With the first dawn of morning, the chapel bell began to toll, and was
replied to by the deeper sound of the bell of the parish church. Soon
the court began to be filled with the neighbouring villagers, with
beggars, palmers, mendicant friars of all orders, pressing to the
buttery-hatch, where they received the dole of bread, meat, and ale,
from the hands of the pantler, under the direction of the almoner of
Glastonbury, who requested their prayers for the soul of the noble Sir
Reginald Lynwood, and Dame Eleanor of Clarenham, his wife. The
peasantry of Lynwood, and the beggars, whose rounds brought them
regularly to the Keep of Lynwood, and who had often experienced the
bounty of the departed lady, replied with tears and blessings. There
were not wanting the usual though incongruous accompaniments of such a
scene--the jugglers and mountebanks, who were playing their tricks in
one corner.
Within the hall, all was in sad, sober, and solemn array, contrasting
with the motley concourse in the court. Little Arthur, dressed in
black, stood by the side of his uncle, to receive the greetings of his
yeoman vassals, as they came in, one by one, with clownish courtesy,
but hearty respect and affection, and great satisfaction at the
unexpected appearance of the young Knight.
Next came in long file, mounted on their sleek mules, the twelve monks
of Glastonbury, whom the Knight and his nephew reverently received at
the door, and conducted across the hall to the chapel, where the parish
Priest, Father Cyril, and some of the neighbouring clergy had been
chanting psalms since morning light. On the way Sir Eustace held some
conference with the chief, Brother Michael, who had come prepared to
assist in conveying Arthur, if possible, to Glastonbury, but was very
glad to find that the Knight was able to take upon himself the charge
of his nephew, without embroiling the Abbey with so formidable an enemy
as Lord de Clarenham.
The next arrival was Sir Philip Ashton and his son, who could hardly
believe their eyes when Eustace met them. Leonard's manner was at
first cordial; but presently, apparently checked by some sudden
recollection, he drew back, and stood in sheepish embarrassment,
fumbling with his dagger, while Sir Philip was lavishing compliments on
Eustace, who was rejoiced when the sound of horses made it necessary to
go and meet Lord de Clarenham at the door. Arthur looked up in Sir
Fulk's face, with a look in which curiosity and defiance were
expressed; while Fulk, on his side, was ready to grind his teeth with
vexation at the unexpected sight of the only man who could interfere
with his projects. Then he glanced at his own numerous and
well-appointed retinue, compared them with the small number of the
Lynwood vassals, and with another look at his adversary's youthful and
gentle appearance, he became reassured, and returned his salutations
with haughty ceremony.
The whole company moved in solemn procession towards the chapel, where
the mass and requiem were chanted, and the corpse of the Lady Eleanor,
inclosed in a stone coffin, was lowered to its resting-place, in the
vault of her husband's ancestors.
It was past noon when the banquet was spread in the hall; a higher
table on the dais for the retainers and yeomanry, the latter of whom
were armed with dagger, short sword, or quarter-staff.
Sir Philip Ashton and Brother Michael were chiefly at the expense of
the conversation, Eustace meanwhile doing the honours with grave
courtesy, taking care to keep his nephew by his side. There was no one
who did not feel as if on the eve of a storm; but all was grave and
decorous; and at length Brother Michael and the monks of Glastonbury,
rejoicing that they, at least, had escaped a turmoil, took their leave,
mounted their mules, and rode off, in all correctness of civility
toward the house of Lynwood, which, as Eustace could not help feeling,
they thus left to fight its own battles.
"It waxes late," said Lord de Clarenham, rising; "bring out the horses,
Miles; and you, my young kinsman, Arthur, you are to be my guest from
henceforth. Come, therefore, prepare for the journey."
Arthur held fast by the hand of his uncle, who replied, "I thank you in
my nephew's name for your intended hospitality, but I purpose at once
to conduct him to Bordeaux, to be enrolled among the Prince's pages."
"Conduct him to Bordeaux, said the Knight?" answered Sir Fulk with a
sneer; "to Bordeaux forsooth! It is well for you, my fair young
cousin, that I have other claims to you, since, were you once out of
England, I can well guess who would return to claim the lands of
Lynwood."
"What claim have you to his wardship, Sir Fulk?" asked Eustace, coldly,
disdaining to take notice of the latter part of this speech.
"As his feudal superior, and his nearest relation of full age," replied
Clarenham.
"There are many here who can prove that it is twenty-one years past,
since I was born on the feast of St. Eustace," replied the young
Knight. "The house of Lynwood owns no master beneath the King of
England, and the wardship of my nephew was committed to me by both his
parents. Here is a witness of the truth of my words. Holy Father, the
parchment!"
