"Thou art happy and peaceful here? There is naught that frights or
disturbs you?"
A little flicker passed over the statue-like features. A slight tremor
of the mouth, and a quiver of the eyelids, showed the nun was suffering
from some not quite controlled emotion. Bending her head a little down,
and keeping her eyes more than ever on the ground, she said, in her
bell-like voice,--
"Noble sir, there is naught that frights us."
"And this girl, who is she?" asked the Captain.
"'Tis a child which hath been brought hither for our Prioress to tend."
"Hath she no relatives here?"
"Nay, I know not; but she is well with us," said the nun, looking at the
child with affection. It was the first expression of softer feeling
that had yet come into her face.
The child returned her look with love and bright confidence.
"Thou art happy here?" said Yolande.
"Ay, truly am I," replied the girl; "now I know father will be safe."
"And who is thy father, sweet child?"
"He is a noble knight, but I may not tell his name," said the girl.
"Dost thou know, holy sister?" said Yolande, unable to repress her
natural curiosity.
The nun looked a trifle surprised, as if not expecting such a breach of
manners in so high-born a damsel, but she replied, as coldly as ever,--
"Nay, I know naught that passeth in the world. None who enter here have
name, or kin on earth."
Yolande shivered. It seemed like talking to a ghost.
As her thirst was now assuaged, and none of the others would take any
more--although Lord Woodville took an apple from the pretty child, and
in doing so availed himself of the opportunity of slipping a gold coin
on to the dish, the nun withdrew as silently as she came, and the girl
accompanied her, giving another nod of friendly farewell to Ralph.
"'Tis getting late, Lord Woodville, and I must be riding home," said
Yolande. "Where my father hath gotten to, I know not; and as for my
poor Breton, good lack!" and she broke into a merry laugh.
They rode away from the peaceful vale, the long shadows of evening
falling across the plain, and the chill mist of the marshland rising in
white film around. They were a silent party. Lord Woodville was
plunged in deep reverie. Yolande could not strike any sparks of wit out
of Ralph, who worshipped her far too seriously to be quite at home and
at his ease, and took in serious dudgeon the playful raillery with which
his cousin treated him on the subject of the dark-eyed damsel.
"You silly boy, you think you are fond of me; but when you reach the age
of manhood, and are of an age to marry, the lady of your choice will be
one who is now a girl of just that little one's age. You mark my
words."
"And what do you call the right age to marry?" asked the crestfallen
Ralph.
"Oh, not before you are thirty or forty, or fifty or sixty. There!
I'll marry you when I am sixty. So now go and be happy, and grow as
fast as you can; in wisdom, at least, for your body is big enough, good
lack!"
As they rode back into the more cultivated land they met parties of two
or three of the expedition returning from the chase; and as they passed
Arreton Church they fell in with Sir William Lisle, who had been looking
for his daughter, accompanied by Sir Amand de la Roche Guemene, who was
mounted on a fresh horse.
"Marry, Sir Amand, where's thy horse?" laughed Yolande.
"Pardie, mademoiselle, zat I cannot tell. I left 'im in ze vase."[*]
[*] "Vase," Anglice "mud."
"What vase?" said the astonished Yolande. "It must be a mighty big one
if it can hold a horse."
"_Foi de mon ordre!_ no; it would sallow 'im as easy as anyzing, and me
too, 'ad I been ze fool to stop on 'im."
"Good lack! a vase swallow a horse and man? The poor man's lost his
wits!" cried Yolande, while Ralph looked very much astonished, and began
to laugh.
"Vat you go for to laugh, young man?" said the disconcerted and puzzled
Breton. "Is zere anyzing drole in ze vase svalloving a man?"
"Why, beshrew me, there is!" said old Sir William Lisle. "Thou hast got
hold of the wrong word; 'tis mud thou meanest, not a vase. Good lack!
good lack! how these munseers do show their ignorance."
As Yolande and her father were not going back to Carisbrooke Castle,
they took leave of their noble host, and rode away across the downs to
Briddlesford, which lay at the head of the long winding creek which
flowed in from the Solent, while the others pursued their way back to
the castle.
The Captain of the Wight seemed plunged into a deeper reverie than ever,
and scarcely spoke one word the whole way back. Ralph's mind was full
of the tournament, and of the Abbot's promise to let him have money
enough to equip himself as became an aspirant to chivalry.
As soon as he had an opportunity, he took Maurice Woodville and Dicky
Cheke aside and told them of his good fortune.
"My faith, Lisle, you are in luck. How much will he give you?"
"I don't know; but he said he would tell old Langstoke to let me have
what I wanted."
"Well, an I were you, I'd strike while the iron is hot. I should get
leave from old Jack-in-Harness to go down to-night, and lose no time.
There's only six days before the Feast of St Michael," said Maurice
Woodville.
"Ay, so should I," said Dicky Cheke. "And, I say, Lisle, ask him to let
us go too. We can help you; you're such a simpleton, any chapman can
cheat you. You big fellows always are stupid and easily overreached."
Giving Dicky Cheke a tweak of the nose, which caused that young
gentleman to rush after him as he left the room, and kick violently
against the door, which Ralph prudently shut, with happy promptitude,
behind him, Master Lisle went off to look for Sir John Trenchard.
He tapped at the door of the knight's apartments, and hearing a voice
say "Come in," he opened the door, and found Bowerman reclining on a
couch, his head bandaged and his eyes closed. He was alone.
"Who's that?" said the wounded page.
"Oh, Bowerman, I am grievous sad to see you look in such parlous case,"
said Ralph, his conscience pricking him for not having inquired after,
or been to see, his wounded comrade before.
At the sound of Ralph's voice, Bowerman's face flushed up; and in a
voice whose tones expressed concentrated hate, he said,--
"You fiend you! who asked you to come here?"
"Well, Bowerman, I don't see why you should bear me such ill-will.
'Twas not my fault you met with your mishap."
"Yes, it was. If you had not aimed at the beaver,[*] which you know
well enough is the weakest part of the whole armour, I should not have
got that splinter in my cheek."
[*] The visor.
"But," said Ralph, taken aback by this novel ground of accusation, "you
could have aimed at mine; and, besides, the beaver would never have come
open, had it been tightly clasped."
"That's all as may be! but I knew you had never done anything of the
kind before, so I hit you where there was least danger; and in return
for my good nature, you took a cowardly advantage of me."
Ralph coloured up.
"Bowerman, I have told you I am grieved you are hurt--if I could do
anything to help you, I would; but, because you are wounded, you have no
right to say such unjust and untrue things."
"There, that's just like your mean, lily-livered nature. Here I lie,
unable to get up and punish you, all through your own base fault, and
then you come in when no one is here, and tell me I tell lies!"
Ralph felt his temper rising, but he kept as calm as he could.
"You know, Bowerman, you are not just. But as you are suffering, I will
not get angry. I can do nothing for you, then?"
"Ay, marry can you, and that speedily--get out of this room!"
At this moment Lady Trenchard entered.
"Ah, Master Lisle, that is right courteous of you, and as one of gentle
birth should do, to come and visit your discomfited comrade. I
marvelled you had not come afore. But I heard you were out with the
Lord Captain, and so I told Master Bowerman."
Ralph felt a little uncomfortable. He did not deserve these excuses,
for he had forgotten all about Bowerman. Lady Trenchard went on.
"Tell us now what sport you had. 'Twill cheer us up, and be as good as
a tale for your comrade. 'Twill be kind in him, will it not, Master
Bowerman?"
But the wounded page only tossed on his couch and uttered a sound, half
groan, half smothered exclamation of furious rage.
"Ah, poor lad! he suffers much. I fear me these are febrile signs.
'Twill be well to have the worthy and pious Sir Simon Halbard to bleed
him. He is something of a leech, and was infirmarer once, I heard, at
Quarr Abbey; but thy tale will solace him, and take away his thoughts
from the pain of the wound."
Ralph longed to get away, but he was too polite to refuse to do what
Lady Trenchard asked him. He began--determining to make the narrative
as brief as possible--to tell the chief events of the afternoon.
As he told of the Breton knight being stuck in the mud, a grunt of
satisfaction proceeded from Bowerman.
"Ah! thou seest, Master Lisle. I told thee thy tale would solace him,
and help to drive away his pain," said Lady Trenchard complacently.
When Ralph came to the nuns, and told how they had so willingly brought
refreshment for Yolande, of whom, by the way, he scarcely spoke at all,
Lady Trenchard remarked,--
"Ah, the Lady Abbess of Saint Clare, without Aldgate, wrote to me to go
over and see the two new sisters who have come down of late. I am glad
thou hast reminded me of this, fair page. There is one in whom she
taketh much concern, as fearing for her health. She hath had trials in
the world, and hath not yet gotten cured of them. And so thou rodest
all day with the fair Mistress Yolande?" added the grave and erect Lady
Trenchard, with a penetrating glance.
Ralph grew very red.
"Yea, my lady--that is, nay. She rode with my Lord Captain, and I
waited on him, as was my duty."
"Ay, and so she rode with the Captain? Like enough, like enough!"
