THE MYSTERY.
It is quite right and proper to suppose that the reader is thoroughly
acquainted with the position, situation, and peculiarities of every
town, to which we may be pleased to lead him; and, therefore, it may
be unnecessary to remind him, that Peronne is surrounded by marshy
ground, which soon gives way to a hilly country, which, at the time I
speak of, was of a very wild and desolate character. The party of
Burgundian horse, with Richard of Woodville and the fair Canonesses,
rode on through this track towards Arras, at the same quick pace as
during the preceding part of their journey; and even the ladies
themselves were glad to keep their mules at a rapid amble; for the
weather had undergone a sudden change, and a foul north-easterly wind
was blowing sharp, cutting them to the marrow. The troop was now
increased by the presence of the clerk's servant; and with him, as
they went, the young English gentleman held more than one
consultation, which resulted in Woodville adopting the resolution of
quitting the escort, shortly after passing the Abbey of Arrouaise,
where it was proposed that they should stop to dine.
The whole party, however, were destined to be disappointed of their
comfortable meal; for when, after passing Feuillancourt, Rancourt, and
Sailly, they approached the gates of the monastery, and rang the great
bell, no one responded to the summons for some time. As they sat upon
their horses waiting for admission, the sight of a neighbouring barn
burnt to the ground, and still smoking, showed them that some party of
pillagers had passed that morning; and they began to think that the
monastery was deserted, which was certainly the case with the little
village itself. The sound of voices within, however, at length induced
them to make another application to the bell; and, after a short
pause, a monk's head appeared at the window over the gate, exclaiming,
"Get you gone, brothers, get you gone. You cannot enter here."
The leader of the troop remonstrated, and announced his name as
Isambert of Agincourt; but the reply was still the same, the monk
adding, by way of explanation, "We have suffered too much from you all
already this morning. We will open our gates to none, and we have
cross-bow men within, who will shoot if you do not retire. Do you not
see the barns burning?"
"But that was done by the savage Englishmen," replied Isambert; "we
are friends. We are men of Burgundy."
"So were these," answered the monk; "but the Duke and the English
understand each other; for that sacrilegious villain, Robinet de
Bournonville, had Englishmen with him. Get you gone, I will hear no
more; and if you do not go, the men shall shoot."
The sight of several men upon the wall, with cross-bows in their
hands, gave effect to the old man's words; and Isambert withdrew
slowly, muttering curses at his friend, Robinet de Bournonville, for
depriving him of his dinner. When he reached the bottom of the next
slope, he halted to consult his companions and Richard of Woodville,
as to what was to be done to procure food for themselves and for their
horses; and he finally determined to return to Sailly, where a good
hostel had been observed as they passed.
But Richard of Woodville took this opportunity of separating himself
from the rest of the party, and announced his intention to Isambert of
Agincourt, who seemed by no means sorry to get rid of him. The clerk's
man and his own page were the only companions whom the young gentleman
expected to go with him; and he was not a little surprised when the
two novices drew aside from the ladies of Cambray, and the taller of
the two begged that he would have the kindness to give them the
benefit of his escort as far as Hesdin, saying, "We were on our way to
Amiens, and thence to Montreuil, and not to Arras, whither, it seems
now, this noble gentleman is bending his steps."
One of the Canonesses interposed a remonstrance, representing the
danger of falling in with some party of English troops; but she did
not venture to use a tone of authority, as the novices belonged to
another Order; and the young lady who had already spoken, replied
briefly, in a resolute and somewhat haughty tone, "that she had no
fear, and, knowing what it was her duty to do, should do it."
"Well, settle the matter as you please, fair ladies," cried Isambert
of Agincourt; "only be quick, for I have no time to lose;" and no
farther opposition being made, Richard of Woodville undertook to
protect, as far as he could, the two novices on the way, only warning
them in general terms, that as soon as he discovered the exact
position of the armies, he must join them; promising, however, to send
on his page and the man with them to Hesdin. This being understood, he
took leave of the commander of the men-at-arms; and choosing the first
road to the left, under the direction of the clerk's man, who seemed
thoroughly acquainted with the whole country, he proceeded for some
way at a quick pace, till they reached a village, which seemed to have
escaped the predatory propensities of the soldiery on both parts, and
there paused to feed his horses, and to procure some refreshment for
himself and his companions.
