by A. D. Crake
Chapter 26: After The Battle.
We trust our readers are anxious to learn the fate of Martin, whom,much against our will, we left in such grievous durance at WalderneCastle.
Drogo had only left a score of men behind him to defend the castlein case of any sudden assault; which, however, he did not expect.Before leaving he had called one of these aside, a fellow whosename was Marboeuf.
"Marboeuf," he said, 'I know thou hast the two elements which,between ourselves, ensure the greatest happiness in this world--agood digestion and a hard heart."
"You compliment me, master."
"Nay, I know thy worth, and hence I leave all things in thy hands:my honour and my vengeance."
"Thy vengeance?"
"Yes. If I live I shall expect to find all as I left it when Ireturn hither. If I die, and thou receivest sure news of my death,slay me the three prisoners."
"What! The friar and all!"
"Is his blood redder than any other man's? It seems to me thou artafraid of the Pope's gray regiment."
"Nay, I like not to slay priests and friars. It brings a man illluck if he meddle with those."
"Then I must appoint Thibault. He may have an easier conscience,but I had thought that bloodshed, if nothing else, had bound ustogether."
"Nay, it shall not be said that I forsook my lord in his need. Ifthou fallest in the coming battle, I will sacrifice the three tothy ghost."
"So shall I rest in peace, like the warriors of old time, overwhose tomb they slew many victims and cut many throats. I believein no creed, but the old one of our ancestors suits me best, and Ihope I shall find my way to Valhalla, if Valhalla there be."
When the last stragglers of the royal army had been swallowed up inthe recesses of the forest, Marboeuf began to ponder over hisengagement. But presently up came the janitor of the dungeons.
"Hast thou the key of the friar's dungeon?"
"Nay. The young lord has not left it with me."
The men looked at each other.
"He locked it himself, this morning, and put the key into hisgypsire."
"And he has gone off with it. Doubtless he will send it backdirectly he finds it there."
"I doubt it."
"Shall we send after him?"
"No!" said Marboeuf.
"He is a friar. We must not let him starve."
"Humph! It will not be our fault. I tell thee thou dost not yetknow our lord, and too much zeal may only damage you in hisgoodwill."
The gaoler retreated, and went slowly down to the dungeons. Hewalked along the passage moodily. At length he heard a voicebreaking the silence:
Yea, though I walkthrough the valley of the shadow of death,I will fear no evil: for thou art with me;Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.
The man felt moved. It seemed to him as if he were near a being ofanother mould, and old memories of years long past were awakened inhis mind--how once such a friar had found him wounded almost todeath in the battlefield, and had saved the body, like the goodSamaritan, and striven to save his soul. How he had vowed amendmentand forgotten it, or he had not been found herding with such blacksheep as Drogo and his band. And earlier thoughts, how when hismother had fallen sick of the plague, another friar had tended herdying moments, when every other earthly friend had failed her forfear of infection.
"He shall not perish if I can help it, and it may be put to myaccount in purgatory."
"Father," he cried.
"My brother," was the reply, "what hast thou to ask?"
"What food hast thou?"
"Yet half a loaf, and a cruse nearly filled with water."
"It is all thou mayst get till my lord return. He has taken thekeys. Use it sparingly."
For a moment there was silence, then a calm voice replied:
"He who fed Elijah by the ministry of the ravens will not fail me."
"But if Sir Drogo be absent many days thou mayst starve."
"Though he slay me, yet will I put my trust in him."
"I do believe he will be saved, by a miracle if needs be," mutteredthe man. "The saints will never let him starve, he is one of them."
The second day passed, and Martin's bread and cruse yet held out.But his gaoler was very uneasy, and wandered about the darkpassages like a restless spirit. Neither could he help breathinghis despair to Martin, as hours passed away and no messengerreturned from Drogo with the key.
But the answer from the captive was always full of hope.
