THE EARL AND THE ESQUIRE.
When Lady Maud Neville arose from her knees at the altar rail there was
a beautiful light upon her noble face. Her long, white hair had fallen
around her shoulders, but for some reason she seemed to have grown
younger.
"I will give him to the king!" she loudly exclaimed. "I have prayed that
my son may be as was his father, a knight without a stain. But here I
may not tarry. It were better I made ready for a journey even ere I
sleep, for when Richard returneth there will be haste. There is much
that I would not leave behind. I will load no wain with goods, but the
pack beasts will bear full panniers."
She walked out of the chapel and her serving men and maidens met her,
eager to do her bidding. After that there were chambers and storerooms
to visit and coffers to open and packs to bind, for she was not ill
supplied with the garments that were suited to her rank, and above all
there were small caskets of dark wood that were not opened. It was said
that there were gems and jewels in Wartmont, and the saying may have
reached the ears of such as Clod the Club to bring him thither. If so,
well was it that he and his would never come again.
Ever and anon, however, as the good lady passed a window, she would
pause and look out toward the forest, as if in that direction there
might be some one that she longed to see.
Day waned and the night came on, and all preparations appeared to be
completed, for again she visited the chapel before retiring to her
chamber. Long since had the great gate been closed, and the portcullis
lowered and the bridge over the moat drawn in. Now, at last, the curfew
bell sounded from the tower and the lights in castle and village went
out, save one bronze lamp that still burned in that corner of the keep
to which the lady herself had retreated.
It was a large room and lofty, with twain of narrow windows that were as
if for archers to ply their arrows through them rather than for lighting
the space within. The floor was strewn with dry rushes for luxury, and
the garnishing was such as became the mistress of Wartmont. Heavily
carved, of oak, were the tables and the high-backed chairs and the
settles. The mirror over the chest of drawers must have come from Venice
itself. There were curtains at the windows and around the high-post
bedstead which might have been woven in Flanders or Normandy, for none
such could be made in England. The walls were wainscoted to the height
of a man's shoulder, but there were no tapestries to tell of great
wealth. It was as if in this place of retirement had been preserved all
that remained of the broken prosperity of this branch of the great house
of Neville.
The lady slept not, nor even looked at the bed, but sank into a great
cushioned chair and seemed to be lost in thought.
No words escaped her lips although much time went by. There was no hand
to turn the hourglass on the bureau near her, nor could she have known
at what hour she was startled to her feet.
Loud rang the summoning sound of a clarion at the great gate, and louder
was the sudden answer of the alarum bell in the tower. She was at a
window ere she knew, and she heard a shouting:
"Open, O ye of Wartmont! In the king's name! It is John Beauchamp, Earl
of Warwick. Is our lord the prince within?"
"Open will we right gladly," sent back the warder at the gate. "But the
prince and my Lord of Maunay rode on to Warwick in the morn."
"Saints preserve them!" uttered another voice. "But we must needs come
in. Bid the Lady Maud rest. I will trouble her not until day."
"My noble kinsman!" she exclaimed, turning quickly from her window. "I
will make haste to greet him. Well is it that I am robed. I will meet
him speedily in the hall."
Even so she did, and the minutes were few before she stood face to face
with a tall man of noble presence, in full armor save the helmet he had
doffed on entering. He seemed in full vigor of life, but gray-headed, as
became a statesman upon whom the king might lean.
Questions and answers followed fast, and all the while the Wartmont
retainers were busily providing for the hundred horsemen who had ridden
in the train of the earl. Of them were knights and nobles also, and some
of these now stood near the lady and the earl. Strong was their speech,
as was his, concerning the rashness which the prince had shown in riding
across England with so small a company.
"Knoweth he not," said one, "that there is treason in the land?"
"Silence on that head, Geoffrey of Harcourt," responded the earl. "But
we may trust he is safe in Warwick. Had we taken another highway we
might have met him. But, madame, this is fine news of my young kinsman.
Well for him that he hath won the favor of the prince and of that rare
good lance, De Maunay. More than well is it also that he hath sallied
forth promptly to gather his archery. It will please the king. Better
bowmen are not than he will bring from Arden. Now, Lady Maud, hie thee
to thy rest, and so will we all, for we are weary."
The remaining words were few, and once more the castle grew still, save
for the stamping of restless horses in the courtyard and the busy
chatter of the warders of Wartmont with the guard set by the earl.
Now there was another place in which all was quiet, only that on a heap
of rushes and a spread garment lay a youth who slept not, but turned at
times uneasily.
