THE PRISONER FREE.
The only true calm and happy sleep that man can ever obtain, is given
by the heart at ease. Slumber, deep, profound, and heavy, may be
obtained by fatigue of body or of mind; but even those great and
tranquil spirited men, of whom it is recorded that, at any time, they
could lie down, banish thought and care, and obtain repose in the most
trying circumstances, must have gained the power, from that
consciousness of having done all to ensure success in the course
before them that human wisdom can achieve, or by that confidence in
the resources within, which are the chief lighteners of the load of
life.
Richard of Woodville slept soundly, but it was heavily. It was the
sleep of weariness, not of peace. His mind was agitated even during
slumber, with many of the subjects which might well press for
attention in the circumstances in which he was placed; and unbridled
fancy hurried him through innumerable dreams. Now he saw her he loved
standing at the altar with another; and when the figure turned its
face towards him, he beheld Simeon of Roydon. Then he stood in the
presence of the King; and Henry, with a frowning brow, turned to an
executioner, with the countenance of Sir Henry Dacre, but gigantic
limbs, and ordered him to strike off the prisoner's head. Then came
Isabel Beauchamp to plead for his life; and suddenly, as the King was
turning away, a pale shadowy form, through which he could see the
figures on the arras behind, appeared before the monarch, and he
recognised the spirit of the murdered Catherine. Old times were
strangely mingled with the thoughts of the present; and sometimes he
was a boy again; sometimes still a prisoner in the castle of
Montl'herry: sometimes in the court of a strange prince, receiving
high rewards for some imaginary service. He heard voices, too, as well
as saw sights; and the words rang in his ears,
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find;
Shall win praise.
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
At length when he had slept long, he suddenly started and raised
himself upon his arm, for some one touched him; and looking round he
saw the clerk with his black hood still drawn far over his head, and
the page who had been his fellow captive, standing by the side of the
pallet.
"You must be up and away, sir knight," said the young clerk, in the
sweet musical tones of youth. "In an hour, a party of the Canonesses
of Cambray, who arrived at noon under the escort of a body of my Lord
of Charolois' men-at-arms,[12] are to depart for Amiens, and you and
your page can ride forward with them. I must here leave your fair
company; for I have other matters to attend to for my good lord."
---------------------
[Footnote 12: The actual removal of the Canonesses of Cambray took
place a few months later.]
---------------------
"But I shall see you again, young sir, I trust?" said Woodville; "I
owe you guerdon, as well as thanks and deep gratitude."
"I have only done my duty, noble knight," replied the clerk; "but we
shall soon meet again; for I suppose your first task will be to seek
Sir John Grey, who is with the King; and I shall not be long absent
from him,--so fare you well, sir."
"But where am I to find him?" demanded Woodville; "remember I am in
utter ignorance of all that has happened."
"Nor do I know much," answered the clerk. "Rumour is my only source of
information; for I have been cut off from all direct communication for
many weeks. The only certainty is, that King Henry and his friends are
now in France; that Harfleur surrendered a few weeks ago, and that he
is marching through the land with banners displayed. You will hear of
him as you go; and as soon as you know which way his steps are bent,
you can hasten to join him. But ere you discover yourself to any one
else, seek out Sir John Grey, and take counsel with him, for false
reports have been spread concerning you, and no one can tell how the
King's mind may be affected."
"But tell me, at least, before you go," said Richard of Woodville,
"who was the lady spoken of by the man who aided my escape at
Montl'herry; and also, who it is that has generously paid the high
sums which were doubtless demanded for my deliverance?"
"In truth, noble sir," replied the clerk, "I must not stay to answer
you; for the people with whom I go are waiting for me; and I must
depart immediately. You will know all hereafter in good time. It was
the Lord of Croy who furnished the money needful. Now, fare you well,
and Heaven give you guidance!"
Thus saying, he departed, without waiting for farther question; and
Richard of Woodville rising, dressed himself in haste in the same
clothes which he had worn the day before, but which he now found
carefully dried and ready for his use.
"I must have slept sound, boy," he said, speaking to the page, who
remained beside him; "for I do not think that at any other time my
clothes could have been taken away from my bed side, and I not know
it."