"Be of good cheer, for there has been with me an angel of God, whohas assured me that the tyranny will soon be overpast. Meanwhile Ifeel not the pangs of hunger."
The fourth day from the departure of the royal army arrived. No onehad as yet brought back the key. It was a day of awful suspense,for although no sound of artillery announced the awful strife, yetit was generally known that a battle was imminent, and was probablygoing on at that moment. They sent two messengers out at dawn ofday, and one returned at eventide, breathless and sore from longrunning.
He had been on that group of downs which lies eastward of Lewes, ofwhich Mount Caburn is the highest point, and from which WalderneCastle was visible. There they had raised a beacon fire, and he hadleft his comrade to fire it in case the king lost the battle. Butere he departed he had seen, as he thought, the royal array inhopeless confusion.
The afternoon brought another messenger, who confirmed the eviltidings, but was in hope that the prince, yet undefeated and thenrampaging on the hill amongst the baggage, might retrieve thefortune of the day. When sunset drew nigh many of the garrison ofWalderne betook themselves to the elevation on which the church isplaced, whence they could see the Castle of Lewes through anopening, and watched, fearing to see the bale fire blaze, whichshould bid them all flee for their lives, unless they were preparedto defend the castle, to be a refuge in case their lord mightsurvive and come to find shelter amongst them.
On this point there were diverse opinions. A waggon had gone out inthe early morning to collect forage and provisions by way ofblackmail--at this moment it was seen approaching the gatewaybelow.
The sun had set, and the shades of evening were falling fast. Allat once a single voice cried, "Look! the fire!" and the speakerpointed with his finger.
The eyes of all present followed his gesture, and they saw a brightspot of light arise on the summit of the downs, distant some twelvemiles.
"It is the signal. All is lost! The rebels have won, and we mustfly for our lives."
"They may be merciful."
"Nay, we have too black a name in the Andredsweald. We should haveto answer for every peasant we have hanged or hen roost we haverobbed."
"That would never do. By 'r lady, what injustice! Would they be sobad as that?"
"We will not wait to see."
All at once loud outcries arose from the castle below. They lookedaghast, for it was the sound of fierce strife and dread dismay.What could it be?
They started to run to the help of their comrades, when a thousandcries, a wild war whoop, burst from the arches of the forest and inthe dim twilight they saw numberless forms gliding over the shortspace which separated the castle from the wood.
"The merrie men!"
"The outlaws!"
"The wild men of the woods!"
The discomfited troopers paused--turned tail--fled--leaving theircomrades to their fate, whatever it might be.
Let us see.
The waggon aforesaid had approached the gateway in the mostinnocent manner. It creaked over the drawbridge. It was alreadybeneath the portcullis, when the driver cut the traces and thrust along pole amidst the spokes of the wheel. At the same instant ascore of men leapt out, who had been concealed beneath the loosehay.
All was alarm and confusion. The few defenders of the castle wereoverpowered and slain, for the gross treachery practised upon the"merrie men" a few days earlier had hardened their hearts andrendered them deaf to the call for pity or mercy. The few women whowere in the castle fled shrieking to their hiding p
laces. The mendied fighting.
"To the dungeons! Show us the way to the dungeons, and we give youyour life," cried their leader--Kynewulf--to an individual whosebunch of keys attached to his girdle showed his office.
"The friar is safe below, unhurt. I will take you to him. But Ihave no key."
"Where is it, then?"
"Sir Drogo has taken it with him."
"We will have it open.
"Friar Martin, art thou within?"
"Safe and uninjured. Is it thou, Kynewulf? Then I charge thee thatthou do no hurt to any here. They have not injured me."
"Not injured thee, to place thee here! Well, we will soon have theeout. We have promised Grimbeard to bring thee to him, or forfeitour lives. He is dying."
"Dying! And I not there! What has chanced?"
"He was hit by one of those arrows the treacherous Drogo shot fromthe wall while the flag of truce was yet flying, when we first cameto demand thee. But we must work to relieve thee."
