When the nightengale singes, the wodes waxes grene,
Lef, and gras, and blosme, springeth in April I wene,
And love is to myne herte gone with one speare so kene.
Night and day my blood hyt drynkes, mine herte deth me fane.
_MSS. Hail. Quoted by Warton._
Sir Aymer De Valance had no sooner followed his archer to the convent
of Saint Bride, than he summoned the abbot to his presence, who came
with the air of a man who loves his ease, and who is suddenly called
from the couch where he has consigned himself to a comfortable repose,
at the summons of one whom he does not think it safe to disobey, and to
whom he would not disguise his sense of peevishness, if he durst.
"It is a late ride," he said, "which has brought your worthy honour
hither from the castle. May I be informed of the cause, after the
arrangement so recently gone into with the governor?"
"It is my hope," replied the knight, "that you, Father Abbot, are not
already conscious of it; suspicions are afloat, and I myself have this
night seen something to confirm them, that some of the obstinate rebels
of this country are again setting afoot dangerous practices, to the
peril of the garrison; and I come, father, to see whether, in requital
of many favours received from the English monarch, you will not merit
his bounty and protection, by contributing to the discovery of the
designs of his enemies."
"Assuredly so," answered Father Jerome, in an agitated voice. "Most
unquestionably my information should stand at your command; that is, if
I knew any thing the communication of which could be of advantage to
you."
"Father Abbot," replied the English knight, "although it is rash to
make myself responsible for a North-country man in these times, yet I
own I do consider you as one who has ever been faithfully subject to
the King of England, and I willingly hope that you will still continue
so."
"And a fine encouragement I have!" said the abbot; "to be called out of
my bed at midnight, in this raw weather, to undergo the examination of
a knight, who is the youngest, perhaps, of his own honourable rank, and
who will not tell me the subject of the interrogatories, but detains me
on this cold pavement, till, according to the opinion of Celsus, the
podagra which lurks in my feet may be driven into my stomach, and then
good-night to abbacy and examinations from henceforward."
"Good father," said the young man, "the spirit of the times must teach
thee patience; recollect that I can feel no pleasure in this duty, and
that if an insurrection should take place, the rebels, who are
sufficiently displeased with thee for acknowledging the English
monarch, would hang thee from thine own steeple to feed the crows; or
that, if thou hast secured thy peace by some private compact with the
insurgents, the English governor, who will sooner or later gain the
advantage, will not fail to treat thee as a rebel to his sovereign."
"It may appear to you, my noble son," answered the abbot, obviously
discomposed, "that I am hung up, in this case, on the horns of the
dilemma which you have stated; nevertheless, I protest to you, that if
any one accuses me of conspiring with the rebels against the King of
England, I am ready, provided you give me time to swallow a potion
recommended by Celsus in my perilous case, to answer with the most
perfect sincerity every question which you can put to me upon that
subject." So saying, he called upon a monk who had attended at his
levee, and giving him a large key, whispered something in his ear. The
cup which the monk brought was of such capacity as proved Celsus's
draught required to be administered in considerable quantity, and a
strong smell which it spread through the apartment, accredited the
knight's suspicion that the medicine chiefly consisted of what were
then termed distilled waters, a preparation known in the monasteries
for some time before that comfortable secret had reached the laity in
general. The abbot, neither overawed by the strength nor by the
quantity of the potion, took it off with what he himself would have
called a feeling of solace and pleasance, and his voice became much
more composed; he signified himself as comforted extraordinarily by the
medicine, and willing to proceed to answer any questions which could be
put to him by his gallant young friend.
"At present," said the knight, "you are aware, father, that strangers
travelling through this country, must be the first objects of our
suspicions and enquiries. What is, for example, your own opinion of the
youth termed Augustine, the son, or calling himself so, of a person
called Bertram the minstrel, who has resided for some days in your
convent?"
The abbot heard the question with eyes expressive of surprise at the
quarter from which it came.
"Assuredly," said he, "I think of him as a youth who, from any thing I
have seen, is of that excellent disposition, both with respect to
loyalty and religion, which I should have expected, were I to judge
from the estimable person who committed him to my care."
