The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle

by A. J. Foster and Edith E. Cuthell

  *CHAPTER VIII.*

  _*JUSTICE IN BONDS.*_

  A few mornings later the two worshipful justices of the king, Thomas deMuleton and Henry de Braybrooke, were riding together through thecentral part of the county, a few miles south of Bedford. They had beenengaged at Northampton in making preliminary arrangements for the greatcouncil which the king proposed to hold there in the summer, and havingconcluded that part of the business, were now journeying towardsDunstable to clear off certain matters which had been left unfinished,as their time there previously had been entirely taken up with examiningthe many suits brought before them against Fulke de Breaute.

  They had entered the county from Northamptonshire by the ford throughthe Ouse at Turvey, and were riding leisurely along on their stoutpalfreys, with their serving-men jogging behind them, and discussed asthey went grave legal questions and learned points of law.

  For about eight miles after passing the ford, they took their way alongthe boundary-line between the counties of Bedford and Buckingham, in asoutherly direction. Then turning eastward, they reached theamphitheatre of hills which encloses the vale of Bedford on thesouth-west. Passing the village of Cranfield and its Norman church,still in part existing, they rode under the old fortifications andearth-works of Brogborough--old even at that time--until at noon theyreached the castle of Rougemount, standing on a red sandy hill (whenceits name, corrupted in modern pronunciation and spelling into Ridgmount)and commanding the country to the north.

  Here they were expected by the lord of the castle, the Baron Lisle, whohad invited them to rest upon their journey and partake of his mid-daymeal. Here also they had arranged to meet their colleague, ArchdeaconMartin de Pateshulle, with whom they proposed to travel on to Dunstable.

  As soon as the retreat at Elstow was over, the archdeacon had promisedto come direct to Rougemount, but Lord Lisle had awaited him in vain.So when the other justices made their appearance, their host commandedthe repast to be served, without any further waiting for the absentguest, whose non-arrival was unexplained.

  Lord Lisle had exerted himself to provide a suitable entertainment forguests of such high degree as the lords justices of the king.

  "'Twas now the merry hour of noon, And in the lofty arched hall Was spread the gorgeous festival. Steward and squire, with heedful haste, Marshalled the rank of every guest; Pages with ready blade were there, The mighty meal to carve and share. O'er capon, heronshaw, and crane, And princely peacock's gilded train, And o'er the boar-head, garnished brave, And cygnet...... The priest had spoke his benison."

  At the high table sat the host, his distinguished visitors on eitherhand. Some of the notables of the neighbourhood were also present,among whom was the lord abbot of the abbey of Woburn hard by. The headof the Cistercian house, founded not a century before by Hugh deBolebec, had already come to hold a high position in the county.

  Thronging the hall and the castle-yard was a crowd of servants andretainers, who had accompanied their masters, many of them strangers notonly to one another, but to the servants belonging to the castle. Inthose days any festivities at a great castle were attended by a motleycrowd of hangers-on, such as beggars, travelling minstrels, and thelike, who seemed to scent from afar the preparations for the banquet.

  "Thronging the castle-yard was a crowd of servants andretainers."]

  On this occasion, however, these gentry were somewhat disappointed tofind that the expected guests were to be grave judges and churchmen.The beggars, indeed, ranged themselves into position to ask for alms inthe name of religion, but the minstrels and the jugglers felt themselves_de trop_. Finding their entertainments unacceptable to the guests,they betook themselves to an audience of grooms and varlets in thecastle-yard.

  The ancient seneschal of the castle, moving through the various groups,his keys of office jingling at his side, remarked a swarthy man ofconsiderable height and size, who was evidently not connected with theSaxon peasants around him. He was wrapped in a long, large cloak.

  "So ho, friend! and whence comest thou?" asked the seneschal.

  The nondescript stranger answered him in French; not in theNorman-French which his interlocutor could easily have followed, but ina dialect imperfectly known to the worthy head of the household of LordLisle.

  "I come from distant lands, noble seneschal. I chant love-lays to fairladies' ears."

  "We have e'en no ladies here anon," replied the functionary gruffly,"naught but abbots and justices. So get thee gone!"

  At the mention of the word "justices" a momentary gleam of satisfactionpassed over the swarthy face of the stranger.

  "Justices, good my lord seneschal?" he repeated.

