"As thou wilt, my son; but thou shouldest respect youth, old age, and
filial grief. But go thou and help the child, while I attend to thy
lord."
Ralph, rebuked, did as he was told, there was such dignity, gentleness,
and authority in the voice and manner of the tall stranger.
It was now very difficult to see. The moon had set, and the snow was
falling fast, while the wind sighed mournfully through the withered
boughs and twigs of the lonely thorn tree.
"May God have mercy on all dying souls!" murmured the dim shadow as it
bent over the pale face of Lord Woodville; and Ralph could have sobbed
aloud in anguish of heart as he felt his lord was dead.
"Oh, help me! help me! Master Lisle!" cried the agonised voice of the
other stranger, shivering with cold and pain of heart. "Undo his helm
or he will die, an he be not gone already," and a piteous sob of utter
woe broke from the crouching figure.
Ralph, thinking only of his sorrow, did not notice the keen grief of the
other, but he hastened up nevertheless, and speedily undid the helm.
"Oh, father! father!" sobbed the shivering voice; "speak, father!"
But no sound came from the set mouth, and the child broke out into
piteous distress, sobbing and choking as though her heart would break.
Ralph was touched. Even in his own stony sorrow he felt for the poor
child.
"Nay, nay, he may not be dead," he said, trying to comfort her. "See,
he moves!" he cried, noticing a quiver of the gauntleted hand.
"Let me look, my son," said the gentle voice of the other stranger. "Go
thou, catch yonder horse; thy lord lives, and will recover."
"Will he?" cried Ralph joyously, springing up and going in search of the
horses, which, well trained as they were, were standing under the
shelter of the thorn-bush out of the fast-driving snow.
When he returned leading the two horses, he was delighted to find Lord
Woodville sitting up.
"My fair boy," said the Captain of the Wight, in a faint voice, "thou
must help me on to my charger and lead me home. I have been hard
stricken, albeit the wound is not mortal. But before thou aidest me,
see to the state of Sir George Lisle: I would be loth he should die."
Lord Woodville spoke with difficulty, and paused between his words.
Ralph did as he was told, and found the two shrouded figures still
bending over the inanimate knight.
"The Lord Woodville hath sent me to make inquiry of the knight--how
fareth he?"
"Make answer that he is sore stricken, and in parlous case; but an we
may get him to a place of shelter, he may do well."
Ralph returned and reported the message.
"Is there no other horse but mine? If not, take mine and leave me
here," said Lord Woodville simply.
He had drawn his sword, and was holding it by the blade before him. The
sword thus held had all the proportions of a Latin cross.
"'Thou shalt love thine enemies. Do good to those who hate thee,'"
murmured the wounded Captain of the Wight.
"My lord, there is the knight's own horse, or he can have mine."
"Haste thee, then! gentle youth, for his wounds and mine are growing
stiff, and there is need of shelter," faintly gasped the wounded
Captain.
With rather more difficulty Ralph caught the other horse, and led it up
to the little group in the snow. Then, by dint of hard exertion, the
Hermit of St Catherine's--for it was he who had come to their aid--and
Ralph lifted the wounded knight on to his horse, and the old man holding
him in his high-peaked saddle, with the slight figure leading the horse
by its bridle, they disappeared in the grey obscurity.
Ralph now returned to his lord. To his surprise and joy he found the
Captain of the Wight had risen to his feet. The Hermit had removed the
corslet, extracted the spear-head, and staunched the wound with some
balsam and simples for healing sword or lance wounds. With effort he
was able to mount his horse, and with Ralph holding the bridle, and
ready to steady his lord in his saddle should he feel faint or giddy,
the two figures wended their way over the snow towards Carisbrooke
Castle.
It was a weary journey, and Ralph never felt so relieved in his life as
when he descried the noble pile standing up black and grand in the midst
of the white landscape.
With wonderful courage and resolution Lord Woodville sat erect in his
saddle as they entered by the little postern gate, at which only one
archer was on guard. He so carried himself until they reached the door
of his own apartments, then, dismounting with Ralph's aid, he staggered
to a settle in the hall and fainted away.
