CHAPTER XLII.
Some half hour after she had left the Princess--and we will venture tohope that the reader has particularly marked at what precise moment oftime each of the scenes which we have lately described were takingplace in the castle of Nottingham--some half-hour after she had leftthe Princess, Lucy de Ashby, covered with one of those large gowns ofgrey cloth which were worn by the less strict orders of nuns, whiletravelling, with her fair head wrapped in a wimple, and a pilgrim's baghung over shoulder, filled with a few trinkets and some other thingswhich she thought necessary to take with her, leaned thoughtfully uponthe table in the wide, oddly-shaped chamber, which had beenappropriated to her in Nottingham Castle. Near her stood one of themaids, whom we have seen with her before, and who now watched hermistress's countenance and the eager emotions that were passing overit, with a look of anxiety and affection.
At length, with a sudden movement, as if she had long restrainedherself, the girl burst forth, "Let me go with thee, lady!
"You know not where I go, Claude," replied Lucy; "you know not, indeed,that I am going anywhere!"
"Yes, yes," said the girl, "I am sure you are going somewhere; if not,why have you put on that disguise?"
"But--but to see if it would do, in case of need," answered Lucy."Here, take it off good girl! I should not recognise myself, much lesswould others!"
"Ay, lady, but still thou art going somewhere," said the girl, aidingher to pull off the wimple and gown. "I know not where, 'tis true, butI will go with thee, anywhere--neither distance nor danger will scareme; and I am sure I can help thee!"
"Well, be it as thou wilt!" replied Lucy, after a moment's thought,"but it may be that we shall leave behind us courts and soft beds forever, Claude."
"I care not--I care not!" cried the girl, "I would rather live with thebold foresters in the wood than at Nottingham or Lindwell either."
Lucy smiled, as the girl's words brought back the memory of one happyday, and with it the hopes that then were bright.
"Well, haste thee," she said, "haste thee to make ready; there are manyhere who know thee, Claude, and we must both pass unrecognised."
"Oh!" answered her attendant, "I will transform me in a minute in suchsort that my lover--if I had one--should refuse me at the altar, orelse be forsworn! Hark! there is some one knocks."
"Pull it off--pull it off!" cried Lucy, disembarrassing herself of thegown. "Now run, and see!"
"The Princess, madam, requires your instant presence," said the girl,after having spoken for a moment to some one at the door; and, with aquick step, and eager eye, Lucy de Ashby advanced along the corridor,following one of Eleanor's ladies who had brought the message. Thelatter opened the door of the Princess's chamber for her youngcompanion to enter, but did not, as usual, go in herself; and Lucyfound Eleanor and her husband alone.
Edward was clothed in arms, as he had come from Leicester, dusty, andsoiled with travelling, but his head was uncovered, except by thestrong curling hair which waved round his lordly brow, while a smallvelvet bonnet and feather, in which he had been riding, was seen castupon one of the settles near the door. He was walking, with a slowstep, up and down the room, with his brows knit, and a glance ofdisappointment and even anger in his eye. Eleanor, on the contrary, satand gazed on him in silence, with a grave and tender look, as ifwaiting till the first ebullition of feeling was past and the momentfor soothing or consolation arrived.
"Here she is, Edward," said the Princess, as soon as Lucy entered; andthose words showed her that the conversation of her two royal friendshad been of herself, and made her fear that the evident anger of Edwardhad been excited by something she had done.
The timid and imploring look which she cast upon him, however, when heturned towards her instantly banished the frown from his brow; andtaking her hand, he said, "Be not afraid, dear lady; I am more angryperhaps than becomes me, but 'tis not with you or yours. When I camehere, some twenty minutes since, my sweet wife gave me this paper,which tends to clear our poor friend Hugh, and I instantly took it tothe King to beseech him but to delay the combat for a week. Judge of mysurprise, when he refused me with an oath, and swore that either yourbrother should make good his charge or die. But 'tis not my father'sfault, lady," he continued, seeing a look of horror, mingled somewhatwith disgust, come upon Lucy's face--"'tis not my father's fault, I canassure you. Mortimer and Pembroke, and some others who have his ear,have so prepossessed his mind, that for the moment all words orarguments are vain; and yet this combat must not take place, or one oftwo noble men will be murdered."
"Then let me try to stop it," answered Lucy, "Has the Princess, mylord----"
"Yes--yes, she has," cried Edward, "and you must try, sweet Lucy; but Idoubt that even your persuasions--I doubt that even the bribe of yourfair hand will induce Monthermer to fly and leave his name to ignominyeven for a day."
