CHAPTER XX.
THE LADY AND HER LOVER.
Fair Ellen that was so mild More she beheld Triamour the child, Than all other men.
SIR TRIAMOUR.
Long before the dawn had begun to grow gray in the east, Kenric hadtaken his way to the castle, by a direct path across the hills to apoint on the lake shore, where there always lay a small ferry-boat,for the use of the castellan, his household, and vassals. Edith, towhom he had told all that he had extorted from Eadwulf, and who, likehimself, clearly foresaw difficulty and danger at hand, arising fromthe conduct and flight of the ill-conditioned and ill-starred brother,went about her household work, most unusual for her, with a melancholyand despondent heart.
She, who while a serf had been constantly, almost recklessly gay, asone who had no sorrow for which to care, wore a grave brow, andcarried a heavy heart. For liberty, if it give independence to thebody and its true expansion to the soul, brings responsibility also,and care. She carolled this morning no blythe old Saxon ballads as shekneaded her barley cakes, or worked her overflowing churn; she hadthis morning no merry word with which to greet the verdurer's boys, asthey came and went from her ample kitchen with messes for the houndsto the kennels, or raw meat for the eyasses in the mews; and theywondered not a little, for the kindness and merry humor of their youngmistress had won their hearts, and they were grieved to see herdowncast. She was restless, and unable, as it seemed, to settleherself to any thing, coming and going from one place to another,without much apparent object, and every half hour or so, opening thedoor and gazing wistfully down the valley, toward the sea, not acrossthe hills over which her husband had bent his way.
It must have been nearly ten o'clock, in those unsophisticated daysapproaching nearly to the dinner hour, when something caught her eyeat a distance, which instantly brought a bright light into it, and aclear, rich color to her cheek; and she clapped her hands joyously,crying, "I am so glad! so glad!" Then, hurrying into the house, shecalled to the boys, giving them quick, eager orders, and set herselfto work arranging the house, strewing the floor with fresh greenrushes, and decking the walls with holly branches, the bright-redberries of the mountain ash, wild asters, and such late wood-flowersas yet survived, with a spirit very different from the listless moodwhich had possessed her.
What was the vision that had so changed the tenor of her mind?
Winding through one of those green lanes--which form so exquisite afeature in the scenery of the lake country, with their sinuous, grayboundary stone walls, bordered with ashes, hazels, wild roses, andbeds of tall fern at their base, while the walls themselves areoverspread with small ferns, wild strawberries, the geranium, and richlichens--there came a fair company, the persons of which were easilydistinguished by Edith, in that clear atmosphere, when at a mile'sdistance from the cottage--a mile which was augmented into nearlythree by the meanderings of the lane, corresponding with those of thebrook.
In the front rode a lady, the Lady Guendolen, on a beautifulchestnut-colored Andalusian jennet, with snow-white mane and tail,herself splendidly attired in a dark murrey-colored skirt, passamentedwith black embroidery, and above it a surcoat or tunic, fitting thebody closely a little way below the hips, of blue satin, embroideredin silver with the armorial bearings of her house--a custom as usualin those days with the ladies as with the knights of the great houses.Her head was covered with a small cap of blue velvet, with one whitefeather, and on her left hand, covered by a doe-skin hawking-glove,was set a superb gosshawk, unhooded, so familiar was he with hisbright mistress, and held only by a pair of silver jesses,corresponding with the silver bells which decked his yellow legs, andjingled at his every motion. By her side, attending far more to hisfair companion than to the fiery horse which he bestrode, was a youngcavalier, bending over her with an air of the deepest tenderness,hanging on her words as if they were more than the sweetest music tohis soul, and gazing on her with affection so obvious as to show him apermitted lover. He was a powerful, finely-formed young man, of six oreight-and-twenty years, with a frank open countenance, full ofintellect, nobleness, and spirit, with an occasional shadow of deepthought, but hardly to be called handsome, unless it were for theexpression, since the features, though well cut, were not regular, andthe complexion was too much sun-burned and weather-hardened even formanly beauty.
Altogether he was, however, a remarkably attractive-looking person. Hesat his horse superbly, as a king might sit his throne; his everymotion was perfect majesty of grace; and when he smiled, so radiantwas the glance lighting up the dark face, that he was, for the moment,actually handsome. He was dressed in a plain, dark hunting suit, witha bonnet and feather of the same hue, and untanned deer buskins, theonly ornament he wore being a long blue scarf, of the same color asthe surcoat of his mistress, and embroidered, probably by her hand,with the same bearings. The spurs in his buskins, however, were notgilded, and the light estoc, or sharp-pointed hunting-sword, whichhung at his left side, showed by its form that he had not yet attainedthe honors of knighthood.
Aradas de Ratcliffe was the heir male of a line, one of the first andnoblest which had settled in the lake country, in the beautiful valeof Rydal, but a little way distant to the northward from the lands ofSir Yvo de Taillebois. His father, a baron of great renown, had takenthe Cross when far advanced in life, and proceeding to the Holy Landwith that disastrous Second Crusade, led by Conrad III. the GermanEmperor, and Louis VII. of France, at the summoning of Pope EugeneIII., had fallen in the first encounter with the infidels, and dyingunder shield, knight-like, had left his infant son with no otherguardian than his mother, a noble lady of the house of Fitz Norman.
She had discharged her trust as became the character of her race; andso soon as the boy was of sufficient years, he was entered in thehousehold of Sir Yvo de Taillebois, as the finest school in the wholerealm for the aspirant to honor in arms.