Ralph had presence of mind enough not to disturb the house. He went to
Lady Trenchard's apartments and called her. That prudent lady soon
came, and with her husband's assistance they managed to get the Lord
Woodville to his room. Seeing his lord in safe hands, Ralph left to
look after the horses. But Humphrey had already led them away, and in a
few moments more Ralph, with the aid of his trusty varlet, had taken off
his harness, and was soon fast asleep.
When he awoke next morning, the chapel bell was tolling, and he could
hear the merry voices of the other pages as they lounged round the hall
door before going into chapel. All things seemed as usual, but one more
strange adventure had added its experience to the life of Ralph. He
could scarcely believe it was little more than half a year since he had
left his home.
*CHAPTER XXII.*
*OF THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER.*
During the next two months events of importance had occurred. The
Captain of the Wight had recovered from his wound in time to attend the
splendid ceremony of his niece's coronation, and his faithful young
esquire had accompanied him to London. It was a joyful time. On their
march from Southampton to the metropolis, Ralph obtained leave to visit
his home.
Attended by Humphrey, he separated from the retinue of the Captain of
the Wight at Southampton, to join it again at Guildford. By riding fast
he would be able to make up for the longer distance, and would thus
obtain time to spend one night at home.
The talk of all the garrison of Carisbrooke Castle and indeed of all the
south of England, was the approaching war with France. No man doubted,
and all men wished, that Henry VII. would be driven to take the part of
his old benefactor, Francis, Duke of Brittany, in the defence of his
duchy against the troops of France, led by the young King Charles VIII.
It was so obviously the policy of England to prevent this powerful duchy
being united to the French crown, which was already giving signs of the
power it possessed, under the crafty rule of Louis XI., that far-seeing
English statesmen like the Bishop of Ely, Master Christopher Urswick,
and Sir John Edgecomb, the prototypes of England's diplomatists, could
not doubt that Henry must see the vast importance of keeping France
disunited, and of maintaining such an "_imperium in imperio_" as
Brittany in semi-independence. Englishmen still longed to wipe out the
disgrace of their expulsion from France, and any prospect of war with
that country was hailed with joy. For war meant, according to the views
of the time, not an impoverishment of both contending nations, but an
increase of wealth to one or the other. Every esquire or common soldier
might return a rich man. If, now-a-days, young men go forth to the ends
of the earth to dig for gold, or spend their young lives in isolated
exile in the wilds of the far West, or the savannahs of South America,
or the rainless plains of Australia, with what eagerness would they have
turned to war, where strength of arm and average good fortune meant
glory, social distinction, and personal wealth? The capture of a rich
prisoner in war meant the payment of a large ransom; and, as a wise
man-at-arms knew, the best investment of his money was in forming a
troop; the capture of one rich prisoner resulted in the decrease of
power to his country's foe, as well as the personal aggrandisement of
his captor. And all this brilliant prospect of success was enhanced by
the scene in which the aspirant to fame displayed his prowess. Not
drearily working at dull, monotonous manual labour far from the
surroundings of civilisation, but in the very heart of social life
carving out wealth, and fame, and name. No wonder war was popular.
To the eyes of the English people there never had been a time better
suited for recovering the Duchies of Normandy, Guienne, and Gascony,
since their final loss, but thirty years before. France's extremity had
always been England's opportunity; and it was through Brittany and
Normandy that English men-at-arms had poured to the conquest of
France--to such splendid victories as Crecy and Agincourt. As Scotland
was the thorn in England's side, so Brittany and Burgundy were the sharp
points wherewith to rasp the French.
By a strange coincidence, the two capitals of Burgundy and Brittany,
similar in name--Nancy and Nantes--received the mortal remains of their
two last dukes within ten years of each other. In 1477 the last male of
the house of Burgundy was borne from the field of battle to his splendid
tomb in Nancy, leaving his only daughter to be despoiled of her
inheritance by the craft of Louis XI.; while in 1488 the last male of
the house of Brittany was entombed in the magnificent pile erected to
his memory in the church of the Carmelites at Nantes, leaving also an
only daughter to be fought for by an emperor, a king, a royal duke, and
a puissant lord of the Pyrenees. And, by another singular fatality, the
same Prince became the husband of both heiresses. Maximilian won, but
speedily lost, both Mary of Burgundy and Anne of Brittany.