Then, after a pause she added, as if in a soliloquy, "Ah well, she won't
make much of him, poor lass. His heart's been broke these twelve years
or more. 'Tis a sad story, and not one you lads would care to hear."
"Yes, I should, Dame Trenchard," said Bowerman shortly, while Ralph
looked up surprised. It had never crossed his mind that so exalted a
person, and so rigid as the Captain of the Wight, could possibly have a
weakness or a romance.
"Nay, nay," said Lady Trenchard, sorry she had aroused their curiosity,
"'tis a long and sad story, and not one that will give you joy.
Besides, 'twas a kinsman of Master Lisle who married the fair girl, sore
against her will; but her own true knight was away, and her father's and
the king's will had to be obeyed, and so she was wed. But not for
long--she soon died, they said; but who knows? 'Twas a sad story."
And Lady Trenchard nodded her head gravely, then shook it sadly, as if
she saw some sad mistake occurring, and lapsed into silence.
"But what of the Captain of the Wight, Dame Trenchard?" said Bowerman.
"What hath he to do in all this?"
"The Captain of the Wight! what of him?" said Lady Trenchard absently.
Her thoughts had gone off to the shortcomings of her maids, and whether
Dame Joanna Bowerman would not have looked better in a black cote
hardie, and lemon-coloured taffeta kirtle, than the yellow one which she
wore, with a bright blue bodice.
"Not but what she tireth herself well, does Joanna Bowerman. I mind her
when she was little Joanna Roucley. She always did have a liking for
smart things, and she's a woman that bears them well--I will say that
for her. But she lacked skill in colour."
"But what of the Captain?" persisted Bowerman.
"Well! what of the Captain?" said Lady Trenchard, with some slight
asperity. "I know naught of the Captain. He hath come back, I trow?"
"Yea, but you were telling me of some love affair of his."
"Marry, was I? not that I know of. You sleep now, Master Bowerman;
'twill be best for you," said Lady Trenchard decisively.
Eustace Bowerman muttered something that sounded very like "old hag,"
and "obstinate old harridan," which was quite unheeded by Lady
Trenchard; and Ralph took the opportunity to slip out of the room.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*OF THE SHARPENING OF THE COCKEREL'S SPURS.*
And now the morning of the Feast of St Michael had come. All the
preparations were complete, and the lists were ready decked. The green
sward between the stout palings, gaily painted and bedizened with flags,
was divided in the middle by a barrier, which was covered with a
gorgeous hanging, and parted the lists lengthways into two equal
divisions.
As Dicky Cheke and Ralph Lisle strolled round in the early morning--for
there was no drill that day, and all ordinary exercises were
suspended--they were delighted at the handsome appearance of the
preparations. The covered gallery or grand-stands for the ladies; the
numberless poles, gilded and painted, from which gay shields of arms
were hung, and still gayer banners and banderoles fluttered; the lavish
adornment and laborious preparations, struck them with astonishment,
although they had seen the work going on for some days past.
"In sooth, Dicky, there's been great charges here. Who pays the cost?"
"Why the Captain, certes, though the Bretons pay some of it; but 'tis
rarely done, i' faith. Thou'rt a lucky wight, Ralph, but thou wilt get
a fall to-day, for 'tis not 'gainst 'Pig's Eyes' or Bowerman thou wilt
ride, so make up thy mind to comfort thy broken bones."
"Ay, marry will I," said Ralph, laughing. "But I trust to do my devoir
without disgrace. But 'twas a sad mischance Black Tom went lame," added
the boy, changing his merry tone to a sad one. "He was _the_ horse of
all others for a tilt. Such depth of chest, such limbs and wind!
Beshrew me if I can think how he could have gone lame like that, and
only yesterday too. 'Twas a rare mischance," and Ralph looked very
downcast.
With the money, or rather the order which the Abbot of Quarr had given
to pay for all things needful to the merchant, Master Langstoke, Ralph
had bought two very serviceable horses, one a great bargain. He had
been guided in his choice by Humphrey, who was a likely man at buying
cattle. This horse had belonged to an esquire who had been killed at
the battle of Stoke, and was thoroughly broken to all the work of the
tilt-yard and the battlefield. Ralph had been delighted at getting such
an animal, and the congratulations he received upon it. Many old hands
had told him that a good horse was more than half the battle, and all
who saw Black Tom were loud in their praises of his good points.
"Ye see, Master Lisle, 'tis this way," remarked Lord Woodville's head
varlet or groom. "A 'oss that's too quiet be't no good, nor a 'oss
that's all fire. What you wants is a animal that's used to the work,
and this 'un be, for I knows 'un."
The horse was perfectly sound the night before last. Ralph had ridden
him that afternoon at a little quiet practice at the quintain first, and
then at a light tilt with Tom o' Kingston, and nothing could have been
better. But the next morning Humphrey came early with a very long face
to say that he didn't "like the looks o' Black Tom at all, he were so
tender on his near fore leg, and the pastern were all swollen like and
hot."
This was bad news. All the authorities of the castle were consulted,
and a careful examination of the tender hoof was made, with the result
that it was found that a sharp nail had penetrated the hoof, causing
severe inflammation. It was impossible that the poor animal could be
ridden for some weeks, perhaps for some months.
But how had it happened? There was the mystery; and several old hands
shook their heads, and did not hesitate to say that there had been foul
play. Ralph's disappointment was intense, and Maurice Woodville and
Dicky Cheke were profuse in their expressions of sympathy. Every one in
the castle felt for Ralph's mishap, for he was now a universal
favourite, his modesty, good nature, and brave bearing having endeared
him to every one; and he was also well known and liked in the town of
Newport, so that the news of the strange accident had spread round the
neighbourhood in very little time.
The days before the tournament had been spent in perpetual practice at
the quintain, and tilting against each other in half armour and with
very light lances, made so slight as to break with but little force. In
this way the boys had become excellent hands at aiming their spears to
the best advantage, and in becoming used to the shock of the blow, so as
to grow accustomed to the knack of holding on to the saddle with their
knees at the exact moment without losing their nerve. In these
encounters Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were very fairly matched,
and such falls as they had were pretty evenly balanced, although Dicky,
if he got the worst of it, invariably had some excellent reason for his
mishap, and was voluble in his explanations, while Maurice took it
quietly, and was even a little disconcerted by his misfortune.
Bowerman had nearly recovered, and was to be allowed to take part in the
forthcoming tourney, but he was not allowed to practise at the tilting
with the others, for fear of opening his wound again by any mischance.
He had therefore practised at the quintain, and other exercises that
taught him to aim and strike, without, however, receiving a blow in
return.
Willie Newenhall had thus been left to tilt always with Ralph Lisle, and
although the latter, when he had knocked his antagonist off once or
twice, refrained, out of pure good nature, from putting forth all his
strength and dexterity, yet "Pig's Eyes" was very wrath and sore at
being so manifestly inferior to one so much younger than himself.
More than ever the five pages were divided into sides. Newenhall and
Bowerman scarcely ever spoke to the other three, and never lost a chance
of getting them into trouble if they could, or of making them do work
which was unpleasant to themselves.
Ralph was very good-natured, and would have done anything for Bowerman,
in spite of his violent language and the manifest hatred the latter bore
him. But Dicky Cheke resented their treatment, and took every
opportunity of annoying or crossing the others. He and Woodville were
frequently the victors in this sparring of rival wits; and if only they
could get "Pig's Eyes" alone, he had a very uncomfortable time of it.
Ralph had provided for the approaching pageant with considerable wisdom,
in spite of Dicky Cheke's mistrust of his powers. He had been able to
buy, besides the two horses, a very fine suit of tilting armour, and two
splendid tunics, and close-fitting hose, with a fur mantle of the latest
fashion. The tunics were slashed, and one was made of large stripes of
orange tawny satin and delicate grey, with rich ruby velvet, and slashed
at the shoulders, elbows, and across the chest, while the hose were also
made in large stripes, but of white and pale lemon-coloured satin; rich
Cordovan leathern slippers of crimson colour protecting and adorning his
feet. This suit was for wearing after the tournament the first day.
The other suit was equally magnificent; for those who took part in the
tilt were dispensed from wearing the livery of the Captain of the Wight
for that day.
He had received by an unknown hand, a tiny silk glove, and a little
scrap of paper, on which was written in a very scrawling hand,--
"An ye ware thys, ye last course ynne,
Ye shall eke lyfe and honour winne."
This was brought him by Humphrey, wrapped up in a little packet. It had
been left for Ralph by a man who was unknown at the castle, but was
believed to live at the back of the island, and to be a fisherman. He
had been loitering about for some days past, and had latterly been
accompanied by another man, who was also believed to be a fisherman, and
who used to live at Wodyton, some years back. Ralph had been surprised
at the enclosure, and still more so at the legend, and had secretly
determined he would put the glove in his helmet before the last course,
and see what would come of it. He had not yet received any favour from
his cousin, and felt very moody and disconsolate in consequence.
As the boys were walking round admiring the arrangements, the light of
the early sun falling on the eastern walls, towers, and battlements of
the grand old castle, while the blue mist still hung over the valley,
hiding the town of Carisbrooke, out of which the fine tower of the
Priory church or chapel stood up like a tall rock in some grey lone sea,
a varlet came out of the postern gate and called to Ralph Lisle to come
into the castle-yard, where he was wanted immediately.
