THE DEPARTURE.
"We must to horse without delay, Ned," said Richard of Woodville, as
he entered the inn.
"Why, you have been to horse already, master of mine," replied Ned
Dyram, in a somewhat sullen tone.
"And must mount again, ere two hours be over," rejoined Woodville;
"but where and how can I leave the baggage?"
"Ay, who can tell that?" said the other. "See what it is to march
loaded like a carrier's pack-horse, with more things than you can
carry!--You are coming back soon, then, to Ghent?"
"Ere the week be out," answered his lord; "so the Count tells me."
"Pray, sir, never mind what Counts tell you," exclaimed Ned Dyram.
"Mind what your own senses tell you. If you know where you are going,
you can judge as well as a King when you may be back."
"But that I do not know," replied Woodville, somewhat impatiently. "No
more words, Master Dyram; but gather everything together into one
chamber, and I will speak to the host as to its security."
"Little security for a traveller's baggage in a foreign hotel,"
rejoined Ned Dyram, "unless some one stays to take charge of it."
"Then, by my honour, you shall be the man to do so," cried his master,
thinking by leaving him behind when activity and enterprise were
before him, to punish him sufficiently for his saucy tone.
But Ned Dyram seemed not at all disappointed, and replied with an
indifferent air, "I am very willing to stay. I am one who does not
love journeys I know not whither, and expeditions I know not for
what."
"Well, then, you remain," answered his master. "Gather the things
together, as I have said, and you shall be left like a trader's
drudge, to look after the goods. Where is Ella Brune?"
"In her own chamber, I fancy," replied Ned Dyram. "She has shut
herself up there, ever since you were gone, like a nun."
"Call her down hither to the eating-room," was his lord's reply; and
Ned Dyram hastened away.
The fair girl did not make her young protector wait long; and ere he
had finished his directions to his train, to prepare all things for
immediate departure, she was by his side. Taking her hand kindly, he
led her into the common hall of the inn, and told her what he had
discovered regarding her kinsman, adding, that as he was about to set
out in a few hours with the young Count de Charolois, he would at once
accompany her to the house of Nicholas Brune, in order to ascertain if
she could have shelter and protection there.
"I know not, my poor Ella," he said, "whether that dwelling may be one
where you can safely and happily stop long; for this good man has been
somewhat rash in his words, and is under suspicion of leaning to those
heretical notions that are so rife; but I shall be back in a week, or
less; and then you can tell me all that you think of the matter. You
would not wish, I know, to remain with people who would seek to
pervert you from the true Catholic faith."
"And you are sure to return in a week?" asked the poor girl, her
cheek, which had turned somewhat pale before, resuming its warm hue.
"So the Count assures me," answered Woodville; "and I doubt it not,
Ella; but, at all events, I will care for you, be assured, poor
thing."
"You tell me to put all the baggage in one room," said Ned Dyram,
thrusting in his head; "and the men tell me that they are to have each
his harness, and you yours. Two contrary orders, master of mine! Which
is to be obeyed?"
"Your wit is strangely halting just now, Ned," answered his master.
"Put all, but what I have ordered to be taken, into the room, and see
that it be arranged rightly, and quickly too. Now, Ella, cast
something over your head, and come with me to your kinsman's shop.
What wait you for, sir?"
"To know which suit you are pleased to have," replied Ned Dyram; while
Ella passed him to seek the wimple which she had cast off in the
house.
"I have given orders on that score to others," answered his master;
and as the man retired, he murmured to himself, "I shall have to send
that fellow back to the King. He does not please me."
With a rapid step Richard of Woodville led the way, as soon as Ella
joined him, to the wide open space which then, as since, was used as a
market, before the old castle of the Counts of Flanders; and, as none
of the shops or stalls bore their masters' names inscribed, he entered
the first they came to, and inquired which was the house of Nicholas
Brune?
"His house," replied the man to whom he had addressed himself in
French, "is at the other end of the town; but his shop is yonder," and
he pointed with his hand from the door to one of the projecting cases,
covered with a network of iron wire, under which the goldsmiths of
Ghent at that period exposed some of their larger goods for sale. "The
last stall but one," added the trader; and Woodville and his fair
companion sped on towards the spot.
At the unglazed window, behind this booth, stood a man of middle age,
grey headed, but with a fresh and cheerful countenance, who, as soon
as he saw the two approach, demanded, in the common terms of the day,
what they sought in his trade. The next instant, however, his eye
rested upon Ella's face, which wore a faint smile, and he exclaimed in
his native tongue,--"Mesaunter! if there be not my cousin Ella! How
art thou, lass? Welcome to Ghent! What news of the good old man? My
dame will be right glad to see you both again."
