The Caged Lion

by Charlotte M. Yonge

  CHAPTER VI: MALCOLM'S SUIT

  'That is a gentle and gracious slip of the Stewart. What shall you dowith him?' asked King Henry of James, as they stood together at one endof the tilt-yard at Westminster, watching Malcolm Stewart and Ralf Percy,who were playing at closhey, the early form of nine-pins.

  'I know what I should like to do,' said James.

  'What may that be?'

  'To marry him to the Lady Esclairmonde de Luxemburg.'

  Henry gave a long whistle.

  'Have you other views for her?'

  'Not I! Am I to have designs on every poor dove who flies into my tentfrom the hawk? Besides, are not they both of them vowed to a religiouslife?'

  'Neither vow is valid,' replied James.

  'To meddle with such things is what I should not _dare_,' said Henry.

  'Monks and friars are no such holy beings, that I should greatly concernme about keeping an innocent had out of their company,' said James.

  'Nor do I say they are,' said Henry; 'but it is ill to cross a vow ofdevotion, and to bring a man back to the world is apt to render him notworth the having. You may perchance get him down lower than youintended.'

  'This boy never had any real vocation at all,' said James; 'it was onlythe timidity born of ill-health, and the longing for food for the mind.'

  'Maybe so,' replied the English king, 'and you may be in the right; butwhy fix on that grand Luxemburg wench, who ought to be a Lady Abbess ofFontainebleau at least, or a very St. Hilda, to rule monks and nunsalike?'

  'Because they have fixed on each other. Malcolm needs a woman like herto make a man of him; and with her spirit and fervent charity, we shouldhave them working a mighty change in Scotland.'

  'If you get her there!'

  'Have I your consent, Harry?'

  'Mine? It's no affair of mine! You must settle it with Madame ofHainault; but you had best take care. You are more like to make yourtame lambkin into a ravening wolf, than to get that Deborah theprophetess to herd him.'

  James in sooth viewed this warning as another touch of Lancastriansuperstition, and only considered how to broach the question. Malcolm,meantime, was balancing between the now approaching decision betweenOxford and France. He certainly felt something of his old horror ofwarlike scenes; but even this was lessening; he was aware that battleswere not every-day occurrences, and that often there was no danger atall. He would not willingly be separated from his king; and if thefemale part of the Court were to accompany the campaign, it would belosing sight of all he cared for, if he were left among a set of strangershavelings at Oxford. Yet he was reluctant to break with the old habitsthat had hitherto been part of his nature; he felt, after every word ofEsclairmonde--nay, after every glance towards her--as though it were ablessed thing to have, like her, chosen the better part; he knew shewould approve his resort to the home of piety and learning; he was awarethat when with Ralf Percy and the other youths of the Court he wasashamed of his own scrupulousness, and tempted to neglect observancesthat they might call monkish and unmanly; and he was not at all sure thatin face of the enemy a panic might not seize him and disgrace him forever! In effect he did not know what he wished, even when he found thatthe Queen had decided against going across the sea, and that thereforeall the ladies would remain with her at Shene or Windsor.

  He should probably never again see Esclairmonde, the guiding star of hisrecent life, the embodiment of all that he had imagined when conning thequaint old English poems that told the Legend of Seynct Katharine; and ashe leant musingly against a lattice, feeling as if the brightness of hislife was going out, King James merrily addressed him:--

  'Eh! the fit is on you too, boy!'

  'What fit, Sir?' Malcolm opened his eyes.

  'The pleasing madness.'

  Malcolm uttered a cry like horror, and reddened crimson. 'Sir! Sir!Sir!' he stammered.

  'A well-known token of the disease is raving.'

  'Sir, Sir! I implore you to speak of nothing so profane.'

  'I am not given to profanity,' said James, endeavouring to look severe,but with laughter in his voice. 'Methought you were not yet so sacred apersonage.'

  'Myself! No; but that I--I should dare to have such thoughts of--oh,Sir!' and Malcolm covered his face with his hands. 'Oh, that you shouldhave so mistaken me!'

  'I have _not_ mistaken you,' said James, fixing his keen eyes on him.

  'Oh, Sir!' cried Malcolm, like one freshly stung, 'you have! Never,never dreamt I of aught but worshipping as a living saint, as I wouldentreat St. Margaret or--'

  There was still the King's steady look and the suppressed smile. Malcolmbroke off, and with a sudden agony wrung his hands together. The Kingstill smiled. 'Ay, Malcolm, it will not do; you are man, not monk.'

  'But why be so cruel as to make me vile in my own eyes?' almost sobbedMalcolm.

