We must now carry the reader's mind forward to a day a little in
advance of that which we last noticed.
It was towards that period of the year which the French call the
_short summer of St. Martin_, from the fact of a few lingering bright
days of sunshiny sweetness breaking in upon the autumn, as a memorial
of the warmer season gone before. The sky was all full of light, and
the air full of heat; and the grand masses of high grey clouds that
occasionally floated over the sun were hailed gladly for their soft
cool shadow, although the day was the eleventh of November. Sweeping
over the prospect, like the mighty but indistinct images of great
things and splendid purposes which sometimes cross a powerful but
imaginative mind, the shadows of the clouds moved slow over hill and
dale, field and forest. Now they cast large masses of the woods into
dark and gloomy shade, and left the rising grounds around to stand
forth in light and sparkling brightness, giving no bad image of the
dark memories that are in every heart, surrounded but not effaced by
after joys. Now they floated soft upon the mountains, spreading an
airy purple over each dell and cavity; while, pouring into the midst
of the valley, the bright orb of day lighted up tower, and town, and
farm, and hamlet, and village spire, as hope lights up the existence
of man, even while the many clouds of fate hang their heaviest shadows
on the prospect around him. The harmonious hue of autumn, too, was
over all the world. Russet was the livery of the year; and the brown
fields, preparing for the sower, offered only a deeper hue of the same
colour, which, though varied through a thousand shades, still painted
every tree throughout the woods, and sobered down even the grassy
meadows with a tint far different from that of spring. The sky, with
the sunshine that it contained, was all summer; but the aspect of
everything that it looked upon spoke of autumn sinking fast into the
arms of winter.
Such was the scene upon the banks of the little river Geete, when a
party, whose bright dresses and active movements spoke sport and
gaiety, rode up the windings of the stream, not far from the place
where now stands the little hamlet of Sodoigne. No village, however,
stood there then; and the banks of the Geete were bordered for some
miles with green meadows, not above two or three hundred yards in
breadth. These rich pastures were bounded to the eastward by the
forest of Hannut, which swept in irregular masses along the whole
course of the river, and were confined on the other hand by the low
but broken banks of the watercourse, sometimes, in the steepest parts,
lined with bushes, which dipped their very branches in the current,
but more often, where the turf and the stream were nearly upon a
level, fringed with long green flags and other water plants.
The party who cantered lightly along the meadows consisted of eight
persons, of whom three were females; and each of the latter upon her
hand bore the glove and falcon, which showed the object of their
expedition. The first in state, in loveliness, and in grace, was Mary
of Burgundy, mounted on a beautiful white horse adorned with many a
goodly trapping, and which, though full of fire and life, she managed
with that easy and graceful horsemanship for which she was famous, and
which, unhappily, in after years, led to the fatal accident[3] that
deprived the world of one of its brightest ornaments. By her side rode
the fair Alice of Imbercourt, her favourite friend and nearest
attendant, while another young lady, of inferior rank, but still of
noble birth, followed a step behind, somewhat embarrassed by the high
spirit of her horse, which she managed well, but with less dexterity
than the other two. An elderly gentleman, of mild, complacent, and
courtly manners, followed the ladies as their principal attendant;
while, of the other four, two habited in green, and furnished with
long poles for beating the bushes, together with lures, spare jesses,
hoods, and bells, at once showed themselves as official falconers; and
the two who brought up the rear, though armed with a degree of
precaution that was very necessary in that day, appeared what they
really were, namely, simple grooms.
There is something in the excitement of quick riding totally obnoxious
to both fear and sadness. It is scarcely possible to conceive a person
galloping easily along upon a spirited horse, without feeling his
confidence and hope renewed, in some degree, whatever may be the
circumstances of his situation. Thus, though in the heart of Mary of
Burgundy there was many a memory of painful feelings, of disappointed
hopes, and crushed affections; and, though across her mind, whenever
she suffered it to rest upon the future, would come dark and painful
apprehensions, still the excitement of the sport, the beauty of the
day, and the glow of exercise, had given her a flow of high spirits
that she had not known for many a day. Her mirth, indeed, was never
overpowering, and, if it reached the bounds of cheerfulness, it seldom
went beyond.
Now, however, as they rode along by the banks of the stream, and as
the falconers beat the bushes to rouse the objects of their chase, she
jested in a tone of gentle gaiety with the fair girl who accompanied
her upon all those matters which, to the heart of woman, are the
important things of life.