And toil they did, but all in vain. They had no tools to force thatiron door.
Meanwhile a sound of scuffling drew other members of the band to achamber in the tower, where the good knight Ralph de Monceux wasconfined, and as they approached they heard a heavy fall and foundMarboeuf lying dead on the floor, his skull cleft asunder, whilstover him stood Ralph, axe in hand.
The "merrie men" knew their bold captive.
"Ah! How is this? What ox hast thou felled?"
"Only a butcher who came in to slay me, but I avoided the blow,flew suddenly at his wrist and mastered the weapon, when I gave himwhat at Oxford we called quid pro quo, as we strewed the shambleswith boves boreales."
They did not understand his Latin, but they knew Marboeuf, who, asthe reader will comprehend, seeing all was lost, had striven toperform his vow, and happily had begun first with this dexterousyoung knight. Hence they found the poor mayor of Hamelsham safe andsound, only a little less afraid of the "merrie men" than of Drogo;for often had they rifled the castle and robbed the hen roosts ofhis town.
But all their efforts failed to open Martin's door, and they wereat their wits' end what to do. They heard a rumour that the battlewas lost, so they set men to watch, and prepared an ambush in hisown caste yard for Drogo, in case he should survive the fight andcome to hide, with especial instructions to take him alive, as theyintended to hang him from his own tower.
Meanwhile, through the dewy night, amidst the thousand odours ofthe woods, rode Hubert and his fifty horsemen. They stayed not forbrake, and they slacked not for ford. All the loving heart ofHubert went before him to the rescue of the friend of his boyishdays; suffering, he doubted not, cruel wrong and unmeritedimprisonment in a noisome dungeon. And ere the midnight hour hearrived amidst the familiar scenes, and saw at length the towersrise before him in the faint light of a new moon.
The sound of his horses must have been heard, but no challenge ofwarder awaited them. When the party arrived they found thedrawbridge down, the gates open. What could it mean?
"It may be treachery. Look to your arms ere you ride in," criedHubert.
They entered the court through the gateway in the Barbican tower.Instantly the gates slammed behind them, the portcullis fell, and,as by magic, the windows and courtyard were crowded with men ingreen jerkins with bended bows.
"What means this outrage," cried Hubert aloud, "upon the heir ofWalderne as he enters his own castle?"
"That you are in the power of the merrie men of the greenwood. Ifyou be Drogo of Walderne, surrender, and spare bloodshed: all whohave never harmed us to go free."
"Then are we all free. My men are from Kenilworth, and can neverhave harmed you in word or deed. As for Drogo, he fell by my handthis day in fair combat."
"Who art thou, then?"
"Hubert, son of Roger of Walderne, and I seek my brotherMartin--Friar Martin--whom you all must know."
Instantly every hostile demonstration ceased. The doors were thrownopen, and the men who, a moment before, were about to fly at eachother's throats, mingled freely as friends.
"Martin is below," they said. "Have you smiths who can force adoor?"
"Lead me to him. HERE IS THE KEY."
Down the steps they flew, almost tumbling over each other in theireagerness. The key was applied, the rusty bolt flew back, andHubert was clasped in Martin's arms.
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For a long while the spectators of this joyful meeting waited inthe courtyard of the castle, which was thronged by men who had onlybeen restrained by a merciful Providence from bending their deadlyweapons against each other. Now their thoughts were thoughts ofpeace, yet they hardly understood why and wherefore.
But after a while there was a commotion in the great hall, and soonMartin stood on the summit of the steps, worn and pale, leaning onthe stout shoulders of Hubert. Their eyes were both swimming intears--but tears of joy. Cheers and acclamations rent the air, andit was a long while ere silence was restored for the voice of thelate prisoner to be heard.