  'Because,' said the King, 'she is not a saint in heaven, nor a nun in aconvent, but a free woman, to be won by the youth she has marked out.'

  'Marked! Oh, Sir, she only condescended because she knew mydestination.'

  'That is well,' said King James. 'Thus sparks kindle at unawares.'

  Malcolm's groan and murmur of 'Never!' made James almost laugh at theevidence that on one side at least the touch-wood was ready.

  'Oh, Sir,' he sighed, 'why put the thought before me, to make mewretched! Even were she for the world, she would never be for me.I--doited--hirpling--'

  'Peace, silly lad; all that is past and gone. You are quite another now,and a year or two of Harry's school of chivalry will send you home agallant knight and minstrel, such as no maiden will despise.'

  The King went, and Malcolm fell into a silent state of musing. He wasentirely overpowered, both by the consciousness awakened within himself,by the doubt whether it were not a great sin, and by the strangeness thatthe King, hitherto his oracle, should infuse such a hope. What KingJames deemed possible could never be so incredible, or even sacrilegious,as he deemed it. Restless, ashamed, rent by a thousand conflictingfeelings, Malcolm roamed up and down his chamber, writhed, tried to sitand think, then, finding his thoughts in a whirl, renewed his franticpacings. And when dire necessity brought him again into the ladies'chamber, he was silent, blushing, ungainly, abstracted, and retreatedinto the farthest possible corner from the unconscious Esclairmonde.

  Then, when again alone with the King, he began with the assertion, 'It isutterly impossible, Sir;' and James smiled to see his poison working. Notthat he viewed it as poison. Monasticism was at a discount, and theranks of the religious orders were chiefly filled, the old Benedictineand Augustinian foundations by gentlemen of good family who wanted theeasy life of a sort of bachelor squire, and the friaries were recruitedby the sort of men who would in modern times be dissenting teachers ofthe lower stamp. James was persuaded that Malcolm was fit for betterthings than were usually to be seen in a convent, and that it was a realkindness not to let him merely retire thither out of faintness of heart,mistaken for devotion; and he also felt as if he should be doing goodservice, not only to Malcolm, but to Scotland, if he could obtain for hima wife of the grand character of Esclairmonde de Luxemburg.

  He even risked the mention of the project to the Countess of Hainault,without whose consent nothing could be effected. Jaqueline laughed longand loud at the notion of her stately Esclairmonde being the lady-love ofKing James's little white-visaged cousin; but if he could bring it aboutshe had no objection, she should be very glad that the demoiselle shouldcome down from the height and be like other people; but she would wagerthe King of Scots her emerald carcanet against his heron's plume, thatEsclairmonde would never marry unless her hands were held for her. Wasshe not at that very moment visiting some foundation of bedeswomen--thatwas all she heard of at yonder feast of cats!

  In fact, under Dr. Bennet's escort, Esclairmonde and Alice were in abarge dropping down the Thames to the neighbourhood of the frowningfortress of the Tower--as yet unstained; and at the steps leading to the
Hospitium of St. Katharine the ladies were met, not only by their friendMrs. Bolt, but by Sir Richard Whittington, his kindly dame, and by'Master William Kedbesby,' a grave and gentle-looking old man, who hadbeen Master of St. Katharine's ever since the first year of King RichardII., and delighted to tell of the visits 'Good Queen Anne' of Bohemia hadmade to her hospital, and the kind words she had said to the old alms-folk and the children of the schools; and when he heard that the LadyEsclairmonde was of the same princely house of Luxemburg, he seemed tothink no honour sufficient for her. They visited the two houses, one forold men, the other for old women, each with a common apartment, with afire, and a dining-table in the midst, and sleeping cells screened offround it, and with a paved terrace walk overhanging the river, where theold people could sit and sun themselves, and be amused by the gay bargesand the swans that expatiated there. The bedeswomen, ten in number, hada house arranged like an ordinary nunnery, except that they were not inseclusion, had no grating, and shared the quadrangle with the alms-folkand children. They were gentle and well-nurtured women, chieflybelonging to the city and country families that furnished servants to thequeens; and they applied themselves to various offices of charity, goingforth into the city to tend the poor, and to teach the women andchildren. The appointments of alms-folk and admissions to the schoolwere chiefly made at their recommendation; and though a master taught allthe book-learning in the busy hive of scholars--eighty in number--one ormore of them instructed the little girls in spinning and in stitchery, tosay nothing of gentle and modest demeanour. There was a great look ofhappiness and good order about all; and the church, fair and graceful,seemed well to complete and rule the institution. Esclairmonde could butsigh with a sort of regret as she left it, and let herself be conductedby Sir Richard Whittington to a refection at his beautiful house inCrutched Friars, built round a square, combining warehouse andmanor-house; richly-carved shields, with the arms of the companies ofLondon, supporting the tier of first-floor windows, and another row ofbrackets above supporting another overhanging story. A fountain was inthe centre of a beautiful greensward, with beds of roses, pansies, pinks,stars of Bethlehem, and other good old flowers, among which a monkey waschained to a tree, while a cat roamed about at a safe distance from him.