"Nay--nay, he will," said Eleanor; "certain of his own innocence, withthe confession of her brother which Lucy has, that he believes himguiltless----"
"'Tis but an expression of doubt," interrupted Edward, "if you told meright."
"Nay, Edward," asked the Princess, rising and laying her hand upon hisarm; "if the case were our own--if I besought you with tears and withentreaties, and every argument that she can use, would you not yield?"
"'Twere a hard case, dear lady mine," replied Edward, kissingher--"'twere a hard case, in truth, yet I may doubt. His answer mightbe clear; with honour, innocence, and courage on his side, why shouldhe fly?"
"To save _my_ brother," said Lucy, looking up in the Prince's face.
"Ay, but his renown!" exclaimed Edward.--"Yet he must fly. Some meansmust be found to persuade him."
"Cannot you, my most gracious lord?" asked Lucy,
"Ay, that is the question," rejoined the Prince, again walking up anddown the room. "What will be said of me, if I interfere?--My father'sanger, too.--To tell a Knight to fly from his devoir!--Yet it must bedone.--Hark ye, fair lady; go to him, as you have proposed, useprayers, entreaties, whatever may most move him--do all that you haveproposed--offer to go with him and be his bride. He scarcely can refusethat, methinks;" and he turned a more smiling look towards Eleanor."But if all fails, tell him that I entreat--nay, that I command him--ifhe be so sure of shortly proving his innocence, that no man can evendream I have done this thing for favour--tell him I command him to flythis night, and that I will justify him--that I will avow 'twas done bymy express command; and let me see the man in all my father's realms toblame it!"
"Will you, most gracious lord," said Lucy--"will you give it me underyour hand? If I have but words, Hugh may think it is a woman's art towin him to her wishes."
"Is there an ink-horn there?" demanded Edward, looking round.
"Here--here," said the Princess, shewing him the materials for writing;and with a rapid hand Edward traced a few words upon the paper, andthen read them, but still held the order in his hand. "Remember," hesaid, turning to Lucy, and speaking in an earnest, almost a stern tone,"this is to be the last means you use, and not till every other hasbeen tried in vain. 'Tis a rash act, I fear, and somewhat an unwiseone, that I do, though with a good intent, but I would fain it werenever mentioned were it possible."
"This makes all safe," said Lucy, taking the paper; "he will go now, mylord, that his honour is secure. But I promise you no entreaties ofmine shall be spared to make him go without it. I will forget that Ihave this precious thing, until he proves obdurate to all my prayers.Even then, methinks, I may show some anger to find him go at any wordsof yours when he has scorned all mine.--But, good sooth, I shall be toograteful to God to see him go at all, to let anger have any part."
"Well--well, fair lady," said the Prince, "may God send us safely andhappily through this dark and sad affair! We are told not to do evil,that good may come of it; but here, methinks, I only choose between twoduties, and follow the greater. I act against my father's will, 'tistrue; but thereby I save the shedding of innocent bloo
d, and I sparethe King himself a deed which he would bitterly repent hereafter. Godgive it a good end, I say once more! for we act for the best."
"Fear not--fear not, my Edward," said Eleanor; "God will not fail thosethat trust in him. May He protect thee, Lucy!" and as she spoke shekissed her young friend's forehead tenderly. "Now tell me," shecontinued, "is all prepared for your expedition?"
"All," replied Lucy. "My girl Claude has got me a grey sister's gown,which will conceal me fully."
"Is that all?" cried the Prince. "Where are the horses?--but leave thatto me. If Monthermer consents to go, bid him make no delay, nor stayfor any preparation. He will find horses at the city gate--the northerngate, I mean. In half an hour they shall be there. Know you the way tohis lodging?"
"Not well," said Lucy; "'tis, I think, the third door down thecourt;--but Claude will find it quickly, I don't doubt."
"There is a speedier way than that," replied the Prince. "Follow thepassage running by your room, then down the steps, and you will see adoor; if you knock there, you will find his page or some other servant,for it leads into his ante-room. It were better," he continued,thoughtfully, "that you made a servant carry the disguise, and notassume it till you are sure that he will go. Were you to visit him insuch a garb, fair lady," he added, taking her hand kindly, "and afterto return unwedded, men might speak lightly of your reputation; andthat which in holy purity of heart you did to avert a most needlesscombat, might turn to your discredit."