Alice of Imbercourt, on her part, maintained the conversation with the
same spirit, jested with the like good-humoured malice in reply to the
princess, and was never without an answer at her need, although she
did not for a moment forget, that however high her own rank, Mary of
Burgundy held a higher, nor ever failed to mingle with her speech so
much of reverence as to show that she had not forgotten the
distinction.
"Nay, nay, own, dear Alice," exclaimed the princess, in reply to
something that had passed before, "that day by day you have been
bringing me nearer and nearer to a certain castle in the wood; and, in
truth, I think that you must have got the noble lord your father to be
a confederate in your plot."
"Good sooth, dear lady," replied Alice, "a happy thing were it for us
poor women if all fathers were so complacent: I know well where one
little heart would be in that case;" and she looked up with an arch
smile in the face of the princess.
However strongly prudence may enjoin them to be silent themselves, all
women feel more or less pleasure when the conversation is brought near
the subject of their loves. Though Mary of Burgundy would not say one
word that she could help, upon the feelings of her own heart, even to
so dear and faithful a friend as Alice of Imbercourt, yet she felt no
displeasure when the gay girl's tongue touched upon the subject of her
affections, although clouds and darkness hung over the prospect, and
all hope of their gratification was but faint indeed. At the same time
she was, perhaps, a little fearful of the topic ever being carried too
far; and, therefore, after a smile, in which melancholy mingled, in
some degree, with pleasure, she returned to her own jest with her fair
follower, without adding anything more to a subject on which both, in
happier circumstances, might have been well pleased to speak more
freely.
"Nay, nay, Alice," she exclaimed, "that was an artful turn, my sweet
friend: but you shall not escape so readily. Tell me, did you not put
it in your father's head, to think what a fine thing it would be for
me to visit all the different towns in Flanders, and win the love of
the good burghers? And did you not yourself lay out the very plan of
our journey from Ghent to Alost, and thence to Brussels, and thence to
Louvaine, and thence to Tirlemont? And have you not kept me three full
days at Tirlemont; and, at last, have you not brought me up the fair
river Geete, with our hawks upon our hands, and nobody to watch us,
till we are within a league or two of this same castle of Hannut? Fie,
Alice! fie! it is a decided conspiracy!"
Alice laughed gaily, and replied: "Well, lady, if it can be proved,
even by the best logic of your beautiful lips, that I do wish to see
my lover, I know no woman, who has one, that does not do so too, from
the farmer's milkmaid, with her pail upon her head, to the Princess of
Burgundy, on her white Spanish jennet."
Mary laughed and sighed. "You own it, then," she answered: "I thought,
when last night you were striving hard to persuade me to visit the
castle of Hannut, and have my future fate laid bare by the dark and
awful skill of this learned uncle of yours, that there was a leaf in
the book of fortune, or rather in the book of life, that you would
well like to read for yourself. But tell me, Alice," she added, more
seriously, "tell me something of this lover, to whom, it seems, you
are affianced. There appears some mystery about him, and you, of
course, must know more of him than any one else."
"Nay, quite the contrary, my dear lady and mistress," replied Alice of
Imbercourt; "that shows how little you know of the sad race called
men. His being my lover is the very reason, of all others, why I
should know less of him than any other person."
"How so," demanded the princess, with a look of surprise.
"Why, simply because, from the moment he becomes my lover," replied
Alice of Imbercourt, "he takes the very best possible care to hide
every evil quality in his nature and disposition, upon the full and
preconcerted plan of not letting me see any one of them till such time
as he is my husband. Then, out they come! But that is not all," she
continued; "that would only hide a part of his character; but, at the
same time that he takes these precautions, I, on my part, like every
wise woman, make up my mind, on no account whatever to see any little
fault or failing that he may accidentally display, at least, till such
time as he is my husband. Then, of course, when nothing more is to be
gained or lost, I shall, beyond doubt, take as much pains to find them
out as another, and he will take as little to hide them."
"That is a bad plan, Alice," replied the princess; "that is a bad
plan. Find out the faults, if you can, in the lover, while your hand
is your own, and your will is free. See them not at all in your
husband; for blindness in such a case is woman's best policy. But you
mistake me, Alice; it was not of his mind I spoke, but of his
situation; for, when questioning my Lord of Imbercourt the other day,
he called him your uncle's nephew: now, none of our wise heralds ever
heard, it seems, of such a nephew."
