Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me.
--SHAKESPEARE,
The cavalcade journeyed on not very quickly, as the riders accommodated
themselves to those on foot. They avoided the towns when they came into
the more inhabited country, the Prioress preferring the smaller hostels
for pilgrims and travellers, and, it may be suspected, monasteries to
the nunneries, where she said the ladies had nothing to talk about but
wonder at her journey, and advice to stay in shelter till after the
winter weather. Meantime it was a fine autumn still, and with bright
colours on the woods, where deer, hare, rabbit, or partridge tempted the
hounds, not to say their mistress, but she kept them well in leash, and
her falcon with hood and jesses, she being too well nurtured not to
be well aware of the strict laws of the chase, except when some
good-natured monk gave her leave and accompanied her--generally
Augustinians, who were more of country squires than ecclesiastics. Watch
needed no leash--he kept close to his master, except when occasionally
tempted to a little amateur shepherding, from which Hal could easily
call him off. The great stag-hounds evidently despised him, and the curs
of the waggon hated him, and snarled whenever he came near them, but the
Prioress respected him, and could well believe that the hermit King had
loved him. ‘He had just the virtues to suit the good King Harry,’ she
said, ‘dutifulness and harmlessness.’
The Prioress was the life of the party, with her droll descriptions of
the ways of the nuns who received her, while the males of the party had
to be content with the hostel outside. Sir Giles and Master Lorimer,
riding on each side of her, might often be heard laughing with her. The
young people were much graver, especially as there were fewer and fewer
days’ journeys to Bletso, and Anne’s unknown future would begin with
separation from all she had ever known, unless the Mother Prioress
should be able to remain with her.
And to Harry Clifford the loss of her presence grew more and more to
be dreaded as each day’s companionship drew them nearer together in
sympathy, and he began to build fanciful hopes of the King’s influence
upon the plans of Lord St. John, unless the contract of betrothal had
been actually made, and therewith came a certain zest in looking to his
probable dignity such as he had never felt before.
The last day’s journey had come. The escort who had acted as guides were
in familiar fields and lanes, and one, the leader, rode up to Lady Anne
and pointed to the grey outline among the trees of her home, while he
sent the other to hurry forward and announce her.
Anne shivered a little, and Hal kept close to her. He had made the
journey on foot, because he had chosen to be reckoned among Musgrave’s
archers till he had received full knightly training; and, besides, he
had more freedom to attach himself to Anne’s bridle rein, and be at hand
to help through difficult passages. Now he came up close to her, and she
held out her hand. He pressed it warmly.
‘You will not forget?’
‘Never, never! That red rose in the snow--I have the leaf in my
breviary. And Goodwife Dolly, tell her I’ll never forget how she
cosseted the wildered lamb.’
‘Poor Mother Dolly, when shall I see her?’
‘Oh! you will be able to have her to share your state, and Watch too! I
take none with me.’
‘If we are all in King Harry’s cause, there will be hope of meeting, and
then if--’
‘Ah! I see a horseman coming! Is it my father?’
It was a horseman who met them, taking off his cap of maintenance and
bowing low to the Prioress and the young lady, but it was the seneschal
of the castle, not the father whom Anne so dreaded, but an old
gentleman, Walter Wenlock, with whom there was a greeting as of an old
friend. My lord had gone with the Earl of Warwick to Queen Margaret in
France, and had sent a messenger with a letter to meet his daughter
at York, and tell her to go to the house of the Poor Clares in London
instead of coming home, ‘and there await him.’
The route that had been taken by the party accounted for their not
having met the messenger and it was plain that they must go on to
London. The evening was beginning to draw in, and a night’s lodging was
necessary. Anne assumed a little dignity.
‘My good friends who have guarded me, I hope you will do me the honour
to rest for the night in my father’s castle.’
The seneschal bowed acquiescence, but the poor man was evidently sorely
perplexed by such an extensive invitation on the part of his young lady
on his peace establishment, though the Prioress did her best to assist
Anne to set him at ease. ‘Here is Sir Giles Musgrave, the Lord of
Peelholm on the Borders, a staunch friend of King Harry, with a band of
stout archers, and this gentleman from the north is with him.’ (It had
been agreed that the Clifford name should not be mentioned till the way
had been felt with Warwick, one of whose cousins had been granted the
lands of the Black Lord Clifford.)
