In one of the ante-rooms of the palace at Eltham, on the morning
following, sat five gentlemen, dressed with extravagant gaudiness,
their hair curled, and in some instances plaited like that of women,
and their persons adorned with innumerable rings and trinkets.
"Out upon it!--bear a blow?" cried one of them. "I will have revenge!"
"How will you seek it, De Margan?" asked another. "With a bodkin?"
"Nay, nay, let him alone," said the third, "he is a man of spirit, and
will dare this proud knight to the field."
"Who will crack him there," rejoined the second speaker, "as the King
cracks a crawfish!"
"How is that?" inquired the first.
"Between his finger and thumb," replied the other.
"This is all nonsense," joined in one who had not yet spoken.
"Monthermer is a prisoner and cannot underlie a defiance."
"De Margan will do better than defy him," said the fifth personage. "He
knows that there are shrewder means of revenge in his power than that.
Tell them, De Margan--tell them! and we will all go in with you and
bear it out!"
"Ay!" cried Sir Guy de Margan, "those two fair lovers would, I rather
fancy, give each a finger of their right hand rather than have the Earl
of Ashby know their secret moonlight meeting in the cloister. Neither
would the good Earl much like to have the tale told of his fair
daughter showering such favours on this good Lord Hugh; and Alured de
Ashby, I have heard, hates these Monthermers worse than a cat hates
oil."
"A goodly mess of venom if you stir it properly!" observed one of his
companions.
"That will I do most certainly," said the first. "I wait but the
opening of the King's doors to tell the noble Earl before the whole
court that his daughter was somewhat less niggardly of her presence
last night to Hugh de Monthermer than he dreamt of. Then, you see, the
old lord will chafe, the King will frown, and Alured de Ashby will be
sent for----"
"To do what Guy de Margan does not dare himself," said one of the
gentlemen.
What might have been the reply is difficult to say; for, although the
personage he spoke to, had so much of the better part of valour as to
refrain from measuring his strength against a man so much superior to
himself as Hugh de Monthermer, yet he was by no means without courage
where it was at all prudent to display it. But his answer, which seemed
likely to be a fierce one, was stopped on his very lips; for the door
of the King's chamber opened at that moment, and the well-known William
de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, came forth, bearing two or three sealed
letters in his hand.
"Sir Guy de Margan," he said, presenting him with a packet, "I am
directed by the King to command you immediately to set out for
Monmouth, where you will open these orders, execute them, and rejoin
the court at Nottingham. You, Sir Thomas le Strange, will proceed on a
similar mission to Chester; and you, Sir Roger de Leiburn, will go on
before with these to Derby. Speed, gentlemen, speed!--there is no time
to be lost. We have tidings of a threatened rising in the north, and
the whole court sets out within two hours."
"Cannot I have audience of the King, my lord," said Guy de Margan; "if
but for a moment, or with the Earl de Ashby?"
"Impossible!" replied William de Valence; "the King, with the Earls of
Ashby, Mortimer, and Gloucester, and the noble Lord of Audley, is
arranging with the Prince the measures which are to be pursued. It is
impossible, Sir Guy! So quick away with you, gentlemen, and see whose
spur is sharpest."
All was bustle, hurry, and confusion at the court of Eltham during the
rest of the morning. The threatened rising in Northumberland was
indeed, not of a very serious nature, and Edward was of opinion, that
the few nobles who were about the court, with such troops as he could
muster rapidly by the way, would be sufficient to overawe the
malcontents, and nip the revolt in the bud. Henry, however, ever fond
of excitement and display, seized the pretext for making a royal
progress into the north, knowing well that every great noble as he
passed, especially at that particular period, would vie with his
neighbour in entertaining his Sovereign with luxury and splendour.
Edward looked grave, and evidently disapproved; but he did not venture
to offer any opposition to his father's wishes; and towards two of the
clock, in a fine day of the early autumn, preceded and followed by a
strong band of soldiery, the whole court, comprising all who happened
to be at Eltham at the time, set out on its way towards Nottingham.
Although there was indeed more than one horse-litter in the train, yet
all the principal personages proceeded on their journey, as usual, upon
horseback; and, even in their robes of travel, they formed a bright and
glittering train, as ever was seen, comprising nearly two hundred
persons. Laughing, talking, jesting, they rode along, keeping no very
compact order, and each person choosing his companions as his
inclination prompted, or circumstances admitted.
