_STORMY SCENES._
"Have a care how thou dost answer me, Mistress; I am not one who brooks
trifling!"
"I have never trifled with thee, Roger de Horn," answered the maiden
addressed, speaking firmly though gently. "Methinks thou dost forget
thyself in speaking such words to me to-day."
The dark face of Roger was deeply flushed. He looked as though he had
been drinking--as indeed was probably the case; at any rate he was very
angry, and his words came hissing from between his teeth in a fashion
not pleasant to hear.
"Not trifled with me, quotha? Canst thou look me in the face and say
that?--whilst the love-token that thou didst give me lies now upon my
heart!"
The face of Linda Balzani flushed deeply, partly with anger, partly with
maiden modesty. She drew herself away with a gesture full of simple
dignity.
"I have given thee no token," she said. "If thou hast received aught, it
must be from the hands of my sister. I know nothing of any token."
"What!" cried the young man, the flush mounting even to his brow, "wilt
thou deny the kiss that thou didst bestow upon me out in the greenwood
on Midsummer Eve, and the token thou didst give me as proof of thy
love?"
Linda drew away yet a little farther, and glanced round the room as
though seeking some way of exit. The excitement in Rogers manner was
unpleasant, and the claim he was making upon her was revolting. She had
always disliked this braggart, even though treating him with civility as
her brother's friend. Of late she had come to dislike him more and more,
and to shrink from his approach as one shrinks from the proximity of
some noisome reptile. She had fancied that her sister had of late been
seeking the society of Roger with pleasure; which thing rather perplexed
her, because in private Lotta never masked her dislike and contempt for
the bully and swaggerer, and of late had been more severe in her
strictures than ever.
The very thought of what had taken place under the greenwood trees upon
Midsummer Eve brought a flush to Linda's brow and a throb to her heart.
Was it not then and there that Hugh le Barbier had breathed into her
ears some words so full of music that the echo of them had never left
them since? She had scarce dared to think what those words might imply.
She was content to dream rather than to think, and she had lived in
dreamland almost ever since. To be spoken to thus was unendurable, and
the spirit of the maiden was roused.
"Methinks, sir, that thou hast been drinking, and hast overheated thy
blood," she said, rising as if to leave the room. "I spoke scarce three
words to thee upon that Midsummer Eve. I have done nothing and said
nothing to warrant the claim thou dost make. Prithee let me go; I have
had enough of this."
But Roger planted himself before the door, his sombre eyes glowing with
passion.
"Beshrew me if thou be not a false and fickle jade! But I will brook
none such answer from thee. See here--behold the token! Wilt thou dare
to look upon it and tell me it was never thine?"
Linda looked, and started slightly. It was indeed a little trinket that
had belonged to her for years. As a child she used to carry it as a
charm about her neck; but latterly she had ceased to do this. She had
not even missed it from the box where she kept it together with a few
more little keepsakes and girlish treasures. How it had come into the
possession of Roger she could not imagine. He saw her start, and his
eyes gleamed.
"So!--thou dost not dare to deny the witness of thine eyes!"
"The heart was once mine," answered Linda quietly, "but I have not seen
it for many weeks. I never gave it thee. It must have fallen into the
hands of another, and so have come to thine. Let me pass, sir; we have
had something too much of this already."
"What!" he cried furiously, "thou dost own to the trinket, but dost deny
the gift? Thinkest thou that I will endure to be flouted thus?"
"I flout thee not, sir; I do but speak sooth. I gave thee no trinket--I
gave thee no kiss. I have never bestowed upon thee aught save that meed
of friendship which my brother's friend has a right to look for."
He grasped her slim wrist in his strong hand. He brought his swarthy
face and flashing eyes close to her shrinking face.
"Thou didst give me much more than that till _he_ came amongst us--the
upstart, the fine gentleman, the fop with the smooth speech and dainty
dress! Thinkest thou I have not seen it all--how that thou dost seek to
play us one against the other? But thou shalt never make a tool of me; I
will have all or nothing! And I will wring the neck of any man who shall
dare come betwixt me and my love!"
The last words were hissed rather than spoken, and so cruel and fierce
was the aspect of the speaker that Linda tore herself suddenly away and
uttered a shriek of fear.
The next moment the door was quickly opened from without, and Joanna
Seaton appeared, with Lotta a little behind her, the latter wearing
rather a strange look upon her handsome, haughty face, whilst her gaze
glanced rapidly from one to the other of the occupants of the room.
"Is aught amiss?" asked Joanna quickly; "methought that I heard a call."