The seneschal bent before Musgrave courteously, saying he was happy
to welcome so good and brave a knight, and he prayed his followers to
excuse if their fare was scant and homely, being that he was unprovided
for the honour.
‘No matter, sir,’ returned Musgrave; ‘we are used to soldiers’ fare.’
‘And,’ proceeded Anne, ‘Master Lorimer must lie here, and his wains.’
‘Master Lorimer,’ said the Prioress, ‘with whom belike--Lorimer of
Barnet--Sir Seneschal has had dealings,’ and she put forward the
merchant, who had been falling back to his waggon.
‘Yea,’ said Walter Wenlock frankly, holding out his hand. ‘We have
bought your wares and made proof of them, good sir. I am glad to welcome
you, though I never saw you to the face before.’
‘Great thanks, good seneschal. All that I would ask would be licence for
my wains to stand in your court to-night while my fellows and I sup and
lodge at the hostel.’
The hospitality of Bletso could not suffer this, and both Anne and the
seneschal were urgent that all should remain, Wenlock reflecting that if
the store for winter consumption were devoured, even to the hog waiting
to be killed, he could obtain fresh supplies from the tenants, so he
ushered all into the court, and summoned steward, cooks, and scullions
to do their best. It was not a castle, only a castellated house, which
would not have been capable of long resistance in time of danger, but
the court and stables gave ample accommodation for the animals and the
waggons, and the men were bestowed in the great open hall, reaching to
the top of the house, where all would presently sup.
In the meantime the seneschal conducted the ladies and their two
attendants to a tiny chamber, where an enormous bed was being made ready
by the steward’s wife and her son, and in which all four ladies would
sleep, the Prioress and Anne one way, the other two foot to foot with
them! They had done so before, so were not surprised, and the lack of
furniture was a matter of course. Their mails were brought up, a pitcher
of water and a bowl, and they made their preparations for supper. Anne
was in high spirits at the dreaded meeting, and still more dreaded
parting, having been deferred, and she skipped about the room, trying to
gather up her old recollections. ‘Yes, I remember that bit of tapestry,
and the man that stands there among the sheep. Is it King David, think
you, Mother, about to throw his stone at the lion and the bear?’
‘Lion and bear, child! ‘Tis the three goddesses and Paris choosing the
fairest to give the golden apple.’
‘Methought that was the lion’s mane, but I see a face.’
‘What would the Lady Venus say to have her golden locks taken for a
lion’s mane?’
‘I like black hair,’ said Anne.
‘Better not fix thy mind on any hue! We poor women have no choice save
what fathers make for us.’
‘O good my mother, peace! They are all in France, and there’s no need
to spoil this breathing time with thinking of what is coming! Good
old Wenlock! I used to ride on his shoulder! I’m right glad to see him
again! I must tell him in his ear to put Hal well above the salt! May
not I tell him in his ear who he is?’
‘Safer not, my maid, till we know what King Harry can do for him. Better
that his name should not get abroad till he can have his own.’
A great bell brought all down, and Anne was pleased to see that her
seneschal made no question about placing Harry Clifford beside the
Prioress, who sat next to the Lord of Peelholm, who sat next to the
young daughter of the house in the seat of honour.
The nuns, Master Lorimer, and one of the archers, who was a Border
squire, besides Master Wenlock, occupied the high table on the dais, and
the archers, grooms, and the rest of the household were below.
The fare was not scanty nor unsubstantial, but evidently hastily
prepared, being chiefly broiled slices of beef, on which salting had
begun; but there was a lack of bread, even of barley, though there was
no want of drink.
However, the Prioress was good-humoured, and forestalled all excuses by
jests about travellers’ meals and surprises in the way of guests, and
both she and Sir Giles were anxious for Wenlock’s news of the state of
things.
He knew much more of the course of affairs than they in their northern
homes and on their journey.
‘The realm is divided,’ he said. ‘Those who hold to King Harry, as you
gentles do, are in high joy, but there be many, spoken with respect, who
cannot face about so fast, and hold still for York, though they mislike
the Queen’s kindred. Of such are the merchantmen of London.’
