One by one, the guests assembled in the hall of Chidlow castle, for
the first meal of the day which, as the reader well knows, was in
those days a very substantial affair. People in high station usually
dined, as it was called, at a very early hour; for, in all the
mutations of fashion, nothing has changed more than the dinner hour in
Europe. The labouring classes indeed, of all countries, consulting
health and convenience alone, have varied very little. It was then
about the hour of ten, when two or three of the guests appeared in the
hall. Then came the lord of the castle himself, with his sister, the
abbess, on his arm. Sir William Arden and two or three other guests
followed; then Lord Fulmer and some others, then Chartley, then Sir
Edward Hungerford.
A great change had come over Lord Fulmer's aspect. He was calm, though
very grave, courteous and attentive to all, though somewhat absent in
his manner, and falling into frequent fits of thought. Even to
Chartley, whose demeanour was perfectly unchanged, he showed himself
polite, though cold, conversed with him once or twice across the
table, and by no allusion whatsoever approaching the subject of their
rencounter in the morning. The meal passed off cheerfully, with most
of those present; and, after it was over, the party in general
separated to prepare for the sports and occupations of the day.
"Now, gentlemen," said Lord Calverly; "all who are disciples of St.
Hubert, prepare your horses; for, though the month of May is not come,
I am determined we will force a buck before the day is over. My good
sister, here, notwithstanding holy vows and pious meditations, loves
well to see a falcon fly or a dog run; and she will accompany us on
her mule. Take care that she does not outride us all; for the best
barb in my stables, except at the full gallop, will hardly outrun that
mule of hers."
These words were followed by much hurrying away from the room; and, in
the moment of confusion, Lord Fulmer lightly touched Chartley's arm,
saying in a low tone--
"My lord, before we set out, I have a word or two for your private
ear, if I may crave audience."
"Assuredly!" replied Chartley. "You can take it, my lord, when you
think fit."
"Then I will join you in your apartments, as soon as I am booted,"
answered Fulmer.
In somewhat less than five minutes, after Chartley had reached his own
chamber, he was joined by Fulmer prepared for the chase. As usual,
where men have a resolute inclination to cut each others' throats, all
sorts of ceremonious courtesy took place between them; and, after
Fulmer was seated, he leaned across the table, saying:
"I have come, my Lord Chartley, to speak to you both of the past and
the future. As for the past, I have had time to think, not only of
what occurred between us this morning, but of my own conduct towards
you; and I do not scruple to avow that I feel I have been wrong."
"Then, think of it no more, my good lord," replied Chartley, holding
out his hand to him frankly; but Lord Fulmer did not take it.
"I have not yet done," he said. "I have owned that I was wrong, that I
behaved uncourteously and rashly, both last night and to-day, under
the influence of strongly moved passion, which has now passed away. I
apologize for it, and pray you to accept my excuse. So much for the
past; and now for the future, my lord. I trust I shall not forget
myself again; but thus are we circumstanced. You have become
acquainted with a lady contracted to me; you have had an opportunity
of rendering her service; and I have no doubt did so in the kindest
and most courteous manner. I mean not to say that you have done aught
that is wrong, or that, knowing she was pledged to be my wife, you
have striven to win her from me; but unwittingly, perhaps, you have
learned to love her yourself, and deprived me of a share of her
affections. Deny it not; for it is evident."
He paused for an instant, as if the words he spoke were very bitter to
himself; and Chartley remained perfectly silent, with his eyes fixed
upon a spot on the table, as if waiting to hear what this commencement
would lead to.
"Now, my lord," continued Fulmer, with a sigh, "to my mind, two men
cannot love one woman and both live. Such is the case with you and me.
I grant that you have as much right to love her as I have. I am
willing to look upon it as if we were merely two rivals for the same
hand; but still I say, there is but one way of terminating that
rivalry; for her faith is already plighted to me, and therefore the
question cannot and must not be submitted to her decision."
"I understand your meaning, my good lord," said Chartley, seeing that
he paused, "and think that your view is wrong--"
"Hear me out," said Fulmer, interrupting him. "I have yet a few words
more to say. My views can never be changed. They are based upon my own
nature. I cannot live, Lord Chartley, in doubt or jealousy. I cannot
live unloved by her I love. I cast myself upon your generosity then,
to yield me compensation for an injury, even unintentional, in such a
manner as will in no degree compromise the fair name of her who is to
be my wife or yours."
