THE MEN OF THE WOODS.
Lacking in many things, but not in stately hospitality or in honest
loyalty, was the welcome given that night at Wartmont Castle to the heir
of the English throne and to his company.
Truth to tell, the fortunes of this branch of the great house of Neville
were not at their best. The brave Sir Edward Neville had fallen in
Flanders fighting for the king. His widow and her only son had found
themselves possessed of much land, but of little else. Too many acres of
the domain were either forest or hill, that paid neither tithe nor
rental. Not even Lady Maud's near kinship to the Earl of Warwick was as
yet of any avail, for these were troublous times. Many a baron of high
name was finding it more and more difficult to comply with the exactions
of Edward the Third, and the king himself could hardly name a day when
his very crown and jewels had not been in pawn with the money lenders.
The less of discomfort, therefore, was felt by Lady Maud; but she was
grateful that the prince and the famous captain, Sir Walter, so frankly
laughed away her apologies at their parting the next morn.
"I am but an esquire," said the prince. "My royal father biddeth me to
wear plain armor and seek hard fare until I win my spurs. Thou hast
given me better service than he alloweth me."
"Most noble lady," added Sir Walter, "I am proud to have been the guest
of the widow of my old companion in arms----"
"Be thou, then, a friend to his son," she broke in earnestly.
"That will I," responded De Maunay, "but we may not serve together
speedily. I go to confer with the Earl of Warwick. Then I am bidden to
join Derby's forces in Guienne and Gascony. Hard goeth the war there. As
for thy son, he, too, should come to Warwick with his first levies. The
king hath ordered the power of the realm to gather at Portsmouth by the
ninth day of next October."
"I must be there, mother," said Richard.
"Bring thy archers with thee, if thou canst," replied Sir Walter. "It is
the king's thought that his next great field is to be won with the
arrow, rather than the sword or the lance. But he will have only good
bows, and them he will train under his own eye. It is time, now, for our
going."
The young prince, like the knight, gave the respectful ceremony of
departure to the Lady of Wartmont, but much of youthful frankness
mingled with his words and manner to Richard.
"I envy thee, indeed," he said to him, "thy close with the Club of
Devon. I have never yet had such a fortune befall me. I have seen fights
by sea and land, but ever some other hand than mine struck the best
blow."
"Thou wilt strike blows enough before thou art done, thou lion's cub of
England," said Sir Walter admiringly, for he loved the boy. That was
good reason, too, why he was with him on this journey with so small a
company.
"Few, are they?" had Richard responded to a word from his mother
concerning peril to the prince. "I have marked them, man by man. I think
they have been picked from the best of the king's men-at-arms. A hundred
thieves would go down before them like brambles before a scythe. And the
prince told me he thought it scorn to need other guards than his own
people----"
"And his own sword," she said, "and the lances of De Maunay and his men.
But the roads are not safe."
"Thou wilt be securely conveyed to Warwick, O my mother," he said
lovingly. "I will not leave thee until thou art within the earl's own
walls."
This had been spoken early in the day after the conflict with the
outlaws, and now the horsemen were in their saddles, beyond the bridge
of the moat, waiting for the prince and the knight.
Their waiting ended, and it was fair to see how lightly the great
captain and his young friend, in spite of their heavy armor, did spring
to horseback.
Gracious and low was their last salute to the bare, white head of Lady
Maud at the portal, and then away they rode right merrily.
"O my son!" exclaimed she, turning to Richard at her side, "I can wish
no better fortune for thee than to be the companion of thy prince. I
tell thee, thou hast won much by this thy defense of thy mother and thy
people."
"Aye," said Richard, laughing, "but thou wast the captain. I found thee
leading thy array, and I did but help at my best. I would Sir Walter
were to be with us, and not with the Earl of Derby."
"There be men-at-arms as good as he," she said. "Thou wilt have brave
leaders to learn war under. And, above all, thou wilt be with thy king.
Men say there hath not been one like him to lead men since William the
Norman conquered this fair land. Thou, too, art a Neville and a Norman,
but forget thou not one thing."
"And what may that be, my mother?" asked Richard, wondering somewhat.