Ralph and Dicky Cheke followed hastily, and as they turned the corner by
the well-house they saw, standing in the full light of the sun, a
splendid horse, held by a groom in the livery and wearing the badge of
the Lord of Briddlesford, Sir William de Lisle.
As Ralph drew near, the man held up a note, saying to Ralph, to whom he
was well known,--
"My young mistress, the Lady Yolande, sends you this, with my lord's
leave. 'Tis a well-trained horse, if ever there was one, and hath borne
one in tilt and tourney, whom I'd like well enough to see here again.
But as that mayn't be, and you bear the name of Lisle, you are to ride
him; he's yours for the day--and maybe for ever."
Ralph was utterly surprised. He took the note mechanically, opened it,
and read it. It was from Yolande, and said that as she could not give
Ralph her favour, which he would see worn elsewhere, she had sent him
the best thing she could for him to win it. She deeply deplored the
accident to Black Tom, and hoped White Will would make up in some slight
way for the disappointment he had suffered. The horse had belonged to
her half-brother, and was well used to his work. "Therefore," she
added, "ride boldly, as I know you will, and fear not to press the
horse, for 'tis your own Good luck--your loving cousin--YOLANDE."
Ralph's joy was boundless. He instantly vaulted on to the noble animal,
and rode him round the yard, to the admiration of every one, excepting
Bowerman and Newenhall, the former of whom looked on with scowling brow
and sneering mouth; the latter in blank stolidity.
"I sha'n't be able to do for him to-day," muttered Bowerman; "but
to-morrow, in the fight with axes and hand-strokes, I can do somewhat."
"But you are not allowed to take part in it, Bowerman," said Willie.
"Gammon! I'll do it somehow, trust me," answered Bowerman fiercely.
While the pages were having their breakfast, they talked of nothing but
the tournament, and who were coming.
Bowerman and Newenhall, from their superior age and knowledge of the
island, as well as from having seen a tournament before at London, when
Lord Woodville had been one of the challengers, were able to lay down
the law upon all points connected with the tilt; and Dicky Cheke, who
prided himself on his great acquirements, was rather quenched.
"And the two Bretons will have two other knights to join them," Bowerman
was saying. "There's Sir Richard Cornwall, a very valiant knight, and
much skilled in tilts and jousts; but who the other is no one knows, but
I have a good guess--leastways, he is sure to be brave, and well skilled
in warlike feats."
"Well, then," said Dicky Cheke, "let's see who there is for us. There's
my brother, he'll be a good one; then there's Sir John Keineys, he who
married old Hackett's daughter, of Knighton Gorges."
"What do you know of Knighton Gorges?" broke in Bowerman. "You hold
your tongue, and listen to your betters. There's Keineys, and John
Meaux, and John Leigh of Landgard, Tichborne from Lemerston, young
Trenchard from Shalfleet, old Jack-in-Harness's nephew, Will Bruyn from
Affeton, and Dick Oglander. They are all fair enough, but I wish they
were better trained. They've all got rusty since these peaceful times
have come."
"You've forgotten Dineley of Woolverton; and I hear old Bremshot of
Gatecombe has sent over to young Dudley, who married his daughter; and
there's--"
"Oh, you have done!" broke in Bowerman angrily. "You're always talking,
and get hold of the wrong end of the story, and--"
"He doesn't," said Maurice; "and he knows as much of the island as you
do, and more, too--"
"Ay, marry, do I! And what's more, before ever your beggarly family
came here, the Chekes of Mottestone were lords of Mottestone for more
than a hundred years--"
A blow from Bowerman was the rejoinder to this remark, which Dicky
foresaw, and avoided by ducking under the table, while Maurice and Ralph
interposed to prevent any further quarrelling.
"And when do we ride our courses, Bowerman?" said Ralph, always ready to
receive information, and totally devoid of all personal vanity.
"Oh, you'll know soon enough; leastways, yours'll come after mine, and
then you'll find out."
It was now but an hour and a half before the tilt would begin. The two
boys who were to act as pages to Lord Woodville hastened to dress, and
attend upon him. It appeared he was not going to tilt, but would act as
judge and umpire with Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham.[*]
[*] Afterwards Captain of the Isle of Wight under Henry VII. and Henry
VIII.
The three pages who were going to take part in the tilt went to get
ready also, and were carefully instructed in their duties by Tom o'
Kingston.
The space around the lists was becoming crowded. There was no more
popular amusement than a tourney, and as the arrangements were very
costly, they did not very often occur in the provinces. But in a
garrison like that of Carisbroke Castle, there was always to be found
some one who would share in the expense, and earn popularity and
experience at the same time.
There was a greater amount of interest than usual on this occasion,
because there was something international in the contest, and it was
known that several of the island gentry were going to take part in it.
Punctually at a quarter to eleven the sergeant-at-arms and a body of
men-at-arms drew up in front of the apartments of the Captain of the
Wight. Another company of mounted archers followed, and drew up on
their left. Then came four trumpeters, splendidly attired in tabards,
blazoned with Lord Woodville's coat-of-arms, and another body of mounted
archers followed, succeeded by a squadron of men-at-arms, who all formed
to the left of the first detachment. The three knights-challengers now
came out of the dining-hall, armed _cap-a-pie_, and looking splendid in
their gleaming tilting armour. Each knight was distinguished by his
shield-of-arms, slung round his neck, and hanging over his left
shoulder, and his crest proudly surmounting his tilting helm. Their
esquires were waiting outside, and their varlets were leading their
horses, armed with complete body armour, and gorgeously caparisoned, up
and down. The fourth knight had not yet appeared.
As each knight mounted, there was a flourish of trumpets from the four
trumpeters; and as he settled himself in the saddle, and took the heavy
tilting-lance, richly painted and gilded, into his mailed hand, the
war-horse reared and pranced, and shook its crested head, as if proud of
the noble sport awaiting it.
When the three knights were on horseback, they drew up in front of the
trumpeters, attended by their esquires and varlets on foot, all
splendidly attired.
The Captain of the Wight had invited the chief families of the island,
and the most important of the official world, represented by the
Bailiffs of the three boroughs of Newport, Newtown or Frencheville, and
Yarmouth, and the Bailiffs of the various ecclesiastical bodies who held
land in the island--such as the Priory of Christchurch, the Monastery of
Whoreley, and of Winchester College--but the Abbot of Quarr took
precedence over all the other ecclesiastics who had been invited,
although scarcely any came. In fact, the Abbot ranked next to the
Captain of the Wight in insular precedence.
Among the ladies who looked down from the oriel window of the Captain's
apartments, the lovely face of Yolande de Lisle could be seen, and the
faces of several other well-known Isle of Wight ladies.
But as soon as the knights-challengers were mounted, there was a general
scramble of the guests to get good places in the stand erected for their
benefit. Yolande, however, had been asked by the knights-challengers to
give away the prizes, and act as queen of the tourney, she therefore
stayed to be escorted in state with the Captain of the Wight, who was to
conduct her to her throne.
And now it was the turn of the Lord Woodville and the judges of the
jousts to take up their position in the pageant. Preceded by two
gorgeously-dressed yeomen of his household, carrying silver-gilt
halberds, the Captain of the Wight took the hand of Yolande, and led her
to the hall, followed by her two maids-of-honour, who also belonged to
leading island families, and were chosen by Mistress Lisle--one was a
niece of Sir John Trenchard, the other a daughter of Master Keineys, of
Yaverland. Sir John Trenchard and Sir Nicholas Wadham followed, with
Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville in immediate attendance on the Lord
Woodville.
The appearance of the Captain of the Wight and the Queen of the
Tournament was greeted by a prolonged flourish. Their horses were in
waiting. Lord Woodville placed Yolande on her palfrey, and then mounted
himself, his nephew holding his stirrup for him.
When all were mounted, the trumpets gave another flourish. The squadron
wheeled to the right. The two leading detachments marched towards the
great west gateway, the trumpeters followed, then the three
knights-challengers fell in, with their varlets and esquires, succeeded
by the Captain of the Wight, riding beside Yolande, attended by the
other Judges and their escort, and then the remaining two squadrons of
archers and men-at-arms closed in the procession.
The cavalcade rode round over the drawbridge and under the north walls
of the castle to the rising ground which led up to the place of arms,
not yet closed in, or forming part of the castle, as it subsequently did
in Elizabeth's reign.
As they approached the lists, they were greeted with loud shouts from
the people, who had now assembled in crowds.
Mounted archers kept the ground, and yeomen in liveries, and armed with
partisans, surrounded the lists.
All those who were seated in the pavilion rose as Lord Woodville
approached. Lifting Yolande off her horse, he handed her to her throne,
which was proclaimed by three prolonged blasts of the trumpets. The
Captain of the Wight then took his own seat, after bowing to the
assembled gentry and people.
The knights-challengers had meanwhile ridden slowly into the lists, and
after pacing round them, had halted at the further end, having
previously saluted the Captain of the Wight, the Queen of the day, and
the Judges.