Roger turned upon his heel with one sinister glance over his shoulder,
and made as if to depart.
"I will finish what I have to say another day," he observed, "when thou
art in a better frame for listening, fair Mistress Linda, and when thou
hast something refreshed thy memory."
"What does he mean?" asked Joanna, as Roger clanked down the stairs and
Linda sank trembling upon a couch.
"He is a bad man--I fear and I hate him!" she cried in panting
breaths.--"Lotta, what hast thou done that he should say such things to
me? It must have been thy doing! He has the agate heart that once I
wore. None can have given him that but thou. And thou must have given
him other tender tokens too, for he speaks of things of which I know
naught. Sister, thou doest not well to show treachery to thine own flesh
and blood!"
Lotta tossed her handsome head, and a flush crept into her dusky cheek.
Of late the likeness between the sisters had grown somewhat less. A
softness and subtile charm had crept over Linda, whilst Lotta, though
handsome as ever, had seemed to grow harder and more defiant in her
proud beauty. Mistakes between the pair were of less frequent
occurrence, and although it would be easy for Lotta to personate her
sister of set purpose, the difference between them was becoming more
clearly marked day by day.
"What now, Linda?" quoth the other; "thou art always fancying some new
thing. I have scant patience with thy whims. What do I know of thy
trinkets, or of thy lovers? Thou art like a skilful bowman, who has a
second string to his bow ready to hand. But when thou dost find that
such a game has its perils, and that thou art playing with edge tools,
prithee do not seek to drag me in to help thee out of the slough. It is
a paltry trick, and unworthy of thy name."
"But Lotta--"
"Peace, child! I will hear no more. I am sick to death of thee and thy
lovers! Let me alone. Manage thine own affairs as thou wilt, but no word
shalt thou have from me. Go, and do as thou dost choose. Play them one
against the other, and see what comes of it. I will have nothing to do
with the matter; it is no concern of mine."
And Lotta swept out of the room with her whirlwind air of displeasure,
whilst Linda looked in perplexity at Joanna, and asked piteously,--
"Why is she so changed to me?"
"I fear me it is jealousy," answered Joanna, who had seen a great deal
during the weeks that the twins had been with them. Joanna had been
friendly with both from childhood, but had always liked Linda best. Now
she began to find that she loved Linda and rather disliked and feared
Lotta. There was something wild and untamed in her nature, and her
conduct towards her sister often provoked the indignation of the
onlooker.
"Jealousy!" repeated Linda, with rising colour.
"Ay, jealousy of what she sees betwixt thee and Hugh le Barbier,"
answered Joanna. "Hast thou not seen that Lotta has gone nigh to lose
her heart to yon courtly youth? I have observed it these many weeks, and
once I did think that he might return her regard; but it seems plain
now that his fancy has been elsewhere fixed, and poor Lotta has to bear
the pain of seeing it too."
Linda's cheeks were scarlet; she faltered as she spoke.
"Methought Lotta was pleased by the notice of Roger. I had thought that
her fancy went that way."
"Perchance it did--till Hugh appeared. But there can be no comparison
betwixt the two, and Lotta has ambition. She would fain link her lot in
life with one who could raise her higher in the world. And Hugh has
prospects of becoming, if not a knight at least an esquire to some noble
lord, in whose service he may rise high. It may be ambition rather than
love; but be it what it may, it is bitter to her to see herself passed
by for another. I think perhaps it is the more bitter because that other
is her sister, and so like to her in outward show that she cannot
understand why she holds not an equal place in his heart."
Linda's face was all aglow. It could not but be sweet to feel that
others had read the secret of Hugh's attachment to herself; but, again,
it pained her that her sister should regard her as a rival, and still
more that she should stoop to subterfuge, and seek to embroil her with
so dangerous a man as Roger de Horn.
"What can it profit her to behave thus?" she asked of Joanna, when she
had told the whole story; "why should she seek to anger him thus against
me? It is cruel to me, and also to him, if indeed a creature so full of
ferocity has any room in his heart for the gentle passion of love."
"Love is not always a gentle passion with natures such as his," answered
Joanna shrewdly; "and methinks I see what Lotta seeks to accomplish.
She knows that thou hast a timid nature as compared with her own; and
she thinks, possibly, that Roger will terrify thee into compliance with
his wishes, or that doubt and distrust may be awakened in the heart of
Hugh by what he hears and sees; in which case, perchance, he might turn
to her for comfort. Such are the unworthy wiles of a jealous nature. But
it is playing a dangerous game to trifle with a creature so untamed and
savage as Roger. There is no knowing to what excesses his anger may lead
him."
