"Come here, Simon; 'tis Master Bowerman, and he hath swooned away."
*CHAPTER XIX.*
*OF THE PERPLEXITY OF THE LITTLE MAID.*
"Bowerman!" said Magdalen, intensely astonished as well as relieved;
"what could he have been doing here?"
However, there was no longer any cause for anxiety, either on the score
of her father's safety or from the vague terrors of superstition.
With considerable difficulty the knight and his servant carried the
senseless esquire over the plank and into the cave. On examination, it
was found that the young man had cut his head against some point of rock
in his fall, and had received other injuries, none of which, however,
seemed severe.
"'Twas a marvellous chance," said the knight.
"Ay, truly: but now he's come, he'll be of rare use to us, an he getteth
over this," said the seaman.
"Humph! he was of more use where he was," was the knight's comment.
Then, looking at his daughter and seeing she was listening eagerly, he
added sharply,--
"Now, child, bestir thyself; get water and bandages, and give Master
Bowerman a cup of wine."
With evident reluctance the girl obeyed her father, sighing to
herself,--"Ah, me! why must my father take so much concern for this
Bowerman, who, I know full well, tried to kill Master Lisle?"
It was not long before the wounded esquire opened his eyes and stared
round him in amazement.
"Marry, Master Bowerman, thou knowest us not. Recall thy wits, and
bethink thee of what hath happened," said the knight.
But Bowerman had not yet recovered the full use of his faculties.
"Newenhall, thou dolt!" he muttered, "what art cowering here for? why
art not a man for once? The horse will never hurt thee. There, 'tis
done--ah, he won't ride him for some time," and Bowerman chuckled
mockingly.
"I knew it! I knew it!" cried the girl; "the cowardly caitiff. He hath
confessed he lamed Black Tom."
"Silence, wench," said her father sternly. "Dost not see the lad
raveth?"
Gradually the young man recovered his senses, but it was some time
before he could be made to understand what had happened. At last he
recognised the rough seaman, and then he knew who the other man was. He
would have risen to do him reverence, but the knight restrained him.
"Nay, Master Bowerman, this is no time for idle courtesies; I know thy
breeding. Take another draught of this, and turn thee to sleep; thou
canst talk to-morrow morn, an thou art well enough."
The air of authority with which this was said helped to pacify the
injured man even more than the draught, and he soon sank into a deep
sleep.
The knight now turned to his daughter, and bid her retire to a recess in
the cavern, where a couch, made of old sails and other lumber, served as
a bed, before which a sail was hung as a curtain.
After the child had disappeared, the two men entered into a deep
conversation in low tones.
"There be a story afloat of a new plot," said the man. "But there be
naught in it, be there?"
"Maybe there is, but matters are not ripe yet. An we could only get
Henry embroiled with France, we should have better help than from the
Dowager of Burgundy. And I have hopes that he will send a force to aid
the Bretons. But I can do naught until I have met Woodville."
"And when will that be, your worship?"
"Not for a few weeks, I fear me. He hath other matters, and this attack
on his esquire hath put him out."
"Thou wast wondrous kind to the lad at the tilt. All men marvelled what
could be the cause."
"A wish of my daughter's, as thou knowest. The lad was passing gentle
to us as we came hither; and he is a good lad, and one of my own house
too."
"But he's parlous sweet on Mistress Yolande, and there's them as says
she means to marry him, and old Sir William is going to make him his
heir."
The knight's face grew black.
"Enough! enough! I would I could get me to France. I hear the Lord
Daubigny will be returning shortly. We must join him at Southampton.
Dan has got the old boat mended?"
"Ay, ay; she'll do for us as far as Southampton, or, for that matter, we
could make shift over to Barfleur in her ourselves."
"That's well; and now leave me, I would think awhile."
The next morning Magdalen was sent back to the cell at Appuldurcombe,
much to her discontent. Before she left, however, she had the further
dissatisfaction of learning that Master Bowerman was not only in a fair
way of recovery, but that he so plausibly accounted for his being in
hiding, and having run away from Carisbrooke Castle, that her father not
only seemed to believe him quite guiltless of the attack on Ralph Lisle,
but even appeared to look upon him with much favour as an injured man,
and a sufferer by reason of his inclinations towards the exiled
Yorkists.
It was important to make as many friends as possible, and the Bowermans
were likely to become more influential in the island by reason of their
recent alliances.
The story Bowerman gave was, that being outside the castle on the
evening of the first tilt, he had heard of the mysterious assault on
Ralph as he came back, and well knowing how he would be suspected, and
being also--he could not deny it--disgusted with the favour shown that
fortunate young man, he had determined to get away. He had had some
previous relations with the other seaman, who had smuggled articles into
the castle for him, and had been useful to him in many other ways
before; and he had been already sounded on the subject of the late plot
to annoy the Government, and had entered into correspondence with the
Yorkist secret agents. Although he knew about the fugitives, he did not
know where they were in hiding, the knight's two retainers being far too
cautious and trusty to betray their secret. He, however, resolved to
remain in concealment until he could get away, and for that purpose he
had come over to the wildest part of the island, as being the safest
place, and also where he was most likely to meet with Dan the fisherman.