"I fear no treachery," he muttered, but not in Saxon. "I think these be
true men. Yet I will leave my sword bare and my axe by it lest peril
come. Who would have looked for a hold like this among these woods?"
Then his thoughts went back to that which he had seen on coming in. He
had passed the moat and the portal with Guy the Bow, and through a short
passage. Then he had entered a vast hall, in the middle of which blazed
a fire, the smoke whereof escaped at a hole in the peak of the roof. At
one end of this hall was a broad dais, two steps higher than the floor
of beaten earth, and here had been spread a table for his refection.
Kindly, indeed, and full of reverence for his rank and name, had been
the words and manners of all who served, for none presumed to eat with
him. No other man was there of gentle blood, and even Guy the Bow would
have been angered had any trespassed upon his young captain. That was
Richard, now, by the command of the prince himself, and the forestmen
all honored the king, Saxons though they were. None were permitted to
question, overmuch, although Guy himself went out to dispense whatever
news was in his own keeping.
Refreshed, even with a tankard of ale that was brought him, Richard
arose at last, and followed Ben of Coventry to the sleeping place
allotted him. None better was in the grange. If at any past day there
had been more costly furniture, some hand had taken it away, and naught
was left now but safe quarters for such men as Richard had seen.
It was but day dawning when a hunter's horn sounded a clear note at the
door of the rude chamber.
"Hail, my Lord of Wartmont!" spoke Guy the Bow. "I pray thee hasten. Thy
men will be ready for thee within the hour. They all have come, and they
are eager to hear thee."
"On the moment!" shouted Richard. "I am ready. Tell them I come."
"God speed thee this day," said Guy. "Full many a good fellow is ready
to free himself from peril of the sheriff of Warwickshire. Aye, and to
draw the king's good pay and have chance for pillaging French towns.
They like it well."
Great indeed was the astonishment of Richard when, after hurriedly
breaking his fast in the great hall, he walked out with Guy and others
like him to view the gathering in the open space beyond the palisades.
Women and children, score on score, kept at a little distance, but not
beyond hearing. In the middle, however, were clustered fully a hundred
brawny men, eager to hear the king's proclamation of free pardon and
enlistment for the war in France. They all knew what it was to be from
other tongues, but to them the young lord of Wartmont was the king's
messenger, and there was no certainty in their minds until he had
spoken.
Without too many words, but plainly and well, did he announce his
message, and they answered him with loud shouting. To some of them it
was as a promise of life from certain death, for the law was in search
of them, and the judges of that day were pitiless concerning forestry
and the protection of the king's deer and the earl's.
Short ceremony was needed, for man after man came forward to kneel and
put his hands between those of Richard, in the old Saxon custom of
swearing to be his men in camp and field, in fight and foray, in the
inland and the outland, until the king's will should give them grace to
come home again.
Born warriors were they all, and they laughed with glee in the hope of
fighting the French under so good a leader as was Edward of England.
Good captain, good success, they knew; and as for Richard, had they not
known the knight, his father, and had not he himself slain the Club of
Devon in single-handed combat? They were proud to serve under a Neville,
and a man of their Saxon blood, who could order them in their own
tongue.
"One hundred and one!" shouted Guy at last. "May I not bid them to
horse, Lord Richard? Every man can have his own galloway, or another,
that the road to the camp at Warwick may be shortened."
"Mount!" shouted Richard. His own gallant steed had been led to his side
and in a moment more he was in the saddle.
John, Earl of Warwick, was also early upon his feet, for he was a man
whose life had been spent much in camps, and he was wont to be out and
using his eyes as a captain before breaking his fast. From the men of
Wartmont he speedily learned all relating to the raid of the Club of
Devon and the brave fight made in front of the castle. Of this also he
noted the defects, and he roundly declared that he would soon give
command and provide means for its repair.
"We may need it again some day," he said to himself. "There may be
stormy times to come. May God prevent strife at home, but there be
overproud hearts and over-cunning heads in this good land of ours. I
will see to it that Wartmont shall be made stronger than ever. Glad am I
that Sir Edward Neville hath left so brave a son to stand for our
house."
Many and bitter were the jealousies of the high-hearted barons of
England, and none could tell the days to come. Who should prophesy how
long the reigning house might keep the throne, or between what claimants
of the crown might be the next struggle, if, for example, King Edward or
his son, or both of them, and their next of kin, should go down in
battle or should die suddenly in their beds, as others of royal blood
had died? The head of a great baronial house might well bethink himself
of every advantage or possible peril.