Though he had tried to entertain the two young ladies to the best of
his power as they rode along, either their notions of propriety, or
some anxiety in regard to their situation, rendered them cold and
taciturn in their communications; and, unlike the gay Canonesses from
whom they had just parted, they neither seemed inclined to converse
with the knight or with each other, nor ever raised their veils to
take a coquettish look at the country through which they passed. They
now refused refreshment, also, saying, "It is not our habit to eat
with men;" and as the house, at which they had bought some bread and
mead, had but one public room, Richard of Woodville, with his two male
companions, retired to the door while the horses fed, and left the shy
novices to partake of what was set upon the table if they thought fit.
While there, the young knight entered into conversation with the good
peasant who supplied them, and, though the jargon which the man spoke
was scarcely intelligible, made out, that the English army had marched
from Acheux on the preceding day, and had encamped the night before
amongst the villages near the source of the Canche. Of the movements
of the French army he could learn nothing, however, which led him to a
false belief, that he was likely to meet with no interruption from the
enemy in following the march of his own sovereign.
As the young knight rode on, and came into the country through which
the English army had passed, the sad and terrible effects of that
barbarous system of warfare, which was universal in those times, made
themselves visible at every step. Houses and villages burnt, cattle
slaughtered and left half consumed by the wayside, and fruit trees cut
down for the purpose of lighting fires, presented themselves all along
the road; and the painful feelings which such a scene could not but
produce were aggravated by the lamentations of the villagers, who felt
no terror at the appearance of a party consisting of women and of men
without any arms except those usually worn in time of peace, and who
poured forth their complaints to Woodville's ear, pointing to their
ruined dwellings, and their little property destroyed, and cursing the
ambition of kings, and the ferocity of their soldiery.
The young knight felt grieved and sorrowful; but he was surprised to
find that the bitterness of the peasantry was less excited against the
English themselves, than he had expected; and, on guiding the
conversation with one of these poor men in a direction which he
thought would lead to some explanation of the fact, the villager
replied vehemently, "The English are not so bad as our own people.
They are enemies, and we might expect worse at their hands; but,
wherever the King or his brothers were, they destroyed little or
nothing, and only took what they wanted. But, since they have passed,
we have had two bands of Frenchmen, who have destroyed everything that
the English left, on the pretence that we favoured them, though they
knew that we could not resist. The Duke of York took my meat and my
flour; but he left my house standing, and injured no one in the place.
That cursed Robinet de Bournonville, and his companion the captain
Vodeville, burnt down my house and carried off my daughter."
The young knight consoled the poor man as well as he could, and gave
him a piece of silver, thinking it somewhat strange, indeed, that one
of Bournonville's companions should have a name so nearly resembling
his own. He and his companions rode on, however, still finding that
the band, which he had seen issue forth from Peronne in the morning,
had gone on before them, till they reached the town of Acheux, which
was well nigh deserted. Most of the houses were closed and the doors
nailed up; but they had evidently been broken into by the windows, and
had been rifled of all their contents. In the mere hovels, indeed,
some cottagers were seen; and on inquiring of one of these where they
could find any place of rest, as night was coming on, the man led them
to a large, ancient, embattled mansion in the centre of the town,
which, though stripped of everything easily portable, still contained
some beds and pallets. An old woman was found in the house, which
she said belonged to the Lord of Acheux, and for a small piece of
silver she agreed to make the strangers as comfortable as she could,
seeming--perhaps, from old experience of such things--perhaps, from
the obtuseness of age--to feel the horrors of war less keenly than any
one they had yet met with. Money, however, made all her faculties
alive, and declaring that she knew, notwithstanding the pillage which
the place had undergone, where to procure corn for the cattle, and
bread, eggs, and even wine, for the party, she set out upon her
search, while Woodville and his two male companions led the horses and
mules to the vacant stable, and the two novices remained in one of the
desolate chambers up the great flight of stairs.
