_BACK AT OXFORD._
The narrow streets of Oxford, the crowds of clerks and scholars, the
grey old walls and the frowning Castle--all looked wonderfully unchanged
as Leofric, after hard upon a year's absence, returned to his _Alma
Mater_.
He had seen something of the world during this time of absence. He had
had a glimpse of warfare under the auspices of the young De Montforts
and Prince Edward in Wales. His ideas upon the political situation had
considerably enlarged. He had also earned a very fair sum of money,
sufficient to enable him to cover all expenses of tuition for a
considerable time to come. The breviary he had transcribed for the
Demoiselle had brought him a liberal reward; he had also received
remuneration for his readings with the Countess and her daughter.
Leofric had spent the greater part of the winter at Kenilworth Castle,
after having been into Wales with the Prince. The King's son had taken a
strong liking to Leofric after the incident of the boar-hunt, and the
young student had been glad to accompany him into Wales, to gain new
experience in that strange, semi-barbarous land. Amalric had been one of
the party, as well as his brother Guy; and having been wounded in a
fray, he was put in charge of Leofric and sent back to Kenilworth, where
the two had remained together during the winter months.
It had been a very happy season for those within the walls of the great
fortress. The Earl and his sons were away in France again; but the
Countess and her daughter remained in England as usual, and Alys de
Kynaston had been persuaded to remain and be the companion of the
Demoiselle, who had formed so strong an attachment for her.
In addition to this, at the instance of the imperious little lady,
Edmund had made by slow stages the journey to Kenilworth, and had been
one of the party. The change had been beneficial to him, and upon the
return journey he had been able to ride the whole way without trouble or
pain. They had journeyed by easy stages, and reached Oxford safely and
without adventure.
It was a very different arrival from that which Leofric could well
recall when as a poor lad, with his way in life to make, he had entered
the city, scarce knowing where he could find shelter or how he could
maintain himself.
Now he had many friends, some of them the highest in the land; he had
won a certain modest renown by his scholarship, and had small fear of
failing to attract pupils to his lectures when he should commence them.
The Master under whom he had studied rhetoric and logic had invited him
to teach in his school; and as he would still have his own lectures and
studies to prosecute with diligence, if he were to go on to the degree
of Master, upon which his mind was set, he would have his time and
thoughts pretty well filled, and require more than ever some quiet place
of study.
His thoughts turned lovingly towards that little spot where he and Jack
Dugdale had made a home so long. Would Jack be there still? What had he
done with himself all these months? Naturally he had heard nothing from
his friend during his absence; but he hastened his steps eagerly as he
approached the Smith Gate, and was rewarded by hearing a regular whoop
of joy as Jack suddenly dashed out to meet him and fell on his neck in a
rapture of greeting.
"I have been on the watch for thee all day, good comrade. It was told to
me that Edmund of the Castle and Mistress Alys had returned, and
methought it like that thou hadst come with them, since they said there
were others in the company. How good it is to see thy face again! But
thou hast come to be so great a man now thou wilt never deign to dwell
again in our humble little chamber with poor Jack."
"Nay, but I have been longing to see again thy face, good Jack, and the
little turret chamber where so many happy hours have been passed. I have
no wish to lodge in any other place. Let us go thither, and talk of all
that has chanced since we parted. Art thou a bachelor thyself by this
time? Thou shouldest have determined this late-past Lent!"
Jack made a wry face. Study was pleasant to him up to a certain point,
but he lacked the courage to present himself for the ordeal of
Responsions and Determinations. He was ready enough to learn, but shrank
from the thought of becoming in any sort a teacher; and, moreover, in
the absence of Leofric he had been taking something of a holiday
himself, and the woods and streams had of late seen more of him than the
schools and lecture-rooms.
"I could not travel away like thee, Leofric," he said, apologetically,
"but methought a holiday would be no such bad thing. What says the wise
old adage? All work and no play makes Jack a dullard."
Leofric had no mind to chide his friend and comrade, albeit he thought
it would have been wiser had Jack postponed his holiday till he had
passed the ordeal of Determinations.
"Now that thou art back, I will study might and main, and next year will
dispute with thee, good friend, so that men shall flock to hear us;" and
Jack laughed aloud in the happiness of his heart, knowing that many long
months had to pass by ere he would be called upon to stand up and
maintain a thesis or proposition in the teeth of his opponent's
arguments, and in the hearing of all who chose to come and listen. He
had listened with admiration and delight to Leofric when he had won his
academic spurs (if the term can be permitted), and so delighted was he
at his friend's prowess in argument, that he had many times dashed out
into the streets to invite the passers-by to come in and hear the
candidate for bachelorhood holding his own so gallantly and brilliantly.