Linda shuddered slightly at the memory of the past scene.
"Pray Heaven he hurt not Hugh!" she murmured. "He said he would wring
the neck of any man that dared to come betwixt him and his purpose!"
"That is bad," said Joanna, looking grave. "I will speak to my brother
and also to Gilbert Barbeck, and tell them to give an eye to Hugh should
any riot arise in the city, as is like."
"Why is it like?" asked Linda anxiously.
"Marry, because of all the excitements in the city during the sitting of
this 'Mad Parliament,' as the King's friends have dubbed it. It has been
hard work to keep down rioting all these weeks; and men say they are
certain there will be some great collision ere long--we are never safe
from such in this place, as thou dost know. The marvel is that none such
took place whilst the Parliament was sitting. Had it not been for the
presence within the walls of so many armed men under discipline, I
verily believe it would have done so."
There was much truth in the words of this citizen maiden. Great had been
the excitement ruling in Oxford during the days of the sitting of the
Great Council or Parliament, and great was the joy and triumph of the
supporters of De Montfort and the Barons at the result thereof.
This is not the place in which to give a history of those Provisions of
Oxford of which so much was heard during the following years of Henry's
reign. Suffice it to say that by those provisions the Barons obtained
for themselves all that they desired, and for the time being the King
was little more than a puppet in their hands. They had no desire to make
new laws--that had never been a part of their purpose; what they aimed
at was to rid themselves of illegal exaction, of feudal service, to
obtain justice for themselves and others, and to rid the country of the
multitudes of foreign favourites who were eating up the substance of the
land, whilst its own sons had perforce to stand by empty-handed.
"England for the English" was in effect their cry; and their position
having been granted, steps were immediately taken to ensure the carrying
out of the measure agreed upon.
Those who desire information will find in every history book how this
was done, and will read about the twenty-four nobles and men of high
estate chosen in equal numbers by King and Barons--the Council of
Fifteen, the Twelve Commissioners of Parliament, and the Twenty-four
Commissioners of the Aid.
All this belongs to the region of history rather than to that of
fiction; but the result of this Parliament was that the King's power and
that of his foreign favourites was, for the time being, broken, and a
wave of enthusiasm and delight swept over the land, causing an outbreak
of excitement and triumph which was quite enough to give anxiety to the
authorities in such a turbulent city as that of Oxford.
The great Earl of Leicester was for the moment the idol of the
University. Whenever he appeared abroad he was hailed with shouts and
cheers. His strong personality and the fascination of his manner won
upon the clerks and scholars, till they would have been ready to lay
down their lives in his service. He received the adulation of the crowd
with a kindly dignity that won all hearts, and when it was found that he
was about to leave one of his sons behind him to study the Arts in
Oxford, public delight knew no bounds, and Amalric was almost as much
lauded and praised as his great father.
But, of course, there was never unanimity in this turbulent body of
undisciplined youths. The very fact that the presence of De Montfort
aroused in the breasts of many such unbounded enthusiasm, tended, as if
from pure contrariety, to inflame others against him--to throw them into
the arms of the party who sided with the King, and called De Montfort
and his friends sacrilegious usurpers of the power and authority which
had been vested by God in His anointed servant.
The monks were for the most part ardent supporters of the monarchy,
whilst the friars unhesitatingly declared that the kingly power could
be abused, and that, when this was the case, God Himself raised up men
of right and might to turn the King's heart from his errors, and to be
champions of truth and freedom. Scripture precedents could, of course,
be quoted on both sides, and controversy often raged fiercely. In an age
and in a place where disputation and argument was as the elixir of life,
and where a man's fitness for promotion in the University depended much
on his oratorical powers and his ability to hold his own in some wordy
warfare, it was likely enough that such burning questions as these
should be discussed by high and low alike, with every weapon from the
armoury of logic and rhetoric.
Although by this time the Parliament had broken up, the Barons had taken
themselves away, whilst the King had retired for a short time to
Woodstock, and had then left that part of the country, controversy and
excitement still ran high. It seemed as if some sort of explosion must
take place ere the atmosphere was cleared, and the authorities were very
watchful to try to put down with a strong hand anything like street
rioting or disturbance.
But the spirit of the time was too strong for them. The students
themselves seemed weary of good behaviour. How it originated none
exactly knew, but soon there was no hiding the fact that a great
jousting was to take place shortly in the meadow of Beaumont, where the
various nationalities should try their prowess in feats of skill and
strength, and hold high revelling there such as was due to them upon the
feast of Holy Trinity; only that the presence of the King and Barons in
Oxford at that date had caused an adjournment of the holiday.