"You did sleep sound, sir knight," replied the page, laughing; "and
talked in your sleep, moreover, while we were looking at you. But I
can tell you who the lady was at Montl'herry, if you must needs know,
as well as the clerk, for I saw her once speaking with the guard."
"Say, say!" cried Richard of Woodville, impatiently. "I would fain
know, for she must be in peril, if left behind."
"Why, it was the fair demoiselle," answered the page, "who went with
us from Nieuport to Ghent. I caught but a glimpse of her, indeed; but
that bright face is not easily forgotten when once it has been seen."
"And yet I never thought of her!" murmured Richard of Woodville to
himself: "poor girl, her deep gratitude would have merited better
remembrance. Why smile you, boy? Every honourable man is bound to
recollect all who trust him, and all who serve him."
"Nay, sir," replied the page, resuming a grave look, "I did but smile
to think how often ladies remember knights and gentlemen, when they
are themselves forgot."
"A sad comment on the baseness of man's nature," answered Woodville;
"let it never be so with you, boy. Now, see for the old monk; my purse
is very empty, but I would not that he should call me niggard."
Some minutes passed before the page returned; but when he appeared he
came not alone, nor empty handed, for the old man was with him who had
conducted the fugitive to his chamber the night before; and the one
carried a large bottle and a tin cup, while the other was loaded with
a pasty and a loaf of brown bread. Such refreshment was very
acceptable to the young knight; but the good monk hurried him at his
meal, telling him that his party were waiting for him; and, finishing
the repast as soon as possible, Woodville rose and put a piece of gold
into his good purveyor's hand, saying, "That for your house, father.
Now I am ready."
On going out into the little court between the priory and the abbey,
he found some twelve or fourteen men mounted; and at the call of the
monk who accompanied him, a party of six Canonesses and two novices,
all closely veiled, came forth from the little lodge by the gate. They
were soon upon the mules which stood ready for them; but the good
ladies eyed with an inquiring glance the young stranger who was about
to join their party; and one of them, as she marked the knightly spurs
he wore, turned to her companions, and made some observation which
created a light-hearted laugh amongst those around. The moment after,
they issued forth from the gates, and rode on at a quick pace in the
direction of Gisors.
The day was evidently far advanced, but the sun, though somewhat past
his meridian, was still very powerful, so that the horses were
distressed with the heat. The commander of the men-at-arms, however,
would permit no relaxation of their speed, much to the annoyance of
the fair Canonesses, who had every inclination to amuse the tedious
moments of the journey by chattering with the young knight, and the
other persons who escorted them. In reply to their remonstrances, the
leader told them that if they did not make haste, they would get
entangled between the two armies, and then worse might come of it.
"Besides," he said, "we have strict orders from our lord the Duke to
take part with neither French nor English; and it would be a hard
matter to fall in with either, and not strike one stroke for the
honour of our arms."
Judging from his reply that he must have some knowledge of the
relative position of the two hosts, Richard of Woodville endeavoured
to gain intelligence from him, as to both the events which had lately
taken place in France, and those which were likely to follow; but the
man seemed sullen, and unwilling to communicate with his companion of
the way, replying to all questions merely by a monosyllable, or by the
assertion that he did not know.
Thus passed by hour after hour, during their first and second day's
journey, which brought them to the small town of Breteuil. They had
hitherto paused either for the purpose of seeking repose, or of taking
refreshment, at religious houses only; but at Breteuil they took up
their lodging for the night at the inn of the place, which they found
vacant of all guests. The town, too, as they entered it, seemed
melancholy and nearly deserted; but the tongue of the good host made
up for the stillness which reigned around; and from him Richard of
Woodville discovered that the apparent abandonment of the place by its
inhabitants was caused partly by the dread which some of the more
wealthy townsmen had felt on the near approach of several large
detachments of English troops, and partly by the zeal of the younger
portion of the population, which had led them to proceed in arms to
join the royal standard raised against the invaders. From him, too,
the young knight found that the King of England, at the head of his
army, was marching rapidly up the Somme, in order to force the passage
of that river, but that, as all the fords were strictly guarded, and
French troops in immense multitudes were gathering on the opposite
bank, it was scarcely possible that many days could pass without a
battle.