"Men and brethren, I thank you for your great love to me, and for thedesire wherewith ye have desired my freedom, and jeopardised your ownprecious lives in its cause. And now, if I am welcome"--(loudcheers)--"so must be my dear brother Hubert, Lord of Walderne by thewill of the Lady Sybil, a true knight, a warrior of the Cross, and afriend of the poor." (Loud cheers again). "Many of you will rememberthe night when he parted from you, when Sir Nicholas, who is gone,introduced him to you as his undoubted heir, and many have grievedover him, and said, 'Full forty fathom deep he lies.' But here he isin flesh and blood!" (Renewed cheers).
"And now, O men of the greenwood, whom I love so dearly, let me, achild of the greenwood, speak yet a few words about myself. For Iam not only the last represent alive of the old English house ofMichelham, but also a son of the house of Walderne; Mabel, mymother, being the sister, as many know, of the Lady Sybil. Ah,well. I seek a more continuing city than either Walderne orMichelham, and I want no earthly dignities. Wherever God gives mesouls to tend is my home; and He has given it me, O men of theAndredsweald, amongst my countrymen and my kindred, and to Hubert Ileave the castle right gladly. Now let there be peace, and let menturn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruninghooks, and hasten the glorious day when the kingdoms of this worldshall become the kingdoms of God and His Christ."
"We will. God bless Sir Hubert of Walderne."
"God bless brother Martin."
Drogo was forgotten, as though he had never lived, forgiven andforgotten. And the multitude dispersed, each man to his own home orhaunt in the forest, leaving Sir Hubert in possession of the castleof his ancestors, and Martin his guest.
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Martin's first wish after his release was, as our readers willimagine, to visit his mother, and assure her of his safety inperson. Kynewulf was in waiting to escort him. He had caused alitter to be constructed of the branches of trees, knowing that thesevere strain Martin had undergone must have rendered him too weakfor so long a journey; and the "merrie men" were only too eager torelieve each other in bearing so precious a burden.
"You will find our chieftain very far from well," said Kynewulf, ashe walked by Martin's side. "He was wounded by one of the arrowsfrom the castle when we came to demand your liberation of Drogo,and the wound has taken a bad turn."
"How does my poor mother bear it?"
"Like a true wife and good Englishwoman."
No more was said. Martin lapsed into deep thought until the retreatof the outlaws was attained. There, on a couch strewn with skinsand soft herbage, lay the redoubtable Grimbeard; and by his side,nursing him tenderly, Mabel of Walderne. But for this she had beenwith Martin's rescuers at the castle, but she could not leave herdying lord, who clung fondly to her now, and would take food fromno other hand.
The wound he had received had been thought slight, and neglected.Hence it had become serious, and since Kynewulf
departedmortification had set in.
The mother rose and embraced her "sweet son."
"Thank God!" she said, and led him to his stepfather's side.
Grimbeard raised himself with difficulty, and looked Martin in theface.
"Martin is here," he said. "Let my dying eyes gaze upon him again.
"Martin, I have longed for thee. Tell me more about Him thou lovestso deeply."
"My father, He is waiting to receive and to bless thee. Castthyself wholly on the Incarnate Love which embraced thee on theTree. Say, for His sake, canst thou forgive all, even these Normansthou hast so hated?"
"Dost thou forgive the wretch who shut thee up, my gentle boy, inthat dungeon?"
"Yes, verily, and pray to God to pardon him, too."
"Then I may pardon my foes, although my life has been spent infighting against them for England's freedom. But I see we mustsubmit, as thou hast often said, to God's will; and if the past maybe forgiven, my merrie men will be well content to make peace, andto turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears intopruning hooks; especially now Drogo has met his just doom, as theytell me, and thy friend is about to rule at Walderne. Thou must bethe mediator between them and him.
"But oh! my son, it has been hard to submit to all this. All thoseI loved when young carried on the fight, and my own fatherbequeathed it to me as a sacred heritage. We hoped to see Englandgoverned by Englishmen, and the alien cast out; and now I give itup. The problem is too hard for me. God will make it clear."