All was now ready. But another ceremony--for it was an age which dearly
loved ceremonies--had to be gone through.
First of all the herald belonging to the household of Lord Woodville
entered the lists and read out in a loud voice the licence for holding
the tournament; then he read over the names of three of the
knights-challengers, simply describing the fourth knight "as a right
hardie and worshipful knight." After which he proclaimed the rules of
the jousts. The most important of which were, that whoever was unhorsed
or disarmed was to be considered vanquished, and that no one, by deed,
word, or sign, was to interfere with the jousts.
Meanwhile the knights and esquires who were to encounter the
knights-challengers had collected at the other end of the lists, and
after riding round and saluting their antagonists, and the Judges, had
taken up their position outside the lists, at the opposite end to that
of their opponents.
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*HOW THE COCKEREL USED HIS SPURS.*
As the tilt which was now about to take place was merely a friendly
display of knightly prowess, and "for the honour of ladies and their
delectation," the knights were to encounter with blunted lances and
swords. The Marshal of the Lists having examined the arms, all who were
in the enclosure were ordered out, and the knights only awaited the
signal to begin.
Each knight was to ride three courses separately with his antagonist,
and then three courses again afterwards.
There was now a lull in the busy hum of conversation that had been going
on in the large crowd. Every one was on tip-toe of expectation to see
the two knights who were first to encounter.
There they sat erect, a little in front of their comrades, their lances
upright, the steel-clad figures stiff and immovable on their
gorgeously-trapped horses. Not a movement could be seen in one or the
other, only their pennons flickered in the light air, and the lambrequin
or slashed cloth mantling of their helmets blew out from time to time.
As the names of the knights and esquires who were going to take part in
the tilting had been affixed in the market-place of Newport, as well as
on the gate of Carisbrooke Castle, for some days past, together with
their coats-of-arms, the people all knew who was who.
"That's the sturdy Breton knight at that end, him in the white tabard,
with the gold dragon on his breast," said a stout yeoman, who was one of
a group of several men round a fair and buxom dame, whom Tom o'
Kingston, being on duty, could only ogle from under his visor, and who
was no other than the irresistible Polly Bremskete.
"And who's that at the other end; he looks a tough wight?"
"What, him in the gold coat and a green lion with a forked tail? That's
young Sir John Dudley, him as married Mistress Bremshott up to
Gatcombe."
"Marry! now who'd have thought such a small man would have looked so
big. 'Tis the armour surely--how it do swell them out."
"Hush! they're going to begin."
The trumpets gave a flourish. The Marshal, after a pause, called out in
a loud voice,--
"_Laissez aller!_"
At the first sound of the trumpet the two knights had brought their
lances to the rest with a simultaneous and graceful sweep, causing the
gay pennons to flash in the sun, they then remained motionless as
before.
At the last word, they clapped spurs to their horses and rode straight
for each other, bending their heads low down, leaning well forward, and
covering themselves with their shields.
"Lord! what a crack!" cried Mistress Bremskete, in admiration.
"He's off! he's off!"
"No, that he bean't."
"He was parlous nigh anyway! I lay a yard o' broadcloth he'll be off
next bout. But 'twas well done, leastways: that's what I will say."
The two knights had met with a violent splintering of spears in the
midst of the lists. The Breton seemed never to feel the shock at all,
for he rode on, tossing away the broken handle of his lance, after
waving it aloft in the air. But the English knight reeled in his
saddle; only he recovered himself directly, and rode up to the other end
of the lists, where he turned, reined in his horse, and waited for his
esquire to bring him another lance.
The trumpet sounded. The herald shouted,--"Well done, noble knights;
remember the brave deeds of your ancestors. The ladies' eyes are upon
you."
When the knights had received new lances, they once more awaited the
signal. It soon came, and again the gleaming figures met in the rude
shock. This time Sir John Dudley's lance struck the helmet of his
opponent, and carried away the crest and part of the lambrequin, while
the Breton knight's lance glanced off the ridged breast-plate, and,
passing under the arm, the guard struck full against the cuirass of Sir
John Dudley, and the two knights were both nearly unseated. Had they
not been practised riders, and reined in their horses at the same
moment, they must have fallen. As it was, they remained locked together
for a moment, and so stood until the herald called out,--"Enough! 'tis
well done; unloose."
They then disengaged, and rode back to their own end of the lists, amid
the shouts of applause of the populace, and the music of the trumpeters.
"They are right skilful knights! I don't know as I ever saw better,"
said Tom o' Kingston to Humphrey, who stood near him holding a spare
lance for his young master. "But there they go again. Holy Thomas! but
he's off; good lack, I am parlous grieved. I would it had been the
other."
A groan and shout of applause mingled together, while a dull thud and
clang of metal falling, announced that one of the knights had been
thrown.
"Marry, I am sorry 'tis poor young Sir John; and there's his wife
looking on now! Well, 'tis a pity, to be sure," said Mistress
Bremskete.
"Ay, but she takes it mighty comfortable anyway. See how she's laughing
with the Lord Abbot of Quarr there."
"Well then she hadn't ought, that's what I say, Look! they're picking of
him up. Alack, poor man, how he do bleed! 'Tis from the mouth,
seemingly. Well-a-day! well-a-day! but 'twas a rude knock."
And so amid the plaudits of the crowd and the clarion blasts of the
trumpets, the Breton knight returned to his end of the list, and took
his station next the last of the challengers, receiving their
congratulations as he rode up, while his luckless antagonist was helped
out of the lists, to be attended to in the tent set aside for the
reception of those wounded in the tilt.
The next knight who rode out from the challengers' end was Sir Amand de
la Roche Guemene. As he took up his place, he turned towards Yolande
and bowed low to his saddle-bow.
"Why, he's wearing the same colours she's got on! Well, to be sure,
that's a merry jest! Can't she find among all our island gentry one to
her taste, but she must go giving away her favours to them jackanapes
Frenchmen? But 'tis ever the way with your high-born wenches; they
always goes after what's strange, never mind how ugly it be, if only it
be something new. It all comes of so many running after them."
"Then, Mistress Bremskete, you ought to like those Breton gents, seeing
the many suitors you have," said the ready yeoman by her side, with a
knowing leer, giving his buxom companion a nudge with his elbow.
"Go along with ye, Master Paxhulle! you're always fooling us poor
wenches with your soft tongue."
"I'll have to trounce that Paxhulle, I see," said Tom o' Kingston
savagely, to Humphrey, upon whom the merry glance of Mistress Bremskete,
and the leer of her companion, were in no way lost.
"I say, that's Sir John's nephew there. I do hope he'll do well! 'Tis
a nice youth; but they're all too young, to my mind. These Breton
knights have been well tried in many tilts, and are tough and skilled.
But there they go! Good luck go with him--ah!--'Twas well done! He's a
brave youth."
After splintering their lances without any further damage, the two
cavaliers cantered on to the end of the lists, wheeled round and faced
each other, taking the fresh lances handed them by their esquires.
Whether it were that young Trenchard really bore himself with greater
skill and address, or that his antagonist, out of knightly courtesy to
the trusty friend of his host, the Captain of the Wight, forebore to use
all his skill and strength, it happened that the three courses were
ridden without any mishap beyond a plentiful splintering of lancewood,
and a rending of knightly finery.
Sir John Trenchard was evidently pleased, and accepted the
congratulations of Lord Woodville and Mistress Lisle with but
half-dissembled satisfaction.
"'Tis a good lad, and will do well," he said, "an the ladies spoil him
not; for he is comely, and of fair manners."
The next knight to ride out from the challengers' end was Sir Richard
Cornwall, a very powerful, strong knight in magnificent armour. His
appearance was greeted with a hum of applause.
"Now, that's what I call a hardy knight, and something like a man. None
of your little jackanapes of Frenchmen and raw youth. Look at his
bone--look at his breadth of chest. 'Tis a pity he's an overrun."
"But 'tis a strong man he's got against him. 'Tis Master Meaux o'
Kingston."
"Marry! that's right. 'Tis a good Island name, and he's a stout Island
gentleman, too. 'Twill be a rare tussle."
The words of caution were given. The order to go followed, and the two
strong figures on their powerful horses met in the midst.
There was a shout of applause from every one. The two lances flew up
into a thousand splinters, the two horses fell back on their haunches,
and the steel-clad figures, erect and firm, wheeling them round, rode
back for fresh spears.
"'Twill be a marvel an one of them does not get an ugly knock," said
Humphrey.
"Ay, marry will it; they're tough men-at-arms--but I wish one o' them
splinters would hit that Paxhulle in the eye!" said Tom o' Kingston
savagely; "it 'ud stop his leering for some time."
Once more the signal was given, and this time something was bound to go.
The shock was tremendous.
"Holy Thomas! he's off! he's down! Mercy! but 'twas a fine stroke! Ah!
my gay gentleman, but you're on your back now. Well done, Master Meaux!
The Island for ever! A Meaux! A Meaux!"
The shouts of joy and the braying of the trumpets were long sustained
and hearty. It was the first triumph of the popular side, and the
enthusiasm was intense.