  Alice Montagu raised a laugh by asking if it were _the_ cat; to which hercity namesake replied that 'her master' never could abide to be without acat in memory of his first friend, and marshalled them into the beautifulhall, with wainscot lining below, surmounted by an arcade containingstatues, and above a beautiful carved ceiling. Here a meal was served tothem, and the Lady talked with Whittington of the grand town-halls andother buildings of the merchants of the Low Countries, with whom he was atrader for their rich stuffs; and the visit passed off with no smallsatisfaction to both parties.

  Esclairmonde sat in the barge on her return, looking out on the grayclear water, and on the bright gardens that sloped down to it, gay withroses and fruitful with mulberries, apples, and strawberries, and themansions and churches that were never quite out of sight, though therewere some open fields and wild country ere coming to Westminster, all asif she did not see them, but was wrapped in deep contemplation.

  Alice at last, weary of silence, stole her arm round her waist, andpeeped up into her face. 'May I guess thy thoughts, sweet Clairette?Thou wilt found such a hospice thyself?'

  'Say not I _will_, child,' said Esclairmonde, with a crystal dropstarting in each dark eye. 'I would strive and hope, but--'

  'Ah! thou wilt, thou wilt,' cried Alice; 'and since there are Beguinesenough for their own Netherlands, thou wilt come to England and be ourfoundress here.'

  'Nay, little one; here are the bedeswomen of St. Katharine's in London.'

  'Ah! but we have other cities. Good Father, have we not?Hull--Southampton--oh! so many, where poor strangers come that needghostly tendance as well as bodily. Esclairmonde--Light of the World--oh!it was not for nothing that they gave thee that goodly name. The hospiceshall bear it!'

  'Hush, hush! sweet pyet; mine own name is what they must not bear.'

  'Ah! but the people will give it; and our Holy Father the Pope, he willput thee into the canon of saints. Only pity that I cannot live to hearof Ste. Esclairmonde--nay, but then I must overlive thee, mind I shouldnot love that.'

  'Oh, silence, silence, child; these are no thoughts to begin a work with.Little flatterer, it may be well for me that our lives must needs lie sofar apart that I shall not oft hear that fond silly tongue.'

  'Nay,' said Alice, in the luxury, not of castle-building but of convent-building; 'it may be that when that knight over there sees me so smalland ill-favoured he will none of me, and then I'll thank him so, and praymy father to let him have all my lands and houses except just enough todower me to follow thee with, dear Lady Prioress.'

  But here Alice was summarily silenced. Such talk, both priest andvotaress told her, was not meet for dutiful daughter or betrothed maiden.Her lot was fixed, and she must do her duty therein as the good wife andlady of the castle, the noble English matron; and as she looked halfdisposed to pout, Esclairmonde drew such a picture of the beneficentinfluence of the good baronial dame, ruling her castle, bringing up herchildren and the daughters of her vassals in good and pious nurture,making 'the heart of her husband safely trust in her,' benefiting thepoor, and fostering holy men, wayfarers, and pilgrims, that the girl'seyes filled within tears as she looked up and said, 'Ah! lady, this isthe life fitted for thee, who can paint it so well. Why have I not abrother, that you might be Countess of Salisbury, and I a poor littlesister in a nunnery?'

  Esclairmonde shook her head. 'Silly child, _petite niaise_, our lotswere fixed by other hands than ours. We will strive each to serve ourGod, in the coif or in the veil, in samite or in serge, and He will onlyask which of us has been most faithful, not whether we have lived incastle or in cloister.'

  Little had Esclairmonde expected to hear the greeting with which theCountess received her, breaking out into peals of merriment as she toldher of the choice destiny in store for her, to be wedded to the littlelame Scot, pretending to read her a grave lecture on the consequences ofthe advances she had made to him.

  Esclairmonde was not put out of countenance; in fact, she did not thinkthe Countess in earnest, and merely replied with a smile that at leastthere was less harm in Lord Malcolm than in the suitors at home.