Hugh de Monthermer, as may well be supposed, sought the side of Lucy de
Ashby; and it luckily so happened that an old knight of her father's
household, so deaf that the blast of a trumpet was the only thing he
could hear, took upon himself to act as esquire to the lady. In this
capacity he occupied the post upon her left hand, talking all the
while, and, with the fruitful imagination, which many deaf people have,
fancying the replies that were never spoken. Immediately behind, came
the gay girls who waited upon their fair lady, with two or three pages
and squires, all occupied with the usual subjects, which engrossed the
attention of pages, squires, and handmaidens in those days.
The Earl of Ashby himself kept near the presence of the King; but he
seemed to entertain no objection to the attentions which Hugh was
evidently showing to his daughter; and throughout the whole of the
progress, the princess Eleanor, with that sympathy which a kind-hearted
woman always feels for woman's love, favoured the lovers with
opportunity, not indeed with bustling eagerness, not indeed even
apparently, but with the calm and quiet tact of a refined mind, as well
as a gentle heart.
Edward, too, though more occupied with other things than Eleanor,
showed every kindness to Hugh de Monthermer, and once or twice, in
passing him while he was conversing with Lucy de Ashby, marked with a
smile, the brightness of the lover's eye, and certainly gave no
discouragement to his hopes.
At Huntingdon, the young knight was joined by a number of his own
servants, and one or two of those who had been attached to his uncle.
Amongst the latter, was the stout yeoman, Tom Blawket; and upon
questioning him, Hugh discovered that all the tenants and retainers of
the old Earl were ignorant that their lord had survived the battle. The
good fellow was evidently so deeply grieved at the supposed death of
his noble master, that Hugh felt a strong inclination to impart to him
the fact of the Earl being safe, and very reluctantly refrained, in the
belief that it might be contrary to his uncle's wishes, so to do. Money
and horses reached him at the same time, and he was now enabled, in all
things, to resume the appearance of his rank and station.
Health, too, and strength, were every day coming back more and more;
and, though the Prince's surgeon at Eltham had shaken his head and
prognosticated that the wound on his breast would never heal completely
till he could obtain perfect repose, a certain balm that Hugh carried
with him--the balm of happiness--had closed it before he reached
Huntingdon, and had left nothing to be desired but the recovery of his
former vigour.
Thus, as the reader may believe, the progress to Nottingham was a
joyful one to Hugh de Monthermer. He bore his sunshine with him, and
mingled willingly in all the sports and pleasures prepared for the
royal entertainment.
It would be tedious to tell all the little incidents of the journey, to
describe the pageant at this castle, the banquet at the other, the
tournament that was prepared in one town, the grand procession that met
the monarch at the gates of another city.
Suffice it, that all was feasting and revelry, merry-making, and
rejoicing; and the populace, even in many of the places which had most
strongly adhered to De Montfort, during his days of prosperity, now met
the Monarch, whose oppression and exactions he had risen to curb, and
the Prince, before whose sword he had fallen, with the loudest shouts,
and most cheerful acclamations. Such is popularity!--he who counts upon
it for an hour will find that he has trusted it too long, and he who
relies upon it for support will learn that a bulrush is an oak to it.
Long before the royal party reached the North, the news of the King's
march, and of the gathering together of considerable forces, ran on
before, and, as Edward had supposed, the very rumour crushed the
insurrection in the egg. But Henry still resolved to advance as far as
Nottingham, and promised the Earl of Ashby to spend some time with him
at his castle of Lindwell.
The Earl sent on messengers to prepare everything for the monarch's
reception, and two days before the time named for entering
Nottinghamshire, the party of the King halted in the fair little town
of Mountsorrel. The castle was then in ruins; but in the priory below,
the King, the Prince, and several of the chief nobles in attendance on
them, found lodging for the night, while the rest of the court were
scattered in the houses round about.
The good monks of Mountsorrel, who since the beginning of of the
century, when the castle was destroyed, had managed matters their own
way, were celebrated for the excellence of their cheer; and their
refectory certainly displayed, for the Monarch's entertainment, a
repast that night, which, in point of excellence of materials and skill
in cookery, excelled all that he had met with on the road.
