The King and Prince Edward stood in the great hall of Nottingham
Castle, about to go forth on horseback. But few attendants,
comparatively, were around them; and a good deal of unmeaning merriment
was upon the King's countenance, as he jested with a horribly contorted
humpback, who, tricked forth in outrageous finery, displayed upon his
own deformed person more ribands, feathers, and lace, than all the rest
of the Court put together. Full of malice, wit, and impudence, every
tale of scandal, every scurvy jest and ribald story of the Court, were
familiar to him, and with these he entertained the leisure hours of the
King, when the monarch was not seeking amusement in the society of his
foreign favourites.
The brow of Edward, on the contrary, was somewhat stern and sad. Many
things had gone contrary to his wishes; his father seemed resolved not
to perform any of the promises which he had made to the more patriotic
noblemen who had supported the royal cause; and though Edward carried
filial respect and deference to an extent which his commanding mind,
high purposes, and great achievements, might perhaps have justified him
in stopping short of, yet he could not but suffer his countenance to
show his disappointment and disapprobation.
The King had descended from his apartments before his horses had been
brought into the court; and when the door at the farther end of the
hall opened, he took a few steps towards it, followed by the gentlemen
who were with him, supposing that some of the attendants were coming to
announce that all was ready.
Two or three of the royal officers did certainly appear, but in the
midst was seen the tall and powerful form of Hugh de Monthermer, with
an old knight, Sir John Hardy, on one side, and a page on the other. He
advanced with a quick step up the hall, and, bowing reverently to the
King and to the Prince, he said--
"I have come, your grace, according to the tenour of the safe-conduct I
have received, with one well known in feats of arms to be my god-father
in chivalry, and with twenty-five attendants and no more, to meet my
accuser face to face, to declare that his charge is false before God
and man, and to do battle with him in this behalf--my body against his,
according to the law of arms. I do beseech you, my lord, let me know my
accuser."
"'Tis I," answered a voice from behind the King, and Alured de Ashby
stepped forward to Henry's side--"'tis I, Alured de Ashby, who do
accuse you, Hugh of Monthermer, of feloniously and maliciously doing to
death William de Ashby, my noble father. I put myself on the decision
of Heaven, and God defend the right!"
Hugh of Monthermer had turned very pale. His lip quivered, his eye grew
anxious and haggard, and for a moment or two he remained in deep
silence. At length, however, he replied--
"You do me bitter wrong, Alured de Ashby--you should know better."
"How so?" demanded his opponent; "there is strong and dark suspicion
against you."
"Which I can disperse in a moment," said Hugh de Monthermer, "like
clouds scattered by a searching wind. But even were there suspicions
ten times as strong, I say that you, of all men, should not receive
them."
"How pale he turns!" observed one of the noblemen near, loud enough for
Hugh to hear.
"Ay, sir, I do turn pale," replied the young nobleman, looking sternly
at him "I turn pale to find that one against whom I would less
willingly draw the sword than any man living, is he, who, by a false
and baseless suspicion, forces me to do so. Alured de Ashby, you knew
right well when you concealed the name of my accuser that no
provocation would induce me to dip my hand in the blood of your
sister's brother."
"I did," replied Alured de Ashby; "that was the reason I concealed it."
"Then should you not have likewise known," demanded Hugh, "that the
same reason which makes me shrink from injuring her brother, would
still more withhold my arm, if raised, to spill the blood of her
father. You know it, Alured de Ashby--in your heart you know it well.
Nothing, so help me God, would have made me do one act to injure him,
even if there had been quarrel or dispute between us, when, I call
Heaven to witness, there was none."
"This is all vain," answered Alured de Ashby, with an unmoved
countenance; "you, Hugh de Monthermer, underlie my challenge; you have
accepted it, and I will make it good. There lies my glove!" and he cast
it down before the King.
Sir John Hardy instantly advanced and took it up, saying, "In the name
of the most noble lord Hugh de Monthermer, Baron of Amesbury, I take
your gage, Alured, Earl of Ashby, and do promise on his behalf that he
will do battle with you in his quarrel when and where the king shall
appoint, on horse or foot, with the usual arms and equipments,
according to the law of arms, and the customs of the court of England."