The account he gave of his accident was, that having been hard pressed
that day by some of the garrison of Carisbrooke who had been sent out to
find him, he had climbed down the cliff and remained there until dusk.
Hearing fresh steps, he had tried to get further round the face of the
cliff, and had slipped on to the ledge where they found him. That he
was partially stunned, and seeing the light in that awful place, he had
thought they were spirits, and he had fainted away, as a result of
physical exhaustion and supernatural dread.
It suited the knight's purpose to listen favourably to this tale, and
with an air of belief, and he even went so far as to sympathise with
Master Bowerman in his wrongs and grievances, and the accident to Ralph
Lisle was never afterwards referred to.
Magdalen, who was allowed very often to see her father, whose secret
appeared fully known to the Prioress of the little community, and who
belonged to a well-known Yorkist house, was dismayed to find how very
intimate Bowerman had become, and was still more embarrassed to discover
that he was desirous of ingratiating himself with her. One morning,
about a month after the tourney, when she had come over earlier than
usual, the girl noticed a decided stir going on in the little cave.
Armour was being burnished up, and a couple of stout lances were being
critically examined by her father. There was never much effort at
keeping matters secret from Magdalen, and the conversation, or rather
few remarks which fell from her father, were hardly interrupted by the
arrival of the young girl, who brought over a supply of fresh butter and
eggs, with a few other necessaries. Magdalen had always to be very
careful when she came near the gorge, lest any stray country folk should
see her. But this part of the island was thinly populated, and she had
never yet met with any one. The Hermit of St Catherine's knew her
secret, and she looked upon the good old man as one of her best friends.
While she was arranging the contents of her basket, she heard her father
say,--
"Thou wilt see that all is ready, and in case of ill befalling, I trust
to thy bearing this missive to Sir John Clifford. Dan will go with
thee. The boat is all ready."
"In sooth, my lord, I will do thy bidding. But I fear no mischance. I
have seen myself thy prowess, and heard more. He cannot stand before
thee for one course even."
"Humph! 'Tis a good lance, and there are risks always; but I have my
just cause, and I trust in the right."
"Thou wilt have Dan and Simon there also?"
"Ay, ay. They can come, and fully equipped, too; but they must take no
part, whate'er betide."
Magdalen noticed a peculiar look in Master Bowerman's eye, and detected
a meaning glance exchanged between him and the most sinister-looking of
the seamen.
What could they be talking about? she wondered. She always dreaded some
terrible fate befalling her father. She knew his stern, fearless
disposition, and she also knew that he nursed the most inveterate hatred
to the Captain of the Wight. He had never told her why, but if ever his
name were mentioned, she noticed that he seemed to lose all control over
himself, and would utter the most dreadful maledictions on his name and
family.
"There is going to be some fearful fight, I know there is," she
murmured. "Oh, if only I could find out when it takes place and where.
Perhaps Bowerman would tell me. He seems to wish to please me; why, I
don't know."
She little knew that if only the Yorkist party, whose hopes were centred
on the imprisoned Earl of Warwick, could upset the present government,
her father would be a person of great distinction, and she would be the
heiress of the Lisle property. It was well worth Bowerman, or any other
aspiring youth, doing all he could to win her favour. Besides these
substantial worldly advantages, she was a very sweet girl, with a fair
face and noble nature. Entirely unspoilt by luxury, and brought up in
the severe school of poverty and hardship, she had often compared
herself to the "Blind Beggar's Daughter of Bednall Green," and would
shyly wonder if her fate would be like that of "pretty Bessie," and
whether her adventures would end "with joy and delight," and she should
have for a bridegroom "the gentle young knight
"Who lived in great joy and felicitie,
With his fair ladie, dear pretty Bessie."
When she had neatly put all the things away on some ledges of the cave
which served for shelves, she went to the entrance and looked out. She
noticed that the old boat, which was usually hidden under a deep cleft
in the rock, out of reach of the highest tides, was now hauled down, and
lying ready for launching, and that there were sundry kegs and bundles
in it, looking as if there were preparations for an expedition.
The salt smell of the sea came up fresh and keen from the tumbling waves
below, and the girl looked wistfully towards the south.
She felt very lonely, more so now than ever, for her father, always
preoccupied before, seemed gloomier of late, and to notice her less than
he used. There had been much going to and fro on the part of the
seamen, and Magdalen had herself brought a missive from the Hermit only
the day before, which had caused a great display of feeling on the part
of her father, a flush of fierce joy passing over his countenance, as he
muttered, after reading the cartel,--
"At last! Thank the saints! the matter will be settled once for all."
While Magdalen stood looking down the strange water-worn chasms, she was
startled by hearing Bowerman say in a scoffing voice, but in an
undertone, to Simon,--
"Marry, Simon, we are to take no part in the fray, eh?"