With this the abbot bowed to the knight, as if he had conceived that
this repartee gave him a silencing advantage in any question which
could follow upon that subject; and he was probably, therefore,
surprised when Sir Aymer replied as follows:
"It is very true, Father Abbot, that I myself did recommend this
stripling to you as a youth of a harmless disposition, and with respect
to whom it would be unnecessary to exercise the strict vigilance
extended to others in similar circumstances; but the evidence which
seemed to me to vouch for this young man's innocence, has not appeared
so satisfactory to my superior and commander; and it is by his orders
that I now make farther enquiries of you. You must think they are of
consequence, since we again trouble you, and at so unwonted an hour."
"I can only protest by my order, and by the veil of Saint Bride,"
replied the abbot, the spirit of Celsus appearing to fail his pupil,
"that whatever evil may be in this matter, is totally unknown to
me--nor could it be extorted from me by racks or implements of torture.
Whatever signs of disloyalty may have been evinced by this young man, I
have witnessed none of them, although I have been strictly attentive to
his behaviour."
"In what respect?" said the knight--"and what is the result of your
observation?"
"My answer," said the abbot of Saint Bride, "shall be sincere and
downright. The youth condescended upon payment of a certain number of
gold crowns, not by any means to repay the hospitality of the church of
Saint Bride, but merely"--
"Nay, father," interrupted the knight, "you may cut that short, since
the governor and I well understand the terms upon which the monks of
Saint Bride exercise their hospitality. In what manner, it is more
necessary to ask, was it received by this boy?"
"With the utmost gentleness and moderation, noble sir," answered the
abbot; "indeed it appeared to me, at first, that he might be a
troublesome guest, since the amount of his benevolence to the convent
was such as to encourage, and, in some degree, to authorise, his
demanding accommodation of a kind superior to what we had to bestow."
"In which case," said Sir Aymer, "you would have had the discomfort of
returning some part of the money you have received?"
"That," replied the abbot, "would have been a mode of settlement
contrary to our vows. What is paid to the treasury of Saint Bridget,
cannot, agreeably to our rule, be on any account restored. But, noble
knight, there was no occasion for this; a crust of white bread and a
draught of milk were diet sufficient to nourish this poor youth for a
day, and it was my own anxiety for his health that dictated the
furnishing of his cell with a softer bed and coverlet than are quite
consistent with the rules of our order."
"Now hearken to what I say, Sir Abbot, and answer me truly," said the
Knight of Valence--"What communication has this youth held with the
inmates of your convent, or with those beyond your house? Search your
memory concerning this, and let me have a distinct answer, for your
guest's safety and your own depend upon it."
"As I am a Christian man," said the abbot, "I have observed nothing
which could give ground for your worship's suspicions. The boy
Augustine, unlike those whom I have observed who have been educated in
the world, showed a marked preference to the company of such sisters as
the house of Saint Bride contains, rather than for that of the monks,
my brethren, although there are among them pleasant and conversible
men."
"Scandal," said the young knight, "might find a reason for that
preference."
"Not in the case of the sisters of Saint Bridget," said the abbot,
"most of whom have been either sorely misused by time, or their
comeliness destroyed by some mishap previously to their being received
into the seclusion of the house."
This observation the good father made with some internal movement of
mirth, which was apparently excited at the idea of the sisterhood of
Saint Bridget becoming attractive to any one by dint of their personal
beauty, in which, as it happened, they were all notably, and almost
ludicrously, deficient. The English knight, to whom the sisterhood were
well known, felt also inclined to smile at this conversation.
"I acquit," he said, "the pious sisterhood of charming, otherwise than
by their kind wishes, and attention to the wants of the suffering
stranger."
"Sister Beatrice," continued the father, resuming his gravity, "is
indeed blessed with a winning gift of making comfits and syllabubs;
but, on minute enquiry, I do not find that the youth has tasted any of
them. Neither is sister Ursula so hard-favoured by nature, as from the
effects of an accident; but your honour knows that when a woman is
ugly, the men do not trouble themselves about the cause of her hard
favour. I will go, with your leave, and see in what state the youth now
is, and summon him, before you."
"I request you to do so, father, for the affair is instant: and I
earnestly advise you to watch, in the closest manner, this Augustine's
behaviour: you cannot be too particular. I will wait your return, and
either carry the boy to the castle, or leave him here, as circumstances
may seem to require."