Father Cyril spread a thick roll, with heavy seals, purporting to be
the last will and testament of Dame Eleanor Lynwood, bequeathing the
wardship and marriage of her son to her beloved brother, Sir Eustace
Lynwood, Knight Banneret, and, in his absence, to the Lord Abbot of
Glastonbury, and Cyril Langton, Clerk.
"It is nought," said Clarenham, pushing it from him; "the Lady of
Lynwood had no right to make a will in this manner, since she
unlawfully detained her son from me, his sole guardian."
"The force of the will may be decided by the King's justices," said
Eustace; "but my rights are not founded on it alone. My brother, Sir
Reginald, with his last words, committed his son to my charge."
"What proof do you bring, Sir Eustace?" said Fulk. "I question not
your word, but something more is needed in points of law, and you can
scarcely expect the world to believe that Sir Reginald would commit his
only child to the guardianship of one so young, and the next heir."
"I am here to prove it, my Lord," said Gaston, eagerly. "'To your care
I commit him, Eustace,' said Sir Reginald, as he lay with his head on
his brother's breast; and methought he also added, 'Beware of
Clarenham.' Was it not so, friend Leonard?"
Leonard's reply was not readily forthcoming. His father was whispering
in his ear, whilst he knit his brow, shuffled with his feet, and
shrugged his shoulder disrespectfully in his father's face.
"Speak, Master Ashton," said Clarenham, in a cold incredulous tone, and
bending on father and son glances which were well understood. "To your
testimony, respectable and uninterested, credit must be added."
"What mean you by that, Sir Fulk de Clarenham?" cried Gaston; "for what
do you take me and my word?"
"Certain tales of you and your companions, Sir Squire," answered
Clarenham, "do not dispose me to take a Gascon's word for more than it
is worth."
"This passes!" cried Gaston, striking his fist on the table; "you
venture it because you are not of my degree! Here, ye craven Squires,
will not one of you take up my glove, when I cast back in his teeth
your master's foul slander of an honourable Esquire?"
"Touch it not, I command you," said Clarenham, "unless Master
d'Aubricour will maintain that he never heard of a certain one-eyed
Basque, and never rode on a free-booting foray with the robber Knight,
Perduccas d'Albret."
"What of that?" fiercely cried Gaston.
"Quite enough, Sir Squire," said Fulk, coolly.
Gaston was about to break into a tempest of rage, when Eustace's calm
voice and gesture checked him.
"Sir Fulk," said Eustace, "were you at Bordeaux, you would know that no
man's word can be esteemed more sacred, or his character more high,
than that of Gaston d'Aubricour."
"But in the meantime," said Clarenham, "we must be content to take
that, as well as much besides, on your own assertion, Sir Eustace. Once
more, Master Leonard Ashton, let me hear your testimony, as to the
dying words of Sir Reginald Lynwood. I am content to abide by them."
"Come, Leonard," said his father, who had been whispering with him all
this time, "speak up; you may be grieved to disappoint a once-friendly
companion, but you could not help the defect of your ears."
"Sir Philip, I pray you not to prompt your son," said Eustace. "Stand
forth, Leonard, on your honour. Did you or did you not hear the words
of my brother, as he lay on the bank of the Zadorra?"
Leonard half rose, as if to come towards him, but his father held him
fast; he looked down, and muttered, "Ay, truly, I heard Sir Reginald
say somewhat."
"Tell it out, then."
"He thanked the Prince for knighting you--he prayed him to have charge
of his wife and child--he bade Gaston not to return to evil courses,"
said Leonard, bringing out his sentences at intervals.
"And afterwards," said Eustace sternly--"when the Prince was gone? On
your honour, Leonard."
Leonard almost writhed himself beneath the eyes that Eustace kept
steadily fixed on him. "Somewhat--somewhat he might have said of
knightly training for his son--but--but what do I know?" he added, as
his father pressed hard on his foot; "it was all in your ear, for as he
lay on your breast, his voice grew so faint, that I could hear little
through my helmet."
"Nay, Master Ashton," said John Ingram, pressing forward, "if I
remember right, you had thrown off your helmet, saying it was as hot as
a copper cauldron; and besides, our good Knight, when he said those
words touching Master Arthur, raised himself up somewhat, and spoke out
louder, as if that we might all hear and bear witness."
"No witness beyond your own train, Sir Eustace?" said Clarenham.
"None," said Eustace, "excepting one whose word even you will scarcely
dare to dispute, Sir Bertrand du Guesclin."
"I dispute no man's word, Sir Eustace," said Fulk; "I only say that
until the claim which you allege be proved in the King's Court, I am
the lawful guardian of the lands and person of the heir of Lynwood. The
Lord Chancellor Wykeham may weigh the credit to be attached to the
witness of this highly respectable Esquire, or this long-eared
man-at-arms, or may send beyond seas for the testimony of Du Guesclin:
in the meantime, I assume my office. Come here, boy."