A slight blush came up into the cheek of Alice as the princess spoke;
but she replied frankly, "In truth, dear lady, I know nothing on that
score; and upon such subjects I have ever thought that if my father
was satisfied, I had no reason to complain. All I know is, that my
cousin Hugh was brought up at the court of France; has fought in the
civil wars of England, and under Galeas, Duke of Milan; has gained
honour, and knighthood, and glory in the field; is gentle, and kind,
and tender, and affectionate to me; and is--" she added, with a laugh
and a blush at the praises which she was pouring forth, and which she
felt must betray the whole secret of her heart, but which yet she
could not or would not restrain--"and as handsome a man, and as
graceful a cavalier as ever entered hall or mounted horse."
The princess smiled, and answered, "Well, well, if he be all that,
fair Alice, you are right, quite right, to ask no farther questions.
But how it is, good Bartholomew," she cried, turning to one of the
falconers, "how is it? Can you find no bird, in all the length of this
fair stream, for us to fly our hawks?"
"So please your Grace," replied the man, "the air is so sultry that
the herons will hardly wade where there is no shelter; but up beyond
those bushes, where the bank with its long sedges jets out into the
stream, I doubt not we may raise something yet."
The whole party accordingly rode on, and the judgment of the
experienced falconer was justified. Under the cool shadow of the bank,
one of the feathered fishermen had advanced some way, with his long
legs, and, taking fright at the noise of the horses, he stretched
forth his neck, gathered the air under his wings, and soared up at
about the distance of twenty or thirty yards from the approaching
party. The birds were instantly cast from the wrists of the ladies:
the heron, finding himself pursued, and apparently a crafty old fowl,
strove to beat to windward of the hawks, flying as rapidly as
possible, and yet keeping himself prepared for sudden defence. All the
horses were put to full speed, and in a moment the whole scene became
one of cry and confusion.
"Call the merlin up the wind! Call the merlin up the wind!" exclaimed
the princess to the chief falconer. "See! see! he is towering; he will
miss his stoop!"
"So ho! woa he!" cried the falconer, with a loud whistle: "he will
make his point yet, your Grace." But the heron, finding himself
over-reached, made a dip, skimmed, and evaded the fall or stoop of the
falcon, which, being a young bird, had endeavoured to strike it at
once, without being perfectly sure of its aim. The clamour and the
galloping now became more eager than ever, the bird making directly
for the wood, which it seemed likely to gain, notwithstanding the
efforts of its pursuers.
The meadow was the finest even ground that could be conceived for such
sport; and the rein being freely given to each horse, the whole party
dashed on at full speed, without seeing, or caring for, the massy
clouds, that, sweeping together overhead, directly in the face of a
light and flickering wind, which was blowing from the northwest,
seemed to threaten a storm of some kind. The air, too, had that
sultry, oppressive weight which one often feels in the neighbourhood
of a great forest; and the horses--animals peculiarly susceptible
to the sensations produced by an atmosphere overcharged with
electricity--seemed more eager and fiery than usual, and were soon in
a complete lather of foam.
The grey merlin which had been carried by Mary of Burgundy retrieved
the error of its first eagerness, and cutting between the heron and
the wood, kept it off for some time over the meadow and the stream.
The sport was thus in its highest point of interest, and the horses in
full career, when a sudden flash of lightning broke across their path,
and startled the whole party. Each horse involuntarily recoiled. The
princess and Alice of Imbercourt both kept their seats, but the young
lady who followed them, less skilful in her management, was thrown
violently to the ground; while her horse, wild with fright, dashed
madly across the meadow, and plunged into the stream. The falconers
rode forward to whistle back their hawks, the service most important
in their eyes, and one of the grooms galloped after the frightened
horse, in order to catch him ere he was irrecoverably lost. But the
rest of the party, instantly dismounting, surrounded the poor girl who
had met with the accident, whom they found severely bruised, but not
otherwise dangerously hurt. She complained bitterly, however, and, as
if conscious that she was not a very interesting person otherwise,
made the most of her misfortune to engross attention.
The horse and the hawks were soon recovered, but it became now the
question, what was to be the course of their farther proceedings.
Large drops of rain were beginning to fall; everything portended a
tremendous storm. The young lady who had fallen was too much bruised
to sit her horse with ease, and was, or appeared to be, too much
terrified to attempt it again. She, nevertheless, entreated the
princess and her companions to return as fast as possible towards
Tirlemont, leaving her where she was, with some one to protect her,
and to send a litter from the town to bring her home. But to this the
princess would by no means consent; and it having been suggested by
one of the grooms, who knew the country well, that at the distance of
about half a mile in the wood there was a small chapel dedicated to
Notre-Dame du bon Secours, it was determined that the whole party
should take refuge there, and wait till the storm was over, or till
one of the attendants could procure litters for the ladies from
Tirlemont.