"Knowest thou not thy hold upon the people, nor why the bowmen of Arden
forest come to thee rather than to another? Neville and Beauchamp, thou
art a Saxon more than a Norman. Thy father could talk to the men of the
woods in their old tongue. It dieth away slowly, but they keep many
things in mind from father to son. Every man of them is a Saxon of
unmixed blood, and to that degree that thou art Saxon thou art their
kinsman. So hated they Earl Mortimer and would have none of him, and so
he harried them, as thou hast heard. They will stand by thee as their
own."
"So will I bide by them!" exclaimed Richard stoutly. "And now there is
one yonder that I must have speech with. I pray thee, go in, my mother."
"That will I not," she said. "It behooveth me to pass through the
hamlet, house by house, till I know how they fare the day. There are
hurts among both men and women, and I am a leech. Are they not my own?"
"And well they love thee," said her son, and they walked on down the
slope side by side.
That they did so love her was well made manifest when men, women, and
children crowded around her. Every voice had its tale of things done, or
seen, or heard, and there was wailing also, for the few who had escaped
from near Black Tom's place were here, and others from farther on. Dark
and dire had been the deeds of the robber crew from the Welsh border to
the heart of Warwickshire, and great was the praise that would
everywhere be given to the young lord of Wartmont manor and his brave
men. The Club of Devon and his outlaws would be heard of or feared no
more. 'Twas a deed to be remembered and told of, in after time, among
the fireside talks of the midland counties.
The madame now had household visits to make not a few, and Richard
listened long to the talk of the farmers and the village men. He seemed
to have grown older in a day, but his mother said, in her heart:
"I can see that the folk are gladdened to find that he is so like to the
brave knight, his father. God keep him, among the spears and the
battle-axes of the French men-at-arms! I fear he is over young to ride
with such as serve with the prince."
She could not think to hold him back, but he was her only son, and she
was a widow.
Patiently, all the while, a little apart from the rest, had waited the
burly shape of Guy the Bow, and with him was no other forester, but
beside him stood his shaggy-maned galloway.
"Thou art come?" said Richard. "Brave thanks to thee and thine. What
errand hast thou, if so be thou hast any for me?"
"I bided out of seeing till the prince and Lord de Maunay rode on,"
replied Guy. "Even now I would no other ears than thine were too near
us."
"This way, then," said Richard, turning to walk toward the moat. "I
have somewhat to say to thee as we go."
None joined them, and as they walked the archer was informed concerning
the mandates of the king and the mustering by land and sea at
Portsmouth.
"I have been there," said Guy, "in my youth. 'Tis not so far to go. 'Tis
well in behind the Isle of Wight. I have been told by seafaring men that
the French have never taken it, though they tried. A safe haven. But
there are others as safe on the land. Part of my coming to thee is to
ask that thou wilt venture to look in on one."
"I may not venture foolishly or without a cause," said Richard. "Thee I
may trust, but all are not as thou art."
"All thou wilt see are keepers of good faith when they give troth,"
laughed Guy pleasantly, "or else more in Wartmont would know what to
this day they know not. My Lord of Wartmont, plain speech is best. The
men who are to go with thee are under the king's ban, as thou knowest.
They will not put themselves within the reach of the sheriff of
Warwickshire till they are sure of safety. They will hear the king's
proclamation from thine own lips, for thou hast it from the prince
himself. A man's neck is a thing he is prone to guard right well."
"Go and have speech with them? That will I!" exclaimed Richard
promptly. "Nor is there time to lose. I will bid them bring my
horse----"
"Not as thou now art," responded Guy. "Don thou thy mail. Be thou well
armed. But men of thine from the castle may not ride with us. I have
that to show thee which they may not see. Wilt thou trust me?"
"That will I," said Richard.
"And thine own sword is a good one," added the archer, with soldierly
admiration in his face. "I have seen thy father in tourney. Thou wilt
have good stature and strong thews, as had he in his day. They say 'twas
a great battle when he fell among the press, and that many good spears
went down."
"Aye. Go!" said Richard thoughtfully. "I will explain this thing to my
mother. She needeth but to know that I go to meet a muster of the men."
"Nay," said Guy. "Fear thou not to tell my lady all. In her girlhood she
was kept, a day and a night, where none could do her harm, for the Welsh
were over the border, under Lewellyn the Cruel, and the castle of her
father was not safe. She was not a Neville then, and the Beauchamps fled
for their lives."
