A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE
Witness Aire’s unhappy water
Where the ruthless Clifford fell,
And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter
On the day of Towton’s field.
Gathering in its guilty flood
The carnage and the ill spilt blood
That forty thousand lives could yield.
SOUTHEY, _Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte_.
GRISELL from the first took her part in the Apothecary’s household.
Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace with
Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days at Wilton; and
still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the house in making his
compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and imparting others to him,
showing a delicacy of finger which the old Fleming could not emulate. In
the fabrication of perfumes for the pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared
with honey and sugar, she proved to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert,
who would not touch her jewels, declared that she was fully earning her
maintenance by the assistance that she gave to him.
They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war of battles,
not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than were wont to reach
Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward to London; and the
terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out while the snow fell far
from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choir boys had been singing
their _Gloria_, _laus et honor_ in the gallery over the church door,
shivering a little at the untimely blast, there had been grim and awful
work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Aire the snow lay mixed with
blood. That the Yorkists had gained was known, and that the Queen and
Prince had fled; but nothing was heard of the fate of individuals, and
Master Lambert was much occupied with tidings from Bruges, whence
information came, in a messenger sent by a notary that his uncle, an old
miser, whose harsh displeasure at his marriage had driven him forth, was
just dead, leaving him heir to a fairly prosperous business and a house
in the city.
To return thither was of course Lambert’s intention as soon as he could
dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell to accompany him
and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of so great a prince as
Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a better hope of hearing tidings
of her husband than in a remote town like Sunderland; and that if she
still wished to dispose of her jewels she would have a far better chance
of so doing. He was arguing the point with her, when there was a voice
in the stall outside which made Grisell start, and Lambert, going out,
brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering under the weight of his best suit
of armour, and with a bundle and bag under his mantle.
Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands into his
he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, “Ah! Sir
Leonard—?”
“No tidings of the recreant,” growled Ridley, “but ill tidings for both
of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, claiming your castle and lands
as male heirs to your father.”
“Do they know that I live?” asked Grisell, “or”—unable to control a
little laugh—“do they deem that I was slain in the shape of a hare?”
“Or better than that,” put in Lambert; “they have it now in the wharves
that the corpse of the hare took the shape and hands of a woman when in
the hall.”
“I ken not, the long-tongued rogues,” said Ridley; “but if my young lady
were standing living and life-like before them as, thank St. Hilda, I see
her now, they would claim it all the more as male heirs, and this new
King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, being that she is the wife
of one of King Henry’s men!”
“Are they there? How did you escape?”
“I got timely notice,” said Cuthbert. “Twenty strong halted over the
night at Yeoman Kester’s farm on Heather Gill—a fellow that would do
anything for me since we fought side by side on the day of the Herrings.
So he sends out his two grandsons to tell me what they were after, while
they were drinking his good ale to health of their King Edward. So
forewarned, forearmed. We have left them empty walls, get in as they can
or may—unless that traitor Tordu chooses to stay and make terms with
them.”
“Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!” asked Grisell.
“Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better sort, went
off long since to join their knight’s banner, and the Saints know how the
poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they have had. For my part, I
felt not bound to hold out the castle against my old lord’s side, when
there was no saving it for you, so I put what belonged to me together,
and took poor old Roan, and my young lady’s pony, and made my way hither,
no one letting me. I doubt me much, lady, that there is little hope of
winning back your lands, whatever side may be uppermost, yet there be
true hearts among our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any
save their lord’s daughter.”
“Then I am landless and homeless,” sighed Grisell.
“The greater cause that you should make your home with us, lady,”
returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley the state of
the case, and his own plans. House and business, possibly a seat in the
city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, and the vessel from Ostend
which had continually brought him supplies for his traffic was daily
expected. He intended, so soon as she had made up her cargo of wool, to
return in her to his native country, and he was urgent that the Lady
Grisell should go with him, representing that all the changes of fortune
in the convulsed kingdom of England were sure to be quickly known there,
and that she was as near the centre of action in Flanders as in Durham,
besides that she would be out of reach of any enemies who might
disbelieve the hare transformation.
After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to the
proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust and love,
and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she had
profitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels.
Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues on the
herring-boats and the wool.
“Will not you come with the lady, sir?” asked Lambert.
“Oh, come!” cried Grisell.
“Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar’s shop,”
said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the rugged old
gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell were both about
to speak he went on, “I can serve her better elsewhere. I am going first
to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen it these forty year, and
whether my brother or my nephew make me welcome or no, I shall have seen
the old moors and mosses. Then methought I would come hither, or to some
of the towns about, and see how it fares with the old Tower and the folk;
and if they be as good as their word, and keep their dues for my lady, I
could gather them, and take or bring them to her, with any other matter
which might concern her nearly.”
This was thoroughly approved by Grisell’s little council, and Lambert
undertook to make known to the good esquire the best means of
communication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments,
since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch and
Flemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible.
Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, had come
up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foul practices.
He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had come after her, had
threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mob of fishermen, and
finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who married them willy-nilly. He
was the runaway son of a currier in York, and had taken her _en croupe_,
and ridden off to his parents at the sign of the Hart, to bespeak their
favour.
Grisell grieved deeply over Thora’s ingratitude to her, and the two elder
men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and hoped that Thora
would sup sorrow.
Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and before he
set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bag containing
a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostly French. They were,
he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry the Fifth and the two Lord
Salisburys, which he had never had occasion to spend, and he desired that
they might be laid out on the Lady Grisell in case of need, leaving her
to think they were the dues from her faithful tenantry. To the Hausvrow
Clemence it was a great grief to leave the peaceful home of her married
life, and go among kindred who had shown their scorn in neglect and cold
looks; but she kept a cheerful face for her husband, and only shed tears
over the budding roses and other plants she had to leave; and she made
her guest understand how great a comfort and solace was her company.