"She will never see him more," replied Ella Brune, in a sad tone; "but
of that I will tell you hereafter, kinsman; for I must not stay this
noble gentleman, who has befriended me on the way. What I seek to know
is, if you can give me shelter at your dwelling for a week, till I can
look around me? I will pay for my abiding, Nicholas," she added,
perhaps knowing that her cousin, dealing in gold, had somewhat too
great a fondness for the pure metal.
But Nicholas Brune was in a generous mood; and he replied, "Shelter
shalt thou have, fair Ella, and meat and drink, with right good will,
for a week and a day, without cost or payment. If thou stayest with us
longer, which God send, we will talk about purveyance. In the meantime
I will thank this gentleman for his goodness to you. Why, by my tongs,
I think I saw him riding this morning with my noble lord, the Count."
"You did, most likely," replied Richard of Woodville, "for we passed
by your door: but I have farther to ride to-night, Master Nicholas;
and now, having seen this fair maiden safe under your protection, I
will leave her there. But you had better send up some of your lads
with speed to my hostel for the coffer that we brought, as, perchance,
Ned Dyram would not let you have it, Ella, when I am gone."
Ella Brune smiled, with an effort to keep up the light cheerfulness
which she had lately assumed, and replied, "I think, noble sir, that
Master Dyram is not a carl to refuse me aught I ask him; but yet if my
kinsman can spare a boy, he had better go at once."
"I will soon find one," answered the stout goldsmith; and, turning to
a furnace-room, which lay behind his shop, he called one of his men
forth, and bade him follow the gentleman back.
The parting then came between Ella Brune and Richard of Woodville; and
bitter was the moment to the poor minstrel girl. She had learned a
world of new sensations since she first saw him;--that clinging
attachment, which made her long never to be absent from his side for a
whole day; that tender regard which made her dread to see him depart,
lest evil should befal him by the way; that love which is full of
fears for the beloved that we never feel for ourselves. But no one
could have told that there were any emotions in her bosom but respect
and gratitude, unless the transitory look of deep grief that crossed
her face, as she bent down her head to kiss the hand he gave her,
could have been seen. It was gone as soon as she raised her eyes
again; and her countenance was bright and cheerful, when he said--
"Again my will although I wende,
I may not alway dwellen here,
For everything shall have an ende,
And frendes are not ay ifere:"
and, skilled in all the lore of old ballads, almost as much as
himself, she answered at once, from that beautiful song of the days of
the Black Prince--
"For frendship and for giftes goode,
For mete and drink so grete plentie,
That lord that raught was on the roode,
He kepe the comeli companie.
"On sea or lande where that ye be,
He governe you withouten greve;
So good disport ye han made me,
Again my will, I take my leve."
And, after again kissing his hand, she let him depart, keeping down by
a great effort the tears that struggled to rise up into her eyes. But
she would not for the world have suffered one weak emotion to appear
before her kinsman, whose character she knew right well, and over whom
she proposed at once to assume an influence, which could only be
gained by the display of a firm and superior mind.
"And who may that young lord be, pretty Ella?" asked Nicholas Brune:
"he seems to take great heed of you, dear kinswoman, and is evidently
too high a bird to mate with one of our feather."
"Mate with me!" answered Ella, in a scornful tone. "Oh, no! cousin
mine. He will mate, ere long, with one of the sweetest ladies within
the shores of merry England, who has been most kind to me too. He is a
friend of the King; and when poor old Murdock Brune, my grandsire, and
your uncle, was killed, by a fiend of a courtier trampling him under
his horse's feet, that gentleman, who saw the deed, threw the monster
back from his horse, and afterwards represented my case to the King,
who punished the man-slayer, and sent me fifty half-nobles."
Nicholas Brune was affected in two very opposite ways by Ella's words.
"My uncle killed by a courtier!" he exclaimed at first, with his eyes
flashing fire. "What was his name, maiden--what was his name?"
"Sir Simeon of Roydon," answered Ella Brune; and seeking a scrap of
parchment and a reed pen, the goldsmith wrote down the name, as if to
prevent it from escaping his memory. But the moment after his mind
reverted to another part of Ella's speech. "Fifty half nobles!" he
exclaimed, taking a piece of gold out of a drawer, and looking at it.
"That was a princely gift, indeed, Ella; and you owe the young
gentleman much gratitude for getting it for you."
"I owe him and his fair lady-love more than I can ever repay, for many
an act beside," answered Ella Brune; "but I am resolved, my good
kinsman, that I will discharge part of the debt of gratitude, if not
the whole. I have a plan in my head, cousin--I have a plan, which I
know not whether I will tell you or not."