"What was the quarrel?" asked Richard.
"Little know I," replied the archer. "What have plain woodsmen to do
with the feuds of the great? Some trouble, mayhap, between King Edward
the Second and his earls. We aye heard of fights and ravages in those
days, but there came none to harry us in Arden."
So they talked but little more, and Richard passed on into the castle
followed by Guy the Bow.
Their first errand was to the hall of arms in the lower story, and the
eyes of the forester glittered with delight as they entered.
"Thou couldst arm a troop!" he exclaimed. "What goodly weapons are
these!"
"Wartmont hath held a garrison more than once," said Richard. "Pray God
that our good king may keep the land in peace. But it needeth that his
hand be strong."
"Strong is it," said Guy, "and the young prince biddeth fair. I like him
well. But, my Lord of Wartmont, the noon draweth nigher and we have far
to ride."
"Aye," said Richard; but he was taking down from the wall piece after
piece and weapon after weapon, eying them as if he loved them well but
was in doubt.
"No plate armor, my lord," said Guy. "It were too heavy if thou went on
foot. Let it be good chain mail; but take thee a visored headpiece. With
thy visor down strange eyes would not know thee too well. Leg mail, not
greaves, and a good, light target rather than a horseman's shield. This
is a rare good lance."
"That will I take," said Richard, as he tested a sword blade by
springing it on the stone pavement of the hall. "I will hang a mace at
my pommel."
"Thou art a bowman," said Guy. "Thy bow and quiver also can hang at thy
saddle. Nay, not that heavy bit of yew. Thy arms are too young to bend
it well. Choose thee a lighter bow."
"I will string it, then, and show thee," replied Richard, a little
haughtily. "Yon is a target at the head of the hall. Wait, now."
The bow was strung with an ease and celerity which seemed to surprise
the brawny forester. He took it and tried its toughness and handed it
back, for Richard had taken an arrow from a sheaf beneath a window.
"Good arm, thine!" shouted Guy, for the shaft was drawn to the head and
landed in the very center of the bull's eye of the wooden tablet at the
hall end. "Thou art a Saxon in thy elbows. Canst thou swing an axe like
this?"
He held out a double-headed battle-axe that seemed not large. It was not
too long in the handle, but its blades were thick as well as sharp
edged. It was no weapon for one at all weak-handed.
Clogs of wood lay near, with many cuts already upon them, as if there
had been chopping done. Richard took the axe and went toward a clog of
hard oak.
Click, click, click, in swift succession, rang his blows, and the chips
flew merrily.
"Done!" shouted Guy. "Take that, then, instead of thy foolish mace. It
will but bruise, while thine axe will cleave through mail or buff coat.
Ofttimes a cut is better than a bruise, if it be well given. I would I
had a good axe."
"Take what thou wilt," said Richard. "Put thee on a better headpiece,
and change thy sword. If thou seest spears to thy liking, they are
thine; or daggers, or aught else. We owe thee good arming."
"Speak I also for Ben o' Coventry," responded Guy. "He needeth a
headpiece, for his own is but cracked across the crown, and his sword is
not of the best."
"Choose as thou wilt for Ben," said Richard, "or for any other as good
as he. Needeth he mail?"
"His buff coat is more to his liking," said Guy, "and men say that the
king will not have his bowmen overweighted for fast walking. The weary
man draweth never a good bow, nor sendeth his arrow home."
"Right is the king," replied Richard. "I am but a youth, but I can see
that a foe might get away from heavy armor."
Guy was busy among the weapons and he made no answer. At that moment,
however, there was a footfall behind him, and he sprang to his feet to
make a low obeisance.
"Mother!" exclaimed Richard, "I was coming to tell thee."
But not to him was her speech, nor in Norman French, nor in the English
dialect of the Warwickshire farmers. She questioned Guy in old Saxon,
such as was not often heard since the edicts of the Norman kings had
discouraged its use. Richard could speak it well, however, and he knew
that Guy was explaining somewhat the errand before him.
"It is well," she said. "I will trust him with thee. The castle is safe.