Sir Richard Cornwall had been overthrown without any disgrace to
himself. In such a shock it was clear that every leather and strap of
the horses' harness would be tried to the uttermost, and the girth of
his saddle breaking, and the poitral also, he was borne backwards over
the crupper to the ground, saddle and all going with him, and his horse
nearly falling over backwards; for, like the good knight he was, he
never let go of the reins.
"'Twas a pity Master Meaux was not matched against the Frenchman," said
Humphrey.
"Ay; but he'll have to meet him before all's done. Who's coming now?
Oh, I see, 'tis Master Bruyn. He won't be o' no account; he's been
brought up too soft," commented Tom o' Kingston.
The first Breton knight now rode out again. It looked ominous for the
Squire of Affeton.
But as if divining the popular wish, and in no way desirous of winning
fame only at the spear-point, Sir Alain de Kervignac rode the three
courses with great skill of horsemanship, but little exercise of
strength. And so the Island knight got off scatheless and with honour.
"He's a right gentle knight that Breton. He could have knocked that
poor youth all to pieces had he liked; he's as courteous as he's stout."
And all the crowd agreed with Master Paxhulle, and shouted their
approval.
There still remained five knights, without counting Bowerman, Newenhall,
and Ralph, who were eager to try their prowess with the challengers.
The day was getting on; there did not seem a chance of being able to
finish the courses unless some of the combatants were disabled in their
first tilt. This became apparent to the knights-challengers. They
therefore said that as enough had been done for courtesy and love of the
ladies, and time was getting on, they would now tilt hardily, and
sparing neither man nor horse, and that as they knew there were some
youths among their antagonists, they gave this notice to prevent their
being hurt.
"The coxcombs," said Bowerman, when this was announced, "do they think
to frighten us away by words? They are getting afeard for their cattle;
but I'll do my best," and Ralph Lisle agreed with him heartily though
silently. Not so thought Newenhall, and he determined he would
willingly miss his turn when it came, and so let the others get the
knocks instead of himself.
Three other knights also signified their intention of giving those who
were more desirous of the honour of encountering the challengers than
they were, the priority of place.
These were Sir John Keineys and Masters Dineley and Leigh, who were all
men past the prime of life, and who had merely entered to support the
manhood of the Island. Thus only the three pages of the Captain of the
Wight, with Dick Oglander, from Nunwell, were left; for Master
Tichborne, from Lemerston, had not arrived yet. Master Bowerman now
offered himself.
He was greeted with applause, for the crowd had heard the announcement
of the challengers, and admired the pluck of the young aspirants to fame
who were left.
Everyone knew that it was the page's first tilt, and the accident from
which he had been suffering, combined with the pluck he showed in not
retiring when he might easily have done so without loss of honour,
created a strong feeling in his favour.
The Breton knight was loth also to hurt him, and in their first
encounter he hit Bowerman very lightly on the shield, receiving the
lance of his opponent on his own helmet, from which the last remnant of
his crest was shorn.
"Well done, Master Bowerman, thou'rt upholding our Island right
manfully," called out some of the bystanders.
The next course was very well ridden also, the lances splintering, and
Bowerman, although reeling from the shock, kept his seat and rode on to
the end. Elated by his success, the natural boastfulness of the young
man came out.
"Look to your seat, Sir Breton," he called out before the last course,
"for I mean to topple thee out of it."
"Beshrew the lad for a braggart!" growled Sir John Trenchard,
scandalised alike at the breach of etiquette and the boastfulness of the
boy.
The Sire de Kervignac said nothing; he only courteously bowed, and
awaited the signal to charge. It soon came, and they met as before, but
with a different result.
The Breton knight, as expert as he was brave and strong, seeing how
eager and boastful the young man was, determined to read him a lesson.
As Bowerman leant well forward, too much so for a firm seat, instead of
aiming his spear at the page's body, or, indeed, directing it at all,
the Sire de Kervignac struck a violent blow with the handle or butt-end
of his lance over the lance of his antagonist, beating it down, and
breaking it all to pieces, with the further result that Bowerman, who
was preparing to push with all his might against the expected resistance
of the body of his opponent, meeting with no obstacle, and drawn still
further over by the blow on his lance, overbalanced himself, and before
he could recover his seat, a rude knock from the butt-end of his
antagonist's spear, as he rode past, completed his discomfiture, and he
fell headlong to the ground.
"'Twas all his own fault," said Tom o' Kingston. "The Frenchman never
meant to hurt him, and would have left him alone, had he not been such a
braggart. It ought to do him good."
It was so evident to all the crowd that Bowerman had drawn this fall
upon himself that they applauded the knight, and had no words of
sympathy for the esquire.
The only antagonist left who had not yet tried his luck was Ralph Lisle.
"That surely can't be Master Lisle, the new page?" said Mistress
Bremeskete.
"Ay, but 'tis though; he sits stiffly, don't he?"
"And what a size he looks. He'll be a great knight one day. As 'tis,
he looks as if he could swallow the little Frenchman at the other end."
"Marry, you're right, and 'tis a fine horse he's on. 'Twas Mistress
Lisle sent him that this morning."
"My! you don't say so! And she gives her favour to that French knight,
and a horse to her kinsman. Well, I'd rather be her kinsman. Leastways,
he's got something."
Ralph's heart was bounding with excitement. He tried to remember all
the instructions he had received. He could see Yolande seated amid the
beauty and rank of the Island. She was looking his way, not at the
knight who wore her favour. She had bidden him win it with the horse he
bestrode. His blood rose; he would do all he could. He sat his horse
with thews strung tight and nerves braced.
"Are you ready?"
Down came his lance.
"My faith! he looks a gallant knight," said the Captain of the Wight to
Yolande. "I trust Sir Amand will spare him."
"I'faith, Sir Captain, I think 'twill be the other way," said Yolande.
"He's well skilled, I hear, and as for strength and weight, look at
horse and man."
Lord Woodville glanced at Yolande a questioning glance, and smiled.
"It's no use your smiling like that, my Lord Woodville. I know what you
are thinking about; but do you, with your knowledge of the world, think
I should fall in love with a boy?" and Yolande laughed a scornful laugh.
Lord Woodville made no answer; he only sighed, and turned to look at the
lists. The last word had been said.
With vigorous determination in Ralph's bent back, lance close pressed in
rest, and helm well under shield, the boy went straight for his prize.
He had selected a heavy lance, seeing how many others had splintered,
and feeling confident in his strength to wield it. With sure aim he
struck the upper part of his antagonist's visor, and, forcing it up with
the violence of the well-planted blow, he bent the metal back, and,
still keeping his spear jammed in the twisted iron, while his
well-trained horse pressed on with all his force, Ralph actually pulled
the knight backwards out of his saddle, and tumbled him over to the
ground.
The shouts of applause and astonishment were deafening. The people
jumped, and surged, and shouted, and waved their caps and handerchiefs
in a perfectly bewildering way. For some time nothing could be heard or
seen but the hilarious cries and struggling crowd. It was with the
utmost difficulty the men-at-arms and yeomen could keep the lists clear.
Men were crowding forward to shake Ralph's hand.
[Illustration: HOW THEY TILTED AT CARISBROOKE.]
At last order and silence were somewhat restored, and then it was seen
that the Breton knight was on his legs, and had pulled off his helmet,
while blood was trickling down his face from the sharp edge of the
broken visor having cut his forehead. In spite of this, he was loudly
praising Ralph, and saying how glad he was the boy had got the victory.
This made him very popular, and the crowd raised cheer after cheer for
the noble Breton knight and Master Ralph Lisle.
"There's no older name in the island, and 'tis a right noble line," said
Tom o' Kingston. "'Tis right well done, and truly a marvellous feat of
arms."
Meanwhile Ralph had ridden round the lists, and had taken up his place
again with perfect modesty next to Master Meaux, young Trenchard, and
Master Oglander, the only survivors of their party who could ride again.
*CHAPTER XV.*
*HOW THE COCKEREL CROWED.*
It was yet early in the afternoon, for the last courses had been
finished much more speedily than was anticipated.
By the laws of the tilt, it was incumbent on the remaining
knights-challengers to meet each one of the other knights who had not
been unhorsed, if they desired to go on with the joust. Each of the
knights who was unhorsed was disqualified from taking further part in
that day's tilting.
Sir Alain de Kervignac, therefore, was left to encounter alone each of
the other esquires who survived from the previous jousting. The fourth
knight-challenger had not yet appeared. If he arrived before his
companion was defeated, or before sundown, he might take part in the
tilt.
After a little consultation with his comrades and the Marshal of the
Lists, and a notification from Master Meaux that he and his companions
demanded a completion of the courses, it was proclaimed that the right
valiant, very hardy, and most illustrious knight, Alain de Kervignac,
would tilt in succession with each of his opponents. This was
delightful news to the crowd, and they cheered him vociferously, while
the Captain of the Wight and Yolande sent him their greetings by the
Marshal of the Lists.
It was now a little after four o'clock. The sun would not set for
another two hours. The other challenger might arrive at any moment, and
the chances would then be a little more equal.