"My father," said Martin, "I, too, am the descendant of a long lineof warriors, who have never before me submitted to the foreignyoke. But I see that the two peoples are becoming one: that thesons of the Norman learn our English tongue, and that the day is athand when they will be proud of the name 'Englishmen.' Norman andSaxon all alike, one people, even as in heaven there is nodistinction of race, but all are alike before the throne."
"And now, my son, art thou not a priest yet? I would fain makeconfession of my sins."
"God will accept the will for the deed. He is not limited toearthly means; and if thou truly repent of thy sins for the love ofthe Crucified, and believest in Him, all will be well."
For Martin feared that there would be no time to fetch a priest, orhe would not have questioned the universal precept of the church ofhis day; while his own faith led him to see clearly that God'smercy was not limited by the accidental omission of the outwardordinance.
"I sent for Sir Richard {36}, the parish priest of Walderne,ere we left the castle, and he is doubtless on his way with theViaticum," said Kynewulf.
And while they yet spake the priest arrived, and the dying manreceived with simple faith the last sacraments of the Church. Afterthis his people gathered round him.
"Tell them," he said, in stammering tones, for the speech wasfailing, "what I have said. With thy friend in the castle, and thouin the greenwood, there will be peace."
Martin turned to the silent outlaws who stood by, and repeated hiswords. They listened in silence. The prospect was not new to them,for Martin's long labours had not been in vain; but while Drogo wasat Walderne, and the royal party triumphant, it seemed useless tohope for its realisation. Now things had changed, and there washope that the breach would be healed.
"His last prayer was for peace," said Grimbeard. "Should not minebe the same? Oh, God, save my country, grant it the blessing ofpeace, and forgive a poor erring man, who sees, too late, that hehas been fighting against Thy dispensation, for he can now say 'Thywill be done.'"
These were his last words, and although we have related them as ifspoken connectedly, they were really only uttered in broken gasps.The end came; the widow turned aside from the bed after closing theeyes.
"Martin," she said, "thou alone art left to me."
And she fell on his neck and wept.
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From the grave to the gay, from a death to a wedding, such is life.The same bell which tolls dolorously at a burial clangs in companywith its fellows at a marriage on the next day. So the world goeson.
The scene was the priory of Saint Pancras at Lewes, where so latelythe feeble old king had held his court. Now with his brave son hehad gone into honourable captivity, for it was little better, andthe followers of Earl Simon filled the place.
Before the high altar stood a youthful pair; Hubert of Walderne,now to be known as Radulphus, or Ralph; and Alicia de Grey, who hadbeen sheltered from ill and Drogo as one of the handmaidens of theCountess Eleanor, in keeping for her true love.
The good prior, Foville, performed the ceremony and celebrated themass Pro sponso et sponsa. The father, the happy and glad father,stood by, now fully delivered from his ghostly tormentor, hisfondest wish on earth achieved. Earl Simon gave the bride away,while Martin stood by, so happy.
It was over, and the aisle was strewn with the gay flowers of earlysummer, as our Hubert and his bride left the sacred pile. But oneadieu to the father, who would not leave his monastery even then,but who fell upon Hubert's neck and wept while he cried, "My son,my dear son, God bless thee;" and the bridal train rode off to thecastle above, where the marriage feast was spread.
Then Earl Simon to his onerous duties, and the happy pair to keeptheir honeymoon at Walderne.
Oh, the joy of that leafy month of June, in the wild woods, allloosed from care. Hubert seemed to have found true happiness, if itcould be found on earth. And Martin, he too was happy, in his workof love and reconciliation.
It was an oasis in life's pilgrimage, when man might well fancy hehad found an Eden upon earth again. And there we would fain leaveour two friends and cousins.
Epilogue.