At that time the holidays of the Church were nearly all that students
could claim. There was no regular break in the lectures as now, and men
remained for years at Oxford without thinking of visiting their homes.
But they regarded these Church holidays somewhat jealously, and they,
together with the Fair of St. Frideswyde, formed the chief interludes in
the monotony of University life.
"Tito," said Roger de Horn, taking his friend by the arm and leading him
down a dark alley where none might see or hear them, "I have discovered
all too much. Both your sisters love yon upstart Hugh, and Linda will
have none of my wooing. I knew how it would be directly he crossed my
path. He has been mine enemy from first to last. He will undo us if we
undo not him."
Tito's eyes gleamed fiercely in the darkness.
"Methought thou hadst some token from Linda, and that all was well," he
said.
"So had I; but now she flouts me, and denies it. She says that Lotta
must have given it me. I could have sworn it was Linda; yet in the
darkness it is no easy matter to tell one from the other."
"I would not wed Lotta were I in thy place," said Tito, with a short
laugh. "She would run a stiletto through thy heart if thou didst anger
her, as soon as kiss thee if thou didst please her. She is a veritable
shrew when she is angered. Linda is a different sort. A man may lead her
anywhere through her affections, or terrify her into submission. It
matters little which, so we may win her to our purpose. I had thought
that all was going well."
"And so did I, till I spoke with her a week since, and found her as
adamant. I thought she was mine own till then; now I know that another
has her heart."
Tito gave a short laugh that was somewhat like a snarl.
"We must rid ourselves of that other then."
"So said I," returned Roger promptly. "So told I my pretty fond love--"
"Then thou wert a fool for thy pains," interrupted Tito roughly. "If the
man be warned, we shall have trouble with him."
"If the maid be frightened, she may come to her senses," retorted Roger.
Tito shook his head slightly.
"Thou dost not know what our southern women are made of," he answered.
"They love with a different love from your cold northerners, and yet the
northern blood from their mother has given to both a prudence which may
be dangerous to our plan."
Roger muttered something that sounded like a curse.
"We will be a match yet for their prudence and their caution. Men have
vanished from Oxford ere now, or have been found dead in the streets,
and none have been the wiser for it. The Chancellor shakes his head; the
other clerks clamour against the townsfolk, and perhaps a citizen is
slain in reprisal; and then the matter is forgotten. What has been
before can be again. Her lover dead, and pretty Linda will soon forget
her fancy; or, mourning for him, she will be the more easily
persuaded--and once we are sure of her, we can commence our plan, and
wealth and renown will flow in upon us. We have all in readiness save
the high priestess of the mysteries!"
"Hist, hist! have a care what thou dost say!" whispered Tito, in some
alarm. "There is peril as well as profit in our plan. The black art
finds scant favour in the eyes of the Church. Men have perished at the
stake ere now for dabbling even as deeply as we have done. Have a care
what thou dost speak in the open streets."
"Tush! none can hear," quoth Roger, with some contempt; "but as to the
other matter, we must watch our chance and use it well. Men talk of the
joustings which will soon take place if this horrid rain will but cease,
which is rotting the corn in the fields, and bringing famine to our
doors. When man meets man in full tilt in the jousting-field, it cannot
be a very hard matter to run a lance into his eye, or even to pierce his
heart. Moreover there be other chances, if eyes are kept open. Leave yon
upstart to me, and I will soon find a way of wiping off my score against
him. I have played that game before now. I shall play it the more
skilfully for the practice I have had."
"Well, well, do as thou wilt; only be cautious, for we want none of the
Chancellor's prison, and he watches over the lives and liberties of the
clerks with jealous eye. Well enow should I like to see him cleared out
of the path. I have no love for him, and he stands in the way of our
cherished plan."
"He shall not stand so long," muttered Roger between his teeth; and
then the two men moved away along the dark and unsavoury lane, whilst a
head, which had been thrust out awhile ago from an upper window, was now
drawn in, and Linda Balzani pressed her two hands to her throbbing brow.
"What devils men can be!" she whispered. "What devilry is this that they
are desiring to practise, and in which I am to be their tool? Heaven
send me strength and courage to thwart their evil schemes! O Hugh, my
love, my love! they shall not hurt thee if I can save thee. Twice warned
is thrice armed. I will save thee from their cruel malice, or I will die
with thee!"