When the beasts had been tied to the manger, the young knight returned
with the man and the boy to their fair companions; but the old woman
had not yet returned; and as night was falling fast, he lighted a
small lamp which he found in the kitchen, and returned with it to the
chamber above. A few minutes after, while he was expressing his sorrow
to the two maidens that he could find no better lodging for them, the
sound of a small party of horse was heard below, and a voice exclaimed
in English, "Ah! there is a light--I will lodge here, Matthew. Take my
casque. This cursed cuirass pinches me on the shoulder: unbuckle this
strap. Keep a watch for Ned, or any one he may send."
The voice was not unfamiliar to Richard of Woodville; and a heavy
frown gathered upon his brow. His first impulse was to lay his hand
upon his sword, and take a step towards the door; but then,
remembering what fearful odds there might be against him, he turned to
the window and looked out. He could distinguish little but that there
were ten or twelve men below; and as he gazed, a step was heard upon
the stairs. The young gentleman turned hastily to close and bolt the
door; but to his surprise he beheld the taller of the two novices with
the lamp in her hand, walking rapidly towards the entrance; and
turning towards him, she said in a stern and solemn tone, "Leave him
to me!"
The next instant she had passed the door; and when Richard of
Woodville reached it and looked out into the gloomy corridor, he could
see her, by the lamp that she held in her hand, meet Simeon of Roydon,
upon whose face the full light fell, as he was just reaching the top
of the stairs. Her back was towards the young knight, but he perceived
that she suddenly raised her veil, and he heard her say, in English,
and in a deep and solemn tone, "Ha! Have you come at length?"
Whatever might have been the import of those words on the ear of him
to whom they were addressed, he staggered, fell back, and would have
been precipitated from the top to the bottom of the stairs, had he not
by a convulsive effort grasped the rope that ran along the wall The
light was instantly extinguished, and the moment after Richard felt
the novice's hand laid upon his arm, drawing him back into the room.
They all listened, and steps were heard rapidly descending the stairs,
followed by the voice of Simeon of Roydon exclaiming, "No, no, I
cannot lodge here--I will not lodge here! Mount, and away. We will go
on."
"But, noble knight," said another voice,--
"Away, away!" cried Simeon of Roydon again. "Mount! or by Heaven--"
and immediately there came the sound of armed men springing on their
horses, the tramp of the chargers as they rode away, and the fainter
noise of their departing feet.
"In the name of Heaven, who are you?" demanded Richard of Woodville,
addressing her who had produced such a strange effect.
"One whom he bitterly injured in former days," replied the novice;
"and whom he dares not face even now. Ask no more: that is enough!"
"It were well to quit this place," said the other girl, in a low
voice. And the clerk's man urged the same course, adding, "He may take
heart and return,--besides, he spoke of some one coming."
Richard of Woodville remained in silence, meditating deeply for
several minutes, with his arms folded on his chest, and his eyes bent
down. The faint outline of his figure was all that could be seen in
the dim semi-darkness that pervaded the room; but the novice who had
proposed to go, approached him gently, and laying her hand upon his
arm, again urged it, saying, "Had we not better go?"
"Well," said the young knight, starting from his reverie as if
suddenly awakened from a dream, "let us go. But yet a cold night ride,
with no place of shelter for two young and tender things like you, is
no slight matter. Run down, boy, and light the lamp again--"
"No, no, no!" cried one of the two ladies, eagerly. "Light it not! let
us go at once.--Hark! there is some one below."
"The old woman's step," cried the page; "I will run down and see what
she has got."
He returned in a moment with the good dame, bearing more than she had
promised. She easily understood the reason why the light which she
offered was refused; and after taking some wine and bread, the whole
party descended to the stable, whence the horses were brought forth;
and Richard of Woodville, paying her well for her trouble and her
provisions, bade the page take the remainder of the bread to feed the
poor beasts, when they could venture to pause. In less than a quarter
of an hour the young knight and his companions were once more on their
way, under the direction of the clerk's man, who proposed that they
should bear a little towards Doulens, which would lead them out of the
immediate track that the English army had followed.