Jack's loving admiration was very sweet to Leofric, who felt he had in
him a true brother. This fraternal welcome was further displayed in the
simple preparations made for his return--the fresh rushes upon the
floor, the brightening up of the familiar chamber, the simple luxuries
set out upon the little table, and the flowers filling the empty hearth.
Leofric looked round with brightening eyes, delighted to find himself
once more in this home-like place. Tiny indeed did it appear after the
spacious apartments of Kenilworth; and yet it had the charm of being his
own--here he was no guest, no hireling, but a joint-owner of the
primitive abode. Here he could keep his few precious books, study in
quietness, and be secure from interruption.
"Ah, it is good to be at home once more; I want no better home than
this!" he cried. "And now, whilst we set to upon this excellent dinner,
tell me all that has betided in Oxford since I left. How goes it with
all our friends--and foes? Has aught been heard of Tito Balzani or Roger
de Horn? And has Hugh been molested in any wise by them? But, indeed,
that was a matter almost forgotten before I left the place."
"Yes; I trow the fugitives might now return, and nothing would be done
to them. Men quickly forget such matters, new stirs and quarrels ever
cropping up that require adjusting. But I have seen naught of the men,
and Hugh has likewise been away for a time with his father. But he is
back now, and is studying hard, for he would become a Master in Arts ere
he quits Oxford, and he thinks his father desires his presence at home
ere long."
"And Gilbert?"
"Oh, Gilbert is a bachelor, and he is betrothed to Joanna, the Seaton
maid. His father came to see the damsel, and was pleased at his son's
choice. Master Seaton will give her a dowry, and they will be wed anon,
and go and live in the seaport of Southampton, where Merchant Barbeck's
business lies. He thinks his son has now wellnigh scholarship enow, and
that he had better soon begin to learn the secrets of the merchant's
trade. So we shall lose one of our comrades."
Before the pair had finished telling and hearing the news of the place,
there was the sound of a hasty footfall on the stair, the door was burst
open, and Hugh le Barbier strode in, grasping Leofric by the hands, and
embracing him with all the delight of a brother.
"I heard at the Castle that thou hadst returned!" he cried, "and
methought I should find thee here, back in the old place. And so thou
hast been the friend of nobles and princes, and the guest of the
greatest man in this kingdom! Well, thou dost merit all the good that
comes thy way; for thou art a good and godly youth, and right glad shall
we all be to welcome thee back."
Hugh looked a very fine specimen of youthful manhood. He had been moving
about with his father from time to time during the past years, and his
studies had been somewhat interrupted. Still he had made excellent
progress even in these, and was regarded as a very promising youth, who
could wield sword and pen alike with dexterity and force.
"Let us upon the river," he cried, when the first greetings and exchange
of news had died down; "I have much that I would say, and what better
place for talk than the silent reaches of the upper river?--Bring thy
rod and net, good Jack, and thou shalt fill thy creel with fish for
supper. I have seen wondrous fine trout in the stream above. Come, and I
will show thee the best of pools."
Jack was known as a skilful and ardent fisherman, and was always
perfectly happy when engaged in his favourite pastime. The light boat
which he and Leofric had fashioned long ago was often in demand by their
comrades and friends. Hugh had of late borrowed it oft for many hours,
and he had lately contrived a small sail by means of which he could fly
through the water at a greatly increased speed.
To-day, after they had left Jack, abundantly happy amid the sedges which
lined a most promising-looking pool, Hugh hoisted sail, and soon the
little boat was slipping rapidly along against the sluggish current of
the river, the low-lying banks on either side gliding past them, and the
wild fowl rising at their approach, and skimming away with short, harsh
cries.
"Leofric," said Hugh, after they had navigated several reed-grown
reaches, and were now in more open water, "hast thou ever visited the
Priory and little hamlet of Eynsham?"
"No," answered Leofric; "the way is something long for oars--a matter of
seven good miles at least. Sometimes we have gone forth with the resolve
to push there, but some tempting reach or shallow has always caught
Jack's eye, and we have halted. Why dost thou ask?"
"Because that is our destination to-day. Leofric, dost thou remember
Linda Balzani?"
"Ay, verily I do," answered Leofric quickly; "but methought thou hadst
learned to forget her."
"I tried to do so," answered Hugh, a flush mantling his bronzed cheek.
"After that terrible time of which I scarce cared to think for many a
long month, I told myself that it were better, both for her and for me,
that we should see each other no more. She had suffered nothing but
trouble and pain from my love; and now that she had found a safe asylum
in some peaceful spot, I vowed that I would leave her alone, and let her
forget. They said that the memory of that time seemed to be blotted from
her mind; and if that were so, it were better she should forget."