They accordingly proceeded on their way, under the guidance of the
groom, who alone knew the situation of the chapel; and, skirting round
under the branches of the taller trees, endeavoured to obtain some
shelter as they went from the large drops of rain that, slow and
heavy, but far apart, seemed scarcely so much to fall as to be cast
with violence from the heaven to the earth. The clouds, in the
meantime, came slowly up, seeming to congregate over the forest from
every part of the sky; but still it was some minutes before another
flash of lightning followed the first; and the whole party had reached
the glade in the wood, which the groom assured them led direct to the
chapel, ere a second bright blaze broke across the gloomy air, now
shadowed into a kind of mid-day twilight by the dull, thick, leaden
masses of vapour above. The roar of the thunder followed a few seconds
after; and though it was evident that the storm had not reached that
degree of intensity which it was destined soon to attain, the princess
and her attendants did not neglect the warning, but hastened on as
rapidly as possible, though the long grass, cut merely by the tracks
of wood-carts, and mingled thickly with brambles and many sorts of
weeds, impeded them greatly on their way.
The road--if the glade or opening in the forest could so be
called--led on in that straight line of direct progression, which
seems to have been the original plan of road-making in most countries,
proceeding with a proud disdain of obstacles and difficulties, into
the deepest valleys, and up the sides of the steepest hills, without
one effort by sweep or turn of any kind to avoid either. Thus, a few
minutes after the entrance of the princess's party into the forest,
the groom led the way over the side of a hill, down the steep descent
of which the trunks and arching boughs of the trees might be seen in
long perspective, forming a regular alley, filled with a kind of dim
and misty light. At the end of the descent, however, the trees, in
some degree, broke away to the westward, and a steep hill rose
suddenly before the travellers, which seemed as if, at its original
formation, it had started up so abruptly, as to have shaken a part of
the primeval forest from one of its sides. The other side was clothed
with tall trees to the very top. Over the shoulder of this hill--just
between the part which remained wooded, and the part which, sloping
down to the wood below, lay for the distance of several acres, either
entirely bare or merely covered with scattered brushwood--the road,
now assuming a sandy appearance, climbed straight up to a spot where a
small building with a conical roof was seen, standing out from the
dark wood, at the very top of the rise, and cutting sharp upon a gleam
of yellow light, which--dimmed by the falling shower and fast closing
up under the gathering clouds--still lingered in the western sky.
The sight of the chapel, for so it was, gave fresh vigour to all the
party; and Mary, with her followers, hastened up, and reached the
little shrine before another flash of lightning came. The chapel, as
usual with such buildings in that age, was constructed for the mere
purpose either of affording a temporary refuge to the benighted or
storm-stayed traveller, or of giving the pious and devout an
opportunity of offering up their prayers or thanksgivings for a
favourable journey begun or completed, before an image of the Virgin,
which filled a niche in the far part of the edifice, protected from
profaning hands by a strong grating of iron. Whether the building
itself was kept up by casual donations, or by some small endowment, I
do not know; but, at all events, the funds which supported it were too
small for the maintenance of an officiating priest; and hermits, who
had occasionally supplied the place in former ages, were now becoming
"of the rare birds of the earth," at least in the north of Europe.
Thus the chapel was totally vacant when the princess and her
attendants reached it; and after murmuring a prayer at the shrine,
while one of the grooms was despatched to Tirlemont, to give notice of
Mary's situation, the most courageous of the party who remained placed
themselves at the door of the little building, to watch the progress
of the approaching storm. As no one dreamed of profaning the sanctity
of the place, by making it a shelter for their horses, the grooms
received orders to tie them as strongly as possible under some of the
neighbouring trees; and one was thus secured under a large elm, which
rose a few yards in advance of the chapel.
The commanding situation of the building, being pitched high up on one
of the most elevated hills in the wood, gave a wide view over the
country around, and afforded as beautiful a forest scene as the mind
of man can imagine. First, beyond the little sandy road, by the side
of which the chapel stood, extended, as I have before said, several
acres of broken mountain turf, sloping down with a considerable
descent, and only interrupted here and there by a solitary tree, or a
clump of bushes. Farther on again the eye wandered over many miles of
rich wood-land, clothed in all the splendid hues of autumn, from the
dark shadowy green of the pine to the bright golden yellow of the sear
aspen; and where the ocean of forest ended, it caught the faint blue
lines of a level country beyond.