"But for the poverty the war bringeth," he said, "I would have builders
here within the week. As it is, I will have a garrison, and the good
dame herself must bide at Warwick while her son is with the army in
France. 'Twere shame to leave her here alone."
So said he to Lady Maud when they met in the castle, and she told him
then how well prepared she was for a departure. Already was she aware of
his reason for coming so far to meet the prince; but his anxiety was at
an end, and he was willing to linger and make full his soldierly
inspection of the castle.
"Good fort," he said, "and well was it held against Earl Mortimer. Glad
am I that thy son hath so good control of the forest men. They are as
clannish as are the Scotch, and they will come to their own chief when
they will bide no other."
He understood them, but he was yet taken by surprise before the noon.
"Horsemen!" he exclaimed, standing in the gateway. "Rightly did I say
there was imprudence in the small company of the prince. Yonder is a
troop--yea, twain of them."
No lances were visible, but at the head of the foremost troop rode one
who carried on a high staff a blue banneret, and the earl knew not as
yet what its blazonry might be.
Truth to tell, it was nothing but an old flag of Sir Edward Neville's
which had been stowed away in the crypts of the grange. Not all of these
had been inspected by Richard, but he had seen a good smithy wherein
galloways were shod, and spearheads and arrowheads and knife blades were
hammered and tempered. Not only arrowsmiths were there among the forest
men, but good bowyers, that they might not depend for their weapons upon
any but themselves. Weaving, too, was done among the women and by
skilled websters of the men; but shoemakers or cordwainers they had
none, and but rough potters and smelters. So dwelt they as best they
might, with cattle and sheep and swine, and the black cattle of the
woods and the king's deer for their maintenance. They were not at any
time in peril of starvation, for excellent also were the fishes in the
pools and streams, and there was no end of skilled brewing of ale.
Four and four abreast rode on the mounted archers who had sworn to come
to the king with Richard of Wartmont, and they came on right orderly.
Well looked he also, in full armor, at their head.
"'Tis Richard, my lord the earl!" called out to him Lady Maud as they
rode nearer. "'Tis my brave son and his men! Believest thou now that he
can call the men of the woods? My boy! God bless him!"
"That say I!" loudly responded the earl, striding across the
moat-bridge. "Ho, all! Get ready for the way. My lady, I pray thee to go
in and lade thy pack beasts. We will even march for Warwick ere the day
is an hour older."
Loud and hearty was his cousinly greeting to his young kinsman. Strong
was his approval of the force he had enlisted, but he added:
"What shall we do with all these beasts? The king will have his archers
on their own feet."
"That is provided for," replied Richard. "I pray thee trust me that the
whole drove can go back to Arden, under good driving, as soon as there
is no more need for them. I deemed it well to come quickly. Such was
the word given me by Sir Walter de Maunay."
"Thou didst well to heed him," said the earl; but then he talked little
more with Richard.
He bade the men dismount and get their noonday meal in the village and
in the castle; but he had speech with many of them, for he was well
pleased that such a company should come to the royal standard from among
his own retaining.
Lady Maud had waited, but not all patiently, for her own greeting to her
son. It was a joy to both of them that they were to go on to Warwick
together, but most of all that a better day seemed to be dawning for
them, and that the ruin wrought by the bad Earl Mortimer might be
amended.
Not many men had been left behind in the hidden hold amid the forest,
and such as had not marched with Richard had long since dispersed. Some
had ridden gayly away on their stout ponies; others had gone to the
fields. Some were in the smithy, the tannery, and the other workshops,
and a few had restlessly snatched bows and arrows to hurry out into the
woods as hunters.
No guards were set, except that a pair of bowmen lingered on the farther
side of the causeway over the morass. There was little peril of
intrusion now that the Lancashire Welsh thieves had been sorely smitten.
Whatever might remain of them would not return to be shot down.
As for the secret character of the grange itself, there was small
wonder that a few hundred acres, if so much there might be, of patches
of farm land should be sheltered among those woods from any but such men
as had been Sir Edward Neville. It might all be within the somewhat
doubtful borders of his own manorial grant, given to his ancestors by
the earlier kings and confirmed by Edward the First, to be lost under
his son, the second Edward, and Earl Mortimer, and to be regained under
Edward the Third and the house of Beauchamp.