"'Twas but yesterday at this hour," said the host, "that news reached
the town that a fight had taken place at Fremont; and then, this
morning we heard it was all false, and that the English King has not
yet passed the river."
"Where was he when last you heard of him?" demanded Richard of
Woodville, taking care to use the French tongue, which he spoke with
less accent, perhaps, than most of the inhabitants of distant
provinces.
"Oh, he was at Bauvillers," answered the landlord of the hostel, "and
he wont get much farther without fighting, I fancy; for he has got St.
Quentin on his right, and our people before him. Heaven send that he
may not march back again; for then, he would come right through
Breteuil; and we are poor enough without being pillaged by those
vagabond English. I wonder your Duke does not come to the King's help,
with all his gallant men-at-arms, for then these proud islanders would
be caught in a net, and could not get out."
"It is a wonder," answered Richard of Woodville. "But, hark! and, as
he listened, he heard two sweet voices talking in the hall, in a
tongue that sounded like English to his ear.
"I am sure of it," said the one, "and if it be so, I beseech you own
it. My heart beat so, I can scarcely speak; but, I say again, I am
sure of it; and that if you will, you have the power not alone to
punish the guilty, for that, perhaps, you may not desire--"
"Yes I do," replied the other, in a somewhat sharper tone; "and in my
own good time, I will do it."
"To punish the guilty, the time is your own," replied the first voice;
"but, to save the innocent from utter destruction, there is no time
but the present."
"Ha! you must tell me more," said the second, in a tone of surprise;
"from utter destruction, did you say? Let us to our chamber. There we
can speak at ease."
Richard of Woodville heard no more; but what he did hear cast him into
deep thought; and when the next morning they again set out upon their
journey, he gazed with an inquiring eye at the Canonesses and their
companions--and, mingling in their conversation, endeavoured to
discover if the voices which he had heard were to be distinguished
amongst them. They all laughed and talked gaily with him, however, in
the French tongue; and he came to the conclusion, that though the host
had assured him the inn was vacant when he and his party arrived, some
other guests must have passed the night within its walls.
On their way during this day, he remarked that the leader of the
men-at-arms inquired often and anxiously, in every town and village,
for news of the two armies. Little information did he gain, except
from vague reports; but some of these, it would appear, induced him to
alter his course towards Amiens, and strike off to the right, in the
direction of Peronne. The young knight had not been inattentive to
everything that was said, and he heard that the King of France, and
all his nobility, were certainly gathered together in the direction of
Bapaume, while the rumour grew stronger and more strong, that the
English army had effected the passage of the Somme at some unguarded
ford, in the neighbourhood of St. Quentin, and was boldly marching on
towards Calais.
Such tidings, as the reader may well suppose, caused not a little
agitation in the mind of the young soldier. Apprehension, lest a
battle should be fought and he be absent, was certainly the
predominant sensation; but, still he had to ask himself, even if he
arrived in time, where arms were to be procured, and a horse fit to
bear him through such a strife as that which was likely to take place?
The beast he rode, though swift and enduring, was far too lightly
formed to carry a knight equipped according to the fashion of that
day; and no weapons of any kind did he possess, but the dagger which
he had retained when captured.
It seemed clear to him, also, that the leader of the Burgundian
men-at-arms, had, in common with most of his countrymen, a strong
inclination to take part with the French, who were naturally
considered as kinsmen and allies, against the English, who were looked
upon as strangers and enemies; and he felt convinced that the
soldier's course had been altered in the hope, that, by falling in
with the troops of the King of France, he might find a fair excuse for
disobeying the more politic orders of his Prince, and take a share in
the approaching combat.
Such thoughts brought with them some doubts of his own safety; and
assuredly the dull, taciturn, and repulsive demeanour of the commander
of the troop, was not calculated to win confidence. It was evident,
however, that orders--which he trusted would meet with some
respect--had been laid upon his sullen companion, to treat him with
deference, and attend to his comfort and convenience; for, at every
place where they stopped by the way, the best chamber, after their
fair charge had been attended to, was assigned to himself; and it was
not without permission that the men-at-arms sat down to the same table
with him, affecting much to reverence his knightly rank.