  "Yea, justices," retorted the seneschal, not noting the look. "Artdeaf, man? My lord the king's justices who travel towards Dunstable.Did you _jongleurs_ expect a bevy of giddy damsels and young gallants?"

  The burden of his duties had made Lord Lisle's officer somewhat testy.

  "But perchance, with your good leave, I may sing to my lords thejustices' serving-men a song of fair France; or a love _chansonnette_will I teach them, wherewith to tingle the ears of their Saxon gills?"

  "As you will, man," answered the seneschal with a shrug, turning away,"an you find fools to listen to such trash!"

  "Thanks for your leave, good sir," the stranger called after him, with aqueer twinkle in his dark eye. Then he turned to one of De Braybrooke'smen, staring open-mouthed and stolid at the strange dialect and strangercountenance. "Wilt list to a song, friend? It hath a refrain will ringin thy ears and cheer thee on thy long journey."

  "A long journey! Gramercy, a mole might see as how thou art a strangerin these parts. A long journey to Dunstable, forsooth!"

  "And is it not far?"

  "Nine miles as the crow flies, I trows, and but eke some ten the way weride, through the woodland, by way of Eversholt," replied the varlet,with a snigger of contempt.

  "Aver--aver--sole," repeated the dark stranger, mispronouncing the name."This English tongue cracks the jaw!"

  "Marry, he stammereth like a cuckoo at hay-harvest," jeered the other."Say it plain, man--Eversholt."

  "Gather your fellows together while I go fetch my rebec I left at thegate-house, and, pardie, you shall see what you shall see, and hear whatyou shall hear," retorted the stranger imperturbably. But as he strodeacross the yard, the serving-man, had he not been so busily engagedmimicking the Frenchman's accent to his companions, might have noticedan armed heel glitter beneath the folds of his cloak.

  The day was wearing on ere the justices could tear themselves away fromLord Lisle's hospitable board and once more proceed on their journey.

  Southwards, beyond Rougemount, the country becomes more wooded. In thehigher parts of Woburn Park old timber trees even now show where oncethe forest extended round the famous Cistercian abbey. In the midst ofthis district stands a village, whose name, Eversholt--the _holt_, orwood, of the _efer_ or wild boar--still hands down the characteristicsof the neighbourhood.

  Into this wood, in the waning afternoon, rode, unsuspectingly, the twojustices, engaged in a warm discussion over some quibble of the law.

  "Now, by my troth, brother Thomas," De Braybrooke was saying, "all ourjurisconsults are agreed that if the judge be free to act--"

  He stopped short, and never finished his sentence, for he was "free toact" no longer.

  With a fierce cry of "A De Breaute! a De Breaute!" armed men rushed downfrom either side of the road upon the hapless representatives of thelaw, and surrounded them ere they could recover from their stupefaction.

  "Let the varlets go free!" cried William de Breaute. "We have no needof grooms!" he added, as he saw his men seizing the bridles of theservants' horses as well as those of their masters.

  It was a lucky cry for Thomas de Muleton, for it led to his escape. Bysome mistake, the men who held his horse, not distinguishing in theconfusion between master
and man, released their hold, and his servants,closing round him, hurried him back along the woodland bridle-pathtowards Rougemount.

  Too late De Breaute saw the error. But De Muleton and his men had putspurs to their horses, and he and his men-at-arms were all dismounted,their horses tethered to the trees, or held by some of the band.Pursuit was out of the question, even had the marauders dared to followup their prey to the very walls of Rougemount Castle.

  William de Breaute's rage knew no bounds when he became aware that butone of the desired prisoners had been secured. Swearing roundly at hismen for their blunder, he struck the unfortunate serving-man who hadbeen detained instead of his master a blow with the flat of his swordwhich nearly knocked him off his horse, and allowed him to ride awayafter his fellows.

  "Pardie!" he swore. "We trouble not ourselves with dogs that can pay noransom. Get you gone!"

  Disgusted with the less than half success of his scheme, he ordered hismen to remount, and the party rode off rapidly towards Bedford, thehapless Henry de Braybrooke well guarded in their midst. De Breaute'srage was a little softened, however, when he learned that he had notmissed two of his prey--that Martin de Pateshulle had not been of theparty, though as to his whereabouts De Braybrooke could give noinformation.