The hour was late when the King arrived; and Henry, who loved the
pleasures of the table, sat long, tasting all the exquisite
meats--partridges, which had been kept in a mew, and crammed with a
spoon to make them fat--peacocks the flesh of which had been rendered
as white as driven snow, by the method of feeding them--fish brought
across the country from the sea, and others which had tenanted for
years the tanks of the priory, nourished with especial care, and
treated with a stream of running water conducted from the Soar river to
the pond, to render them fresh and healthy, together with a thousand
other dainties under which the table groaned. Nor did the King merely
continue at the table himself, but he contrived to keep all his guests
there likewise, conversing between the dishes with the prior, who knew
well how to season meat with merriment, and had many a light and
jesting tale for the Monarch's not very scrupulous ear.
While such things were proceeding at the Priory, however, the rest of
the royal party, broken into bodies of five or six, occupied, as we
have said, three or four neighbouring houses, besides the small
hostelry, making themselves as merry and as much at ease as men can do
who care nothing for the comfort of their host, or the report he will
make of them when their backs are turned.
It was about ten o'clock at night when, in the best room of the inn,
three gentlemen were sitting with the relics of their supper still
before them--a fat capon and a venison pasty remaining almost
uninjured, the one only having lost a leg in the conflict, and the
other having a breach in its wall of not more than a couple of inches
in diameter. This fact, however, did not by any means evince that the
party had wanted appetite, but merely that various dishes had gone
before, leaving no room for anything but wine in the stomachs of the
well-fed guests. The red juice of the Bordeaux grape was flowing
profusely amongst them, and great was the merriment and uproar going
on, when the sound of several horses' feet, coming rapidly down the
street, and then stopping at the door, called their attention. Whoever
were the riders, nothing more was known of their proceedings for
several minutes, at the end of which time a step was heard descending
the little flight of stairs that led from the road into the parlour
which was somewhat sunk below the level, of the ground.
"We can have no more here," cried one of the gentlemen, starting up,
resolved to defend the inviolability of their dining chamber--"whoever
it is, must find a lodging elsewhere."
But just as he spoke, the door, which was fastened with the happy old
contrivance of a pulley and weight, was pushed sharply open, and a man,
dressed in a riding costume, and muffled in a large loose gabardine
above his pourpoint, appeared before them. The one who had been
speaking, prepared, in a somewhat sharp tone, to enforce his objections
to the admission of a new guest; but suddenly he seemed to recognise
the new comer, and holding out his hand to him, he exclaimed--"Richard
de Ashby, as I live! Why who thought to see you here? We fancied that
you were with your cousin, Alured, keeping down the men of
Westmoreland. At all events, you are welcome, though, by my life, you
will find the supper we have left you but scanty, and the wine barrel
not so full as when we began."
Richard de Ashby declared that there would be quite enough of both for
him, and summoning the host to provide him with fresh wine, he
proceeded with his meal, from time to time asking such questions as
might best lead his companions to tell him all they knew of what was
taking place at the English Court.
"Gay doings, I find," he said,--"gay doings, I find, between Eltham and
Leicester. Why, the whole country rings with it!"
"Well may it ring," replied the other gentlemen; "well may it ring, and
rejoice too, to see such sights. I have never beheld the like, since I
followed the Court of England. But during all that time, it is true, we
have had nothing but civil wars, or the rule of grim De Montfort; so it
is no wonder things have gone sadly."
"They will be merrier now, I trust," said Richard de Ashby. "It is high
time, however, that my own affairs should go a little more merrily; and
surely I have every right to expect it, for to me the Prince owes his
liberty. Ay! and to me, they owe the first seeds of dissension sown
amongst De Montfort's people. It is but fair that my claim should be
heard."
"On my life," cried the gentleman to whom he spoke, while Richard de
Ashby filled himself a cup of wine and drained it off; "on my life, our
good King and Prince seem fonder of their enemies than their friends.
Here is this young Monthermer, one of the chief favourites of the
Court."
A malevolent scowl passed over the dark face of Richard de Ashby, but
as the host was coming in at that moment with more wine, he remained
silent, hewing the meat before him with his knife, but without tasting
it. When the landlord was gone, however, he composed his countenance,
and exclaimed, with an affected laugh--"A pretty favourite,
indeed!--But tell me what bright ladies follow the Court? I hear there
never was a fairer train."