  Jaqueline clapped her hands and cried, 'Good tidings, Clairette. I'llnever forgive you if you make me lose my emerald carcanet! So the arrowwas winged, after all. She prefers him--her heart is touched by thedainty step.'

  'Madame!' entreated Esclairmonde, with agitation; 'at least, infirmityshould be spared.'

  'It touches her deeply!' exclaimed the Duchess. 'Ah! to see her in themountains teaching the wild men to say their Aye, and to wear _culottes_,the little prince interpreting for her, as King James told us in hisstory of the saint his ancestor.'

  Raillery about Malcolm had been attempted before, but never sopertinaciously; and Esclairmonde heeded it not at all, till James himselfsought her out, and, within all his own persuasive grace, told her thathe was rejoiced to hear from Madame of Hainault that she had spokenkindly of his youthful kinsman, for whose improvement he was sure he hadin great measure to thank her.

  Esclairmonde replied composedly, but as one on her guard, that the Sieurde Glenuskie was a gentle and a holy youth, of a good and toward wit.

  'As I saw from the first,' said James, 'when I brought him away frombeing crushed among our rude cousins; but, lady, I knew not how the taskof training the boy would be taken out of my hands by your kindness; andnow, pardon me, lady, only one thing is wanting to complete your work,and that is hope.'

  'Hope is always before a holy man, Sir.'

  'O, madame! but we peer earthly beings require an earthly hope, nearerhome, to brace our hearts, and nerve our arms.'

  'I thought the Sieur de Glenuskie was destined to a religious life.'

  'Never by any save his enemies
, lady. The Regent Albany and his fiercesons have striven to scare Malcolm into a cloister, that his sister andhis lands may be their prey; and they would have succeeded had not I cometo Scotland in time. The lad never had any true vocation.'

  'That may be,' said Esclairmonde, somewhat sorrowfully.

  'Still,' added James, 'he is of a thoughtful and somewhat tender mould,and the rudeness of life will try him sorely unless he have some cheeringstar, some light of love, to bear him up and guide him on his way.'

  'If so, may he find a worthy one.'

  'Lady, it is too late to talk of what he may find. The brightness thathas done so much for him already will hinder him from turning his eyeselsewhere.'

  'You are a minstrel, Sir King, and therefore these words of light romancefall from your lips.'

  'Nay, lady, hitherto my romance has been earnest. It rests with you tomake Malcolm's the same.'

  'Not so, Sir. That has long been out of my hands.'

  'Madame, you might well shrink from what it was as insult to you topropose; but have you never thought of the blessings you might confer inthe secular life, with one who would be no hindrance, but a help?'

  'No, Sir, for no blessings, but curses, would follow a breach ofdedication.'

  'Lady, I will not press you with what divines have decided respectingsuch dedication. Any scruples could be removed by the Holy Father atRome, and, though I will speak no further, I will trust to yourconsidering the matter. You have never viewed it in any light save thatof a refuge from wedlock with one to whom I trust you would prefer mygentle cousin.'

  'It were a poor compliment to Lord Malcolm to name him in the same daywith Sir Boemond of Burgundy,' said Esclairmonde; 'but, as I said, it isnot the person that withholds me, but the fact that I am not free.'

  'I do not ask you to love or accept the poor boy as yet,' said James; 'Ileave that for the time when I shall bring him back to you, with thequalities grown which you have awakened. At least, I can bear him thetidings that it is not your feelings, but your scruples that are againsthim.'

  'Sir King,' said Esclairmonde, gravely, 'I question not your judgment inturning your kinsman and subject to the secular life; but if you lead himby false hopes, of which I am the object, I tell you plainly that you aredeluding him; and if any evil come thereof, be it on your own head.'

  She moved away, with a bend of her graceful neck, and James stood with aslight smile curving his lip. 'By my troth,' he said to himself, 'alordly lady! She knows her own vocation. She is one to command scoresof holy maids, and have all the abbots and priors round at her beck,instead of one poor man. Rather Malcolm than I! But he is the verystuff that loves to have such a woman to rule him; and if she wed at all,he is the very man for her! I'll not give it up! Love is the way tomake a man of him, whether successful or not, and she may change hermind, since she is not yet on the roll of saints. If I could get a wordwith her father confessor, and show him how much it would be for theinterest of the Church in Scotland to get such a woman there, it would bethe surest way of coming at her. Were she once in Scotland, my prettyone would have a stay and helper! But all must rest till after thecampaign.'

  James therefore told Malcolm so much as that he had spoken to his lady-love for him, and that she had avowed that it was not himself, but herown vows, that was the obstacle.