At length, after a long and hard day's ride, the party reached
Peronne, on the evening of the second day after quitting Breteuil; and
as they approached the gates, the young knight's confidence was
somewhat restored, by the leader of the men-at-arms riding up to his
side, and saying, in a low tone, "I pray you, sir knight, be careful
here, and give no hint of your being an Englishman; for we are coming
on dangerous ground."
"I will be careful, my good friend," replied Richard of Woodville;
"and to say the truth, if we can discover where the King of England
is, it may be as well for me to quit your party soon, as I may bring
danger upon you for no purpose."
"We shall soon near more," replied the soldier, "but you had better be
beyond the walls of Peronne, before you part from us."
The scantiness of the band, and the title of Burgundian soldiers, soon
obtained admission for the little party; but all was found in a state
of bustle and activity within the town; and every tongue was full of
the late passage of the King of England, at a short distance from the
place. Great was the bravado of the inhabitants, who universally
declared, that they wished he had sat down before their walls, to
afford them an opportunity of showing what glorious deeds they would
have performed; and all spoke of the condition of the English troops
as lamentable, and their fate sealed. The approaching battle was
looked forward to as a certain triumph for the arms of France, and
rather as a great slaughter of a flying enemy, than a conflict with a
powerful force. The very monks of the monastery where the men-at-arms
received entertainment, while the Canonesses were lodged in the
adjoining nunnery, were full of the same martial spirit; and a few
years earlier, it is probable, their superior would have put himself
in armour to aid in the destruction of the foe. Frequently was Richard
of Woodville appealed to as a knight, to pronounce upon the likelihood
of King Henry surrendering at discretion; and some difficulty had he
so to shape his answers as to escape suspicion.
From the conversation which took place, however, he learned that his
own sovereign was in the neighbourhood of a small town at no great
distance; and he resolved, as soon as he was free from the walls of
Peronne, to hurry thither without any farther delay. He ventured,
during the evening, to issue forth for a short time into the city, in
the hope of being able to purchase arms: but scarcely any were to be
found in the town: and such had been the demand for good armour, that
the price had risen far beyond his scanty means. All that he could
afford to buy was a strong, well-tempered sword of a somewhat antique
form, which he found in the shop of an armourer; and even for that the
price demanded was enormous.
Returning to the monastery, he soon escaped from a sort of
conversation that was by no means pleasant to his ear, by retiring to
rest; and though for some time he did not sleep, yet when slumber did
visit his eyelids, she came soft and balmy. The troubled thoughts died
away--the anxious questioning of the unsatisfied mind ceased--the wild
throbbing of the eager heart for the coming of the undeveloped hours,
found repose; and he woke calm and refreshed with the first dawn of
day, to meet whatever might be in store, with a spirit prepared and
ready, and a body reinvigorated by the alternation of exertion and
rest.
The monastery was one of those, not at all uncommon in those days, in
which the vow of seclusion did not by any means exclude contrivances
for enjoying at least some communion with the world. It was not
surrounded by stern walls, and a large wing of the building rested
upon the street, with windows small and high up indeed, and only
lighting the chambers appropriated to the use of visitors, but which
often afforded the monks themselves an excellent view of what was
passing in the town without. In dressing himself with as much care as
circumstances would permit, Richard of Woodville approached one of
these narrow casements, and gazed out upon the gay scene that was
enacted below; and, though so early, multitudes of people were to be
seen passing along. While some stood for a moment gossiping with their
neighbours, some were hurrying forward to their busy day, and others
pausing to watch a considerable body of men-at-arms, who, in somewhat
bad array, and without the display of much soldier-like order, came
down from a house farther up.
When he saw them at a distance, the young knight's first thought was,
"If all the French troops are like these, it will be no very difficult
task to win a field of them." But as the troop came on, and the three
leaders riding in front, passed under the window, he was struck by the
arms of one of them who appeared in the middle. He could have sworn
that the armour in which the knight was habited was familiar to his
eye; and it must be recollected that the ornaments which covered the
harness of a man-at-arms in those days were rarely the same, so that
means of identification were always at hand, such as we do not possess
in the present times. But there, before his eyes, if he could believe
their testimony, was the identical suit which had been sent to him by
good Sir Philip Beauchamp, shortly before he left the shores of
England. There were the fan-shaped palettes, with the quaint gilt
figures in the corners, and the upturned pauldrons with the edge of
gold, and the bacinet shaped like a globe, with the enamelled plate on
the forehead bearing "Ave, Maria!"
