CHAPTER IV.

THE STRIFE WHICH SIBYLL HAD COURTED, BETWEEN KATHERINE AND HERSELF,

COMMENCES IN SERIOUS EARNEST.

Hastings felt relieved when, the next day, several couriers arrived

with tidings so important as to merge all considerations into those of

state. A secret messenger from the French court threw Gloucester into

one of those convulsive passions of rage, to which, with all his

intellect and dissimulation, he was sometimes subject, by the news of

Anne's betrothal to Prince Edward; nor did the letter from Clarence to

the king, attesting the success of one of his schemes, comfort Richard

for the failure of the other. A letter from Burgundy confirmed the

report of the spy, announced Duke Charles's intention of sending a

fleet to prevent Warwick's invasion, and rated King Edward sharply for

his supineness in not preparing suitably against so formidable a foe.

The gay and reckless presumption of Edward, worthier of a knight-

errant than a monarch, laughed at the word invasion. "Pest on

Burgundy's ships! I only wish that the earl would land!" [Com, iii.

c. 5] he said to his council. None echoed the wish! But later in the

day came a third messenger with information that roused all Edward's

ire; careless of each danger in the distance, he ever sprang into

energy and vengeance when a foe was already in the field. And the

Lord Fitzhugh (the young nobleman before seen among the rebels at

Olney, and who had now succeeded to the honours of his House) had

suddenly risen in the North, at the head of a formidable rebellion.

No man had so large an experience in the warfare of those districts,

the temper of the people, and the inclinations of the various towns

and lordships as Montagu; he was the natural chief to depute against

the rebels. Some animated discussion took place as to the dependence

to be placed in the marquis at such a crisis; but while the more wary

held it safer, at all hazards, not to leave him unemployed, and to

command his services in an expedition that would remove him from the

neighbourhood of his brother, should the latter land, as was expected,

on the coast of Norfolk, Edward, with a blindness of conceit that

seems almost incredible, believed firmly in the infatuated loyalty of

the man whom he had slighted and impoverished, and whom, by his offer

of his daughter to the Lancastrian prince, he had yet more recently

cozened and deluded. Montagu was hastily summoned, and received

orders to march at once to the North, levy forces, and assume their

command. The marquis obeyed with fewer words than were natural to

him, left the presence, sprang on his horse, and as he rode from the

palace, drew a letter from his bosom. "Ah, Edward," said he, setting

his teeth, "so, after the solemn betrothal of thy daughter to my son,

thou wouldst have given her to thy Lancastrian enemy. Coward, to

bribe his peace! recreant, to belie thy word! I thank thee for this

news, Warwick; for without that injury I feel I could never, when the

hour came, have drawn sword against this faithless man,--especially

for Lancaster. Ay, tremble, thou who deridest all truth and honour!

He who himself betrays, cannot call vengeance treason!"

Meanwhile, Edward departed, for further preparations, to the Tower of

London. New evidences of the mine beneath his feet here awaited the

incredulous king. On the door of St. Paul's, of many of the

metropolitan churches, on the Standard at Chepe, and on London Bridge,

during the past night, had been affixed, none knew by whom, the

celebrated proclamation, signed by Warwick and Clarence (drawn up in

the bold style of the earl), announcing their speedy return,

containing a brief and vigorous description of the misrule of the

realm, and their determination to reform all evils and redress all

wrongs. [See, for this proclamation, Ellis's "Original Letters," vol.

i., second series, letter 42.] Though the proclamation named not the

restoration of the Lancastrian line (doubtless from regard for Henry's

safety), all men in the metropolis were already aware of the

formidable league between Margaret and Warwick. Yet, even still,

Edward smiled in contempt, for he had faith in the letter received

from Clarence, and felt assured that the moment the duke and the earl

landed, the former would betray his companion stealthily to the king;

so, despite all these exciting subjects of grave alarm, the nightly

banquet at the Tower was never merrier and more joyous. Hastings left

the feast ere it deepened into revel, and, absorbed in various and

profound contemplation, entered his apartment. He threw himself on a

seat, and leaned his face on his hands.

"Oh, no, no!" he muttered; "now, in the hour when true greatness is

most seen, when prince and peer crowd around me for counsel, when

noble, knight, and squire crave permission to march in the troop of

which Hastings is the leader,--now I feel how impossible, how falsely

fair, the dream that I could forget all--all for a life of obscurity,

for a young girl's love! Love! as if I had not felt its delusions to

palling! love, as if I could love again: or, if love--alas, it must be

a light reflected but from memory! And Katherine is free once more!"

His eye fell as he spoke, perhaps in shame and remorse that, feeling

thus now, he had felt so differently when he bade Sibyll smile till

his return!

"It is the air of this accursed court which taints our best resolves!"

he murmured, as an apology for himself; but scarcely was the poor

excuse made, than the murmur broke into an exclamation of surprise and

joy. A letter lay before him; he recognized the hand of Katherine.

What years had passed since her writing had met his eye, since the

lines that bade him "farewell, and forget!" Those lines had been

blotted with tears, and these, as he tore open the silk that bound

them--these, the trace of tears, too, was on them! Yet they were but

few, and in tremulous characters. They ran thus:--

To-morrow, before noon, the Lord Hastings is prayed to visit one whose

life he hath saddened by the thought and the accusation that she hath

clouded and embittered his. KATHERINE DE BONVILLE.

Leaving Hastings to such meditations of fear or of hope as these lines

could call forth, we lead the reader to a room not very distant from

his own,--the room of the illustrious Friar Bungey.

The ex-tregetour was standing before the captured Eureka, and gazing

on it with an air of serio-comic despair and rage. We say the Eureka,

as comprising all the ingenious contrivances towards one single object

invented by its maker, a harmonious compound of many separate details;

but the iron creature no longer deserved that superb appellation, for

its various members were now disjointed and dislocated, and lay pell-

mell in multiform confusion.