"You have heard true, Sir Richard," said the same gentleman who had
hitherto spoken to him, the others being busily engaged in a
conversation of their own--"you have heard true; a bevy of lovelier
dames has seldom been seen. There is the Countess of Pembroke, and
Mortimer's wife; but she is ugly enough, Heaven knows! Then there is
the young lady, De Veux, and Lord Audley's daughter; and chief of all,
Hugh de Monthermer's lady-love, your fair cousin, Lucy de Ashby."
There was a certain touch of malice in his tone as he spoke, for it is
wonderful how soon men discover any weak point in their fellow-men, and
still more extraordinary how much pleasure they derive from saying
things that may give pain to others, without producing the slightest
benefit whatever to themselves. Perhaps the courtier, Sir Harry Grey,
who now spoke with Richard de Ashby, had in view to provoke him to one
of those outbursts of passion which to our corrupt hearts generally
afford matter of merriment rather than commiseration; but if he did so,
he was disappointed.
A momentary expression of intense wrath convulsed the features of
Richard de Ashby, but he uttered not a word in reply. He paused
thoughtfully, filled another cup of wine, but did not drink it, gazed
down upon the edge of his knife, and then turning round to his
companion, said, "How warm it is! How can you all sit here with the
casement closed?"
"The boys of the village were staring in," answered Sir Harry Grey,
"looking at us like wild beasts in a cage, so we were forced to close
the casement and draw the curtain. They are gone now--you can open
it.--But you do not tell me what you think of this coming alliance. He
is very wealthy, handsome, renowned; we all think it will answer very
well.
"Do you?" said Richard de Ashby, drily. "Why, I rather think, Sir
Harry, it is no business either of yours or mine; although, to speak
the truth, I believe you are mistaken, and that there is no such
alliance toward."
"Oh, but it is the talk of the whole court!" cried the other. "He is
ever with her, or with the Lord of Ashby, and besides, the Earl has
been known to say--" and he went on to repeat some twenty rumours of the
day concerning the marriage of Hugh de Monthermer and Lucy de Ashby,
not one of which contained a word of truth.
Still, however, Richard de Ashby remained unmoved--at least, to all
appearance; and after merely asking who else was at the court, and
receiving a somewhat lengthened answer, giving him the names of fifteen
or sixteen ladies in whom he had no interest whatsoever, he arose,
saying, "I must to bed, for I depart at daybreak to-morrow."
"What! do you not visit the King?" demanded one of the other gentlemen,
who had not yet spoken.
"No, no," replied he, "I go on to Nottingham to meet him. I have
business of importance. Good night--good night;" and he left the room.
"You galled him, Grey," said Sir Andrew Geary--"You galled him hard
about that marriage."
"I know I did," answered Sir Harry Grey; "once let me know a man's
folly, and I will pink you him to the quick, if his skin be as thick
and hard as a German gambesoon.--Not that he thinks of marrying fair
Lucy himself; but it is his hatred to the Monthermers touches him."
"Faith, you're mistaken," rejoined Sir Andrew Geary, who was one of
those keen-sighted men who seem intuitively to see into men's motives,
under whatsoever specious disguises they may endeavour to conceal
them--"faith, you are mistaken. This Richard de Ashby is one of more
ambition than you believe. He knows right well, that in the many
accidents of the day the good Lord Alured may find his way to the
kingdom of Heaven, and then--though he be now but the poor kinsman,
treated not so well as many a worthy retainer of the house--he becomes
heir presumptive to the title, though to none of the lands, except the
small estate of Ashby. It would suit him but little to see Hugh of
Monthermer, as the husband of the heiress, sweep up the whole wealth of
the house. What he will try," added Sir Andrew, musing, "I do not know;
but be sure he will do something to break the marriage--if there be any
truth in the story at all."
"Then Monthermer will cut his throat," replied Sir Harry Grey, "and
there will be an end of it. But now what say you to the dice, Geary?
let us try a cast or two."
"Not I," answered Sir Andrew Geary; "I am not in the mood. I am not
well to-night, and shall betake me to my rest."
"I will throw with you, Grey," cried a young man from the other side of
the room. "Geary's wings are drooping like a sick hen's. Don't you see?
So let him go and carry himself to the isle of pipkins, and seek some
stewed prunes for his queasy stomach. I am with you till cock crow, if
your purse be long enough, and the wine good."