There could be no doubt that it was the same; and Woodville's brow
knit for a moment, and his teeth closed tight. But the next instant he
smiled again, asking half aloud, "How could a prisoner of near two
years escape pillage? If I meet you in the field, my friend, I will
have that harness back again for Mary's sake, or I will lie low."
Thus saying, he resumed his toilet, and the troop passed on. A moment
after, he heard a voice singing, and turning to the window again he
looked out. The sounds did not come from below; but there was a large
projecting mass of building, with loopholes on the three sides, which
protruded into the street on his right; and it seemed to him that the
sounds came thence. He listened, and caught some of the words; but
every now and then they died away in the cadence of a wild French air
of the period, but those he could distinguish seemed so well suited to
his situation at the time, that he strove eagerly to hear more:--
"Away, away, to the field of fame,
Gallant knight, gallant knight, hie away,"
were the first sounds he could make out; but the next stanza was more
distinct, and went on thus, in the French tongue:--
"Think of thy lady at home in her bower,
On her knees, for her lord to pray,
Think of her terror and hope in the hour
When your banner floats proud in array,
Well aday!
"Away, away, to the field of fame,
Gallant knight, gallant knight, hie away!
For King, for country, and deathless name
Is each stroke that is stricken to-day,
Trara la, trara la, trara lay!
"The hopes of years and the fame of life
Are lost or won ere evening's ray.
Thy father's spirit looks down on the strife,
And bids thee to battle away,
Well aday!
"Away, away, to the field of fame,
Gallant knight, gallant knight, hie way!
For king, for country, and deathless name
Is each stroke that is stricken to-day,
Trara la, trara la, trara lay!"
As he was listening for more, a knock was heard at the door of his
chamber, and bidding the applicant come in, Richard of Woodville was
somewhat surprised to see the personage whom we have designated as the
clerk's man, enter in some haste.
"I thought you were still sleeping, sir knight," he said; "but I
ventured to wake you, as, by Heaven's good will, it seems there will
be a battle shortly, and methought you would like to hear such
tidings, and be present at such a deed."
"I have heard that such is likely to be the case," answered Woodville,
"and am eager enough to set out, my friend. But how came you here? and
where have you left your master?"
"Oh, I have followed you close," the man replied; "I only waited to
see that the enemy's hounds had not got scent of the deer; but the
slot has been crossed by so many other herds, that they soon lost the
track. I have wakened master Isambert, who leads the Duke's party, and
he will be in the saddle in half an hour. As to my master, he has gone
by the other road, and I dare to say has joined Sir John at
Brettenville, or Beauvillers, or where they passed the Somme."
"Is this Isambert very faithful, think you?" asked the young knight.
"Not too much so," replied the man, calmly; "but in your case he dare
as soon give his throat to the knife, as do you wrong; for the Duke,
and the Count, and the Lord of Croy, would all have bloody vengeance,
if aught of evil befel you ere you are with your own people. However,
it will not be amiss to quit him soon; for I find a body of his own
folks have just marched out under Robinet de Bournonville--as wild a
marauder as ever a wild land brought forth; and it is well to get out
of such company when they are too many; for what one man dare not do,
a number think nothing of."
"Then," said the young knight, "this good Isambert's arrival at Triel
was not a matter of chance, as I thought it?"
"Oh, no!" replied the other; "he came thither on purpose to give you
aid. He might have saved fifteen leagues by another road; but the
Duke's commands were not to be disobeyed. However, noble knight, you
had better get some breakfast; for Heaven only knows when we shall
have an opportunity of putting anything into our mouths again. You
might as well follow a flight of locusts, they tell me, as our army.
The refectioner is serving out meat to the men, and mead, too, for we
have quitted the land of wine."
The young knight bade him go and provide for himself; and, soon
following, he took a hasty meal before he mounted with the rest. The
whole party were speedily in the saddle; the streets of the town were
soon passed, and the gates of Peronne closed behind them.