"I will not come to you, Lord Fulk," said Arthur; "or when I do, it
shall be sword in hand to ask for an account for the tears you have
made my sweet mother shed."
"Bred up in the same folly!" said Fulk. "Once more, Sir Eustace, will
you yield him to me, or must I use force?"
"I have vowed before his mother's corpse to shield him from you,"
returned Eustace.
"Think of the consequences, Sir Eustace," said Sir Philip Ashton,
coming up to him. "Remember the unrepealed grant to the Clarenhams.
The Lynwood manor may be at any moment resumed, to which, failing your
nephew, you are heir. You will ruin him and yourself."
"It is his person, not his lands, that I am bound to guard," said
Eustace. "Let him do his worst; my nephew had better be a landless
man, than one such as Fulk would make him."
"Think," continued Sir Philip, "of the disadvantages to your cause of
provoking a fray at such a time. Hold your hand, and yield the boy, at
least till the cause come before the Chancellor."
"Never," said Eustace. "His parents have trusted him to me, and I will
fulfil my promise. The scandal of the fray be on him who occasions it."
"Recollect, my Lord," said Ashton, turning to Fulk, "that this may be
misrepresented. These young warriors are hot and fiery, and this young
Knight, they say, has succeeded to all his brother's favour with the
Prince."
"I will not be bearded by a boy," returned Clarenham, thrusting him
aside. "Hark you, Sir Eustace. You have been raised to a height which
has turned your head, your eyes have been dazzled by the gilding of
your spurs, and you have fancied yourself a man; but in your own county
and your own family, airs are not to be borne. We rate you at what you
are worth, and are not to be imposed on by idle tales which the
boastful young men of the Prince's court frame of each other. Give up
these pretensions, depart in peace to your fellows at Bordeaux, and we
will forget your insolent interference."
"Never, while I live," replied Eustace. "Vassals of Lynwood, guard
your young Lord."
"Vassals of Lynwood," said Fulk, "will you see your young Lord carried
off to perish in some unknown region, and yourselves left a prey to an
adventurer and freebooter?"
"For that matter, my Lord," said an old farmer, "if all tales be true,
Master Arthur is like to learn less harm with Sir Eustace than in your
jolly household--I for one will stand by our good Lord's brother to the
last. What say you, comrades?"
"Hurrah for the Lances of Lynwood!" shouted John Ingram, and the cry
was taken up by many a gruff honest voice, till the hall rang again,
and the opposing shout of "a Clarenham, a Clarenham!" was raised by the
retainers of the Baron. Eustace, at the same moment, raised his nephew
in his arms, and lifted him up into the embrasure of one of the high
windows. Sir Philip Ashton still hung upon Clarenham, pleading in
broken sentences which were lost in the uproar: "Hold! Hold! my Lord.
Nay, nay, think but"--(here he was thrust roughly aside by Fulk)--"Sir
Eustace, do but hear--it will be a matter for the council--in the name
of the King--for the love of Heaven--Leonard, son Leonard! for Heaven's
sake what have you to do with the matter? Down with that sword, and
follow me! Dost not hear, froward boy? Our names will be called in
question! Leonard, on your duty--Ha! have a care! there!"
These last words were broken short, as Gaston, rushing forwards to his
master's side, overthrew the table, which carried Sir Philip with it in
the fall, and he lay prostrate under the boards, a stumbling-block to a
stream of eager combatants, who one after another dashed against him,
fell, and either rose again, or remained kicking and struggling with
each other.
After several minutes' confused fighting, the tumult cleared away, as
it were, leaving the principals on each side opposite to each other,
and as the fortune of the day rested on their conflict, all became
gradually fixed in attention, resting upon their weapons, in readiness
at any moment to renew their own portion of the combat.
Fulk, tall and robust, had far more the appearance of strength than his
slenderly-made antagonist, but three years in the school of chivalry
had not been wasted by Eustace, and the sword of Du Guesclin was in a
hand well accustomed to its use. Old Ralph was uttering under his
breath ecstatic exclamations: "Ha! Well struck! A rare foil--a
perfect hit--Have a care--Ah! there comes my old blow--That is
right--Old Sir Henry's master-stroke-- There--one of your new French
backstrokes--but it told--Oh! have a care--The Saints
guard--Ay--There--Follow it up! Hurrah for Lynwood!" as Fulk tottered,
slipped, sank on one knee, and receiving a severe blow on the head with
the back of the sword, measured his length on the ground.