Hugh de Monthermer folded his arms on his chest, and bent down his eyes
upon the ground; and oh, how bitter were his feelings at that moment!
The deed was done--the irretrievable engagement was made; he must
either dip his hand in the kindred blood of her he loved best on earth,
or he must abandon honour, and name, and station, for ever--ay, and
remain gained with the imputation of a base and horrible act, which
would equally put a barrier between him and the object of his
long-cherished hopes.
Darkness was round him on every side, Between two black alternatives,
both equally menacing and fearful, he could but go on upon the course
before him--upon the course to which he seemed driven by fate. He must
meet his accuser in arms, he must do battle with him at outrance, he
must conquer, he must slay him. He knew well his own powers and his own
skill, and he doubted not that he should obtain the victory; but he
also knew that Alured de Ashby was not one to be overthrown with ease,
that he was not one whom he should be able to wound, disarm, or save.
Once in the field together, it was hand against hand, body against
body, life against life, till one or the other was no more. Death was
the only warder that would part them after the barrier of the lists
fell behind him. Nor could he hesitate, nor could he spare his
adversary, even though he were willing to risk or lose his own life
rather than slay the brother of Lucy de Ashby; for with the accused,
ignominy, and condemnation followed overthrow, and it was not alone
death, but disgrace, that was the mead of the vanquished. No; his fate
was sealed, his doom determined, with his own hand was he destined to
destroy his own happiness, to tear the sweetest ties of the heart
asunder, and to consign himself to grief, and disappointment, and
solitude through life.
As the last words broke from the lip of Sir John Hardy, the scene
around him seemed to disappear from his eyes. He felt like one of
those, who, on some bitter sorrow, forswear the world and the world's
joys for the dark cell of the monastery, the living tomb of the heart.
He felt like one of them, when the vow is pronounced, when their fate
is sealed, and when all earth's things are given up for ever. The whole
hall and all that it contained swam indistinctly before him, and he
bent down his eyes lest their giddy vacancy should betray the intensity
of his feelings to these who watched him.
In the meanwhile Henry and the Prince conferred for a moment apart; and
the King turned first to the accuser, then to the accused, saying, "My
lords, we will name Monday next for the decision of this wager of
battle; the place to be the Butts by the side of Trent, below the
bridge. We will take care that fitting lists be prepared; and, until
the day of combat, we charge you both to keep the peace one towards the
other, to live in tranquil amity, as noble knights and gallant
gentlemen may do, although there be mortal quarrel between them, to be
decided at a future time."
Thus speaking, the King turned to leave the hall, but Edward paused a
moment, and took Hugh de Monthermer's hand. "I grieve, Hugh," he said,
"most deeply that by some sad mistake--ay, and by some reckless
conduct," he continued, aloud, "on the part of some gentlemen of this
court, a false and wrongful charge was brought against you in the first
instance, out of which this second accusation has in some degree
arisen. Of the first charge you have cleared yourself, to the
satisfaction of the King and every honourable man; and of the second, I
know you will clear yourself also as becomes you. In the meantime, you
are my guest; one of the towers on the lower wall is prepared for you
and your people, and as the day fixed is somewhat early for this trial,
my armourer is at your command, to furnish you with such things as may
be needful; for your own dwelling is too far distant to send for
harness; and we know this gallant Earl too well," he added, turning
towards Alured de Ashby, "not to feel sure that his opponent in the
lists must use every caution and defence which the law of arms
permits."
The young Earl smiled proudly, and followed the King, who, together
with his son and the rest of the court, quitted the hall, leaving Hugh
de Monthermer standing in the midst, paying but little attention to
anything but his own sad thoughts.
"My lord, I have charge to show you your apartments," said an
attendant, approaching with a simpering air. "The tower is very
convenient, but the stables are not quite so good, and you must put six
of your horses in the town. This way, my lord, if you so please."
Hugh de Monthermer followed in silence, and the man led him accordingly
across the court to one of the towers, which stood as an independent
building, only connected with the rest of the castle by the walls.