Of the assailants of Sir Alain de Kervignac only two could really be
reckoned formidable. Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle, from their having
already tilted successfully, as well as from their greater bulk and
weight, were dangerous antagonists; and although Sir Richard Cornwall
had been unhorsed by an unfortunate accident, yet it was quite
sufficiently evident that Master Meaux was a very formidable
man-at-arms; and as for Ralph, it was abundantly manifest what he could
do, in spite of his youth and inexperience.
While these preliminaries were going on, refreshments were handed round,
and the competitors were regaling themselves with copious draughts of
wine and hippocras. But Ralph had only taken a very moderate draught,
having been warned by Sir John Trenchard not to take much refreshment of
any kind while there was an immediate prospect of more work before him,
as it was likely to unsteady the eye and hand.
Bowerman's mortification at his defeat was rendered tenfold more bitter
by the success of Ralph. If he hated him before, his hatred had now
become ruthless and implacable, and being naturally of an ungovernable
disposition, he became utterly reckless of how he expressed or concealed
his rage.
The all-engrossing thought was how could he injure this swaggering
upstart, this minion of fortune, this stripling successful only because
of the favouritism of his antagonist?
"Don't tell me," said Bowerman fiercely to the stolid Newenhall, for the
twentieth time, "don't tell me that it was not all thought on
beforehand. That giddy Yolande had got the Breton jackanapes, when she
gave him her favour, to promise he would be gentle to her cousin, out of
kindness to her family, and then, of course, he got a fall before that
blundering lout. But he shall have a fall before I've done," he added
savagely.
To all these fierce threats Newenhall only stolidly grunted, until at
last Bowerman's fury, eager for an object immediately to vent itself
upon, turned upon the luckless Willie, and hitting him a furious blow
with the haft of his broken spear, which he still held in his hand,
"Pig's Eyes" was knocked off his horse, to the great delight of the
bystanders.
"You egg, you, why don't you answer sensibly instead of grunting?" said
Bowerman, as he struck Newenhall.
Somewhat refreshed by this exhibition of his superiority, for "Pig's
Eyes" was too much bumped by his clanging armour, and felt too
dispirited, to retaliate, Bowerman sat on his horse amid the crowd that
had gradually encroached upon the space round the lists, outside of
which those knights who were disqualified from taking further part in
the jousts were standing, or sitting on their horses.
There was a decided movement of the crowd going on, and the heads of the
people near the tent set apart for the knights-challengers' use, were
all turned towards the pavilion.
Bowerman turned also to see what was passing. All he could see was the
head of a tall man, half concealed under the folds of a voluminous hood
which he wore, not unlike that worn by the jesters of the time, and very
raggedly dressed. A common man, looking like a sailor, but of very
powerful build, and with a swaggering expression of utterly reckless
daring, was leading after him a horse, big-boned and vicious looking,
and which bit at the crowd as it was led among them. On the horse's
back was tied a large bundle, and two very strong lances were carried by
another man of nearly as truculent appearance as that of his fellow.
They were both armed with stout bills, bows and arrows, and axes stuck
in broad leathern belts, strapped round their cowhide jerkins, which
were undressed, and with the hair still adhering in several places.
The men forced their way up to the gate which led into the railed-off
enclosure round the challengers' pavilion, and which was decorated with
the four banners and shields of arms of the knights, excepting that the
shield and banner of the fourth knight were perfectly plain, with no
blazon on them. Arrived at the entrance, the leading man spoke a few
words to the yeoman on guard, who looked very much astonished, and after
eyeing the ragged individual suspiciously, remained erect and firm
before the entrance, but beckoned to one of his comrades to come and
speak with him.
The result of their conference was that this latter went off, and in a
few minutes returned with the Marshal and Herald.
The ragged man awaited them with perfect composure, and while they were
looking at him curiously, he saluted them with easy confidence, and
handed the Herald a paper.
This official opened it, and scrutinised it carefully. He then in an
amazed way handed it to the Marshal, who read it over very carefully
also. This done, they conferred for a few moments apart, and then the
Marshal said gravely,--
"Sir, will it please you to enter? The jousts are not yet over."
The ragged man bowed to the official ceremoniously, and bid the varlets
who followed him lead the horse into the enclosure, which he also
entered, and disappeared in the tent.
"'Tis the packhorse and baggage of the unknown knight," said one of the
bystanders.
"Well, to be sure, but he do have odd varlets! and 'tis a shabby turn
out."
"But where's the knight?" asked another.
"Oh, he's follering, surely!"
"Then he'd best look sharp, for there's the Breton knight going to
begin."
All eyes were now turned upon the lists again.
The Marshal and Herald had returned. After speaking a few words to the
Captain of the Wight, and handing him a note which the ragged man had
given them, they took up their positions, and once more proclaimed
silence.
The Captain of the Wight unfolded the scrap of paper, and with evident
difficulty read the contents. His brow contracted, and a deep flush
passed over his face.
"By St Nicholas, but 'tis too bold! He presumes over much on my
knightly courtesy and the generosity of my nature," he muttered.
And now the mail-clad figures had taken up their positions.
The cautioning words came, soon followed by the order to go, and they
rode for each other. The Breton well knew the importance of avoiding
any catastrophe. Being a smaller and far lighter cavalier than the heavy
man-at-arms opposed to him, he determined to husband his strength. He
tilted therefore in such a way as to receive the least possible shock
from his antagonist's spear, while he was little careful of doing him
any harm, so long only as he maintained his own seat.
Being very skilful, Sir Alain de Kervignac attained his object
completely, riding rather wide of the barrier, and so receiving the
lance thrust of his adversary more athwart than directly on his
breastplate.
The first two courses were ridden with no damage to either, but in the
last one the Breton was struck so fiercely by Master Meaux that a part
of his vambrace was bent back, and had it not broken off he must have
been unhorsed; as it was, he recovered his seat to the admiration of
every one, and rode back to the end of the lists, waving his spear
aloft.
It was now young Trenchard's turn. No scruples of courtesy interfered
any longer: the Breton was tilting for honour and to win the prize.
Changing his tactics, he charged the young man with fierce ardour, and
the poor youth was hurled backwards over the crupper.
"Alack, poor lad!" said Mistress Bremeskete, "but he did right
manfully."
"Now, surely that weakly Master Oglander will never try his luck?"
But it seemed otherwise, for he rode out to take up his position.
At this moment there was a loud murmur from the crowd. Shouts of
derision and astonishment were heard on all sides.
"Mercy on us, what a rusty suit of armour! Surely he might have spent a
little more money on his outside!" said one.
"'Tis one he's fished out o' the sea, and forgot to scrape the whelks
off!" cried another.
"But he's surely no knight--only a poor hobbler," said Humphrey.
"Nay, he's a knight, sure enough; look at his gold spurs, and the collar
round his neck--why, 'tis the 'suns' of York. He'd best be well
befriended if he wears that; who can he be?" said Tom o' Kingston,
eyeing the martial figure, firm seat, and knightly bearing of the
new-comer, who, in spite of his somewhat old armour, which had been
furbished up as brightly as possible, but which long use and many rough
campaigns had soiled with rust and dints beyond all the labour of a
diligent esquire to eradicate, looked every inch a tough man-at-arms.
"'Tis a powerful vicious-looking beast he rides, too; but where can he
have come from? I never saw him go into the tent. The only man as I
see go in was that mountebank sort of chap in that old hood," said
Humphrey.
"Well, 'tis a parlous strange matter! We shall see something though,"
answered Tom o' Kingston.
One of the sailor-looking men accompanied him, carrying another strong
spear. The other man had gone into the crowd again, and soon returned
leading a girl by the hand; and, elbowing his way to the front, he
secured a good position for his young companion and himself close to the
lists, and not far from the Judges' gallery.
"Why, Lord Captain," said Yolande, "there's the little damsel with the
large eyes we met at Appuldurcombe Priory."
Lord Woodville looked in the direction indicated, and was immediately
moved in the same unaccountable way he had been at the time when he
first saw her. "The same eyes, the very same eyes and brow," he
murmured.
The "Rusty Knight," as the crowd called him, cantered to the end of the
lists, saluted his companions, to whom he was apparently quite unknown,
and also bowed gravely to the Captain of the Wight. He was entirely
encased in armour, and the heavy tilting helmet hid his head and face
completely.
Sir Alain de Kervignac was just preparing to tilt with young Oglander
when the "Rusty Knight" entered the lists. He saluted the new comer,
and offered him his place, which "he of the rusty armour" declined.
"Don't be rough on weakly Johnny," called out some of the crowd, as they
saw the Breton prepare to charge him, but their kindly remonstrances
were of little use, beyond serving to unnerve the youth they were
intended to aid. His spear feebly struck the shield of his antagonist,
while at the same time he received that of the Sire de Kervignac on his
helmet, and was unseated immediately.
It was now Ralph's turn, and as he rode out to take up his place, the
interest of the crowd was very great.
"'Tis only 'rusty irons' you've got to tackle, Master Lisle."
"Hit him where they've been a-scouring the whelks off of him," called
out another; "the iron's sure to be thin there. You'll soon skewer
him."
