CHAPTER VII
A MAN OF THE FOREST
Few days were merrier in ancient England than the first day of the year.Not so fatigued with the celebration of Christmas as to be incapable ofcontinuing the festivity, the inhabitants--especially theyoung--welcomed the new year with uproarious mirth.
Even before the Saxon, or Dane, or Norman had set foot in Britain--evenbefore the apostles of Christianity had found their way to ourshores--the season had been the occasion of religious rites andobservances. It is well known that, on the last night of the year, theDruids were in the habit of going into the woods, cutting the mistletoeoff the oak with golden bills, bringing it next morning into the towns,distributing it among the people, who wore it as an amulet to preservethem from danger, and performing certain pagan rites, which weregradually turned by the early Church into such exhibitions as the “Fêtedes Fous,” performed by companies of both sexes, dressed in fantasticgarments, who ran about on New Year’s Day, asking for gifts, rushinginto churches during the services of the vigils, and disturbing thedevout by their gestures and cries.
In England, on New Year’s Day, it was customary for every one who had itin his power to wear new clothes; and unfortunate was deemed the wightwho had not the means that day of indulging in some luxury of the kind.Now, on the 1st of January in the year 1215--a year destined to bememorable in the annals of England--Wolf, the varlet, had been providedwith garments more befitting the sobriety observed in the house of DameIsabel Icingla than the scarlet striped with yellow, in which he hadstrutted at the court of Castile; and, prompted by the vanity natural toyouth, he resolved on displaying his finery at the cottage inhabited byhis father, Styr, the Anglo-Saxon.
And the cottage of Styr, which stood about a mile from Oakmede, was notwithout its pretensions. Indeed, it was a palace compared with thesqualid huts in which most of the labouring peasantry of England thenherded; for Styr, in his youth, had served the Icinglas with fidelity inpeace and war, and they had not proved forgetful of his services.Moreover, it was rumoured that Styr had dealings with outlaws, and that,at times, he so far forgot himself as to take out his crossbow onmoonlight nights with an eye to the king’s deer. But, however that mayhave been, food in abundance, and, on such occasions as holidays, goodcheer in plenty, and tankards of foaming ale, were found under Styr’sroof; and he could tell of war and of battles, especially of that lastbattle in which Richard Cœur de Lion defeated Philip Augustus, and inwhich Edric Icingla fell with his back to the ground and his feet to thefoe. Listening to stories of the past, and singing some songs he hadlearned in Spain, Wolf found the hours glide away rather swiftly, andthe day was far spent when he rose to leave.
“And so, Wolf,” said Styr for the fifth or sixth time, “it is not, afterall, to the wars to which the young Hlaford has gone?”
“No, in truth,” replied Wolf, quickly, “or, credit me, he would not haveleft me behind. Little better than a prisoner is he, mewed up in thegloomy Tower, like bird in cage.”
“But hark thee, Wolf,” said the old man, “and I will tell thee a secret.Forest Will, or Will with the Club, as they call him, passed this waynot later than yesterday.”
“And who is this Forest Will--knowest thou, father?” asked Wolf,interrupting.
“Nay, lad, that is more than I can tell. Some say he is a great manwhose life is forfeit to the law; others that he is a captain of forestoutlaws. For my part, I know little more of him than do my neighbours;but this little I do know, that he is wondrous familiar with all that isdoing, alike at the king’s court and the castles of the barons--ay, evenin foreign parts--and he foretells that, ere the harvest is ready forthe sickle, there will be war.”
“War in England?” said Wolf.
“Ay, war in England--and a bloody war to boot; and when swords are beingdrawn, King John will know better than to keep an Icingla from drawinghis sword. Even mine must be scoured up if blows are to be going, and ifKing Harry’s son has to defend himself against the men who have done allbut crush our race to the dust.”
And Styr bent his brows and clenched his hands as if eager for thebattle, which, with the instinct of an old warrior, he scented fromafar.
“Well, father,” said Wolf, “I hope it will all turn out for the best;but what if my master took into his head to fight on the other side?”
“What if an Icingla took into his head to fight for Norman oppressorsagainst an English king, the heir of the Athelings!” cried Styr,repeating his son’s words. “Why, just this, that he might expect hisancestors to come out of their graves and cry ‘shame’ upon him.”
“May the saints forefend!” exclaimed Wolf, almost as much terrified asif the Saxon chiefs alluded to had appeared before him in their shrouds.“But, come what may, I must even take my departure, for the hour growslate, and Dame Isabel is somewhat strict in her rules.”
“The better for thee and others that live under the Hleafdian’s roof,”observed Styr.
It was about the fall of evening when Wolf left his father’s tenement toreturn to Oakmede, and he hurried through the woodland and over thecrisp ground that he might reach the hall of the Icinglas before thehour of supper, then an important meal under the roof of vanquishedSaxon as well as victorious Norman, and especially in seasons offestivity. Notwithstanding the anxiety he felt about Oliver Icingla, andthe disappointment he had experienced in not being allowed to accompanythe young squire to the court or into captivity--just as might turnout--Wolf’s heart was not heavy, and as he neared the old house of brickand timber, and anticipated the good cheer that awaited him, he began tobelieve that all would come right in the end, and whistled almostjoyously as his spirits rose and he thought of the good time that wascoming. Suddenly a hare crossed his path. “A bad omen,” said Wolf, whohad all the superstitious feelings of his race and country; and scarcelyhad he thus briefly soliloquised when his steps were arrested by a hugewhite bulldog which growled menacingly in his face, and by the voice ofa man who leant against the trunk of a leafless oak.