"This, sir," said the servant, entering with him, "is the hall for your
people, who will be supplied by the King's purveyors with all they
need. Here are two sleeping chambers behind, and here a chamber for
this gallant knight. Now, up these steps, my lord--Here is a vacant
room for you to range your arms, and see that all be well prepared for
man and horse; here is a pinion for your hood and chapel-de-fer, here
are stays for your lances, and nowhere will you find better wood than
in Nottingham; a hook for your shield, and a block for the hauberk and
other harness. This way is the ante-room, my lord, with truckle-beds
for a yeoman and a page. That door leads direct through the wall to the
apartments of the Prince, and this to your bed-room."
Hugh gave him some money; and, saying, "Largesse, my lord, largesse,"
the man withdrew, promising to send in the young nobleman's followers,
and to show them where to stable their horses.
"Take heart, my lord--take heart," said Sir John Hardy, after the royal
attendant was gone; "this is a bitter change of adversaries, it is
true; but now 'tis done, it cannot be helped, and you must do your
devoir against this Earl, who will bring his fate upon his own head."
"I thought him two hundred miles away," replied Hugh; "but, as you say,
I must do my devoir. See to all things necessary, Hardy; for I have no
heart to think of anything but one. A good plain harness is all I want:
the horse that brought me hither will do as well as another."
"Nay, my lord, you must not be rash," answered the old. Knight, "lest
some misfortune happen."
"The worst misfortune that life has in store for me is sure to befal,"
replied Hugh de Monthermer: "it is, to slay the brother of Lucy de
Ashby, Hardy; for he fights with a desperate man, one to whom all
things on earth are indifferent--who must live, though life be hateful
to him--who cannot die, as he would fain do, lest ignominy should
cleave unto his name. I will trust all to you, Hardy--I will trust all
to you; but I cannot think or talk of anything at present, so I betake
me to my chamber. If any one should come, tell them I am busy--busy
enough, indeed, with dark and bitter fancies."
Thus saying, he retreated to the bed-room which had been assigned him,
and casting himself down on a settle, he spread his arms upon the
table, and buried his eyes in them.
It were vain to attempt by any words of ours to depict the state of
Hugh de Monthermer's heart, as he sat there, given up entirely to sad
memories and gloomy expectations. Oh, how his thoughts warred with one
another--how the idea of flying from the task he had undertaken was met
by the repugnance of an honourable spirit to disgrace and shame--how
the image of Lucy de Ashby's brother dying beneath his blows, rose up
before his sight, followed by the cold, averted look with which she
would meet him ever after, the chilling tone of her voice, the
shrinking horror of her demeanour, when she should see the destroyer of
her nearest kinsman. Then came the thought of what if he were to avoid
the combat?--What would be the consequences then? Would he not be
considered recreant and coward?
The time allowed was so short, too--but three brief days--that there
was no hope of gaining proof of his own innocence, and of the guilt of
another, before the period appointed. A week, a fortnight--often more,
was allotted for the preparation; but in this instance the time had
been curtailed as there were evil tidings from the Isle of Axholme,
which were likely to call Prince Edward speedily from Nottingham.
He could send, indeed, to the forest; he could even make inquiries in
person, if he liked--for his safe-conduct specified that he was free to
come and go as he thought fit; but he had been especially warned, that
the proofs against Richard de Ashby could not be produced for at least
a week, and his own eagerness to meet the charge had led him to the
court much sooner than the judgment of his forest friends warranted.
Thus, on every side he seemed shut in by difficulties, and nought was
left him but to defend his innocence, to the utter extinction of all
happiness for life.
"Would she could see me," he thought; "would that she could see the
agony which distracts my heart, at the very idea of raising my hand
against her brother!--However that may be," he continued, "that villain
shall not escape. Although I cannot dare him to the field, now that I
underlie the challenge of another, yet I will publicly accuse him
before I enter the lists; and, either by my lance or the hand of the
executioner, he shall die the death he has deserved."
He raised his head quickly and fiercely as he thus thought; the door
opposite to him was slowly opening when he did so, and the face of
Prince Edward appeared in the aperture.
"I knocked," said the Prince, "but you did not answer."
"Forgive me, my gracious lord," replied Hugh, rising, "but my thoughts
have been so sadly busy, that it would seem they close the doors of the
ear lest they should be interrupted. I heard no one approach; but, God
knows, your presence is the only thing that could give me comfort."
"This is a sad business, indeed," said Edward, seating himself. "Come,
sit, Monthermer, and tell me how all this has happened."