"Upon my life, my noble lord," replied Chartley, in his usual frank
tone, "I do not think the right way for me to win her would be to cut
your throat, nor for you to cut mine."
"Perhaps not," replied Lord Fulmer; "but so it must be; for it is the
only way open to us."
"I think not," answered Chartley. "If I understand right, the Lady
Iola is formally and fully contracted to you. I will not deny,
Lord Fulmer, that this was painful news to me; but, I knew it was an
ill without remedy; and I never even dreamed, from that moment, of
seeking to win one thought of the lady, from her promised--her
affianced husband. So help me, Heaven, I would never have seen her
again willingly. I am not here of my own will, my lord. I am a
prisoner, and would willingly remove myself to any other abode, to
cause no pain or disquiet here. I do not believe, I never have
believed, that there is any occasion for such disquiet. The Lady Iola
may have won my regard; but I have no reason to suppose that I, in the
slightest degree, have won hers. No words of affection have ever
passed between us; no suit has been made on my part, no acknowledgment
on hers. As you have taken a more frank and courteous tone than you
assumed this morning, I will not now scruple to say how we first met,
and explain to you all that can be explained, without dangerously
affecting another. You doubtless know that I am here under the king's
displeasure, for aiding my good and reverend friend, the bishop of
Ely, to escape from the perils which menaced him. He travelled
disguised in my train, till we arrived at the abbey of St. Clare of
Atherston, where he had appointed a servant to meet him with
intelligence of importance. I sat next the Lady Iola at supper, but
parted with her there, and left the good bishop in the strangers'
lodging. Having cause to suspect that some one had left my train--a
servant of Sir Charles Weinants--for the purpose of giving intimation
of the bishop's place of refuge to those who might apprehend him, I
turned my horse in the forest, bidding my comrades ride on. Various
events detained me in the forest during the whole night."
"But how came she in the forest too?" demanded Fulmer, gravely; for
the frankness of Chartley's manner had produced some effect.
"I must pause one moment to consider," replied Chartley, "whether I
can answer that question without a breach of faith to others.--Yes, I
can. The Lady Iola it was who guided the bishop from the abbey, when
it was surrounded and attacked by the king's soldiery; and, in so
doing, her return was cut off."
"But how came that task to fall upon her?" again demanded Fulmer.
"That, my good lord, I can hardly tell you," answered Chartley; "for,
to say the truth, and the mere truth, I do not rightly know. There is
some secret communication between the abbey and the wood. Stay, I
remember; I have heard the bishop say, that many years ago, he saved
the life of the last Lord Calverly, petitioning for his pardon, and
obtaining it, when he was taken in one of the battles of those times.
This is most probably why the task was assigned to the lady, and why
she undertook it."
Fulmer mused gloomily.
"Perhaps so," he said at length; "but yet, my lord, methinks some
warmer words than mere courtesy must have been used, to induce the
stay of so young and inexperienced a lady, alone in the forest, for a
whole night, with a gay nobleman such as yourself."
"Warmer _things_, if your lordship likes," cried Chartley,
indignantly; "for, by the Lord that lives, the thing that kept her
there was seeing the houses burning on the abbey green. That was warm
enough. For shame, Lord Fulmer! Have you consorted with people who
teach men to think there is no virtue in woman, no honour in man? But
let me do the lady justice. She was not alone with me. My Arab servant
was with us all the time--followed us close--sat with us in the old
castle hall; and I do not think ten sentences were spoken which he did
not hear. But, my good lord, since such is your humour, I will not
baulk you. I have borne this long enough. Be it as you say. Wait but a
few days, to let your conduct of last night pass from men's minds, and
I will afford you cause of quarrel to your heart's content, in which
this lady's name shall bear no share. Then we will void our
differences in the eye of all the world, as soon as I am no longer a
prisoner in ward. There is my hand on it."
Fulmer took it and grasped it tight, with a feeling of rancorous
satisfaction, which he could hardly conceal.
"Then for the present we are friends, my good lord," he said; "and I
will take care that nothing in my manner shall betray our secret,
while waiting your good pleasure."
"As you will," answered Chartley. "Put on what seeming you may like. I
wear no vizard. But hark, there are the horses in the court-yard; and
here comes Sir William Arden, just in time to go with us."
"In order to do what?" asked Sir William Arden, looking from the one
to the other, with an inquiring glance.
"To hunt," replied Chartley. "Are you not going?"