"Hurrah for Lynwood!" re-echoed through the hall, but Eustace cut short
the clamour at once, by saying, "Peace, my friends, and thanks! Sir
Fulk de Clarenham," he added, as his fallen foe moved, and began to
raise himself, "you have received a lesson, by which I hope you will
profit. Leave the house, whose mourning you have insulted, and thank
your relationship that I forbear to bring this outrage to the notice of
the King."
While Eustace spoke, Fulk had, by the assistance of two of his
retainers, recovered his feet; but though unwounded, he was so dizzied
with the blow as to be passive in their hands, and to allow himself to
be led into the court, and placed on his horse. Before riding out of
the gates, he turned round, and clenching his fist, glanced malignantly
at Eustace, and muttered, "You shall aby it."
Another shout of "Down with the false Clarenham! Hurrah for the Lances
of Lynwood, and the brave young Knight!" was raised in the court by the
peasantry, among whom Fulk was so much hated, that not even regard for
their future welfare could prevent them from indulging in this triumph.
Probably, too, they expected the satisfaction of drinking the health of
the victor, for there were many disappointed countenances when he spoke
from the steps of the porch:--"Thanks for your good-will, my friends.
Fare ye well, depart in peace, and remember your young Lord." Then
turning to the parish Priest, he added, in a low voice, "See that they
leave the Castle as soon as possible. The gates must be secured as
soon as may be."
He turned back into the hall, and at the door was met by little Arthur,
who caught hold of his hand, exclaiming, "So you have won me, and shall
keep me forever, Uncle Eustace; but come in, for here is poor old Sir
Philip, who was thrown down under the table in the scuffle, bemoaning
himself most lamentably."
"Sir Philip hurt?" said Eustace, who, vexed as he was by Sir Philip's
behaviour, preserved a certain neighbourly hereditary respect for him;
"I trust not seriously," and he advanced towards the arm-chair, where
Sir Philip Ashton was sitting, attended by Father Cyril and a
man-at-arms, and groaning and complaining of his bruises, while at the
same time he ordered the horses to be brought out as speedily as
possible.
"Surely," said Eustace, "you should not be in such haste, Sir Philip. I
grieve that you should have met with this mishap. But you had better
remain here, and try what rest will do for you."
"Remain here!" said Sir Philip, almost shuddering. "Nay, nay, my young
Sir, I would not have you to remain here, nor any of us, for longer
space than the saddling of a horse. Alas! alas! my young friend, I
grieve for you. I loved your father well.--Look from the window,
Leonard. Are the horses led forth?"
"But why this haste?" asked Sir Eustace. "You are heavily
bruised--best let Father Cyril look to your hurts."
"Thanks, Sir Eustace; but--Ah! my back!--but I would not remain under
this roof for more than you could give me. I should but endanger
myself without benefiting you. Alas! alas! that I should have fallen
upon such a fray! I am sorry for you, my brave youth!"
"I thank you, Sir Philip, but I know not what I have done to deserve
your concern."
"Hot blood! wilful blood!" said Sir Philip, shaking his head. "Are the
horses come? Here! your hand, Leonard, help me to rise--Ah! ah! not so
fast--Oh! I shall never get over it! There--mind you, I did all to
prevent this unhappy business--I am clear of it! Fare you well, Sir
Eustace--take an old man's advice, give up the boy, and leave the
country before worse comes of it."
"What is likely to come of it?" said Eustace; "Clarenham made an
uncalled-for, unjust, shameless attempt to seize the person of my ward.
I repelled him by force of arms, and I think he would scarce like to
call the attention of justice to his own share in the matter."
"Ah! well, you speak boldly, but before you have reached my years, you
will have learnt what it is to have for your foe the most mighty man of
the county--nay, of the court; for your foe, Lord de Clarenham, is in
close friendship with the Earl of Pembroke. Beware, my young friend,
beware!"
When the hall was clear of guests, a council was held between the
Knight, the Priest, and the two Esquires. Its result was, that
Arthur's person, as the most important point, should be secured, by his
uncle carrying him at once to the Prince's protection at Bordeaux; but
it was only with difficulty that Eustace was prevailed on to fly, as he
said, from his accusers. The good Father had to say, with a smile,
that after all there was as much need for patience and submission under
the helm as under the cowl, before Eustace at length consented. Cyril
meanwhile was to lay the case before the Chancellor, William of
Wykeham, and Eustace gave him letters to the Duke of Lancaster and to
Sir Richard Ferrars, in the hopes of their recommending his suit.
Eustace then received from the hands of the Priest a bag of gold coins,
his portion as a younger son, part of which he gave to be distributed
in alms, part he still confided to Father Cyril's keeping, and the rest
he was to take away for present needs--and they parted for the last
night of his brief stay at Lynwood Keep.