But hold him not too long, for I make myself ready to pass on to
Warwick, to abide with the earl for a season."
"Right soon will he return," said Guy the Bow, "and good bows with him.
The king shall be pleased with the company from Arden and Wartmont."
Small wonder was it, after all, that while all Welshmen retained their
ancient tongue, and many Cornishmen, and the Manxmen all, and the Gaels
of Scotland and the wild Erse of Ireland, so also many thousands--no one
knew how many--in the rural districts of England, still preserved but
little changed the language with which their fathers had answered to
Harold, the last of the Saxon kings. Hundreds of years later the traces
of it lingered in Warwickshire, Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, Lancashire, and
elsewhere, in a manner to confuse the ears of modernized men from the
towns and from the coasts, as well as all outland men who might believe
that they understood English.
Well did Guy obey the commands of both Richard and his mother; for when,
after a hearty breaking of his fast, he stood by the side of his
galloway, that good beast had cause to whinny as he did, as if to
inquire of his master what need there might be that he should so be
packed with weapons and with steel caps for the heads of men. The
gallant animal that was to carry Richard, on the other hand, was fitted
out and laden as if at any moment his rider might be changed from a
lance-bearing man-at-arms to a bowman on foot. Other baggage there was
none, and Lady Maud, from her crenelated peephole in the Wartmont keep,
saw her son and his companion ride slowly away through the village.
"Heaven guard him!" she murmured. "But he can not gain too well the
hearts of the old race. They be hard-headed men and slow to choose a
leader, but they are strong in a fray. I would the tallest of the forest
deerslayers should go shoulder to shoulder with my son into the king's
battles."
So she gazed until the pair of horsemen disappeared along the road;
then she descended a flight of stairs and walked to the end of a
corridor. Here was a door that opened into a high vaulted chamber, at
the far end of which were candles burning before an altar and a
crucifix. This was the chapel of the castle, and Lady Maud's feet bore
her on, more and more slowly, until she sank upon her knees at the altar
rail and sobbed aloud.
Well away now, up the valley, northward, rode Richard Neville and Guy
the Bow, but they were no longer in any road marked by wheels of wains.
They had left the highway for a narrow bridle path that was leading them
into the forest.
"My Lord of Wartmont," said the archer, "I pray thee mark well the way
as thou goest. Chance might be that thou shouldst one day travel it
alone. Put thou thine axe to the bark of a tree, now and then, and let
it be a mark of thine own, not like that of another. I think no man of
knightly race now liveth who could guide thee, going or coming."
In an instant Richard's battle-axe was in his hand, and a great oak had
received a mark of a double cross.
"There hangeth a shield in the gallery of the armory," he said, "that is
blazoned in this wise. It is said that a good knight brought it home
from Spain, in the old wars. Well is it dinted, too, in proof that it
fended the blows of strong fighters. It is thrust through and it is
cloven."
"Mayhap in frays with the heathen," said Guy. "A sailor, once, at
Portsmouth, one of our own kin, told me rare tales of the Moors that he
had seen in the Spanish seas. He told me of men that were black as a
sloe; but it is hard to believe, for what should blacken any man? He had
seen a whale, too, and a shark three fathoms long. There be wonders
beyond seas."
"And beyond them all is the end of the world," said Richard, "but the
ships do not venture that far to their ruin."
So more and more companionlike and brotherly grew the young lord and the
forester, as they rode on together, and it seemed to please Guy well
both to loosen his own tongue and to ask many questions concerning
matters of which little telling had ever yet come in among the forests
of Arden.
The day waned and the path wound much, and there was increasing gloom
among the trees and thickets, when Guy turned suddenly to Richard.
"Put down thy visor," he said sharply, "and draw thy sword. We are
beset! Sling thy lance behind thee, and get thee down upon thy feet.
This is no place to sit upon a horse and be made a mark of."
The actions of both were suited to the word on the instant, but hardly
was Richard's helmet closed before an arrow struck him on the crest.
But that he had been forewarned, it had smitten him through the face.
"Outlaws!" said Guy. "Robbers--not our own men. How they came here I
know not. Down, quickly!"
Even as he spoke, however, his bow twanged loudly, and a cry went up
from a dense copse beyond them.