  Malcolm crimsoned with joy as well as confusion; and the King proceeded:'For the vows'--he shrugged his shoulders--'we knew there is a remedy!Meantime, Malcolm, be you a man, win your spurs, and show yourself worthovercoming something for!'

  Malcolm smiled and brightened, holding his head high and joyously, andhandling his sword. Then came the misgiving--'But Lilias, Sir, andPatrick Drummond.'

  'We will provide for them, boy. You know Drummond is bent on carving hisown fortune rather than taking yours, and that your sister only longs tosee you a gallant knight.'

  It was true, but Malcolm sighed.

  'You have not spoken to the lady yourself?' asked the King.

  'No, Sir. Oh, how can I?' faltered Malcolm, shamefaced and frightened.

  James laughed. 'Let that be as the mood takes you, or occasion serves,'he said, wondering whether the lad's almost abject awkwardness and shamewould be likely to create the pity akin to love or to contempt, anddeciding that it must be left to chance.

  Nor did Malcolm find boldness enough to do more than haunt Esclairmonde'ssteps, trembling if she glanced towards him, and almost shrinking fromher gaze. He had now no doubts about going on the campaign, and was infull course of being prepared with equipments, horses, armour, andattendants, as became a young prince attending on his sovereign as anadventurer in the camp. It was not even worth while to name suchscruples to the English friar who shrived him on the last day before thedeparture, and who knew nothing of his past history. He knew all priestswould say the same things, and as he had never made a binding vow, he sawno need of consulting any one on the subject; it would only vex himagain, and fill him with doubts. The suspicion that Dr. Bennet was awareof his previous intention made him shrink from him. So the last day hadcome, and all was farewell. King Henry had persuaded the Queen toseclude herself for one evening from Madame of Hainault, for his sake.King James was pacing the gardens on the Thames banks, with JoanBeaufort's hand for once allowed to repose in his; many a noble gentlemanwas exchanging last words with his wife--many a young squire whisperingwhat he had never ventured to say before--many a silver mark wascloven--many a bright tress was exchanged. Even Ralf Percy was in themidst of something very like a romp with the handsome Bessie Nevil for aknot of ribbon to carry to the wars.

  Malcolm felt a certain exaltation in being enough like other people tohave a lady-love, but there was not much comfort otherwise; indeed, hecould so little have addressed Esclairmonde that it was almost asatisfaction that she was the centre of a group of maidens whose loversor brothers either had been sent off beforehand, or who saw theirattentions paid elsewhere, and who all alike gravitated towards theDemoiselle de Luxemburg for sympathy. He could but hover on theoutskirts, conscious that he must cut a ridiculous figure, but unable todetach himself from the neighbourhood of the magnet. As he looked backon the happy weeks of unconstrained intercourse, when he came to her asfreely as did these young girls with all his troubles, he felt as if theKing had destroyed all his joy and peace, and yet that these flutteringsof heart and agonies of shame and fits of despair were worth all thatchildish calm.

  He durst say nothing, only now and then to gaze on her with his greatbrown wistful eyes, which he dropped whenever she looked towards him;until at last, when the summer evening was closing in, and the lastsignal was given for the break-up of the party, Malcolm ventured on onefaltering murmur, 'Lady, lady, you are not offended with me?'

  'Nay,' said Esclairmonde, kindly; 'nothing has passed between us thatshould offend me.'

  His eye lighted. 'May I still be remembered in your prayers, lady?'

  'As I shall remember all who have been my friends here,' she said.

  'And oh, lady, if I should--should win honour, may I lay it at yourfeet?'

  'Whatever you achieve as a good man and true will gladden me,' saidEsclairmonde, 'as it will all others that wish you well. Both you andyour sister in her loneliness shall have my best prayers. Farewell, LordMalcolm; may the Saints bless and guard you, whether in the world or theChurch.'

  Malcolm knew why she spoke of his sister, and felt as if there were nohope for him. Esclairmonde's grave kindness was a far worse sign thanwould have been any attempt to evade him; but at any rate she had spokenwith him, and his heart could not but be cheered. What might he not doin the glorious future? As the foremost champion of a crusading king,bearing St. Andrew's cross through the very gates of Jerusalem, whatmaiden, however saintly, could refuse him his guerdon?

  And he knew that, for the present, Esclairmonde was safe from retiringinto any convent, since her high birth and great possessions would makeany such establishment expect a large dower with her as
a right, and fewabbesses would have ventured to receive a runaway foreigner, especiallyas one of her guardians was the Bishop of Therouenne.