The blood came warmly into Lucy's cheek, but the moment after shelooked up in the Prince's face, replying, with an air of ingenuouscandour, "You think me, doubtless, somewhat bold, my lord, and many menmay censure me, but I have something here"--and she laid her hand uponher heart--"which blames me not, but bids me go, in innocence ofpurpose, and share his fate whatever it may be. God knows this is a sadand painful bridal, such as I never thought to see. A father's death, abrother's rashness, and a lover's danger, may well cloud it withsorrow. But there is a higher joy in thinking I am doing what isright,--in thinking that I, a poor weak girl, by scorning idle tongues,and the coarse jests of those who cannot feel as I can, have a power tosave my brother's life, and to spare him I love the dreadful task ofputting a bloody barrier 'twixt himself and me for ever.--Judge mearight, my lord!"
"I do--I do," replied Edward; "and now, farewell. God speed you, lady,on your noble enterprise!"
Lucy kissed his hand, and without more ado returned to her own chamber."Quick, Claude!" she cried; "are you ready?"
"Yes, madam," she answered. "Will you not put on the gown?"
"No," said Lucy, still pausing at the door; "bring them with you, andfollow quickly."
The girl gathered up her lady's disguise and her own in haste, and Lucyled the way along the passage as the Prince had directed her. Therewere no doors on either side, and but a loophole every here and there,which showed that the corridor, along which they went, was practised inthe wall. Full of renewed hope, and eager to see her scheme put inexecution, the lady descended the steps, and was about at once to knockat the door, when her raised hand was stayed by hearing some onespeaking.
She felt faint, and her heart beat quickly, for she recognised herbrother's voice. Lucy listened, and distinctly heard the words--"Ibelieve you innocent, from my soul, Monthermer; and I would give myright hand that you or I were a hundred miles hence this night."
A smile came upon her countenance. "He is preparing the way for me!"she murmured to herself; and again she listened, but all was silent,save a retreating step and a closing door.
"He is gone," said Lucy, turning to her maid. "Stay you here, Claude,for a minute or two;" and without knocking, she gently opened the doorand looked in.
There was a small room before her, with a fire on the opposite side,and three stools near it, but no one there; and entering with anoiseless step, Lucy gazed round. A door appeared on either hand: thaton the right was closed, but through it she heard sounds of talking andlaughter: that on the left was in a slight degree ajar, but all wassilent within. Gliding up to it with no noise but the light rustle ofher garments, Lucy approached, and pushed it gently with her hand--sogently that she saw before she was seen.
Nearly in the centre of the room stood he whom she loved, with his armsfolded on his broad chest, his fine head bent, his eyes fixed upon theground, and an expression both sorrowful and stern upon his lip andbrow. As the door moved farther open, it roused him from his reverie,and he looked up; but what a sudden change came instantly upon hiscountenance. An expression mingled of joy, surprise, and anxiety,passed across his face, and exclaiming, "Lucy, dearest Lucy!" he sprangforward to meet her.
Drawing her gently into the room, he closed the door, and then held herfor a moment to his bosom while both were silent; for the throbbing ofher heart left Lucy's tongue powerless, and Hugh dared not speak lestit should dispel what seemed but too happy a dream.
"Dearest Lucy," he said, at length, "even while I thank and bless youfor coming, I must ask what brings you here? It was rash, dear girl--itwas rash! If you had sent to me, I would have been with you in amoment. It is not a minute yet since your brother was here."
"I know it," replied Lucy--"I know it all, Hugh. I know it was rash tocome; but I am going to do everything that is rash to-night, andthis is but the beginning. It is in general that you men sue to uswomen--till you are our masters, at least; now I come to sue to you."
"Oh, Lucy!" cried Hugh, with a sort of prescience of what she was aboutto say--"what is that you are going to ask? Remember, Lucy--remember myhonour. If you love me, that honour ought to be dearer to you than mylife. Ask me nothing that may bring shame upon me."
"Listen to me--listen to me," she replied. "You must hear me, Hugh,before you can judge. Your honour _is_ dearer to me than your life; andoh, Hugh! you have yet to learn how dear that is to Lucy de Ashby;" andas she spoke, the tears rose into her eyes, but she dashed them away,and went on. "Yet it is not for your life I fear, dear as it is to me.Oh, no! your heart is safe. Panoplied in innocence and strength, you gobut to conquer. It is for my brother that I fear--for my rash and hastybrother--ay, and guilty, if you will--for he who brings a falseaccusation against an innocent man is guilty. I tremble for him, Hugh;I tremble for myself, too; I fear that Hugh de Monthermer will drawupon his hand my brother's blood; and a hand so stained can never claspmine again."
"I know it," said Hugh; "but what can I do? I have no choice, Lucy, butto live for misery or to die disgraced!"
"Yes," cried Lucy, eagerly--"yes, you have. Fly, Hugh de Monthermer!give no reason to any one why you go. You are sure, ere long, toestablish your innocence.--appear not at the sound of thetrumpet--appear not till you can prove his guilt upon the foul wretchwho did the deed with which they charge you."