"Good my lord, I know not," replied Hugh. "You must have more
information than I have; for here, in this neighbourhood, has the
plot been concerted. Here, in your father's court, where they contrived
to have me doomed to death some time since, untried, unheard,
undefended--here have they, when frustrated in that, devised a new
scheme for my destruction."
"Nay," said Edward, "it was not that I meant. I asked how it is you
proposed this rash appeal to arms, when I expected that you would
demand fair trial and judgment according to law?"
"I have been deceived, my lord," replied Hugh--"terribly deceived! Even
Lucy herself supposed that Richard de Ashby was my accuser, and I never
knew that Alured had returned; otherwise, well aware of his quick and
fiery spirit, I should have judged that he would make the quarrel his
own, whether he believed the charge or not."
"That Richard is the real accuser, there can be no doubt," said the
Prince. "His cousin is but a screen for his malice; but yet you were
rash, Monthermer, and I know not now what can be done to help you.--Who
is there that can prove where you were, and how employed, upon the day
that this dark deed was done?"
"Outlaws and banished men--none else, my lord," replied Hugh de
Monthermer; "witnesses whose testimony cannot be given or received. But
I will beseech you to let me know in what arises the suspicion that I
had any share in this? I do not believe that there is a single act in
all my life which could bring upon me even the doubt of such a crime."
"The scheme has been well arranged," answered Edward; "the proofs are
plausible and various--but you shall hear the whole;" and he proceeded
to tell him all that the reader already knows concerning the accusation
brought against him.
For a moment, Hugh remained silent, confounded, and surprised; but
gradually his own clear mind, though for an instant bewildered by the
case made out against him, seized on the clue of the dark labyrinth
with which they had surrounded him.
"Well arranged, indeed, my lord," he replied, "but too complicated even
for its own purpose. Villany never can arrive at the simplicity of
truth. Was there no one, sir, who, even out of such grounds as these,
could find matter to defend me?"
"Yes," answered Edward, "there was, and she was one you love. She stood
forward to do you right--she swept away half of these suspicions from
the minds even of your enemies--she showed that one half of the tale
was false, the other more than doubtful."
"Dear, dear girl!" cried Hugh de Monthermer; and, gazing earnestly in
Edward's face, he asked, "and shall my hand spill her brother's blood?"
"Nay, more," continued the Prince, without replying to what the young
Lord said, "she declared her belief that the real murderer had brought
suspicion upon you to screen himself."
"The scheme, my lord, is deeper still," answered Hugh de
Monthermer--"the scheme is deeper still, or I am very blind. Did this
dear lady point at any one whom she believed the culprit?"
"She would not say," replied Edward, "she would not even hint, before
the whole court, who was the object of her suspicions; but since, in
private, the Princess has drawn from her the secret of her doubts. We
entertain the same.--Have you, too, any cause to fix upon the
murderer?"
"Cause, my lord!" cried Hugh, "I know him as I know myself. _I_ have no
doubts. Mine are not suspicions. With me 'tis certainty, and full
assurance.--Were it not a fine and well-digested scheme, my
lord--supposing that between you and high fortune and the hand of the
loveliest lady in the land, there stood a father and a brother and a
lover--to slay the old man secretly, and instigate his son to charge
the daughter's promised husband with the deed--to make them meet in
arms, in the good hope that the lover's well-known lance would remove
from your path the sole remaining obstacle, by drowning out, in her
brother's blood, the last hope of his marriage with the lady? Thus,
father, brother, lover would be all disposed of, the lands and lordship
yours, and the lady almost at your mercy likewise. Do you understand
me, my lord?"
"Well!" answered the Prince, "But who is the man?"
"Richard de Ashby, my lord; and, if the day named for this sad combat
had not been so soon, I was promised evidence, within a week, which
would have proved upon the traitor's head his cunning villany."
Edward mused, and turned in his mind the possibility of postponing the
event. But--though it may seem strange to the reader that such a state
of things should ever have existed--a judicial combat of that day was a
matter with which even so great and high-minded a prince as Edward I.
dared not meddle as he would. We know how far such interference, at an
after-period, contributed to lose his crown to Richard II.; and Edward
saw no possibility of changing the day, or even hour, appointed for the
trial by battle, unless some accidental circumstance were to occur
which might afford a substantial motive for the alteration. Otherwise,
he knew that he would have the whole chivalry of Europe crying out upon
the deed; and that was a voice which even he durst not resist.