The common talk of all men, therefore, was the expedition that would
shortly sail for France. The Captain of the Wight made no secret of his
intentions, but determined to obtain the royal sanction first.
Full of the exciting prospects before him, and proud of his rapid
progress, Ralph rode eagerly home.
With what joy he saw the blue smoke curling over the brown trees which
hid the old manor house.
"See, Humphrey, there's the gilded vane on the west gable, and now I can
see the stacks of chimneys. Whoop, lad, get on;" and the joyous boy
urged his horse to a quicker pace. In a few minutes more he had turned
the corner of the road, and before him lay the picturesque range of old
gables and low windows.
He had not been able to let his parents know of his coming. He cantered
up to the gate, jumped off his horse, and in another minute was in his
mother's arms.
There is no need to describe the pride and joy of his parents, or the
half-concealed awe of his brother Jasper. His younger brother had gone
to Oxenford, and sent home from time to time accounts of his progress.
After a delightful visit, all too short for Ralph and his parents, the
young esquire set out to rejoin his lord. He arrived in time at
Guildford, and the next day they entered the capital.
The King had already returned with his nobles and men-at-arms from the
progress he had been making in the north, and the next day the ceremony
of the coronation of the Queen was to take place. Ralph was in
immediate attendance on his lord, who, as uncle of the Queen, held a
high place of honour in the ceremonies. The esquire was witness of the
installation of fourteen Knights of the Bath, and was astonished at the
grandeur, solemnity, and state of the proceedings. But what amazed him
most was the gorgeous procession of barges, all gilded and bedecked with
flags, which accompanied the Queen on the Thames. He was forcibly
reminded of Yolande as he saw the lovely young Queen, with her fair
yellow hair rippling in golden masses down her back, intertwined with
strings of jewels, and crowned with a golden crown; dressed in "white
cloth of gold of damask," and with a richly furred ermine mantle over
her shapely shoulders. But the palm of beauty was carried off by her
second sister Cicely, the loveliest woman of her time, whose romantic
life had not yet reached its most romantic period. Ralph little knew
that that exquisite face and queenly figure would one day reside in a
humble manor-house but three miles from his future home, and that her
husband would be lower in social station than himself.
He attended on the Captain of the Wight as one of the suite, at the
coronation banquet in the great hall, and Ralph was again surprised at
the gorgeous pageant. But he did not like to see two such fair
damoiselles as the Lady Catherine Grey and Mistress Ditton sitting under
the table at the lovely Queen's feet, and could not understand why the
Lady Oxford and the Lady Rivers should hold up, from time to time, a
handkerchief before that sweet face, while he pitied their having to
kneel through such a long state ceremony.[*]
[*] Leland. _Collectanea_.
He heard how urgently his lord strove to obtain the sanction of Henry
VII. to enlist men-at-arms and archers for the aid of the Bretons. But
the presence of the French Ambassadors, chief among whom were the Lord
Daubigny, a Scotch nobleman in the service of the French crown, combined
with a fear of internal troubles in case he should engage in foreign
wars, kept that cautious monarch from giving any permission.
It was the opinion, however, of Lord Woodville, as well as of most of
the English nobles and statesmen, that the King would not be at all
averse to an expedition being fitted out privately, which he could
disavow in public. Indeed most men thought he would be very much
gratified by such an exhibition of zeal.
Full of these ideas, and encouraged by the promises of assistance he
received from many experienced knights, as well as by numerous offers of
service from men of lesser rank, Sir Edward Woodville returned to his
island government.
The coronation had taken place in November; it was now the middle of
January 1488. The next two months were employed in sounding the
principal inhabitants of the island.
The Breton gentlemen had gone back to Brittany trusting to the promised
aid, and carrying with them exaggerated ideas of Lord Woodville's
position and power.
Ralph and the other pages enjoyed their lives as healthy boys engaged in
the manly employments of life in a mediaeval castle must have enjoyed
them. Hawking, hunting, daily drill and exercise, boating and fishing,
such were their occupations. Ralph had never breathed a word of the
midnight duel, nor did he know what had become of the wounded knight.
The Captain of the Wight never referred to it, and he kept his own
counsel. The valley was once revisited by him, as far as he could
recollect its whereabouts; but in the coombes and dells of the downs
there were so many level swards at their base, that he was in doubt
whether he had come across the right one. There were no traces of any
combat about them, there was the thorn bush in one and another, and a
little sedgy stream, but no fresh mounds or splintered spears.