"One!" he shouted, and he and Richard sprang lightly to the earth.
"Well my sword was out!" said the latter as he gained his feet, for
bounding toward him were half a dozen wild shapes carrying blade and
buckler.
"Down with them!" roared the foremost of the assailants; but Guy the Bow
was in front of him, and in his hand was a poleaxe from Wartmont armory.
It was a fearful weapon in the hands of such a man as he, to whom its
weight was as a splinter. It flashed and fell, and the lifted buckler
before it might as well have been an eggshell for all the protection it
gave to the bare head of the robber. He should have worn a helmet, but
he would never more need cap of any kind. Useless, too, was the light
blade that glinted next upon the shield of Richard, for it made no mark,
while its giver went down with a thigh wound, struck below his buckler.
On swept the terrible blows of the poleaxe, and Guy had no man to meet
but was nearly a head shorter than himself.
"They are all down!" he shouted. "Mount, my Lord of Wartmont; they in
the copse have fled, but there may be more at hand. We will ride hard
now. These are thieves from Lancashire, and they have not been heard of
in these parts for many a day. I think they have been harried out of
their own nests. They are but wolves."
"What kin are they?" asked Richard, as he regained his saddle.
"That I know not, nor do I know their speech," replied Guy. "But among
them are no tall men nor many good bows. Ben o' Coventry hath been told
by a monk from those parts that they are a kind of old Welsh that were
left when the first King Edward smote their tribe to death. They will
live in no town, nor will they obey any law, nor keep troth with any.
But the monk told Ben that they were not heathen, and among them were
men who could talk Latin like a priest. How that could be I know not."
"Nor I," said Richard; "but I tell thee, Guy the Bow, I like this war of
the king's with France. We shall cross the sea, and we shall look upon
strange lands and towns. I would not bide aye at Wartmont. I would see
the world."
"That would not I," laughed Guy, "but if the king winneth battles and
taketh towns there will be spoils to bring home. I will come back to own
land and cattle, and thou canst build again thy castle walls and
maintain thy state. I saw a piece of gold once."
"There is little enough of gold in England," said Richard; but the path
was narrowing and they could no longer gallop abreast.
Not far had they pushed on, however, before Guy drew his rein and turned
upon his galloway to say, in a hushed voice:
"My Lord of Wartmont, I dare not sound a horn. I pray thee dismount and
come after me through the hazels. I know not of peril, but we need to go
lightly."
"Aye," returned Richard, as he dropped from the saddle nimbly enough
considering his arms. "I am with thee."
Path there seemed to be none in that dim light, but ere long, as he
followed his guide, the hazel bushes on either side opened widely and
before him spread a grassy level. Only that the grass was too luxuriant
and that here and there were rushes, it might have seemed a pleasant
glade.
"'Tis the southerly arm," said Guy, "of the great moss of Arden. There
is little more of it till you get leagues north of this. Oh, but it's
deep and fateful. He who steppeth into it cometh not up."
"What do we, then?" asked Richard.
"That which few may dare," replied Guy with one of his brave laughs.
"But a piece onward and I will show thee. Here might be barred an army."
"That might they," said Richard, staring across the treacherous green
level, below which, Guy told him, there was no bottom.
Beyond were shadowy lines that told of forest growths, and these were
nearer as they led their horses onward.
"A bridge!" exclaimed Richard, as he caught a glimpse of a mass of logs
and planks. "Is there crossing?"
"None but what the men of the woods can take away before dawn," said
Guy. "It is a bridge that some have crossed who came not back again. I
pray thee, speak not save in old Saxon. 'Tis the only tongue that may be
heard inside o' the moss of Arden."
Richard spoke not aloud, but he was saying much in his thoughts.
"This, then, is the reason why the sheriff of Warwickshire had missed
finding many that were traced to the forest. The takers of the king's
deer know where to hide their venison. But even on this bridge a few
axemen could hold back a troop. Yonder bushes could hide archery. He
would be a bold captain, or crack-brained, who would lead men upon this
narrow way."
The woodwork trembled somewhat with the weight of the two horses and
the men, but it bore them well enough.
"Hail, thou!" came hoarsely from among the shadows as they reached the
farther bank. "Come well. Thou hast him with thee."