It was said, indeed, that there were regions tenfold as wide, in some of
the remoter baronies, whereof men knew but little, especially among the
Scottish border counties and among the hills. Besides these were the
unsearched fen districts on the coasts, the wild mountain parts of
Wales, and worst of all were the highlands of Scotland and the seagirt
isles of the Scottish coasts. As for Ireland, even the greater part of
it was almost an unknown land to Englishmen, for nothing less than an
army might venture inland too far with any hope of ever coming back
again.
In the several parts of the grange itself, as in the cottages scattered
beyond it, the women plied their tasks. Some of them spun with distaffs,
and two or three looms were busy; more might have been but for the lack
of wool. There was much raising of sheep in the more thickly settled
parts of England in those days, but there was small room for them in
Arden. Moreover, they, more than cattle or horses or swine, were sorely
thinned by the wolves. It was a hundred and fifty years later that these
fierce beasts disappeared from England, and the last of them in Scotland
was slain yet a century later. So was it that so little cloth, even of
homespun, was worn by the bowmen who rode behind Richard of Wartmont, in
the gloom of that evening when he followed the Earl and his men-at-arms
through the gate of Warwick town.
Long had been the journey, hard pushed and weary were beasts and men.
There was small ceremony of arrival or reception for the greater part of
the cavalcade, but the Lady Maud was conducted at once to the care of
the Countess Eleanor of Warwick, her younger sister, the wife of the
earl.
As for Richard, his men were cared for well, under direction of Sir
Geoffrey de Harcourt, while their young captain was bidden to hasten
with his great kinsman to meet once more the Prince of Wales and Sir
Walter de Maunay.
This greeting, too, was brief, for the hour was late; but the prince
said graciously:
"O thou of Wartmont, I will make thee my comrade in arms! In the morn I
would fain see thy men. My father himself bade me gather as many deer
stealers as I might, for, quoth he, the hand that can send a gray goose
shaft to strike a stag at a hundred yards may fairly bring down a
Frenchman at half that distance. Give me bowmen enough of the right
sort, and I will train them to face anything that Philip of France can
muster."
"O my Lord the Prince," replied Richard, "I have a hundred with me, of
whom any man can send an arrow through a coat of mail at fifty yards. I
like the king's notion right well."
"Go, now," said the prince; "go with thy kinsman, the earl. On the
morrow I will tell thee what to do with _thy_ men."
But these, for their part, were all of a merry heart that night. Not
often had any of them visited Warwick, at least in later years, for
therein was a jail, and they liked not so much as to look thereon, being
in danger of being put within it. They had good quarters and good fare,
with much ale, and they knew they were to see brave sights next day, and
to have a word from even the Black Prince himself. Was not that enough
of cheer for men of the woods who had seldom been out beyond the shadows
of the oaks of Arden?
The stout earl and his nephew walked together from the presence of the
prince toward the chamber allotted to Richard.
"Thou shalt be to me as a son!" exclaimed the earl, in the dim corridor
through which they were pacing. "Thou hast won the prince. Now, if thou
wilt go and win thy spurs with him, thy fortune is made. Thou wilt have
broader lands than Wartmont, but wert thou even to win much gold, I bid
thee bide by thine own keep and hold to thee thy Saxon men. If thou wilt
do so, I can foresee the day when thou canst bring five hundred bowmen
to the standard of thy house."
"I can bring but four more men-at-arms now," said Richard ruefully.
"And thy archers?" laughed the earl. "Didst thou not hear Geoffrey
Harcourt say to Northampton, that if all the great barons of England
would do as well as thou hast done, the array of the king would be
gathered right speedily? Too many are afraid to leave their own domains
lightly guarded, and, truth to tell, not a few are carrying slender
purses. The drainings of these long wars have made us poor. I am myself
in the hands of the Jews and the London Lombards for more debts than I
can see how to pay. So is the king, and he is troubled in mind as to how
he shall feed and pay his armies. Go to thy couch and arise right early.
Beware that thou never keep the prince waiting. He is like his royal
father, and he who would fail of meeting the king hath gone near to
making him a sworn enemy. His temper is dangerous. See that thou arouse
him not at any time. His hand is hard upon men, and so will any troops
of his be disciplined as were never English troops since William won the
island."
If that were to prove true, it might be one of the reasons why the king
so firmly believed that he could bring the men so disciplined face to
face with greater numbers of the disorderly levies of his rival, the
King of France.
The stern counsel of the wise earl was hardly needed, so far as
Richard's early rising was concerned, but he was up not any too soon in
the morn. Nor was he any too mindful of his duty as a soldier of the
king. He arose and put on his armor and walked out of his chamber, and
before him stood an archer.
