather
was warm and sunny. To make a bed of leaves in some hollow tree, and
bathe in the clear, cold river on awaking, was no hardship to either
lad. They declared they did not mind how long the journey lasted, save
for the natural impatience of youth to arrive at a given destination.
"And I should like an adventure," quoth Jack, "ere we sight the walls
and towers of Oxford Castle. Men talk of the perils of travel; but,
certes, we have seen nothing of them. I've had more adventure tackling a
great pike in the stream at home sometimes than we have seen so far."
Nevertheless Jack was to have his wish, and the travellers were to meet
with an adventure before they reached their journey's end.
It came about in this wise.
They knew that they must be drawing near their journey's end. They had
been told by a woodman, whose hut had given them shelter upon the last
night, that the forest and palace of Woodstock were near at hand. They
wanted to get a view of that royal residence. So upon the day following
they halted soon after mid-day, and leaving their canoe securely hidden
in some drooping alder bushes, they struck away along a forest track
described to them by the woodman, which would, if rightly followed,
conduct them to a hill from whence a view could be obtained of the
palace.
Walking was tedious and difficult, and they often lost their way in the
intricacies of the forest; but still they persevered, and were rewarded
at last by a partial view of the place, which was a finer building than
either of the lads had ever seen before. But the sun was getting low in
the sky by this time, and they had still to make their way back to their
boat, unless they were to sleep supperless in the forest; so they did
not linger long upon the brow of the hill, but quickly retraced their
steps through the forest, trying to keep at least in the right
direction, even though they might miss the actual path by which they had
come.
Suddenly they became aware of a tumult going on in a thicket not very
far away. They heard the sound of blows, of cries and shouts--then of
oaths and more blows. Plainly there was a fight going on somewhere close
at hand, and equally plain was it that travellers were being robbed and
maltreated by some forest ruffians, of whom there were always a number
in all the royal forests, where fat bucks might chance to be shot,
undetected by the king's huntsmen.
The lads had both cut themselves stout staffs to beat down the
obstructions in the path. Now they grasped their cudgels tightly in
their hands and looked at each other.
"Let us to the rescue!" quoth Jack, between his clenched teeth. "I can
never hear the sound of blows without longing to be in the thick of the
fray. Like enough in the gathering shades the assailants will think we
be a larger party, and will make off. Be that as it may, let us lend
our aid whilst it may serve those in distress."
Leofric nodded, grasping his staff firmly in his hand. He had all the
courage of a highly-strung nature, even if he lacked Jack's physical
vigour.
Springing through the leafy glades of the forest, they soon came upon
the scene of the encounter, and easy was it to see that robbery and
spoliation was the object of the attack.
Four stalwart young men, wild and dishevelled of aspect, armed with
stout cudgels and bows and arrows, had set upon two travellers, whose
clothes denoted them to be men of substance. They had been overpowered
by their assailants, though plainly not till a severe struggle had taken
place. Both were now lying upon the ground, overmastered each by a pair
of strong knaves; and in spite of their cries and struggles, it was
plain that these sturdy robbers were rifling them of such valuables as
they possessed.
Jack took in the situation at a glance. With a yell of defiance he
sprang upon the nearest rogue, and hurled him backwards with such right
good will that he reeled heavily against a tree trunk, and fell
prostrate, half stunned. In a second the traveller had wrenched himself
free from the other assailant, and had dealt him such a sounding blow
across the pate (he having laid aside his stick in order the better to
plunder) that he measured his length upon the turf, and lay motionless;
whilst the other pair of bandits, who had been belaboured by Leofric,
seeing that they were now overpowered and in no small danger of
capture, flung down their booty and made off to the woods, dragging
their helpless comrade with them.
It was no part of the travellers' plan to take into custody these
knaves, and they made no attempt to detain them, glad enough to see them
make off in the darkening forest. But they turned to their preservers
with words of warm gratitude, and showed how narrowly they had escaped
being muleted of rather large sums of money; for one had a belt into
which many broad gold pieces had been sewn, and the purse of the other
was heavy and well plenished.
"We are travelling to Oxford," said he of the belt. "We joined for a
time the convoy of one of the 'fetchers,' conveying young lads and poor
clerks thither. But as we neared the place we grew impatient at the
thought of another night's halt, and thought we would strike across the
forest ourselves, and reach our goal soon after sundown. But we missed
our way, and these fellows set upon us. It is a trade with some lewd
fellows calling themselves clerks, and often pleading benefit of clergy
if caught, to infest these woods, and fall upon scholars returning to
the University, and rob them of such moneys as they bear upon their
persons."
Leofric's eyes were wide with amaze.
"Surely those fellows were not clerks from Oxford?"