"Perchance so," answered Leofric thoughtfully: "she is scarce thine
equal, for thou wilt surely rise to be a gallant knight ere many years
have passed, and she is but a city burgher's daughter, albeit a very
fair maiden."
The flush in Hugh's face deepened a little; he spoke in a strange voice.
"Is an angel from the heavens the equal of any sinful son of this
earth? If I am to wait till I can claim equality with Linda, I shall go
to my grave unwed."
Leofric looked at him with surprise.
"Then thou hast seen her again?"
"Yes, truly I have. I have avoided the house of the Balzanis for many a
year, thinking it better not to revive associations which must be
painful. But I have heard men speak of Lotta--the beautiful, daring
Lotta. Many there be who would serve for her, even as Jacob for Rachel;
but it seems that she will none of them. Hearing always of Lotta and
never of Linda made me question within myself whether that maid had
died. I asked, and found that she had never returned to Oxford, but
remained with her aunt at Eynsham, having grown to be as a daughter to
her. I scarce know what it was that first awakened within me the desire
to look upon her face once more, but once awakened the wish would not
sleep, and at last I accomplished my purpose."
"Thou hast seen her again?"
"Yes, verily; not once, but many times. Leofric, I am taking thee with
me to-day, that thou mayest see her too; for if ever the foot of angel
trod the paths of men, that angel being is the lovely Linda of my
boyhood's and manhood's love."
Leofric was greatly surprised, having believed, with all the rest of his
comrades, that the youthful infatuation of Hugh le Barbier for Linda
Balzani had quite passed away.
Her name had not crossed his lips, so far as any knew, since the
excitement following upon his rescue from the Magician's Tower had died
down. The whole episode seemed to have come utterly to an end, and those
who knew Hugh's circumstances thought it well, as he was of the stuff
which might cause him to rise in the world.
The boat was riding at a fair rate of speed through the water, and the
Priory walls of Eynsham gradually loomed in sight. It was a quaint,
lonely, old-world spot, this little community lying hidden in the
winding valley, far away from any other abode of man. There was a charm
in the low-lying meadows, in the grand old trees, in the herds of deer
that came down from the forest to drink at the river. Fish and wild fowl
abounded in these solitudes, and the appearance of a white-sailed boat
wrought astonishment and commotion amongst them. It was a place where
life might well be dreamed away in pious meditation and contemplation.
It was an ideal spot for a monastery; but Leofric had come to feel of
late that more was desired of man than mere contemplation and
meditation--more even than mere study and the acquiring or propagating
knowledge. The life of the cloister had never greatly attracted him; now
he felt that it would be nothing better than death in life.
A little winding backwater opened before them at this point, and Hugh,
furling the sail, took up the oars and rowed quietly into the dim,
narrow place. As he did this he uttered a low, sweet whistling call, not
unlike that of some bird; and very soon Leofric became aware of a
fluttering of white drapery, and a low, soft voice spoke out of the
fringe of alder bushes,--
"Beloved, is that thou?"
The next minute Hugh had driven his boat up against a fallen willow that
lay athwart the stream, barring further progress, and leaving it to
Leofric, had sprung ashore, and had taken in his arms the slim form in
the white robe that had come to the margin of the stream to meet him.
Leofric busied himself with the boat for a few moments, and only turned
his head when his name was spoken.
Then indeed he saw before him the remembered face of Linda Balzani, but
so etherealized and beautified that he could not wonder at the way in
which Hugh had spoken of her. The deep, dark eyes shone like stars, the
dusky hair waved round the small and well-shaped head like the aureole
round the head of painted saint; and so pure was the expression upon the
lovely chiselled features, so sweet the lines of the exquisite mouth, so
graceful and sylph-like the slim figure, that Leofric gazed with wonder
and admiration. It was Linda who spoke first.
"Thou art Leofric; I remember thee right well. I have heard from Hugh of
thy prowess and success. Thou art welcome, as any friend of his must be;
but thou art doubly welcome as being beloved by him."
She would have led them to her aunt's house and refreshed them; for Hugh
was courting in no clandestine fashion, but had won the esteem and
affection of Bridget Marlow and her husband. Linda was now their child
by adoption, and they were responsible for her future. If Hugh were not
ashamed to wed with a simple burgher maiden, they would not say him nay.
They were simple-minded folks, and Hugh made light of his own
prospects. So far he was nothing but the son of an esquire, and a
scholar and bachelor of Oxford. Linda was his one and only love, and
that she was his in heart and in soul all who saw them together could
not fail to recognize fully.