A few words respecting the fate of our chief characters must closeour story. We need not tell our readers the future of the greatearl--it is written on the pages of history. But his work did notdie on the fatal field of Evesham. It lived in the royal nephew,through whose warlike skill he was overthrown, and who speedilyarrived at the conclusion that most of the reforms of his unclewere founded upon the eternal principles of truth and justice.Hence that legislation which gained for Edward, the greatest of thePlantagenets, and the first truly English king since Harold, thetitle of the "English Justinian."
Hubert was not with his lord when he fell. He had been selected tobe of the household of Simon's beloved Countess Eleanor, and he waswith her at Dover when the fatal news of Evesham arrived. He couldonly cry, "Would God I had died for him," while the countessabandoned herself to her grief.
Edward soon sought a reconciliation with the countess, who, it willbe remembered, was his father's sister; which being effected, shepassed over to France with her only daughter, to join her sonsalready there; and King Louis received her with great kindness,while Hubert and his companions of her guard were received into thefavour of Edward, and exempted from the sweeping sentence ofconfiscation passed in the first intoxication of triumph upon allthe adherents of the Montforts.
Brother Roger died in peace at a great age, at the Priory of Lewes,growing in grace as he grew in years, until at last he passed away,"awaiting," as he said, "the manifestation of the sons of God,"amongst whom, sinner though he had been, he hoped to stand in hislot in the latter days.
Ralph of Herstmonceux, who had been happily preserved from death atthe battle of Evesham, followed his father to Dover, where theyjoined the countess in the defence of that fortress, and shared theforgiveness extended to her followers. So completely did Edwardforgive the family, that we read in the Chronicles how King Edward,long afterwards, honoured Herstmonceux with a royal visit on hisroad to make a pious retreat at the Abbey of Battle. Ralphsucceeded his father, and we may be sure lived on good terms withHubert.
Hubert followed the banner of Edward Longshanks both in Wales andScotland ere he came home to his wife and children, satiated atlast with war, and spent the rest of his days at Walderne. He diedat a good old age, and was buried as a crusader in Lewes Priory,with crossed legs and half
-drawn sword, where his tomb could beseen until the sacrilegious hands of the minions of Thomas Cromwelldestroyed that noble edifice.
Mabel of Walderne retired, at her son's persuasion, to a convent atMayfield, where she ended her days in all the "odour of sanctity,"and Martin closed her eyes.
And lastly we have to tell of our Martin. He remained in theAndredsweald until he had completely succeeded in reconciling theoutlaws to the authorities {37}, and he had seen them, his"merrie men," settle down as peaceful tillers of the soil, or enterthe service of the knights and abbots as gamekeepers, woodsmen,huntsmen, and the like; at his strong recommendation and assurancethat he would be surety for their good behaviour--an assurance theydid their best to justify.
And how shall we describe his labour of love--his work as thebondsman of Christ? But after the death of his mother, hissuperiors recalled him to Oxford, as a more important sphere, andbetter suited to his talents; where the peculiar sweetness of hisdisposition gave him a great influence over the younger students.In short he became a power in the university, and died head of theFranciscan house, loved and lamented, in full assurance of aglorious immortality. And they put over his tomb these words:
We know that we have passed from death to life,because we love the brethren.--Vale Beatissime.
From the south wall of Walderne Church project or projected twoiron brackets with lances, whereon hung for many a generation thebanners of Sir Ralph (alias Hubert) and his son Laurence.
The boast of chivalry, the pomp of power,And all that beauty, all that wealth ere gave,Await alike the inevitable hour,The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
THE END.
Notes.
1 Rivingtons' Historical Biographies.
2 Demonology and Witchcraft.
3 See the Andredsweald, a tale of the Norman Conquest, by the same author.
4 He was the last lord of Pevensey of his race, all his land and honours being forfeited in 1235 for passing over into Normandy without King Henry the Third's license.