"Like enow they were. There be a strange medley of folks calling
themselves by that name that frequent the streets and lanes of the city,
or congregate without the walls in hovels and booths. Some of these,
having neither means to live nor such characters as render them fit
subjects to be helped from any of the chests, take to the woods for a
livelihood, shooting the King's bucks or falling unawares upon
travellers. Some clerks run to the woods for refuge after some wild
outbreak of lawlessness. There be many wild, lawless knaves habited in
the gown of the clerk and wearing the tonsure. Are ye twain from Oxford
yourselves, or bound thither, since ye seem little acquaint with the
ways of the place?"
Explanations were quickly made, and the two elder youths, who might have
been eighteen and nineteen years old perhaps, suggested that they should
finish the journey together on foot, lading themselves with the contents
of the canoe, but leaving it behind in the alders, to be fetched away
some other time if wanted. They were near to the river by this time, and
the lads quickly fetched their goods, glad enough to travel into the
city in company with two comrades who plainly knew the place and the
life right well.
They were very open about themselves. The name of one was Hugh le
Barbier, and he was the son of an esquire who held a post in the house
of one of the retainers of the Earl of Leicester--"the great De
Montfort," as the youth proudly dubbed him. His companion was Gilbert
Barbeck, son of a rich merchant. His home was in the south of England,
but he had been travelling with Hugh, during an interlude in their
studies. In those days regular vacations were unknown. Men might stay
for years at the University, hearing lectures all the time through; or
they might betake themselves elsewhere, and return again and resume
their studies, without reproof. The collegiate system was as yet
unknown, though its infancy dates from a period only a little later. But
there was a Chancellor of the University (if such it could be called),
and learned men from all lands had congregated there; lectures in Arts
and also in the sciences were regularly given, and degrees could be
taken by those who could satisfy the authorities that they had been
through the appointed courses of lectures, and were competent in their
turn to teach.
The religious houses had been the pioneers in this movement, but now
there was a reaction in favour of more secular teaching. The monks had
some ado to hold their own, and obtain as many privileges as were
accorded to others; and friction was constantly arising.
Moreover the recent migration of friars to Oxford had struck another
blow at the older monastic system. The personal sanctity of many of
these men, their self-denying life, their powers of preaching, the
strictness with which they kept their vows, all served to produce a deep
impression upon the minds of those who had grown weary of the arrogance
of the Priors and Abbots.
The Grey Friars in particular, followers of St. Francis, were
universally beloved and esteemed. They went about barefoot; they would
scarce receive alms in money; their buildings were of the poorest and
roughest, and were situated in the lowest parts of the town. They busied
themselves amongst the sick and destitute; they lived lives of
self-denial and toil. The favour of princes had not corrupted them, and
the highest powers of the land spoke well of them.
Hugh told all this to his comrades as they walked through the darkening
forest. He was plainly a youth of good parts and gentle blood, and he
seemed taken by Leofric's refined appearance and thoughtful face.
"I would not go to Osney, or live in the Domus Dei there," he said.
"Thou hast saved me the loss of all my wealth; it would go hard if thou
wouldst not accept the loan of a few gold pieces, enough to establish
thyself in some modest lodging in the town, or even in one of the empty
niches upon the walls, where clerks have made shift to dwell ere now.
Out beyond the walls, shut up on the island of Osney, away from all the
bustle and roistering and tumult of the town, it scarce seems life at
all; and methinks the monks will get hold of thee, and win thee to be
one of themselves. Better, far better, be one of us in the town. Then
wilt thou see all that is to be seen, and learn far more, too, than thou
wilt in the schools of the monks."
Leofric listened eagerly to this advice.
"Is Osney then without the walls?"
"Ay verily, on one of the many islands that the river makes in its
windings. Oxford itself is little more than an island, for that matter,
since the city ditch has been dug on the north side of it. But within
the city there is life and stir and stress, and all the Halls where the
students lodge are there, and the lodgings amongst the townsfolks which
some prefer. Come and belong to us, not to the monks. So wilt thou
learn the more, and enjoy life as thou couldst not do cooped up on yon
damp island in the Domus Dei?"
"I would fain do so," answered Leofric readily. "I have no desire for a
monkish life. I would see what life is like without the cloister wall.
But I have little money; I love not debts--"
"Tush! be not over scrupulous. Thou hast done me one good turn; I claim
right to do thee another. Now no more of that. Let us put our best foot
forward; for it will be dark ere we reach our destination. Perchance we
may yet have to camp once more in the woods; for if the city gates be
locked, we may have some trouble in getting admitted. The townsmen,
albeit they live and thrive by them, love not the clerks. They will do
us a bad turn an they can; yet methinks we are even with them, take one
thing with another!"
Hugh showed his teeth in a flashing smile, and Gilbert laughed aloud.
Then the party strode on through the darkness, till they paused by
common consent to light a fire and camp for the night in company--it
being plain by this time that they could not enter Oxford that night.