"What!" exclaimed Hugh de Monthermer--"to be condemned, not only as acriminal, but as a coward and a recreant--to have my name pass frommouth to mouth throughout all Europe as a byword--to have heralds say,when they would point out a craven and a traitor--'He is like Hugh deMonthermer!' Oh, Lucy, Lucy! think of my honour--think of my renown!"
"But your honour is safe, Hugh," answered Lucy, clinging to his arm."Alured himself admits your innocence. I heard him say but now----"
"Ay, in this room between him and me," replied Hugh de Monthermer; "butto-morrow he goes into the lists, and calls God to witness that hiscause is just. To me he owns the falsehood of the charge, but to theworld upholds that it is true."
"Not so!" cried Lucy--"look here, Monthermer--see what he says to mehere!"--and she drew forth the paper which Alured had given her.
Hugh read it eagerly; and as he saw her brother's wish expressed, that,if he fell, their hands might be united, he turned his eyes towards thesweet girl beside him, with a look of tenderness and love deep andunutterable; but then the moment after, waving his head with amelancholy air, he said, "He knows you not as I know you, Lucy. Hiswish is kind and generous--noble--most noble, and atones for all. Butwould Lucy follow it?"
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p; "No!" she replied, raising her head, firmly. "Were I to waste away mylife in hopeless regret and misery, my hand should never be given tohim who sheds my brother's blood. I vow it, so help me God at my utmostneed! But hear me; Hugh," she continued, her cheek, which had been verypale during the last words, becoming crimson--"Hear me, Hugh! hear me,my beloved!--hear me, and ho, grant my request! As eagerly, as fondlyas ever you have sued for this hand, I now beseech you to take it.--Onmy knees, Hugh de Monthermer," and she sunk upon her knees beforehim--"on my knees thus, bedewing your hand with my tears, I beseech youto make Lucy de Ashby your wife."
"But how, dearest Lucy!" he cried, stooping to raise her. "What--whatdo you mean? How--how is this to be!"
"Fly!" exclaimed Lucy--"fly _with me_ this night! Here is my brother'sfull consent--here, also, is your justification--here, at the veryfirst, he proclaims your innocence!"
"Ah, no!" replied Hugh de Monthermer, shaking his head; "he says, butthat he doubts my guilt. Oh, Lucy! you will drive me mad to give mesuch a precious sight in prospect, and then to sweep it all away. Itell thee, my beloved, there is not an honest man in all the realm thatwould not call me coward, if I fled."
"Is that all that stays you?" demanded Lucy. "What, if I show you that,amongst the highest and most honourable of the land, there are thosewho will exculpate and defend you?"
"You cannot do it, Lucy," replied Hugh. "You may think they would. Theymay have said some chance words--that 'twere better to fly--that Imight avoid the combat for some days; but when the time came, theirvoices would be raised with all the rest against me. You can shew me nomore than this, dear girl."
"I can!" answered Lucy. "There! read that; and if you hesitate a momentmore, 'tis that Hugh de Monthermer loves not his promised bride,rejects her proffered hand, and scorns the rash and giddy girl, who forthe sake of any ungrateful man cast from her every thought but one--thesaving those she loves."
Hugh de Monthermer held the paper in his hand for a moment withoutreading it, gazing upon the beautiful being beside him, as with hereyes full of lustre and light, her cheek glowing, her lip quivering,she addressed to him the only reproachful words which had ever fallenfrom her lips.
"Lucy," he said, "I will not merit that reproach. You yourself havetold me that my honour is dearer to you than my life. Let it be dearerthan all other things, Lucy, and then tell me whether I can go withhonour. Whether, if I do, men will not cry coward on me?--whethermy renown will not suffer in the eyes of Europe? If you say yes, oh,with what joy will I fly, with Lucy for my companion! With whatdeep devotion will I strive through life to repay her generousself-devotion, and to show her what I think of that heart which couldcast away all idle forms and ceremonies, set at nought empty opinion,and entertain, as you say, but the one thought--the saving those sheloves."
As he spoke, he clasped his arms around her, and Lucy hid her eyes uponhis bosom, for they were running over with tears. But after a moment,she raised them again, saying--"Read--read, Hugh, that will satisfyyou!"
Hugh de Monthermer approached nearer the lamp, and looking at thepaper, exclaimed--"Prince Edward's writing! What is this?--
"'Follow the plan of your fair lady, Monthermer. Fly with her as speedilyas may be--she will tell you more; but fear not for your honour--I willbe your warranty, and will say 'twas my command. You are my prisonerstill, remember, and as such, cannot fight without the consent of
"'EDWARD'"
"This changes all!" cried Hugh de Monthermer; "but why not give me thisbefore, dear Lucy?"
