The House of Walderne

by A. D. Crake

  Chapter 21: To Arms! To Arms!

  Three years had passed away since the death of the Lady Sybil ofWalderne.

  A great change had passed over the scene. War--civil war--thefiercest of all strife--had fairly begun in the land. Lest myreaders should marvel, like little Peterkin, "what it was allabout," let me briefly explain that the royal party desiredabsolute personal rule, on the part of the king, unfettered by lawor counsellors. The barons desired that his counsellors should beheld responsible for his acts, and that his power should bemodified by the House of Lords or Barons, if not by the Commons aswell; the latter idea was but dawning. In short, they desired aconstitutional government, a limited monarchy, such as we nowenjoy.

  The Pope had been called upon to mediate, and had decided in favourof the King, and absolved him from his oath and obligations to hissubjects, especially those "Provisions of Oxford." Louis IX, Kingof France (afterwards known as Saint Louis), had been appealed to,but, though a very holy man, he was a staunch believer in thedivine right of kings; and he, too, decided against the barons.

  What were they to do? Most of the barons were in submission, butEarl Simon said:

  "Though all should leave me, I and my four sons will uphold thecause of justice, as I have sworn to do, for the honour of theChurch and the good of the realm of England."

  They changed their standing point, and, to meet the condemnationwhich both Pope and King of France had awarded to the "Provisionsof Oxford," took their stand upon Magna Carta instead.

  But here they fared no better. In March 1264 a parliament had beensummoned to meet at Oxford by the king, that he might there undowhat the barons had done in 1258. At this period the action of ourtale recommences.

  Drogo was still lord of the Castle of Walderne. No news had reachedEngland of Hubert these three long years, and hence no one disputedthe title of Drogo to present possession. His steps had been takenwith all the craft of a subtle fox. One by one he had removed allthe old dwellers in the castle, and, so far as was possible, theoutside tenantry also, and substituted creatures of his own--menwho would do his bidding, whatsoever it were, and who had no localinterests or attachment to the former family.

  And, little by little, his rule had been growing as hard and cruelas that of a medieval tyrant could be. The dungeons were reopenedwhich had long been closed; the torture chamber, long disused, wasrefitted, as it had been in the dreadful days of King Stephen; thedefences had been looked to, the weapons furbished, for, as a warhorse sniffs battle afar off, so did Drogo.

  Need I tell my readers which side Drogo took? He had never, sincethe day he was expelled from Kenilworth, ceased to hate Earl Simon,and now he declared boldly for the king, and prepared to fight likea wildcat for the royal cause.

  But Waleran, Lord of Herstmonceux, the father of our Ralph,espoused the popular side warmly, as did all the English men ofSaxon race--the "merrie men" of the woods, and the like.

  But the great Earl de Warrenne of Lewes was a fierce royalist. Sowas the Lord of Pevensey.

  Already the woods were full of strife. Whensoever a party met aparty of opposite principles, there was instant bloodshed. Thebarons' men from Herstmonceux pillaged the lands of Walderne orPevensey. The burghers of Hailsham declared for the earl, as didmost burghers throughout the land; and Lewes, Pevensey, andWalderne threatened to unite, harry their lands, and burn theirtown. The monks of Battle preached for the king, as did those ofWilmington and Michelham. The Franciscans everywhere used all theirpowers for the barons, for was not Simon de Montfort one of them inheart in their reforms?

  So all was strife and confusion--the first big drops of rain beforethe thunderstorm.

  Drogo was at the height of his ambition. He had added Walderne tohis patrimony of Harengod. He had humbled the neighbouringfranklins, who refused to pay him blackmail. He had filled hiscastle with free lances, whose very presence forced him to a lifeof brigandage, for they must be paid, and work must be found them,or--he could not hold them in hand. The vassals who cultivated theland around enjoyed security of life with more or less sufferingfrom his tyranny; but the independent franklin, the headmen of thevillages, the burgesses of the towns (outside their walls), theoutlaws of the woods, when he could get at them all, these were hisnatural sport and prey.

  He had a squire after his own heart, named Raoul of Blois, who hadcome to England in the train of one of the king's foreignfavourites, and escaped the general sentence of expulsion passed atOxford in 1258.

  One eventide--the work of the day was over, and Drogo and thissquire were taking counsel in the chamber of the former; once theboudoir of Lady Sybil in better days.

  "Raoul," said his master, "have you heard aught yet of the LadyAlicia of Possingworth?"

  "Yes, my lord, but not good news."

  "Tell them without more grimace."

  "She has placed herself under the protection of the Earl ofLeicester."

  Drogo swore a deep oath.

  "We were too weak, my lord, to interrupt the party, and we did notknow in time what they were about. But one thing I heard thedemoiselle said, which you should hear, although it may not bepleasant."

  "Well!"

  "Although my first love be dead, I will never marry a man whopoisoned his aunt.'"

  "They have to prove it--let them."

  "My lord, the old hag who sold you the phial, as she says, yetlives, and I fear prates."

  "She shall do so no longer. Get a party of half a dozen of yourtenderest lambs ready for secret service. We will start two hoursbefore dawn, when all the world is fast asleep. See that you areall ready and call me."

  All lonely stood the hut--in the tangled brake--where dwelt asinful but repentant woman. For one had broken in upon her life,and had awakened a conscience which seemed almost non-existentuntil he came--our Martin. And this night she tosses on her beduneasily.