The abbot bowed, promised his utmost exertions, and hobbled out of the
room to wait on the youth Augustine in his cell, anxious to favour, if
possible, the wishes of De Valence, whom he looked upon as rendered by
circumstances his military patron.
He remained long absent, and Sir Aymer began to be of opinion that the
delay was suspicious, when the abbot returned with perplexity and
discomposure in his countenance.
"I crave your pardon for keeping your worship waiting," said Jerome,
with much anxiety; "but I have myself been detained and vexed by
unnecessary formalities and scruples on the part of this peevish boy.
In the first place, hearing my foot approaching his bedroom, my youth,
instead of undoing the door, which would have been but proper respect
to my place, on the contrary draws a strong bolt on the inside; and
this fastening, forsooth, has been placed on his chamber by Ursula's
command, that his slumbers might be suitably respected. I intimated to
him as I best could, that he must attend you without delay, and prepare
to accompany you to the Castle of Douglas; but he would not answer a
single word, save recommending to me patience, to which I was fain to
have recourse, as well as your archer, whom I found standing sentinel
before the door of the cell, and contenting himself with the assurance
of the sisters that there was no other passage by which Augustine could
make his escape. At length the door opens, and my young master presents
himself fully arrayed for his journey. The truth is, I think some fresh
attack of his malady has affected the youth; he may perhaps be
disturbed with some touch of hypochondria, or black choler, a species
of dotage of the mind, which is sometimes found concomitant with and
symptomatic of this disorder; but he is at present composed, and if
your worship chooses to see him, he is at your command."
"Call him hither," said the knight. And a considerable space of time
again elapsed ere the eloquence of the abbot, half chiding and half
soothing, prevailed on the lady, in her adopted character, to approach,
the parlour, in which at last she made her appearance, with a
countenance on which the marks of tears might still be discovered, and
a pettish sullenness, like that of a boy, or, with reverence, that of a
girl, who is determined upon taking her own way in any matter, and
equally resolved to give no reason for her doing so. Her hurried levee
had not prevented her attending closely to all the mufflings and
disguisings by which her pilgrim's dress was arranged, so as to alter
her appearance, and effectually disguise her sex. But as civility
prevented her wearing her large slouched hat, she necessarily exposed
her countenance more than in the open air; and though the knight beheld
a most lovely set of features, yet they were not such as were
inconsistent with the character she had adopted, and which she had
resolved upon maintaining to the last. She had, accordingly, mustered
up a degree of courage which was not natural to her, and which she
perhaps supported by hopes which her situation hardly admitted. So soon
as she found herself in the same apartment with De Valence, she assumed
a style of manners, bolder and more determined than she had hitherto
displayed.
"Your worship," she said, addressing him even before he spoke, "is a
knight of England, and possessed, doubtless, of the virtues which
become that noble station. I am an unfortunate lad, obliged, by reasons
which I am under the necessity of keeping secret, to travel in a
dangerous country, where I am suspected, without any just cause, of
becoming accessory to plots and conspiracies which are contrary to my
own interest, and which my very soul abhors; and which I might safely
abjure, by imprecating upon myself all the curses of our religion and
renouncing all its promises, if I were accessory to such designs, in
thought, word, or deed. Nevertheless, you, who will not believe my
solemn protestations, are about to proceed against me as a guilty
person, and in so doing I must warn you, Sir Knight, that you will
commit a great and cruel injustice."
"I shall endeavour to avoid that," said the knight, "by referring the
duty to Sir John de Walton, the governor, who will decide what is to be
done; in this case, my only duty will be to place you in his hands at
Douglas Castle."
"Must you do this?" said Augustine.
"Certainly," replied the knight, "or be answerable for neglecting my
duty."
"But if I become bound to answer your loss with a large sum of money, a
large tract of land"--
"No treasure, no land,--supposing such at your disposal," answered the
knight, "can atone for disgrace; and, besides, boy, how should I trust
to your warrant, were my avarice such as would induce me to listen to
such proposals?"
"I must then prepare to attend you instantly to the Castle of Douglas
and the presence of Sir John de Walton?" replied Augustine.