But to-day Hugh would not come in. They had not much time, and he spent
the precious moments with Linda beside the rippling water, Leofric
remaining in the boat and idly observing the objects about him. His eye
was caught by the grey habit of a monk, who was seated amid the alders
with a rod in his hand. Leofric observed that he seemed little engrossed
by his fishing, and certainly caught nothing. Perhaps he was engaged in
meditation or the telling of his beads. At any rate he sat wonderfully
still and quiet; indeed he never moved at all until Hugh and Linda
wandered away a little farther from his secluded nook, whereupon, to the
surprise of Leofric, the cowled figure rose up and crept stealthily
after them.
True, it might be the way back to the Priory, and surely a cloistered
monk could have no interest in the lovers' raptures of a youth and maid;
but Leofric noted and rather wondered at the action, though he forgot it
again when Hugh returned, and they set to work to row down stream with
long, sweeping strokes.
It was indeed several days later before he thought of the matter again,
and then the incident was recalled by a remark made by Hugh as they were
pacing the familiar streets together after morning lecture.
"Leofric, I have a curious and perhaps foolish fancy that I am watched
and followed. It must be the merest fantasy, and yet I cannot rid myself
of it."
"Has it been long so with thee?" asked Leofric quickly.
"Not very long--so far as my suspicion goes. But how or when it
commenced I cannot tell; nor would I say with certainty that the thing
is not now the fruit of a disordered fancy. But I cannot rid myself of
it."
"What form does the following take?"
"I have a fancy that a certain grey-cowled monk is often near at hand
watching where I go and what I do. There be so many of these monks and
friars in the streets of Oxford, that I sometimes laugh at myself for
the thought; and yet methinks there is one--tall, and slim, and
active--who is more often in the same street with me than chance can
quite answer for. Thou dost start, Leofric; what means that?"
"Only this, that as thou didst wander with Linda by the backwater at
Eynsham that day when I was with thee, a grey-cowled monk was sitting
beside the stream; and when ye twain moved a little off, he also moved
and seemed to follow, though I lost sight of him in the bushes almost at
once."
Hugh looked rather perplexed.
"And there is another whom I seem always to be meeting--a powerful
fellow in the habit of a clerk, but with a bearded face, and a scar
across his cheek which perhaps gives to him an evil aspect. Often when I
turn suddenly round in the street I see him behind me, but whether
there be anything beyond and behind I cannot tell. At first I heeded it
little, but there are moments when I grow uneasy. Last time that I and
Linda exchanged vows of love, some evil power threatened us, and seemed
like to separate us altogether. Is it that, thinkest thou, that makes me
fear, and puts fancies in my head for which there is no warrant?"
"I know not," answered Leofric; "but I would have thee be watchful and
prudent. It is ill work stirring up strife and jealousy. If Roger de
Horn were in the city, I should fear for thee. He was always thy bitter
foe, and they say that he was very greatly bent on having Linda for his
wife."
"Roger de Horn," spoke Hugh thoughtfully; "could it by chance be he?
Methought once there was something familiar in the gleam of the eyes of
that bearded fellow, but the scar has changed him if indeed it be so. I
did not recognize him. He seldom meets me face to face. Perchance that
is the reason;" and then Hugh's face became clouded with anxiety, and he
said between his teeth,--
"If indeed that wild hawk has flown back thither, it behoves me to warn
and watch over my tender dove. If hurt should come again to her through
me, I should never forgive myself."
Leofric's suspicions were aroused, and he kept his eyes and ears open.
He took counsel with his kind friend the Franciscan friar Brother
Angelus, who had a warm welcome for him on his return; and he made
inquiries amongst the other brothers, and amongst those whom he visited
and tended. But none had heard a word of Roger de Horn since his
disappearance after the discovery of Hugh's imprisonment in the
Magician's Tower. Men were of opinion that he would hardly venture back
into the city, in case he should be called upon to answer for his
misdeeds there. Brother Angelus was of opinion that Hugh had better
exercise prudence and discretion, and keep his eyes open. It was
certainly a strange coincidence that this thing should be just when he
and Linda had renewed their vows of love; and yet if any other suitor
had desired the maiden's hand, why had he not come forward during the
years when Hugh had been seeking to forget his love?
That was a question which Leofric could not answer, and just now he had
many other matters to think of which drove Hugh's affairs into the
background of his thoughts. He took up the academic life with renewed
zest and energy, and in his studies and pleasant intercourse with
kindred spirits passed many happy weeks. Hugh went about free and
unhurt, and gradually the fear for his friend which had assailed him
once died down into oblivion.