"The commands of the earl," he said bluntly. "Eat not, but hasten to thy
men. They break their fast even now. Have thou them in line right
speedily. I will be thy guide to their quarters."
"I obey the earl," said Richard, following.
It was not far to go, beyond the castle gate, and Richard turned for a
moment to gaze back upon towers and battlemented walls which had
resisted so many a stout assailing.
"They are held for the king now," he thought, "but they once were held
against him, and oft against other kings. In yonder dungeon keep hath
more than one proud earl been brought to the block, and men say that in
it, even now, are prisoners of note that may never again see the day."
Dark and high and threatening was the aspect of the great keep of
Warwick Castle, and there might be terrible secrets of state in its
underground chambers.
He turned again to follow the archer, but when he came to the quarters
of his troop, he found that the commands of the earl were there before
him. The forest men were used to be up with the dawn, and it had been no
surprise to them to find their tables ready spread. Also, they liked the
fare, and they were in good heart when they came out to greet their
young captain. They cheered him loudly; but a new thought flashed into
his mind.
"Soldiers? Drilled?" he said to himself. "I see what the earl means.
They all can shoot well, but they can neither form line nor move
together, nor do they know the words of command. The prince--is he here
thus early?"
Here he came, the heir of the crown of England and of the English claim
to the crown of France. He was in his plain black armor, with his visor
raised, but on his face was no smile of youthful familiarity--rather,
something of the hard look that distinguished his father and that made
men fear him; and the hardness was in his voice as well, when he shouted
swift orders to Richard.
Low had been his obeisance, but he had a bitter feeling in his heart,
for he knew not how to form his men. All he could do was to turn to them
and shout:
"Follow!"
"By fours! Spears in line!" added Guy the Bow, and more words in Saxon
bade them hold their shields in front and step together.
Less shame felt Richard when he saw how well they came on, and the lips
of the prince relaxed somewhat.
"Not a rabble," he muttered. "They will train well. I never saw new men
move thus. The Neville doeth better than I thought. I will speak to the
earl."
Other knights were with him, gallantly mounted all, and behind him they
rode out to the broad common of Warwick, for there was to be a morning
review of the earl's retainers and of levies which had arrived.
Never before had Richard seen together three thousand armed men, horse
and foot, and greatly delighted by so rare a show were his woodsmen. In
large part these forces had already been well trained by the officers of
Earl Warwick, and the prince himself ordered them through many
movements, such as might be needed upon a field of battle.
A rare man was Guy the Bow, for he and Ben of Coventry had been trained
in their time, and they had instructed their comrades at the grange in
days gone by, and the rest on the way as they came. So was it that when
Richard of Wartmont led his two fifties hither and thither, he and they
were a further surprise to the prince and to his captains and noble
knights. They fell not into any confusion at any point, and again it was
said of them, "No rabble," and "The Wartmont doeth well for a beginner."
After that, archery butts were set up and squads from several companies
were picked, by lot only, and ordered to show their skill.
Right good was the shooting, as might have been expected, for there were
prizes as well as praises to be won; but at the noon, when all was over,
it was found that every best shot, save one, on all the butts had been
made by the slayers of the king's deer in Arden.
"O thou of Wartmont," laughed Sir Walter de Maunay, "I think thou wert
wise in asking so many pardons! Thy merry men are in good practice."
So laughed the prince, but there had been counseling that day and he now
summoned Richard to himself. With him were the Earl of Warwick and four
other earls, and Richard felt sorely abashed before he was spoken to.
"What sayest thou, John Beauchamp of Warwick?" he heard the prince
demand. "What wouldst thou with the levies?"
"My Lord the Prince," responded the earl, "even as seems to me to have
been said by the king. We must hear from Scotland. The king crosseth not
the channel before winter. Neither will he keep too many thousands, at
great cost and loss, in the Portsmouth camp."
"What then?" asked the prince.
"As for my nephew's men," said the earl, "they are too few--gathered in
a day. Instead of one hundred, he will bring twain or more. Keep these
for a week, and send them to recruit their fellows. Thou knowest the
power of the Neville name among them. Send Richard to York."
"Good counsel!" exclaimed the prince. "Richard of Wartmont, select thee
a dozen of thy trustiest men on thy best galloways. Be thou with them
two hours hence, at the castle gate. Thou shalt be the king's post
bearer to his Grace the Archbishop of York, and to the barons of the
north counties."
Richard bowed low, flushing with pride and joy, for the spirit of travel
and of adventure swelled high within him.
"Thanks to thee, O my Prince!" was all that he could say, and he went
back among his men.