"Young man," answered De Valence, "there is no remedy, since if you
delay me longer, I must carry you thither by force."
"What will be the consequence to my father?" said the youth.
"That," replied the knight, "will depend exactly on the nature of your
confession and his; something you both have to say, as is evident from
the terms of the letter Sir John de Walton conveyed to you; and I
assure you, you were better to speak it out at once than to risk the
consequences of more delay. I can admit of no more trifling; and,
believe me, that your fate will be entirely ruled by your own frankness
and candour."
"I must prepare, then, to travel at your command," said the youth. "But
this cruel disease still hangs around me, and Abbot Jerome, whose
leech-craft is famous, will himself assure you that I cannot travel
without danger of my life; and that while I was residing in this
convent, I declined every opportunity of exercise which was offered me
by the kindness of the garrison at Hazelside, lest I might by mishap
bring the contagion among your men."
"The youth says right," said the abbot; "the archers and men-at-arms
have more than once sent to invite this lad to join in some of their
military games, or to amuse them, perhaps, with some of his minstrelsy;
but he has uniformly declined doing so; and, according to my belief, it
is the effects of this disorder which have prevented his accepting an
indulgence so natural to his age, and in so dull a place as the convent
of Saint Bride must needs seem to a youth bred up in the world."
"Do you then hold, reverend father," said Sir Aymer, "that there is
real danger in carrying this youth to the castle to-night, as I
proposed?"
"I conceive such danger," replied the abbot, "to exist, not only as it
may occasion the relapse of the poor youth himself, but as particularly
likely, no preparations having been made, to introduce the infection
among your honourable garrison; for it is in these relapses, more than
in the first violence of the malady, that it has been found most
contagious."
"Then," said the knight, "you must be content, my friend, to give a
share of your room to an archer, by way of sentinel."
"I cannot object," said Augustine, "provided my unfortunate vicinity
does not endanger the health of the poor soldier."
"He will be as ready to do his duty," said the abbot, "without the door
of the apartment as within it; and if the youth should sleep soundly,
which the presence of a guard in his chamber might prevent, he is the
more likely to answer your purpose on the morrow."
"Let it be so," said Sir Aymer; "so you are sure that you do not
minister any facility of escape."'
"The apartment," said the monk, "hath no other entrance than that which
is guarded by the archer; but, to content you, I shall secure the door
in your presence."
"So be it, then," said the Knight of Valence; "this done, I myself will
lie down without doffing my mail-shirt, and snatch a sleep till the
ruddy dawn calls me again to duty, when you, Augustine, will hold
yourself ready to attend me to our Castle of Douglas."
The bells of the convent summoned the inhabitants and inmates of Saint
Bride to morning prayers at the first peep of day. When this duty was
over, the knight demanded his prisoner. The abbot marshalled him to the
door of Augustine's chamber. The sentinel who was stationed there,
armed with a brown-bill, or species of partisan, reported that he had
heard no motion in the apartment during the whole night. The abbot
tapped at the door, but received no answer. He knocked again louder,
but the silence was unbroken from within.
"What means this?" said the reverend ruler of the convent of Saint
Bride; "my young patient has certainly fallen into a syncope or swoon!"
"I wish, Father Abbot," said the knight, "that he may not have made his
escape instead, an accident which both you and I may be required to
answer, since, according to our strict duty, we ought to have kept
sight of him, and detained him in close custody until daybreak."
"I trust your worship," said the abbot, "only anticipates a misfortune
which I cannot think possible."
"We shall speedily see," said the knight; and raising his voice, he
called aloud, so as to be heard within, "Bring crow-bars and levers,
and burst me that door into splinters without an instant's delay."
The loudness of his voice, and the stern tone in which he spoke, soon
brought around him the brethren of the house, and two or three soldiers
of his own party, who were already busy in caparisoning their horses.
The displeasure of the young knight was manifested by his flushed
features, and the abrupt manner in which he again repeated his commands
for breaking open the door. This was speedily performed, though it
required the application of considerable strength, and as the shattered
remains fell crashing into the apartment, De Valence sprung, and the
abbot hobbled, into the cell of the prisoner, which, to the fulfilment
of their worst suspicions, they found empty.