"Greet them in Saxon," whispered Guy, and he also responded loudly:
"Hail, men, all! Is Ben o' Coventry with ye? This is Richard of
Wartmont, with the king's word in his mouth. I gave him safe conduct,
and his mother sendeth ye good greeting."
Something like a cheer arose from several voices, but the speakers were
unseen until Guy and Richard had passed on many paces into the forest.
Even then only dark and silent forms walked with them, and there were
gleams of bright spearheads before them and behind.
"Every man hath his bow and his buckler," thought Richard, "and most of
them are sturdy fellows. The king hath need of such. It is said that the
outland men are smaller in the bones."
It was the prevailing opinion among the English of that day that one of
their own was equivalent to four Frenchmen, and they counted as French
nearly all of the dwellers beyond the Channel, except the Hollanders and
the Danes, or Norsemen. The Norway folk were also, by the greater part,
counted as Danes, and were believed to be hard fighters. So, among the
country folk, still lingered the traditions of the ancient days, when
Knut and his vikings had swept the coast and conquered the island.
It was a walk of a league, and there was some talking by the way, but
the men all seemed in haste and they strode rapidly.
Then they were greeted by loud shouting, and Richard saw a red light
grow beyond the trees.
"Here is cleared land," was his next thought, "and yonder is a balefire.
Ho! In the king's name, what is this? Are there strongholds hidden among
the woods?"
Before him, as he went forward, was an open area which may have
contained hundreds of acres. He could see broad reaches of it by the
glaring light of a huge heap of burning wood, a few score yards from the
edge of the forest. Beyond the fire, as much farther, he could discern
the outlines of a large building, and, even more distinctly, a long line
of palisades in front of it.
"My lord," said Guy, "yonder is the hidden ward in Arden. If any that
are great of thy kinsmen ever heard of it, they told thee not. There was
thy mother fended, and there thy father lay long days, when Earl
Mortimer's men were seeking his head. Thou art welcome, only let thy
lips be as our own concerning our hold. It will be kept well should
strangers come."
Richard glanced at the rugged forms around him, and at many more that
were walking hither and thither in the firelight. All were armed, and he
could well believe that they would make Guy's word good for him. They
crowded around as he drew near, and there was an increasing heartiness
in their manner and words as he continually replied to them in the
forgotten tongue. He knew not of gypsies, or the thought might have come
to him that these half-outlaws, every man a deerslayer, under the ban of
the stern forest laws, had need, as had the Romany or "Bohemians" as
they were called, to possess a speech of their own. It was a protection,
inasmuch as it aided them in detecting intruders and in secretly
communicating with each other.
There seemed to be no chief man, no captain, but all stood on a kind of
rude equality, save that much deference was paid to Guy the Bow.
"Right on to the house, if it please thee, my lord," he said. "It is
late, and there is roast venison waiting. Thou mayest well be hungered.
Is all ready, Ben o' Coventry?"
"All that's to be eaten," responded Ben, "but the talking with the men
must be done on the morrow. They from the upper woods are not in. It
was well to slay the Lancashire thieves. Some have gone out after what
thou and he did leave. They may not tell tales of aught they have seen
in Arden."
A few words more of explanation informed Richard that he was there
sooner than had been expected, and he was quite willing to let his wild
entertainers have their own way.
"I would see all," he said, "and talk to all at once."
"There might be jealousies," whispered Guy. "Thou doest wisely. Here is
the gate."
A vast oaken portal heavily strengthened with iron swung open in the
line of the bristling palisades while he was speaking. There was a moat,
of course, with a bridge of planks to the gate, over which Richard and
those who were with him went in. The inclosure beyond was large, and in
it was blazing more than one log heap, the better to light up the
buildings.
Some would have called it a grange, if there had not been so much of it,
for there were more houses than one, all grouped, attached or built on
to a central structure. There was no masonry, but the woodwork was
exceedingly heavy and strong. If there were more than one story to the
grange, it must have been hidden under the high-pitched roofs, for there
were no upper windows. Such of these as could be seen below were all
closed with heavy swing shutters, nor was there any chimney on any roof.
This was the manner in which the West Saxons of Harold's time builded
the palaces of their chiefs and earls.