At the time I speak of, the sky was full of clouds, and the yellow
light which had struggled for a time to keep its place in the heavens
was now totally obscured. Large dull masses, as hard and defined as if
formed of some half-molten metal, rolled slowly along the heavens,
while across them floated far more rapidly some light fleecy vapours
of a whitish grey. From the far extreme of these clouds was seen
pouring in long straight lines the heavy shower, in some places so
dark as totally to obscure everything beyond; but in other spots so
thin and clear, that through the film of rain the eye caught the
prospect of a bright and sunshiny land, over which the clouds had not
yet extended themselves, not unlike the distant view of bright scenes,
which the unequalled hopes of early life still show us through the
tears and storms that at times beset our youth.
Each moment seemed to add something to the gloom of the sky; and
scarcely were the party well housed, when another bright flash,
followed close by the roar of the thunder, passed eagerly over the
scene. The young lady who had fallen from her horse remained close to
the shrine; but Mary of Burgundy, with her arm through that of Alice
of Imbercourt, still stood by the door, looking out upon the prospect
below them. The last flash of lightning, however, was so near, that
Mary's eye caught a small thin line of pale-coloured but excessively
vivid light, which seemed to dart like a fiery serpent between herself
and the near tree, under which one of the horses was tied.
"Alice I will look no more," she said; "that flash was so near it made
me giddy;" and withdrawing her arm, she retired into the farther part
of the chapel, and closed another small door which opened from the
right-hand side of the shrine into the forest behind the building.
"You are not afraid, lady?" said Alice, with a smile.
"No, certainly not afraid," replied Mary; "for I know that He whose
weapon is the lightning, can strike as well in the palace or the tower
as in the open field; but still it is useless to deny that there is
something very awful in the sights and sounds of such a storm as this.
It seems as if one were in the presence, and heard the voice of the
Almighty."
"It is very grand," replied Alice of Imbercourt; "but from my youth I
have been taught to look upon the storm as the finest spectacle in
nature; and I would rather see the lightnings go tilting on their
fiery horses through the sky, and hear the roaring trumpets of the
thunder, than sit in the gayest pavilion that ever was stretched with
hands, to witness the brightest tournament that ever monarch gave."
"You are poetical, Alice," cried the princess; "had old George
Chatelain been here, he would have made fine verses out of that
speech----But, gracious Heaven, what a flash!"
As she spoke, there came, indeed, one of those tremendous flashes of
lightning that literally wrap the whole sky in flame, and, for the
brief space that it endured, lighted up every part of the inside of
the chapel, with a splendour that was painful to the eye. At the same
time Alice, who still stood by the door, saw clearly the brighter
waving line of more intense fire which accompanied the broad flash
dart from a spot nearly above their heads, and streaming downward with
fierce rapidity, strike one of the noblest trees on the edge of the
wood below, and tear it in one moment into atoms. She almost fancied
she could hear the rending groan of the stout oak, as it was shivered
by the bolt of heaven; but nearly in the same instant the thunder
followed, with a sound as if a thousand rocks had been cast on the
roof above their heads; and another and another flash succeeded,
before the report of the first had died away. Then came a momentary
pause--calm, heavy, and silent, without a breath of air to stir the
boughs, or to relieve the sultry oppressiveness of the atmosphere, and
without a sound, save the fall of an occasional drop of rain.
The duration of this state of repose was but brief. The whole air over
the forest seemed surcharged with electricity; and in a moment after,
with a loud whizzing noise, not unlike that of a musket bullet when it
passes near the head, a large ball of fire rushed rapidly by the
chapel, in a line raised not more than a few yards above the ground,
and pitched upon the point of a rock at a little distance below,
where, after quivering and wavering for a moment, it broke into a
thousand fragments with a loud explosion, and vanished entirely. The
lightning and the thunder now succeeded each other so quickly, that
there seemed scarcely an instant's interval; and flash after flash,
roar after roar, continued without intermission, while every now and
then the sight of a tree rent to pieces in the distant prospect marked
the work of the lightning; and the forest, and the rocks, and the
hills echoed and re-echoed the thunder, so that the sound became
absolutely incessant.
This had continued for about half an hour, and still Alice of
Imbercourt had remained gazing out upon the scene, as well as the old
cavalier, who accompanied them as their principal attendant, when she
suddenly exclaimed--"Good God! how extraordinary! There seems to be a
thick cloud gathering upon the edge of the wood, and rolling up the
hill towards us, sweeping the ground as it comes. Holy Virgin! the
lightning is flashing out of it like that from the sky! This is very
terrible, indeed!"