By the side of the friar stood a female, enveloped in a long scarlet

mantle, with the hood partially drawn over the face, but still leaving

visible the hard, thin, villanous lips, the stern, sharp chin, and the

jaw resolute and solid as if hewed from stone.

"I tell thee, Graul," said the friar, "that thou hast had far the best

of the bargain. I have put this diabolical contrivance to all manner

of shapes, and have muttered over it enough Latin to have charmed a

monster into civility. And the accursed thing, after nearly pinching

off three fingers, and scalding me with seething water, and

spluttering and sputtering enough to have terrified any man but Friar

Bungey out of his skin, is obstinatus ut mulum,--dogged as a mule; and

was absolutely good for nought, till I happily thought of separating

this vessel from all the rest of the gear, and it serves now for the

boiling my eggs! But by the soul of Father Merlin, whom the saints

assoil, I need not have given myself all this torment for a thing

which, at best, does the work of a farthing pipkin!"

"Quick, master; the hour is late! I must go while yet the troopers

and couriers and riders, hurrying to and fro, keep the gates from

closing. What wantest thou with Graul?"

"More reverence, child!" growled the friar. "What I want of thee is

briefly told, if thou hast the wit to serve me. This miserable Warner

must himself expound to me the uses and trick of his malignant

contrivance. Thou must find and bring him hither!"

"And if he will not expound?"

"The deputy governor of the Tower will lend me a stone dungeon, and,

if need be, the use of the brake to unlock the dotard's tongue."

"On what plea?"

"That Adam Warner is a wizard, in the pay of Lord Warwick, whom a more

mighty master like myself alone can duly examine and defeat."

"And if I bring thee the sorcerer, what wilt thou teach me in return?"

"What desirest thou most?"

Graul mused, and said, "There is war in the wind. Graul follows the

camp, her trooper gets gold and booty. But the trooper is stronger

than Graul; and when the trooper sleeps it is with his knife by his

side, and his sleep is light and broken, for he has wicked dreams.

Give me a potion to make sleep deep, that his eyes may not open when

Graul filches his gold, and his hand may be too heavy to draw the

knife from its sheath!"

"Immunda, detestabilis! thine own paramour!"

"He hath beat me with his bridle rein, he hath given a silver broad

piece to Grisell; Grisell hath sat on his knee; Graul never pardons!"

The friar, rogue as he was, shuddered. "I cannot help thee to murder,

I cannot give thee the potion; name some other reward."

"I go--"

"Nay, nay, think, pause."

"I know where Warner is hid. By this hour to-morrow night, I can

place him in thy power. Say the word, and pledge me the draught."

"Well, well, mulier abominabilis!--that is, irresistible bonnibell. I

cannot give thee the potion; but I will teach thee an art which can

make sleep heavier than the anodyne, and which wastes not like the

essence, but strengthens by usage,--an art thou shalt have at thy

fingers' ends, and which often draws from the sleeper the darkest

secrets of his heart." [We have before said that animal magnetism was

known to Bungey, and familiar to the necromancers, or rather

theurgists, of the Middle Ages.]

"It is magic," said Graul, with joy.

"Ay, magic."

"I will bring thee the wizard. But listen; he never stirs abroad,

save with his daughter. I must bring both."

"Nay, I want not the girl."

"But I dare not throttle her, for a great lord loves her, who would

find out the deed and avenge it; and if she be left behind, she will

go to the lord, and the lord will discover what thou hast done with

the wizard, and thou wilt hang!"

"Never say 'Hang' to me, Graul: it is ill-mannered and ominous. Who

is the lord?"

"Hastings."

"Pest!--and already he hath been searching for the thing yonder; and I

have brooded over it night and day, like a hen over a chalk egg,--only

that the egg does not snap off the hen's claws, as that diabolism

would fain snap off my digits. But the war will carry Hastings away

in its whirlwind; and, in danger, the duchess is my slave, and will

bear me through all. So, thou mayst bring the girl; and strangle her

not; for no good ever comes of a murder,--unless, indeed, it be

absolutely necessary!"

"I know the men who will help me, bold ribauds, whom I will guerdon

myself; for I want not thy coins, but thy craft. When the curfew has

tolled, and the bat hunts the moth, we will bring thee the quarry--"

Graul turned; but as she gained the door, she stopped, and said

abruptly, throwing back her hood,--

"What age dost thou deem me?"

"Marry," quoth the friar, "an' I had not seen thee on thy mother's

knee when she followed my stage of tregetour, I should have guessed

thee for thirty; but thou hast led too jolly a life to look still in

the blossom. Why speer'st thou the question?"

"Because when trooper and ribaud say to me, 'Graul, thou art too worn

and too old to drink of our cup and sit in the lap, to follow the

young fere to the battle, and weave the blithe dance in the fair,' I

would depart from my sisters, and have a hut of my own, and a black

cat without a white hair, and steal herbs by the new moon, and bones

from the charnel, and curse those whom I hate, and cleave the misty

air on a besom, like Mother Halkin of Edmonton. Ha, ha! Master, thou

shalt present me then to the Sabbat. Graul has the mettle for a bonny

witch!"

The tymbestere vanished with a laugh. The friar muttered a

paternoster for once, perchance, devoutly, and after having again

deliberately scanned the disjecta membra of the Eureka, gravely took

forth a duck's egg from his cupboard, and applied the master-agent of

the machine which Warner hoped was to change the face of the globe to

the only practical utility it possessed to the mountebank's

comprehension.

The Last of the Barons — Volume 10 · 第 4 / 11 章