5 Lord of Lewes Castle from 1242-1304, a local tyrant.
6 There were then no family names, properly so called; the English generally took one descriptive of trade or profession, hence the multitude of Smiths; the Normans generally then name of their estate or birthplace, with the affix De. Knight's Pictorial History, volume 2, page 643.
7 His literary acquirements, unusual in the time, increased his influence and reputation. Knight's Pictorial History.
8 How did I weep in Thy Hymns and Canticles, touched to the quick by the voices of Thy sweet-attuned Church, the voices flowed into my ears and the truth distilled into my heart. Saint Augustine's Confessions volume 9 page 6.
9 Afterwards the site of the battle of Edgehill.
10 See his biography in Macmillan's Sunday Library.
11 Ethelflaed, Lady or Queen of the Mercians (under her brother Edward, son of Alfred), threw up certain huge mounds and certain stone castles, to defend her realm and serve as refuges in troublous times. One site was Oxford, and it is the first authentic event recorded in the history of the city--the foundation of the university by Alfred being abandoned by scholars, as an interpolation in Asser, the king's biographer.
12 The Rival Heirs, or the Third Chronicle of Aescendune.
13 Because in later times some poor Jews were burnt there.
14 Like those still seen at Tewkesbury Abbey, of similar proportions.
15 The date of the surrender was November 16, 1537. It was granted to Thomas Cromwell, February 16, 1538. It was at once destroyed by skilled agents of destruction, and the materials sold. Cromwell did not enjoy it long; he perished at Tower Hill by the axe, July 28, 1540.
16 The old hymn for Wednesday morning, according to Sarum use. I am indebted to the Hymnary for the translation.
17 The supposed name of the penitent thief. The author is not answerable for the non-elision of the vowel--the name is authentic; it stood on the site of the present Oriel College. See preface.
18 See Alfgar the Dane, chapter 24.
19 It was the Gospel for the day in Italy--not in England.
20 The Viaticum was the Last Communion, given in preparation for death, as the provision for the way.
21 Such an arrangement was made in the Egyptian Temple at On; at one particular moment on one day in the year, the rays admitted through a concealed aperture gilded the shrine, and the crowd thought it miraculous.
22 Adapted from a translation of a chorus in the Agamemnon by my lamented friend, the late Reverend Gerard Moultrie.
23 A mere tradition of the time, not historical.
24 See the Andredsweald, by the same author.
25 This is the same spot mentioned in the Andredsweald, chapter 9 part 2, as a retreat of the English after Senlac.
26 A proclamation had just been put forth by the barons, that all foreigners should be expelled and lose their property; and much violence ensued throughout England, the victims being often detected by their pronunciation, as in our story.
27 How good to those who seek Thou art, But what to those who find! --Saint Bernard.
28 It was one of them who first stabbed Edward the First, when his queen saved him by sucking the poison from the wound, according to a Spanish historian.
29 Sixty-six pounds, 13 shillings, four pence; a large sum in those days.
30 It was afterwards ascertained that on the very night, the father, Roger, dreamt that he saw his son in a gloomy cell, a slave condemned to apparently hopeless toil or death, and addressed him as in the text.
31 Acre was stormed by the Moslems, AD 1291, and the Holy Land was lost with it.
32 How unlike the ceremonial of Hubert's knighthood! But the approach of a battle justified the omission of the usual rites in the opinion of the many.
33 Witness the case of the Scotch judge--pursued under divers forms by the supposed apparition of a man he had hanged, until he died of fright--as recorded by Sir Walter Scott in Demonology and Witchcraft.
34 Whom they had pelted with mud as she passed under London Bridge, calling her a witch. Life of Simon de Montfort, page 126.
35 Old English for hence.
36 Parish priests were frequently styled Sir in those days. Father meant a monk or regular, as opposed to the secular, clergy.
37 His descent from noble families of either race--Michelham, the house of Ella, through his father; Walderne, of ancient Norman blood, through his mother, rendered him acceptable to both parties.