"Come back, Alice, I beseech--I entreat!" exclaimed the princess: "you
may lose your sight or your life--you are tempting your fate."
But Alice did not seem to hear, for she still continued gazing out
from the door, although it was very evident that she now had also
taken alarm.
"Now, gracious God, be merciful unto us!" she exclaimed; "for this is
the most terrible thing I ever saw! It is fast rolling up the hill!"
"Come away, lady, come away," cried the old cavalier, seizing her by
the arm, and leading her from the door; "this is no sight to look
upon;" and he drew her back towards the princess.
Alice once more turned her head to gaze; and then, overcome with what
she saw, she cast herself down upon her knees, throwing her arms
around Mary, as if to protect her from the approaching destruction,
exclaiming: "Oh, my princess! my princess! God protect thee in this
terrible hour!"
Mary's hand was very cold; but, in the moment of great danger she
showed herself more calm and firm than her more daring companion. "God
will protect me," she said, in a soft low voice, "if such be His good
pleasure; and if not, His will be done."
As she spoke, a tremendous flash illuminated the whole of the inside
of the building, accompanied--not followed--by a crash, as if two
worlds had been hurled together in their course through space.
The eyes of every one in the chapel, it is probable, were closed at
that moment, for no one saw the small door by the side of the shrine
thrown open. But the first who looked up was Mary of Burgundy; and a
sudden cry, as she did so, called the attention of all the rest. They
instantly perceived the cause of the princess's surprise and alarm;
for close beside her, in the midst of the chapel, stood a tall
powerful man, habited in the ordinary equipment of a man-at-arms of
that day, with the unusual circumstance, however, of every part of his
garb being of a peculiar shade of green; which colour was also
predominant in the dress of half a dozen others who appeared at the
door by the shrine.
He gave no one time to express their surprise. "Good Heaven!" he
exclaimed, "do you not see the ground lightning coming up the hill!
Fly, fly for your lives; it will be over the chapel in a moment.
Matthew, catch up some of the women. Karl, take that one who has
fainted. Let the men follow me as fast as possible, and we shall soon
be out of the direction it is taking."
So saying, and without farther ceremony, he caught up Alice of
Imbercourt in his powerful arms. One of his companions lifted the
princess, and another raised the form of the young lady who had fallen
from her horse in the morning, and whose terror had now cast her into
a swoon, and, darting through the door by which they had entered, the
Vert Gallant of Hannut and his companions passed out into that part of
the forest which swept up to the back of the chapel. Striking on as
fast as possible towards the east, he took his way over the other edge
of the hill, in a direction opposite to that in which Alice had been
looking. The lightning flashed around them as they went, the thunder
roared loud at every step, and the rain, which had ceased for a time,
began again to drop, at first slowly, but after a few minutes in a
more heavy and continuous shower, which, pattering thick through the
withered leaves of the wood, drenched the unfortunate hawking party to
the skin.
"Thank God for that!" exclaimed the Vert Gallant; "this rain will
drown yon accursed cloud, and we shall get rid of the ground
lightning."
These were the only words he spoke; but, with rapid steps, he
continued to bear on his fair burden for nearly a quarter of an hour,
with apparently the same ease, and in somewhat of the same position,
that a mother carries her child. Two of his sturdy companions followed
loaded in the same way; and so complete was the helpless terror of the
whole party who had accompanied Mary of Burgundy, that they yielded
themselves passively, and without a word of inquiry, to the guidance
of the green riders; a body of men who acknowledged no law, though a
sort of generous and chivalric spirit amongst themselves seemed, in
some degree, to supply the place of the authority they had cast off.
It is true, indeed, that resistance or question would have been in
vain; for the superior numbers of these free gentlemen of the forest
set at defiance all opposition on the part of the princess's
attendants, and a sort of taciturnity seemed to reign amongst them
which did not at all encourage inquiry.
After proceeding steadily and rapidly for the space of time above
mentioned, over a rough and uneven road, sometimes down the side of a
wooded hill, where no unpractised foot could have kept its hold,
sometimes through deep ravines, which the torrents of rain that were
now falling had converted into water-courses, sometimes over the
trunks of trees that had been felled and shattered by the fire of
heaven, with the lightning flashing round their heads, and the thunder
rolling above them, the Vert Gallant and his companions at length
reached a deep dell, from one side of which rose up a steep and rocky
bank, forming the base of the hill which they had just descended.