"'Tis unfortunate, indeed," he said, "most unfortunate; but my father
having fixed it early, and at my request, too, it cannot be changed.
But do you feel sure, quite sure, that within one week you could bring
forward proofs to exculpate yourself, and to show the guilt of this
wretched man?"
"As surely as I live," replied Hugh de Monthermer. "I have the word of
one who never failed me yet--of one who speaks not lightly, my good
lord."
"And who is he?" demanded Edward.
A faint smile came upon Hugh de Monthermer's countenance: "He is one of
the King's outlaws," he answered; "but yet his word may be depended
on."
The Prince mused for a moment or two without reply, and then
rejoined--"It is probable these forest outlaws in our neighbourhood may
know something of the matter. Think you they had any share in it?"
"What! in the murder?" cried Hugh de Monthermer. "Oh, no, my lord,
Would to God you had as honest men in Nottingham Castle as under the
boughs of Sherwood!"
"You are bitter, Hugh," replied the Prince, and then added--"I fear the
day cannot be changed; and all that remains to be done is, to send to
these friends of yours as speedily as may be, bidding them give you,
without delay, whatever proofs may be in their hands. 'Tis probable
that other things may arise to strengthen our conviction. When we see
what they can furnish us with, our course will be soon decided. If
there be anything like fair evidence that Richard de Ashby has done
this deed, I will stop the combat, and proclaim his guilt; but unless I
am sure, I must not pretend to do so, lest I bring upon myself the
charge of base ingratitude. He it was, Hugh, who furnished me with the
swift horse, whereon I fled from Hereford; and though I own that I
would have chosen any other man in all England to aid in my deliverance
rather than him, yet I must not show myself thankless. And 'tis but
yesterday that I moved my father to give him the lands of Cottington as
his reward."
"The very act, my lord," replied Hugh, "which merits your gratitude,
was one of treachery to the party which he pretended to serve. For that
I will not blame him, however; but he is a dark and deceitful man, and
the proof can be made clear, I do not doubt. I will send instantly, as
you direct. All that I gain in way of proof I will give into your hand,
my lord, and let you rule and direct my conduct. It is so terrible a
choice which lies before me, that my brain seems bewildered when I
think of it."
"It is sad, indeed!" replied Edward. "I have put it to my heart,
Monthermer, how I should act, were I placed as you are, and I know how
painful would be the decision. Whatever happens in the lists--whoever
lives, whoever dies--you must be the loser. If you are vanquished--if,
by a hesitating heart or unwilling hand, you give the victory to your
adversary, you lose not only renown, but honour and esteem with all
men; you lose not only life but reputation. If you conquer--if you win
honour, and maintain your innocence--your love and happiness is gone
for ever. 'Tis a hard fate, Monthermer; and whatever can be done to
avert it shall be done by me;--but I must leave you now. You will of
course be present at the King's supper. Bear, I beseech you, a calm and
steady countenance, that your enemies may not triumph. Your accuser is
gone back to Lindwell; and Edward's friend must not seem cast down."
Thus saying, he rose to quit the chamber; but before he went, he bent
his head, adding, in a lower voice, "Doubtless you know your lady-love
is here--ay, here, in Nottingham Castle, with the Princess Eleanor. Of
course, in these days of mourning, she mingles not with the court; but
if it be possible, I will contrive that you shall see her. Methinks the
laws of chivalry require it should be so."
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed Hugh, clasping his hands--"wherever she were, I
would demand to see her; and no one bearing knightly sword and spur
would venture to refuse me. Have I not to tell her how my heart is
wrung?--Have I not to show her that this is no deed of mine?--Have I
not to prove to her that I am but a passive instrument in the hands of
fate?--that the death which he calls upon his head, is her brother's
own seeking; and that I am no more answerable for it than the lance
that strikes him?--Oh yes, my lord, I must see her!"
"You shall, you shall," replied Edward, "but it must not be to-night.
Farewell, for the present;" and thus saying, he quitted the room.