“Wolf, boy, where is thy master?” said the man. “I have not seen himonce of late, albeit he was wont to seek my company often enough.”
Wolf turned to the speaker, and, as he found his sleeve grasped,appeared somewhat more awed than was reasonable at finding himself alonewith such a person and in such a place, and he would have been stillmore so had it been an hour after dark.
He was, so far as could be judged from his appearance, not more thanthirty-five--that age which has been called “the second prime ofman”--and had nothing about him to daunt or terrify a youth who, likeWolf, had been in Spain, and watched eagerly while grim warriors engagedin mortal combat. Indeed, the expression of his countenance was frank,and even kindly, and to the ordinary eye would have been prepossessing,while his figure was tall and of herculean strength, with mighty limbs,the arms long and muscular. His dress was that which might have beenworn by any forester or forest outlaw, and he had a bugle-horn at hisgirdle, to which also was attached a heavy club of iron, which waslikely, in his hands, to do terrible execution whenever necessity orinclination made him use it. But, as I have said, there was nothing inhis appearance to excite alarm. Nevertheless, Wolf gazed on him with anawe that every moment increased, for he had often seen this personbefore, and knew him as Forest Will, or Will with the Club, whoseexistence was enveloped in mystery, but who was suspected of being achief of outlaws, and by most people, particularly by Dame IsabelIcingla, deemed a dangerous man, with whom it was as impossible to holdconverse without being led into mischief as to touch pitch without beingdefiled. Such being the case, Wolf felt almost as much alarmed as ifSatan had suddenly started up in his path, and with difficulty musteredvoice to say in a tremulous tone--
“I am in haste; I pray thee permit me to pass on my way.”
“Have patience and fear nothing,” said the man of the forest. “I askedthee what had become of thy master. I fain would see him.”
“May it please thee,” replied Wolf, after a pause, “my
master has goneto the king’s court.”
“Gone to the king’s court! Oliver Icingla gone to the king’s court!”exclaimed the man of the forest, wonderingly. “What in the fiend’s nametook him there?”
“In truth,” answered Wolf, slowly but gradually recovering hisself-possession, “it was not of his own will that he went thither; but‘needs must when the devil drives.’ He was conducted to the Tower ofLondon as a hostage by his mother’s kinsman, the Lord Hugh deMoreville.”
“Ho, ho, ho!” cried the man of the forest, stamping his foot with angerand vexation; “I see it all. He is destined to feed the crows, if notsaved by a miracle. I marvel much that a youth of his wit could be soblind as to be led by his false kinsman into such a snare. Hugh deMoreville,” he continued, speaking to himself, but still loud enough tobe heard by Wolf, whose hearing was acute--“Hugh de Moreville givesOliver Icingla to King John as a hostage for his good faith. Hugh breaksfaith with the king and rises with the barons, and Oliver is hung up topunish Hugh’s perfidy, which is just what Hugh wants; and when peace ispatched up between the king and the barons, and the past forgiven andforgotten, Hugh remains in undisputed possession of the castles andbaronies, which otherwise he might one day have to surrender to therightful heir at the bidding of the law. By the rood, this lord is wisein his own generation, and, doubtless, knows it; yet, had he asked mycounsel, I could have shown him a less hazardous way to accomplish hiswishes; for Hugh has but one daughter, who is marvellous fair to lookupon; and the Icinglas, whatever their pride and prejudices as to race,are as wax in the presence of Norman women of beauty and blood. Whatthinkest thou the life of Master Oliver Icingla may be worth,” asked he,again addressing Wolf, “now that he is securely mewed in the Tower?”
“I know not,” said Wolf, mournfully. “I would fain hope my lady’s son isin no real danger.”
“Your lady,” continued the man of the forest, with an air of carelessindifference, “relished not the thought of her son holding so muchdiscourse as he was wont to do with one like me. Was it not so?”
Wolf hesitated.
“Nay, boy, speak, and fear not. Knowest thou not it is good to telltruth and shame the devil?”
“In good sooth, then,” replied Wolf, at length yielding to the pressureof his questioner, “I know right well that my lady did much fear thather son might be tempted into some enterprise perilous to his life.”
“Even so,” said the man of the forest; “and it is ever in this way thatwomen err as to the quarter where danger lies; and now her noble kinsmanhas led her son into far greater peril than he was ever like to beexposed to in my company.”
“I grieve to hear thee speak of his danger in such terms,” said Wolf,gloomily.
“Matters may yet be remedied,” continued the man of the forest, “and Iown I would do much for thy master. Would that this false step of hiscould have been prevented! Better far that he had taken to the greenwoodor to the caves in the rocks, or roamed the sea as a pirate, than goneto the Tower as hostage for a kinsman who to treachery adds the cunningof a fox and the cruelty of a tiger.”
And, releasing Wolf’s sleeve, Forest Will, _alias_ Will with the Club,turned on his heel, and, whistling on his dog, made for the forest, anddisappeared.
Wolf, not much pleased with the interview, nor with himself for havingbeen so confidential in his communications, pursued his way to Oakmede.
“On my faith,” said he to himself, as he came in sight of the house andbreathed more freely, “that terrible man has well-nigh scared all theblood out of my body. May the saints so order it that I see his face nomore!”
Wolf’s prayer, however, was not to be granted. It was not the last timethat his eyes were to alight on the man of the forest; in fact, thatperson was to cut rather a prominent figure in the exciting scenes whichwere about to be enacted in England.
Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter Page 9