At the height of a few yards above the bottom of the valley, which was
itself marshy and filled with long flags and rushes, was the mouth of
a low-browed cave, to which the Vert Gallant immediately directed his
steps. He was obliged to bow his head to enter; but within, it became
more lofty; and, though it did not run above nine or ten yards into
the mountain, the cavity afforded a complete shelter from the storm
and rain. The moment he had entered, the leader of the free companions
gently freed Alice from his arms; and then, in a low and respectful
voice, he said--"You will here, fair ladies, find some security. Keep
as far as you can from the mouth of the cave, and there is little fear
of any danger. You, sirs," he continued, in a sterner tone, turning to
the male followers of the princess, "should have known better than to
have placed this lady--who, if I judge right, must be an object of no
small solicitude to every subject of the House of Burgundy--in the
most exposed and dangerous situation of the whole forest."
"Good-faith, Sir Green Knight," said the old gentleman who had
accompanied the princess, "we certainly did not know that it was so
dangerous, or we should neither have placed her in it, nor ourselves,
as you may well suppose. And now, sir," he continued, with a voice the
slight tremulousness of whose tone showed that he was not without some
apprehensions of another kind; "and now, sir, that you have the lady
in your power, be she princess or not, I trust that you will deal
fairly and honourably with her. Our purses are, of course, at your
disposal, as well as our jewels, &c.; but I give you notice that--"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Vert Gallant, the beaver of whose helmet was
still down, "talk not to me of purses, sir, and jewels! Madam," he
continued, turning to the princess, "suffer not, I beseech you, the
vain and vulgar fears of this old man to affect you for a moment: the
Vert Gallant of Hannut takes no purses from wandering travellers, nor
draws the sword against ladies, far less against the Princess of
Burgundy. Rest here in safety, with your fair companions," he added,
turning slightly towards Alice of Imbercourt; "and we, who have
brought you hither, and have been your unseen attendants ever since
you were flying your hawks by the side of the river, will guard you as
well, or better, than if you were in your father's palace."
"I owe you many thanks, sir," replied Mary; "more, indeed, than I can
at present express; for this dreadful storm has left my ideas somewhat
confused. However, I am satisfied that to your prompt assistance I
stand indebted for my life."
"Perhaps, madam, you do," replied the Vert Gallant; "for I feel
convinced that, had that cloud reached the chapel before you quitted
it, the coronet of Burgundy would be now without an heiress. Think me
not ungenerous, madam," he added, "if I ask a boon in return. It is
this: that if, some day, I should need your voice to support a
petition with your father, or if you should, at the time, hold the
reins of government yourself, when I may have occasion to make a
request before the chair of Burgundy, you will give me your influence
in the one case, or grant my desire in the other."
There was something in the tone and in the manner of the speaker at
once so gentle and so lofty, that Mary of Burgundy could not but think
that his present adventurous life must be one more of necessity than
of choice; and she doubted not, that the petition to which he alluded
must be for pardon for his past offences. She gazed at him for a
moment or two before she replied, as he stood towering above the seven
or eight strong men who accompanied him, and who had now grouped
themselves round the mouth of the cave, watching, as it appeared,
every word of their leader's mouth with a sort of reverential
attention.
"If it be wrong, sir," she replied, "for simple individuals to make
rash promises, it is still more so for princes. But where gratitude,
such as I owe you, is concerned, even prudence might seem ungenerous.
I must qualify, however, in some degree, the promise you desire, and
say, that if your request, when it is made, prove nothing contrary to
my own honour or dignity, I will give it all my influence with my
father, should it depend upon him; or grant it myself, should it
depend upon me. Does that satisfy you?"
"Most fully, madam," replied the Vert Gallant; "and I return you deep
thanks for your kind assent."
"I doubt not," said Mary, "that what you have to ask will be far less
than a compensation for the service you have rendered me. However,
accept this jewel," she added, taking a ring from her finger and
giving it to him, "as a testimony of the promise I have made; and with
it let me add, many thanks for your honourable courtesy."
The leader of the free companions received the ring with due
acknowledgments; and after a few words more upon the same subject, he
bowed low, as if to take his leave, and made a step towards the mouth
of the cavern.