‘Is it so?’ asked Lorimer. ‘If King Edward be as deep in debt to them
as to me for housings and bridle reins methinks he should not be in good
odour in their nostrils.’
‘Yea,’ said Wenlock, ‘but if he be gone a beggar to Burgundy what
becomes of their debt?’
‘I would not give much for it were he restored a score of times,’ said
the Prioress. ‘What would he do but plunge deeper?’
‘There would be hope, though, of getting an order on the royal demesne,
or the crown jewels, or the taxes,’ said Lorimer. ‘Nay, I hold one even
now that will be but waste if he come not back.’
‘And this poor King spendeth nothing save on priests and masses,’ said
Wenlock.
Hal started forward, eager to hear of his King, and Musgrave said, ‘A
holy man is he.’
‘Too holy for a King,’ said the seneschal. ‘He looked like a woolsack
across a horse when my Lord of Warwick led him down Cheapside; and only
the rabble cried out “Long live King Harry!” but some scoffed and said
they saw a mere gross monk with a baby face where they had been wont to
see a comely prince full of manhood, with a sword instead of beads.’
‘His son will please them,’ said Musgrave. ‘He was a goodly child, full
of spirit, when last I saw him.’
‘If so be he have not too much of the Frenchwoman, his mother, in him,’
said Wenlock. ‘A losing lot, as poor as any rats, and as proud as very
peacocks.’
‘She was gracious enough and won all hearts on the Border,’ replied
Musgrave.
‘Come, come!’ put in the Prioress, ‘you may have the chance yet to break
a lance on her behalf. No fear but she is royal enough to shine down
King Edward’s low-born love, the Widow Grey!’
‘Ay, there lay the cause of discontent,’ said Lorimer; ‘the upstart ways
of her kin were not to be borne. To hear Dick Woodville chaffer
about the blazoning of his horse-gear when he was wedding the
fourscore-year-old Duchess of Norfolk, one would have thought he was an
emperor at the very least.’
‘Widow Grey has done something for her husband’s cause,’ said the
seneschal, ‘in bringing him at last a fair son, all in his exile, and
she in sanctuary at Westminster. The London citizens are ever touched
through all the fat about their hearts by whatever would sound well in
the mouth of a ballad-monger.’
‘My King, my King, what of him?’ sighed Hal in the Prioress’s ear,
and she made the inquiry for him: ‘What said you of King Henry, Sir
Seneschal? How did he fare in his captivity?’
‘Not so ill, methinks,’ said the seneschal. ‘He had the range of the
Tower, and St. Peter’s in the Fetters to pray in, which was what he
heeded most; also he had a messan dog, and a tame bird. Indeed, men said
he had laid on much flesh since he had been mewed up there; and my lord,
who went with my Lord of Warwick to fetch him, said his garments were
scarce so cleanly as befitted. ‘Twas hard to make him understand. First
he clasped his hands, and bowed his head, crying out that he forgave
those who came to slay him, and when he found it was all the other way,
he stood like one dazed, let his hand be kissed, and they say is still
in the hands of my Lord Archbishop of York just as if he were the waxen
image of St. John in a procession.’
‘The Earl and the Queen will have to do the work,’ said the Prioress,
‘and they will no more hold together than a couple of wild hawks will
hunt in company. How long do you give them to tear out one another’s
eyes?’
‘Son and daughter may keep them together,’ said Musgrave,
‘Hatred of the Woodvilles is more like, a poor band though it be,’
said the Prioress. ‘These are stirring times! I’ll not go back to
my anchoress lodge in the north till I see what works out of them!
Meantime, to our beds, sweet Anne, since ‘tis an early start tomorrow.’
The Prioress, who had become warmly interested in Hal, and had divined
the feeling between him and Anne, thought that if she could obtain
access to the Archbishop of York, Warwick’s brother George, she could
deal with him to procure Clifford’s restitution in name and in blood,
and at least his De Vesci inheritance, if Dick Nevil, who had grasped
the Clifford lands, could not be induced to give them up.
‘I have seen George Nevil,’ she said, ‘when I was instituted to
Greystone. He is of kindlier mood than his brothers, and more a valiant
trencherman and hunter than aught else. If I had him on the moors and
could show him some sport with a red deer, I could turn him round my
finger.’