"Take counsel!--always take counsel!" answered the goldsmith.
"I want none, fair kinsman," replied Ella; "I need neither counsel nor
help. My own wit shall be my counsellor; and as I am rich now, I can
always get aid when I want it."
"Rich!" said Nicholas;--"what, with fifty half-nobles, pretty maid? It
is a heavy sum, truly, but soon spent."
"Were that all," rejoined Ella, "I should not count myself very rich;
but I have more than that, cousin--enough to dower me to as gay a
citizen as any in Ghent. But here seem a number of gallants gathering
round the gate of the Graevensteen. I will back into the far part of
the shop, and we will talk more hereafter."
While this conversation had been going on between Nicholas and Ella
Brune, Richard of Woodville, followed by the goldsmith's man, had
hurried back to the inn, and directed Ned Dyram to deliver over the
coffer belonging to the minstrel girl, which had been brought, not
without some inconvenience, on the back of one of the mules that
carried his own baggage. The young gentleman did not remark that, in
executing this order, Ned Dyram questioned the lad cunningly; and
busy, to say sooth, in paying his score to the host, and making his
final preparations for departure, he forgot for the time his fair
companion of the way, quite satisfied that she was safe and
comfortable under the roof of her kinsman.
Some time before the hour appointed, Woodville was in the court of the
old castle, with his men armed and mounted, in very different guise
from their peaceful habiliments of the morning. He contented himself
with sending in a page to inform the Count that he was ready, and
remained standing by his horse's side; while several of those who had
been chosen by the young Burgundian Prince as his companions, entered
through the old gate, and paused to admire, with open eyes, the
splendid array of the English band, each man armed in plate of the
newest and most approved form, according to his degree, and each
bearing, slung over his shoulder, the green quiver, filled with the
fatal English arrows, which turned so often the tide of battle in the
olden time.
After having waited for about ten minutes, the page whom Woodville had
sent came back, and conducted him into the castle, where, in a suite
of rooms occupying the basement story of one of the towers, he found
the young Count, armed and ready to mount. "Here is your lodging after
our return," said the Prince, rapidly. "I wished to show it to you ere
we set out: these four chambers, and one above. Your horses must be
quartered out. And now, _my friend_, let us to the saddle: the rest
have come, I think." And, speeding through the passages to the
court-yard, he welcomed gracefully the gentlemen assembled, sprang upon
his horse's back, and, followed by his train, rode out over the private
bridge belonging to the castle, bending his steps upon the road to the
French frontier.
The Count himself, and the small body that accompanied him, amounting
in all to about a hundred men, were all armed after the heavy and
cumbersome fashion of those days; and each of the several parties of
which the troop was composed, had with them one or two led horses or
mules, loaded with spare arms and clothing. Considering weight and
incumbrances, they moved forward at a very rapid rate--certainly not
less than seven miles an hour; and pausing nowhere but to give water
to the horses, they had advanced nearly eight leagues on their way ere
nightfall. A few minutes after, through the faint twilight which
remained in the sky, Richard of Woodville perceived some spires and
towers rising at a short distance over the flat country before them;
and, on his asking one of the gentlemen, with whom he had held a good
deal of conversation during their journey, what town it was that they
were approaching, the reply was, "Courtray."
Here the Count of Charolois stopped for about an hour; but, while the
horses and most of his attendants contrived to obtain some very
tolerable food, the young Prince neither ate nor drank; but, with a
mind evidently anxious and disturbed, walked up and down the hall,
occasionally talking to Richard of Woodville, the only one who
exercised the same abstinence, but never mentioning either the end or
object of their journey.
A little after eight o'clock the whole party were in the saddle once
more, and, judging from the direction which they took as they issued
forth from the gates of Courtray, the gentleman who had been the young
Englishman's principal companion on the road informed him that they
must be going to Lille. In about two hours and a half more, that city
was seen by the light of the moon; and, after causing the gates to be
opened, the Count took his way through the streets, but did not direct
his course to the chateau usually inhabited by the Flemish Counts.
Alighting at the principal hostelry of the place, he turned to the
gentlemen who followed, saying, "Here we must wait for the first news
that to-morrow may bring. Make yourselves at ease, noble lords. I am
tired, and will to bed."
Without farther explanation, he retired at once with his personal
attendants; and his followers proceeded to amuse themselves as best
they might. Richard of Woodville remained with his comrades of the
road for about an hour, and, during that time, much of the rough
asperity of fresh acquaintance was brushed away. He then followed the
example of the young Count, in order to rise refreshed the next
morning.