Ralph had seen much of his cousin Yolande, and his affection and
admiration for her were unbounded; but he could not disguise from
himself that although she treated him with absolute candour and sisterly
affection, yet she always grew silent if the Captain of the Wight were
near, and hung on every word that nobleman spoke. It never crossed
Ralph's mind to be jealous, only he wished the Captain of the Wight did
not appear quite so often upon the scene.
But the thoughts of that nobleman were far removed from such trivial
subjects, if credence was to be placed in his words and actions. By
sound of trumpet and proclamation the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight
were summoned to a general muster at Shide Bridge, a place already
celebrated by a previous muster to take account of the military strength
of the island in the reign of King Edward the Second, held by John de la
Hoese and John de Lisle.
Thither on the day appointed the gentry of the island, with the yeomen
and country people, wended their way. The Bailiffs of Newport, Newtown,
Yarmouth, and Brading, accompanied by the richer of the burgesses of
those boroughs, attended. There were the bailiffs and stewards of the
various estates held by the ecclesiastical bodies of Winchester College,
Whorwell Monastery, Christchurch Priory, and Ashey; while the Abbot of
Quarr, the Prior of Carisbrooke, representing the Carthusian monastery
of Shene, and the Bailiff of Appuldurcombe, for the nunnery of St Clare,
without Aldgate, were also present. There came, besides, the reeves of
the manors belonging to the imprisoned Earl of Warwick, from Brixton and
Swainston. There were representatives of all the island families: Sir
Nicholas Wadham, Sir John Oglander, Sir William Lisle of Wootton, Master
Meaux, recovered from his rough handling of five months before, a
Bowerman from Brooke, Trenchards from Watchingwell and Shalfleet, a
Dineley from Woolverton, a Cheke from Mattistone, the Bowermans of
Austerborne or Osborn, John Racket of Knighton, and his relative by
marriage, Leigh of Woolverton in Bembridge, a Hawles of the ancient
family of De Aula from Stenbury Manor. There were Urrys, Keyneys, De
Heynos, Bruyns, with many others too numerous to mention, and a crowd of
the lesser yeomen and common people. When all were assembled, the
Captain of the Wight, in full armour, but with bare head, mounted on his
splendid charger, and surrounded by his seneschals, esquires, and pages,
addressed the crowd.
In a stirring speech he explained the situation. He told how many evils
the French had inflicted upon their forefathers. How in Edward the
First's reign they had threatened the island, but were daunted by the
stout preparations of the ancestors of many there present. How again in
Edward the Third's time they harassed the island by their evil
depredations, until under the brave Sir Theobald Russel of Yaverland,
who gave his life for his people, they were driven out with loss and
shame. How again in Richard the Second's reign the whole island was
overrun, and cruel damage inflicted, when all their towns were in
flames, and no place safe but the Castle of Carisbrooke. But here again
the ancient valour of their race broke out, and under the stout Sir Hugh
Tyrrel, "that right hardy knight," they chased the false Frenchmen to
their ships, slaying them by scores, "insomuch that from that day
Deadman's Lane went by no other name, and Neddie's Hill is still there
to show the burial place of the marauders." Again how valorously they
drove off Waleran de St Pol, that "noble knight of haut lineage," and
frightened away the caitiffs again a few years after; while in Henry the
Fifth's time they slew many who were running away to their ships.
"Shall we then," went on the Captain, "not recover from these false
robbers the wealth they have gotten from us? Shall we not avenge on
them the wrongs they have done to us? Think, all ye brave knights and
sturdy yeomen, of the wealth ye will gain. Think all ye young esquires
and right hardy varlets of the honour and renown ye will acquire in the
eyes of your fair mistresses. And, above all, think of the glory of
being the first to lead the way to victory, and recover for England and
our King the ancient lands and duchies of which she hath been so foully
robbed. I will stake life and fortune on the venture. I will warrant
all men against loss. You will do an action pleasing to all England,
and will save an oppressed people, an aged duke, and a fair princess
from the cruel hands of the ravisher. They are Bretons, so are we.