"Because the Prince required me so to act," replied Lucy--"only to usethis as a last resource; and she went on to tell him briefly butclearly all that had occurred.
"Let us be quick," she said, "dear Hugh! There will be horses down atthe north gate by this time. My poor girl, Claude, is waiting on thesteps with a nun's gown for me, and some cunning disguise for herself.Have you nothing that you could cast over these gay garments? for asyou are about to travel by night with a poor grey sister, 'twere aswell not to seem so much the courtly cavalier."
Poor Lucy's heart, relieved from the burden that had rested on it, beatup high with renewed hope; but still the agitation which she sufferedremained, like the flying clouds that follow a summer's storm, andfilled her eyes with tears, while the jest was still upon her lips.Hugh held her to his heart; and soothed her, and might have feltinclined to spend a few minutes more in such a sweet employment, butLucy reminded him of how quickly moved the wings of time.
"Remember, Hugh," she said, "the minutes and my courage are not stablethings, and both are ebbing fast. My heart beats strangely quick andfearfully, and I must not faint or lag behind till we have passed thegates."
"Nor there either!" cried Hugh; "but your courage will rise, dear Lucy,when the immediate danger is past. We had better not go quite alone,however, for we may yet have to use the strong hand by the way. I willsend down Blawket and another to the gate with horses for themselves."
"But a disguise!" cried Lucy--"a disguise for you. Ere we quit thecastle, all this gold and silk will send the tale abroad to everyhorse-boy in the place."
"I have one ready," answered Hugh; "the priest's gown, in which Iescaped before, may answer well a second time. Where Is this girl ofyours?"
"Upon the steps," replied Lucy. "I will call her."
"Nay, let me," said Hugh de Monthermer; and, opening the door of theante-room and then that which opened on the stairs, he whispered, "Comein, my pretty maiden; bring the lamp with you--I will be backdirectly;" and passing on into the outer room, as soon as the maid wasin his chamber and had shut the door, he called Blawket aside and gavehim orders. Then sitting down at a table, he wrote a few words on ascrap of paper, which he entrusted to one of the armourers, saying, "Donot disturb Sir John Hardy to-night, but give him that at day breakto-morrow morning."
"'Twere a hard matter to disturb him, sir," answered the man; "for he'sasleep by this time, and when once his eyes are shut, lightning willnot make them wink for eight hours to come."
"It matters not," rejoined Hugh, "to-morrow will be soon enough--onlybe sure to give it;" and thus saying, he returned to his chamber,closing the doors carefully behind him.
The young knight actually started when he beheld Lucy in the grey gownand wimple, such was the change which it had made.
"You see, Hugh," she cried, smiling as she remarked his surprise--"yousee what Lucy's beauty is made of. It all disappears when you take awayfrom her her gay apparel, and cover her with the dull stole of thenun."
There might be a little coquetry in what she said, for Hugh deMonthermer could make but one answer, and he made it; but to say thetruth, it was the coquetry of agitation, for Lucy sought to cover herown fears, and prevent her mind from resting on them. No time was nowlost, however; the black gown of the priest was speedily found andthrown over the other garments of the young Knight; and then thequestion became how they were to go forth, without passing through theroom in which the servants and followers of Hugh de Monthermer weresitting.
"Can we not return by the steps in the passage, madam?" asked Claude."Close to the door of your room there is the little staircase whichleads by the tower into the great court."
"That will be the best way," said Hugh. "Draw the veil over your face,dear Lucy. No one will know us in such a guise as this; and there islittle chance that we shall meet any one."
The plan proposed was adopted, and neither in the corridor nor on thestaircase did they find a living creature, though, as they came nearthe apartments of the Prince and Princess, steps were heard going onbefore them, and then a door opened and shut at some little distance.They reached the court, too, in safety, and Hugh de Monthermer took astep or two forward to see that all was clear. A flash of light,however, proceeding from the main building, caused him instantly todraw back again under shelter of the doorway.
"There are torches coming," he said. "Does the King ascend by thisstaircase?"
"Never, that I k
now of," replied Lucy.
"Never," said the girl Claude--"never!"
Hugh de Monthermer pushed the door partly to, but looked out throughthe remaining aperture to see what was passing.
"There is a crucifix," he said, "and the host: they are carrying thesacrament to some one in extremis."
"St. Mary bless me!" cried the girl Claude, as he mentioned the wordcrucifix, "I have forgot mine;" and away she ran up the stairs again,to seek her cross, which she had left behind.
Forest Days: A Romance of Old Times Page 42