"You are not, surely, going to expose yourself to such a storm as
this," exclaimed Alice of Imbercourt, with a degree of eagerness that
made her mistress smile, and declare afterwards, when, in a place of
security, they could look upon the dangers of the forest as a matter
of amusement--that Alice had certainly been smitten with the
distinction which the Vert Gallant had shown her, in carrying her in
his own arms through the wood, although he knew that a princess was
present.
"The storm is abating, lady," replied the freebooter; "and besides, we
fear no weather. I myself go to give notice to those who can receive
you as you should be received, that such a noble party require better
shelter and entertainment than we poor adventurers can afford you. My
men, though they must keep out of sight, will be near enough to yield
you protection and assistance, on one blast of a horn. Horns are
strange magical things in this wood," he added; "for though all the
hunters in the world might go blowing their mots, from one end of the
forest to the other, without seeing aught but boar or deer, I will
soon show you that we can conjure up beasts of another kind."
So saying, he approached the mouth of the cavern, and wound his horn
with a long, shrill, peculiar blast; when, in a moment after, from the
opposite part of the wood, a man, bearing the appearance of a mounted
squire, trotted rapidly forth, leading a strong black charger, which
he at once brought up to the mouth of the cave. A few words whispered
by the Vert Gallant to the men who had accompanied him hitherto,
caused them instantly to quit the place where they had taken refuge;
and, dispersing themselves over the side of the hill, the whole were
in a few minutes lost to the sight amongst the trees and bushes. Their
leader, once more, bowed low to the princess, sprang upon his horse,
dashed rapidly down the rough and uneven side of the hill, plunged
through the marsh that lined the bottom of the valley, and, in a
moment after, was seen followed by his squire, winding in and out
through the tall trees on the opposite slope, till the turn of the
hill hid him from view.
They were the eyes of Alice of Imbercourt which thus followed him on
his course; for the princess had seated herself on a mass of rock in
the farther end of the cave; and her other young attendant, stupified
with all the terrors and dangers she had gone through, though now
recovered from her swoon, continued sitting in silence on the ground,
where the soldier who had carried her had set her down, and still kept
her hands clasped over her eyes, as if every moment would show her
some horrible sight.
The storm had, nevertheless, abated considerably already. The rain, it
is true, continued to pour down in torrents, and an occasional flash
of lightning still broke across the sky; but it was dim, as if half
extinguished by the deluge through which it glared. The thunder
followed, too, at a longer interval; and each succeeding flash was at
a greater and a greater lapse of time from the one that preceded it.
Thus about an hour and a half passed away, during which the different
members of the falconing party amused themselves as they best might;
the groom talking with the falconers about the gallant horses they had
tied at the top of the hill, lamenting the fright and drenching they
must have been exposed to, and expressing some apprehension that the
good gentleman in green, who had hurried them away so fast from the
chapel, might take advantage of their absence to carry off their good
horses, the worst of which, he declared, was worth fifty golden crowns
of Florence at the lowest computation. The falconers, on the other
hand, who had taken care to bring away their birds with them, busied
themselves actively in providing for the comfort of their hawks; and
each administered to the falcon under his special charge a small ball
of choice medicaments, extracted from a pouch that every one carried
by his side, in order to guard the stomachs of those noble fowls from
any evil as a consequence of the storm.
The old gentleman, who might be considered--what we should call in the
present day--the chaperon of the party, stood by the side of the
princess, and addressed to her, from time to time, with sweet
unmeaning smiles and courtly language, a variety of easy flowing
sentences, very pleasant and harmonious, but signifying nothing.
Alice, on her part, generally remained silent and thoughtful, though
seemingly a little agitated, and perhaps, not displeased, at the
probability of revisiting the castle of Hannut. Sometimes she would
sit at the side of the princess, and talk to her, with all the light
gaiety of her character; but at others, she would fall into long
pauses of deep and silent thought; or would stand at the mouth of the
cave, and watch the diminishing rain and the storm as it passed away.
Every minute it decreased in some degree; and even the poor girl who
had fallen from her horse, and who was clearly the most timid of the
whole party, began to look up, and to venture an occasional word to
those around her.
At length, when the day was somewhat far advanced, a low whistle was
heard at a considerable distance, was taken up by some one nearer, and
then repeated from more than twenty places in the wood, till at last
it sounded close by the cave. All then relapsed into profound silence;
but at the end of about ten minutes more, a distant trampling sound
was heard; and, on looking forth from the mouth of the cave, Alice
perceived, winding up from the extreme of the valley, a gay cavalcade,
consisting of a couple of horse litters, escorted by about twenty
spearmen on horseback, bearing the colours of the Lord of Hannut.