They hate the French, so do we. The tongue they speak is the native
tongue of our sovereign lord the King. Their hero is Arthur; their
country is the home of Lancelot-du-lac, Merlin, and all whom we
reverence as our own. Shall we not bring help, if in so doing we enrich
ourselves, destroy our enemies, win everlasting fame and name, and save
our lives and the lives of our children from future outrage? Shall we
not bring help? Who are our allies? The King of the Romans, Lord of
Austria, Italy, Allemayne, Brabant, and Flanders; the Duke of Brittany,
the Duke of Orleans, the Prince of Orange, the Lord d'Albret, and many
more of high lineage, great estate, and mighty valour. Did fate ever
offer such a chance? and shall we throw it all away? Rather than let
France, our bitter foe, rule over our ancient ally, I myself will go
with only my own household, and with my single lance will venture my
life for such a cause, losing it with ready will, if so it must be.
But, noble knights, gallant esquires, worthy burgesses, and sturdy
yeomen, shall we not all go together? Shall we not win wealth, renown,
safety, and the everlasting gratitude of our King, our country, and our
children?"
There was a deep murmur of applause. Every one was moved. Even the
more reflecting portion of the crowd recognised the truth of many
passages in the rousing speech of their Captain. The enthusiasm of the
younger men was wild. They applauded vociferously, drawing their swords
and waving them over their heads, and it was with difficulty the voice
of Sir William Lisle could be heard. He was speaking in support of
their Captain, and relating the terror the fears of French invasions had
roused throughout the island, so much so that his own ancestor had
withdrawn to the mainland, like many others of the island population.
When he had finished, many other speakers followed; and at last it was
resolved that the Captain of the Wight should be asked to select such as
would be most serviceable in the cause, while such as could not go
should give of their substance to properly equip the poorer sort.
So ended this memorable meeting; and, greatly pleased with the success
of the day, Lord Woodville returned to Carisbrooke.
In the course of the next week, so many gentlemen and yeomen presented
themselves eager to go on the expedition, that Lord Woodville and his
officers had some difficulty in making a selection. But by the end of
the week forty gentlemen, and about four hundred yeomen, were enrolled,
and directed to hold themselves in readiness to sail early in the
following week.
The excitement in the island was at this time intense. The inhabitants
felt the eyes of England were upon them; they felt proud of themselves
and of their gallant Captain; and there was scarcely a family, whether
rich or poor, which did not contribute some member--in many cases
several--to the forthcoming expedition.
Ralph was very busy, like every one else in the castle. Weapons and
armour were given out, drill was incessantly going on, and all the
tailors in Newport were hard at work making surcoats for the men-at-arms
and archers. Every man of the expedition was to wear a white tabard
with the red cross of St George blazoned on it.
At last the important day arrived. Ralph had received permission to
visit his relations the evening before. It was an exquisite spring
evening, and the scene was lovely as he rode over the long hill between
Newport and Wootton.[*] Before him lay the winding creek embowered in
thick oak woods--those woods which gave the name to his kinsman's branch
of the Lisle family, and perhaps a name to the little hamlet of Wodyton.
Beyond stretched the undulating land which hid the Monastery of Quarr,
whose deep-toned bell was sounding to complines across the still woods
and glassy waters of the creek; while away in the purple distance
stretched the gleaming Solent, unruffled by the slightest breeze, and
bounded by the dim Sussex shore.
[*] Wootton, in Domesday Book "Odetone;" called Wodyton in Bishop
Woodlock's Return of the Parishes in the Island; Woditone in the account
of the watches kept in the 18th of Ed. II., and in Cardinal Beaufort's
Valuation, Woodyton; and in the 8th of Ed. III. Wodyton.
Ralph rode down into the valley, where the grey mist floated in
mysterious wreaths, from out of which the blue smoke of Briddesford
Manor rose like a faint column in the still atmosphere, only to hang
above the mist in a greyer cloud.
The young esquire felt sad for the first time. He found his cousin
awaiting him in the dark old porch. After a few words of friendly
greeting, Ralph became silent.
"Why, cousin Ralph, what aileth thee?" said his cousin.
"I hardly know, sweet cousin mine, and yet I do know, only thou wilt
laugh at me; and so I would not say what yet I fain would."