"Oh yes," answered the knight. "Though 'tis somewhat early in the
year. Yet I suppose my good Lord Calverly's bucks are always fat, so
let us to horse."
Descending the stairs of the tower, they speedily reached the
court-yard, and found all prepared for their expedition. The abbess
was already on her mule, Sir Edward Hungerford in the saddle, looking
down the length of his leg and thigh, in evident admiration of his own
fair proportions, Lord Calverly by the side of his horse, and huntsmen
and grooms, a goodly train.
Iola and Constance stood together to witness the departure of the
party, having declined to join the hunt; and Sir William Arden paused
for a moment or two, by the side of the latter, while the rest mounted
their horses.
The morning was fine, the scent lay well upon the dewy ground; a fat
solitary buck had been marked down in a covert, about two miles off;
and he was soon found, and the dogs put upon his steps. He took
straight across the chase, towards some other woods, at the distance
of four or five miles; and it was a beautiful sight to see the noble
beast darting along across the open country, with the dogs in full cry
behind him, and the troop of gay lords and ladies following. Chartley
gave way to all the spirit of the hunter, and galloped on, sometimes
talking to Lord Calverly, or Sir William Arden, and sometimes to Lord
Fulmer. To the latter his manner was courteous and easy; nor did the
slightest embarrassment appear in it, although he caught the eyes of
his elder friend fixed upon him, with a suspicious expression,
whenever any conversation took place between him and his rival. When
the buck was slain, however, and the morning's sport over, Sir William
Arden took the first opportunity of riding up to his young friend's
side, and saying, in a low tone, "I hope, my lord, you are not going
to play the fool."
"Not more than usual, Arden," replied Chartley. "Have I shown by any
signs that the disease is aggravated?"
"Not that I perceive," answered Sir William Arden; "but, just as I was
coming away, that dear little girl said something to me, I could not
very well understand, about quarrels between you and that young lord
there."
"Oh no," replied Chartley. "I will not quarrel with him; quarrels we
have had none since an early hour this morning. A few civil words only
have passed since; and of them more anon. But who comes here, spurring
so sharp to meet us? He seems to have a tabard on."
"Nay, how should I know?" demanded Sir William Arden, almost sharply;
"if it be a herald, I trust he does not come to defy Lord Calverly in
the king's name."
Almost as he spoke, a splendidly dressed pursuivant rode up, and
demanded aloud which was the Lord Fulmer.
"I am he!" replied the young nobleman, spurring forward his horse.
"What want you with me, Master Pursuivant?"
"Merely to bear you his majesty's commands," said the pursuivant, "to
join him at York, where he now lies, without any delay. Not finding
your lordship at the castle, I rode on to seek you, as the king's
commands were urgent; and I must return with you."
Lord Fulmer's countenance fell. "Am I to understand then that I go as
a prisoner?" he demanded.
"Not in the least, my lord," answered the officer. "I believe it is in
order to consult you upon some affairs, that the king sent for your
lordship; but he ordered me strictly to find you out, wherever you
might be, and to return in your lordship's train to York."
"Well then, for York, if it needs must be so," said Lord Fulmer, with
an expression of much discontent upon his face. "I could have wished
the command had come at some other time. Perhaps, I had better ride on
before," he continued, turning to Lord Calverly, "in order to prepare
my people for this unexpected journey."
"Perhaps so, my dear lord," replied the old peer. "We should always in
this world take time and fortune by the forelock, otherwise we shall
never catch them, if they get on in front. I know the king intends to
honour you to the utmost," he added, in a low tone; "so away at once,
and show your zeal and promptness. There is nothing pleases a king so
much as to see diligence in obeying his commands."
"I would fain speak with you for some moments before I go, my noble
lord," said Fulmer in the same low voice; but the old nobleman made a
sign of impatience, saying aloud, "No time for that, no time for that.
You will be back in a day or two at the farthest."
"Then I must write," answered the young man, in a whisper; but,
raising his tone, he added, "Farewell, all gentlemen and ladies who
are likely to be gone before my return. My Lord Chartley, I will not
bid you adieu, as doubtless I shall find you here for some days to
come."
"By my faith, I fear so," answered Chartley, laughing. "His grace the
king, when he has got his grasp upon a man's neck, is not famous for
slackening it, as long as there is any head above; but I wait his good
pleasure in all humility, trusting that you will bring me good
tidings, and use your best eloquence to work my liberation."
"I will, upon my honour," answered Fulmer, earnestly; and then,
turning his horse, he rode away.