"Silence, you caitiffs!" called out the Master of the Lists, "or I'll
have you whipped. Sergeant, smite one of those scurvy knaves over the
costard."
This produced tranquillity for a short time, and the increasing
excitement helped to keep the crowd quiet.
"Well now, 'tis just like David fighting Goliath!" cried Mistress
Bremeskete, in admiration.
"Maybe," said Master Paxhulle; "but Goliath's got parlous rusty harness;
and as for David, we can't see if he be ruddy or of a fair countenance;
besides, I can't mind that ever they fought a horseback--"
"Nay, marry, what do that matter? we know Master Lisle's face is ruddy
enough inside--"
"Oh, ay! I don't doubt. We's mostly ruddy inside, but David was ruddy
outside."
"Marry! and good lack for your poor wits, Master Paxhulle! I don't mean
his insides, but inside his helmet--but look at that little damsel with
the large eyes. What's she doing?"
"Which? What, that little wench next the rough-looking varlet there?"
"Ay, that's her--she's making signs to Master Lisle surely."
"Well, now, so it seems. But he don't take no notice."
"What a state she is getting in! she'll begin crying soon. Poor little
thing, be there no one to notice it for her?"
"Why, you see, Master Lisle is that cased in in his iron harness he
couldn't see Bevis o' Hampton himself, or the giant Ascupart neither, if
they was i' this crowd, so how is it likely he'd see a small wench like
that?"
"Couldn't you, Master Paxhulle, go and jog his arm?"
"What, and get rapped over the costard by the Marshal's men?--not I."
"Well then I shall have to ask Master Tom o' Kingston. How fine he do
look, to be sure, in his armour."
"Oh, I'll go, Mistress Bremeskete, with right good will, too, if it's to
pleasure you; but what shall I say?"
"Tell him a little maid in the crowd is wishful to speak with him."
"Well, but I don't know as how that'll do much good. There's a good many
wenches i' the crowd as 'ud like to speak with so fine a gallant as
Master Lisle; but I'll try, if it's to please you, Mistress Bremeskete."
So saying, with much difficulty Master Paxhulle forced his way down to
the other end of the lists, and requested one of the yeoman on guard to
tell Master Lisle's varlet that a young wench in the crowd was making
earnest signs to him.
"Tell him," added Master Paxhulle, "she's holding up a little glove, and
waving it at him."
Humphrey was soon after seen speaking to Ralph, who instantly remembered
the note and the enclosure he had received.
"Give me that glove I gave you to mind for me, Humphrey," said Ralph.
When he had taken it from his varlet, he looked in the direction where
the little girl was, and waved the tiny glove in answer; then he bent
down his head so that his esquire could place it in his helmet. This
done, he sat erect, awaiting the order to charge. It was not long in
coming.
"Are you ready?" Down came the spears. "Are you ready? _Laissez
aller._" And away the two steel-clad figures sped to meet in the rude
shock of the tilt.
"That knight don't mean to get unhorsed yet awhile," said Tom o'
Kingston, who had been watching him narrowly.
"No, nor he don't mean to do Master Lisle any harm. Look how wide he
rode, and how lightly he smote him," said Humphrey.
Bowerman was in a furious passion.
"What do they all mean by letting that upstart have it all his own way?
Why, that 'Rusty one' could knock him all to bits an he liked. What is
it that lets him from doing it? It is a vile plot to win favour."
But he had no one to listen to him now, for Newenhall, disgusted at his
treatment, had moved away.
Ralph rode his three courses manfully with the unknown knight. However
hard he strove to unseat his antagonist, it was quite clear that "the
Rusty one," as the mob called him, did not mean to tilt in earnest with
Ralph. This evident partiality for the young favourite of the crowd
evoked a feeling of sympathy for the unknown knight.
"If he's rusty, I can see he's trusty," said Master Paxhulle, attempting
a feeble joke.
"An they didn't make your outside very bright, you've got a good heart
inside, I can see," said Mistress Bremeskete approvingly.
Fortune seemed now to smile on the assailants, for in the next course
Sir Alain de Kervignac was unhorsed by the superior weight and freshness
of Master Meaux. His fall was greeted by loud shouts of applause,
mingled with consoling remarks, such as "There's no shame to you, Master
Breton, you've done right manfully; a horse and man can't go on for
ever. Never did knight do better than you've done." To all which, Sir
Alain, who had mounted his horse again, bowed his acknowledgments.
Master Meaux and Ralph Lisle were now left to tilt against the new
comer.
"Let Master Meaux tackle him," shouted the crowd. "You've done enough,
Master Lisle."
After a little consultation, it was agreed that the unknown knight
should encounter Master Meaux. The interest again became very intense.
"'Twill be a tough bout this time, but I'd lay odds on Master Meaux."
"I dunno, Master Tom, 'tis a big 'oss the other rides, and he's a good
lance. Ah! he's off. Body o' me, what a crash!"
There was a universal shout from the spectators, of amazement and
disappointment.
"The Rusty Knight," as he was ignominiously called, had entirely changed
his tactics, riding closely along the barrier, and urging his large
horse to its utmost speed. With helm well down behind his shield, and
his body bent forward, he struck Master Meaux a fierce blow with his
powerful lance; there was no resisting the vigour of that thrust, and
the weight of horse and man propelling it. The blow was aimed at the
right shoulder, and blunt as the spear-point was, it broke through the
steel pauldron, or shoulder-piece, and, driving in the gusset of chain
mail, inflicted a severe wound, carrying the unfortunate Master Meaux
over the saddle backwards.
The success was as complete as it was unexpected. No one, not even the
most experienced knight there, had any idea that the new comer would
have displayed such skill and enormous strength. For to unhorse a
man-at-arms of the weight and address of Master Meaux, required a very
great exercise of both qualities. There now only remained one survivor
on each side. There could be no doubt of the issue, after such an
exhibition of power.
"'Tis the best lance I have seen," said Sir John Trenchard.
"Ay, he's a stout lance, but I have seen a better," said the Captain of
the Wight, smiling; "but let us see what he will do now."
To the astonishment of everyone, the unknown knight rode the next three
courses exactly as he had previously done in his last encounter with
Ralph, only in the last round he carried off the little glove on the
point of his lance, which fluttered in Ralph's helmet.
As this closed the day's proceedings, the knights who had taken part in
the tilting had now to ride round the lists, with their faces uncovered,
that all might see who had done bravely. There was great curiosity to
see the face of the unknown knight, but he, after having spoken a few
words to the Marshal of the Lists, who communicated with Lord Woodville,
did not open his visor, to the great disappointment of the crowd.
"Certes, 'tis like Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, when they came among
press of knights disguised," said Yolande; "I marvel who he is! Do you
know, Lord Captain?"
"'Tis a custom the laws of the tourney allow," said the Lord Woodville,
"so long as the Herald and the Judges know; but they are bound to
secrecy."
This was a very evasive answer, but it was the only one Yolande was
likely to get.
As the competitors rode round the lists--such of them, that is, as could
appear--there were loud shouts of applause for the two Breton knights,
Master Meaux, and, above all, for Ralph Lisle.
The strange knight would have received applause, had not his refusal to
comply with the usual custom created a feeling of resentment in the
crowd.
"I don't know but that he bean't as crusty as he is rusty," said Master
Paxhulle.
"Maybe his face isn't that pleasant that we'd be any the better for
seeing it," said Mistress Bremeskete, with a toss of the head.
As Ralph Lisle passed the place where the little girl was standing
smiling at him with a happy smile, he looked at her, curious to discover
who she could be, and was startled at seeing in her the same poor beggar
maid whose old father he had befriended at Thruxton, when he met them as
he was flying his gerfalcon for the first time.
She was holding up the other tiny glove, the fellow to the one he had
worn in his helmet, and which he did not know he had lost.
"I am so glad," said the little girl, as he rode past.
*CHAPTER XVI.*
*HOW THE COCKEREL WAS PETTED.*
Ralph Lisle had now reached the happiest hour of his life, and, in
common with all humanity, he discovered that no happiness existed
without alloy.
As he rode round the lists, somewhat embarrassed at the shouts of
applause with which he was greeted, the openly expressed opinions of the
more matronly part of the fair sex, and the less public, but scarcely
veiled admiration of the younger members of that all-powerful half of
humanity, Bowerman, who rode next to him, kept saying, in a tone of
intense scorn and hatred,--
"Certes, Lisle, you are an impudent braggart, an you take all this
balderdash to yourself. You know full well you'd never have gotten off
as you did had you not been shamefully favoured."
Ralph felt very angry. He was deeply mortified, for he could not help
knowing that there was great truth in the assertion, the power and
address of the unknown knight having been clearly proved in his joust
with Master Meaux.
"You can't say it was by favour I unhorsed the Sire de la Roche
Guemene."
"Ay, but I can, and do. 'Twas that minx of a cousin of yours who
brought that about."
"Bowerman," said Ralph, his face flushing up, and his mouth working, "if
you dare to call my cousin a minx, I'll beat you to a jelly."
"Marry, will you? Forsooth, this braggart is growing apace! I shall
call whom I like what name I like; and if you think you are going to
stop me, you had better try. So there, master upstart!" and Bowerman
snapped his fingers in Ralph's face in utter contempt and malignant
defiance.