  "Would that he might come again," she says. "I would fain hear moreof Him who can save, as he said, even me."

  She mutters no longer spells, but prayers. The stone seems removedfrom the door of that sepulchre, her heart. Towards morning sleep,long wooed in vain, comes over her--and she dozes.

  It wants but an hour to dawn, but the night is at its darkest. Thestars still drift over the western sky, but in the east it iscloudy, and no morning watch from his tower could spy the dawningday.

  Eight men emerge from the deep shade of the tangled wood. Insilence they approach the hut, and first they tie the door outside,so that the inmate cannot open it.

  "Which way is the wind?" whispers the leader.

  "In the east."

  "Fire the house on that side."

  They have with them a dark lantern, from which a torch is fired andapplied to the roof of light reeds on the windward side. We draw aveil over the quarter of an hour which followed. It was what theFrench call un mauvais quart d'heure.

  The sun had arisen for some hours when the solitude of the forestwas broken by the tread of three strangers--travellers, who trodone of its most verdant glades. The one was a brother preacher ofthe order of Saint Francis. The second, a knight clad in huntingattire. The third, the mayor, the headman of the borough ofHamelsham.

  "The cottage lies here away," said the first. "We shall see theroof when we turn the end of the avenue of beeches."

  "Do you not smell an odour unusual to the forest?"

  "The scent of something burnt or burning?"

  "I have perceived it."

  "Ah, here it is," and the three stopped short. They had just turnedthe corner to which they had alluded. A thin smoke still arose fromthe spot where the cottage had stood.

  They all paused; then, without a word, hurried on ward by a commonimpulse. They only found the smoking embers of the dwelling theyhad come to seek.

  "This is Drogo's doing," said Ralph of Herstmonceux.

  "Could he have heard of our intentions?" said the mayor.

  "No, but--he might have learned that poor Madge was a penitent, andthen--" said Martin.

  "
Well, our work is done, and as the country is not over safe sonear the lion's den--"

  ("Wolf's den, you mean," interrupted Ralph--)

  "And we have come unattended, the sooner we retire the better."

  "Too late!" said a stern voice: and Drogo stood before them.

  "My Lord of Walderne, this is ill pleasantry," said Ralph.

  "'Pleasantry,' you call it, well. So it is for those who win."

  He whistled shrill,And quick was answered from the hill;That whistle garrisoned the glen,With twice a hundred armed men.

  In short, the three travellers were surrounded on all sides. Theirerrand had been betrayed by one of Drogo's outlying scouts.

  "What is thy purpose, Drogo?" said Martin.

  "Do ye yield yourselves prisoners?"

  "On what compulsion?"

  "Force, the right that rules the world."

  "And what pretext for using it?" said Ralph, drawing his sword.

  "I should advise thee not to touch thy weapon, unless thy skill isproof against an arrow. In a word, Ralph of Herstmonceux, art thoufor the king or the barons?"

  "Thou knowest--the barons."

  "And I for the king; no more need be said. Yield to ransom.

  "I will not give my sword to thee," and Ralph flung it into a pond.

  "And what right hast thou to arrest me?" said the mayor.

  "Good mayor, hast thou not stirred up thy town of Hamelsham, thypuissant butchers and bakers, to resist the good king and to sendaid to the rebellious Earl of Leicester, may the fiends rive him!Wherefore I might, without further parley, hang thee to this beech,which never bore a worthier acorn."

  "Yes, hang him for the general amusement," said several deepvoices.

  "Nay, dead men pay no ransom, and we will make his beer-swilling,beef-eating brother burghers pay a good sum for his fat body.

  "Thou hast thy choice, mayor. Ransom or rope?"

  "Seeing I must choose, ransom; but rate me not too high, I am apoor man."

  They laughed immoderately.

  "We have borrowed a hint from the outlaws, and unless thy brethrenpay for thee soon, we will send thy worthless body to them ininstallments, first one ear, then the other, and so on."

  "Our Lady help me!"

  "Brother, be patient. Heaven will help us, since there is no helpin man," said Martin. "And now, Drogo, whom I knew so well of old,and in whom I see little change, what is thy charge against me?"

  "A very serious one, brother Martin, and one I grieve to bringagainst such an eloquent preacher of the Gospel, but my consciencecompels me."

  "Thy conscience!"

  "Yes, I can afford to keep one as well as thou. Dost thou thinkthou art the only creature who has a soul to be saved?"

  "Go on without further blasphemies."

  "Well then, I grieve to say that it is my painful duty to arrestthee on a charge of murder."

  "Of murder!" cried all three.

  "Yes, of the murder of his aunt, the late lamented Lady ofWalderne."

  "Good heavens!" cried the knight and mayor.

  "Oh heaven and earth, this slander hear!" said Martin.

  "Do not swear, it misbecomes a friar."

  "Thou didst murder her thyself."

  "Nay: who gave her the sleeping draught the last night? I have justdiscovered that it contained poison supplied by the old witch wholived here, and whom I have duly punished by fire. But whose hand,administered it?"

  Martin turned pale.

  "I ask," continued Drogo, "who gave her the draught?"

  "It was I, but who poisoned it?"

  "Satan knows best, but thou hast owned it.

  "I call thee to witness, most valiant knight, and thee, O Mayor ofHamelsham, that you both hear him--confitentem mum, as FatherEdmund used to say at Kenilworth.

  "Ah, I have him on the hip. Away with them to Walderne: the deepestdungeon for the poisoner."