As they were exchanging these hasty words, they were passing, on their
way out of the lists, the little girl and her rough attendant. This
latter eyed Bowerman significantly, and seeing that he did not notice
him, for both Ralph and Bowerman were too heated with their words to
take notice of anyone in the crowd, the man nudged the leg of the latter
as he passed, and so drew his attention to him.
As soon as Bowerman saw who it was, he changed colour.
"Hullo, my Trojan, what do you want?" he said, assuming a careless air.
"Take this, 'twill tell its own tale," said the man, handing Bowerman a
dirty scrap of paper.
Meanwhile Ralph had noticed the little girl, and seeing how pleased she
seemed, he reined up his horse and spoke to her.
"Well, little maid, and where have you left your old father?"
An amused expression passed over the child's face, and her eyes shone
with mischief, as she replied,--
"Ah, poor old man! He's so infirm, think you, as to be scarce able to
walk? Well, 'twas very kind of you to lend us your pony, and you will
never be sorry for it."
"Where do you live?" asked Ralph, surprised at her voice, and trying to
remember where he had heard it.
"Why, you know you saw me at Appuldurcombe Priory."
"Marry, so I did, but I was busy with my Lord Captain then."
"Ay, and with some one else, too. No marvel you had no eyes for me."
This was a remark Ralph did not appreciate.
"And what are you doing there?"
"I'm being brought up by the nuns. But, do you know, Sister
Agnes--'twas she who brought out the hippocras--has been ill ever since
you came? She did nothing but sigh and weep, and weep and sigh, from
the time she got in till now. The only thing that comforts her is when
I am with her, and I ought never to have left her to-day, only father
sent orders for me to come here."
"Why, your poor old father sending orders to the Prioress of
Appuldurcombe! that is a likely tale," said Ralph, smiling
incredulously.
"And who do you think my father is?"
"Why, that poor old beggar whom I put on my pony, sure enough."
The girl broke out into a merry laugh.
"Like enough, like enough," she said; and then went on in a different
tone,--"So you found the Hermit of St Catherine's, did you? 'Twas a
rare foggy night, wasn't it?"
"Why, what do you know about that?" cried Ralph, in astonishment.
But again the only answer was a merry, mischievous laugh, and before
Ralph, who did not like being mystified, could ask her any more
questions, the rough man who was taking care of her, having finished his
conversation with Bowerman, came up, and led her away, giving Ralph a
peculiar look as he passed.
The crowd had now become a disorganised mob. The lists were invaded, and
children were picking up the broken splinters of the gaily-painted
lances, or gazing in awe at the fine ladies who were being escorted from
the pavilion. The great centre of attraction was the tent of the
knights-challengers. Every one hoped to obtain a glimpse of the
mysterious knight as he came out, but in this they were disappointed; no
one came out except those who were well known, and at last, after
waiting in hopeful curiosity for some time, the people gave it up, and
went off in search of other amusements.
"Certes, Master Ralph," said Dicky Cheke, who met that successful youth
as he was dismounting in the courtyard, amid the plaudits of the
garrison and the congratulations of the visitors, who were standing
about waiting for the evening festivities, which would shortly begin,
preluded by a state banquet in the Captain's hall,--"certes, Master
Ralph, you are in luck's way; but why that should make a little wench in
the crowd pinch my arm, I can't tell. 'Twas the oddest thing! The
little quean asked me if I was your friend. I stared at her, and
said,--'Ay, marry; but I didn't see that gave her a right to pinch my
arm.' Whereupon she laughed. 'What are you laughing for?' said I.
'Because you're such a merry little boy,' said she. 'Grammercy, little
girl,' said I. Whereupon she began to laugh more than ever; and I had
to say I'd send the leech from the castle to give her something to stop
her going on like that before she made an end of it; and when she did,
she finished up with,--'Oh, do let me tell you what I wanted to, before
I die of laughing at such a merry little tom-tit.' There! I solemnly
declare she called me a tom-tit, though, certes, I doubt if you'd credit
it."
"Well, what's all this about? when are you coming to the point?" said
Ralph.
"Marry! that is just what I said to the little wench, and she did
nothing but laugh. At last she quieted down, and said, if I was your
friend, I was to be sure and look after you and Bowerman. She said she
did not like that boy--fancy Bowerman's joy! I'll tell him she called
him a boy; and there I agreed with her. She seemed to think Bowerman
meant to do you a mischief, and i'faith I shouldn't marvel. 'Twas he
who had something to do with laming Black Tom, I'll wager; and he's as
mad with rage and spite against you as 'tis possible to be without
choking. I only wish he would! So now, young man, I shall look after
you. Don't be down-hearted; I am near you; I'll take care of you. But
who'd have thought it! She called me a tom-tit! Dicky Cheke a tom-tit!
Richard Cheke, page-in-waiting to the high and mighty Captain of the
Wight, tom-tit! Good lack! good lack!"
"Well, 'tis a comfort you'll take care of me, in sooth," said Ralph, as
he went up the narrow winding stairs to his room, which he shared with
Dicky, and which was next that of Bowerman, at the top of a turret
overlooking the courtyard.
Humphrey followed his young master, and unbuckled his armour.
"Marry! Master Ralph, what'll they say down Thruxton way?"
"'Tis a piece of luck, Humphrey, and I can't claim any credit in the
tilt. But why do you think that unknown knight showed me such favour?"
"Beshrew me if I know; but 'tis clear enough he did let you off. Well,
no matter! I'faith, all the better, say I. You'll be sure to have the
ruby ring: I heard every one say so."
"Do you think I shall have the prize?" cried Ralph, astonished and
delighted.
"Ay, marry, do I! That rusty one won't have it, albeit he deserves it.
They always give it to a young one like you, if they can in reason."
"Well, I almost wish I may not get it," said Ralph thoughtfully.
"And why, Master Ralph?"
"Because of course I don't deserve it, and 'twill make Bowerman more
jealous of me than ever, and he will have cause, certes, for saying I
have been favoured."
"Oh, never fear him! You take my advice, and give him a good trouncing.
You can easily do it, and he'd be all the better for it. Not but what
he's a spiteful lad; and 'tisn't only me as thinks he knows more about
Black Tom going lame than he'd like any one to say."
"Have you heard who that knight was?"
"Ay, there's a many as knows. Some says 'tis Sir Robert Clifford, him
as is a known Yorkist, and who's been looked for for some time past.
Others say 'tis my Lord Lovell, who's never been heard of since Stoke
field. There's some as say even 'tis King Richard himself, got well of
the wounds as laid him low at Bosworth. I'faith, there's no end to the
tales they all swear is the truth."
"And what do you think, Humphrey?"
"Well, I doesn't just know what to think; but I'se sure he be a Yorkist,
because of his collar. But then I can't think why the Captain didn't
have him placed in safe keeping. 'Twill look ugly at Court, I'm
thinking, and the King won't be best pleased when he hears of it."
By this time Ralph had stripped off all his armour, and was dressing
himself in his gay new suit, which set off his well-knit, graceful
figure to perfection. As he finished, and Humphrey was admiring his
young master, the step of somebody ascending the narrow stairs could be
heard, and soon afterwards Bowerman entered his room and shut his door.
When Ralph came into the hall he was almost dazzled by the brilliancy of
the scene. He found himself the centre of attraction, and it would have
been strange if his head had not been a little turned by the attentions
he received. While standing in the lower part of the hall, Dicky Cheke,
who was now splendidly dressed, but in the livery of a page, came up to
him with an air of great importance.
"Lisle," he said, in a loud tone, and looking superciliously at the
guests who were talking to Ralph, "the Lord Captain of the Wight is
wishful to discourse with thee."
This was a high honour; and Ralph, bowing to the worthy esquire to whom
he was talking, followed Dicky to the dais at the end of the hall, where
Sir Nicholas Wadham was talking to the Sire de Kervignac, and Yolande
was gaily chatting to the Captain of the Wight and the other Breton
knight. Ralph felt very shy as he came up, all eyes following his
splendidly-dressed, graceful figure. He held his plumed velvet bonnet
in his hand, and his wavy brown hair hung in luxuriant masses on each
side of his frank, boyish face.
Lord Woodville greeted him very kindly.
"My fair esquire," he said, "I am right joyous at thy gallant bearing.
Thou wilt make a good knight ere long; and albeit thou hast won thy fame
by the favour of thine adversary, yet thou hast shown to all men how
well thou canst tilt, and what promise there is hereafter."
"_Ma foi!_" said the Sire de la Roche Guemene, shrugging his shoulders,
and smiling; "I vould zat ze damoiseau had shown me a leetle favour. It
vas a rude knock he gave me."
"Cousin Ralph," said Yolande, smiling at him with her sunny, radiant
smile, "I am full glad thou art so puissant a chevalier, and right proud
am I that thou and I bear the same name. 'Tis the noblest name in the
island, and full nobly hast thou held up its fame."
Ralph could only look intensely pleased; he could not speak a word. He
simply gazed at his cousin with eyes brimful of admiration and
affection.