Here, as page and esquire, he had served nearly twenty years of hislife, first following his lord's stirrup, until he was perfect in theuse of his arms, and old enough to wield them; then, fighting in histrain, until he had proved himself of such stern fidelity and valor,that he became his favorite attendant, and most trusted man-at-arms.
In feudal days, it must be remembered that it was no disgrace to ascion of the highest family to serve his pagehood under a noble orknight of lineage and renown; on the contrary, it was both a conditionthat must be undergone, and one held as an honor to both parties; somuch so, that barons of the greatest name and vastest demesnes in therealm would often solicit, and esteem it as a high favor, to havetheir sons ride as pages in the train of some almost landless knight,whose extraordinary prowess should have won him an extraordinary name.
These youths, moreover, as they were nobly born, so were they noblyentreated; nothing low or mean was suffered to come before them. Evenin their services, nothing menial was required of them. To arm theirlord for battle, to follow him to the tournament or to the field,where to rush in to his rescue if beaten down, to tend his hurts ifwounded, to bear his messages, and guard his secrets as his own life,to wait on the ladies--these were the duties of a page in the twelfthcentury. Courage, truth, honor, fidelity unto death, courtesy,humility to the humble, haughtiness to the haughty--these were thelessons taught him. It may be doubted whether our teachings in thenineteenth are so far superior, and whether they bear so far betterfruits in the end!
Be this, however, as it may, Aradas de Ratcliffe, having grown up inthe same household with the beautiful Guendolen, though some twelveyears her senior, had grown up to love her; and his promise of manhoodbeing in no wise inferior to her beauty, his birth equal to her own,and his dead father an old and trusted friend of Sir Yvo, he was nowriding by her side, not only as her surest defender, but as heraffianced husband; it being settled, that so soon as the youthfulesquire should have won his knightly spurs, the lands of Hawkshead,Coniston, and Yewdale, should be united with the adjoining demesnes ofRydal manor, dim with its grand old woods, by the union
of the heiressof De Taillebois to the heir of the proud Ratcliffes.
And now they had ridden forth on this bright and fair autumnalmorning, partly to fly their hawks at the herons, for which the grassymeads in the vale of Kentmere were famous, partly to visit the newhome of Guendolen's favorite Edith, and more, in truth, than all, toenjoy the pleasure of a loving _tete-a-tete_; for the girl whofollowed her lady kept discreetly out of ear-shot, and amused herselfflirting with the single page who accompanied them; and the rest ofthe train, consisting of grooms, falconers, and varlets, bearing thehawks and leading the sumpter-mules, lagged considerably in the rear.
There was not, however, very much of gayety in the manner of either ofthe young people; the fair face of Guendolen was something paler thanits use, and her glad eyes had a beseeching look, even while shesmiled, and while her voice was playful; and there was a sorrowfulshadow on the brow of Aradas, and he spoke in a grave, low tone,though it was full of gentleness and trust.
In truth, like Jacob of old, when he served for the daughters ofLaban, the young esquire was waxing weary of the long servitude andthe hope deferred. The temporary lull of war, which at that timeprevailed over both England and the French provinces belonging to thecrown, gave him no hope of speedily winning the desired spurs; and thebloody wars, which were in progress on the shores of the sisterisland, though fierce and sanguinary enough to satisfy the most eagerfor the perils and honors of the battle-field, were not so evidentlyfavored by the monarch, or so clear from the taint of piracy, as tojustify a cavalier, of untainted character and unbroken fortunes, injoining the invaders. But in this very year had the eyes of all theChristian world been strongly turned toward Palestine, where BaldwinIV., a minor, and a leper, and no match for the talents and power ofthe victorious Saladin, sat feebly on the throne of the strongcrusading Kings of Jerusalem, which was now tottering to its fall,under the fierce assaults of the Mussulman.
Henry II. and Louis of France had sworn to maintain between them thepeace of God, and to join in a third Crusade for the defense of theTomb of Christ and the Holy City. In this war, Aradas saw thecertainty of winning knighthood; but Guendolen, who would have armedher champion joyously, and buckled on his sword with her own hand, forany European conflict, shuddered at the tales of the poisonedsarbacanes and arrows with which report armed the giganticSaracens--shuddered at the knives of the assassins of themountains--at the pestilences which were known to brood over thosearid shores; and yet more, at the strange monsters, dragons, andwinged-serpents--nay, fiends and incarnate demons--with whichsuperstitious horror peopled the solitudes which had witnessed theawful scenes of the Temptation, the Passion, and the Death, of the Sonof God.
In short, she interposed her absolute nay, with the quiet but positivedetermination of a woman, and clinched it with a woman's argument.
"You do not love me, Aradas," she said; "I know you do not love me, oryou would never think of speaking of that fearful country, or oftaking the Cross--that country, from which no one ever returnsalive--or, if he do return, returns so bent and bowed with plague andfever, or so hacked and mangled by the poisoned weapons of thesavages, that he is an old man ere his prime, and dead before---- No,no! I will not hear of it! No, I will not! I will not love you, if youso much as breathe it to me again, Aradas!"
"That were a penalty," said the young man, half-sadly smiling; "but,can you help it, Guendolen?"
"Don't trust in that, sir," she said. "One can do any thing--everything--by trying."
"Can one, pardie! I would you would show me, then, how to win thesespurs of gold, by trying."
"I can. Be firm, be faithful, and, above all, be patient. Remember,without hope, without patience, there is no evidence of faith; withoutfaith, there is, there can be, neither true chivalry nor true love.Besides, we are very young, we are very happy as we are; occasion willcome up, perhaps is at hand even now; and--and--well, if I am worthhaving, I am worth waiting for, Beausire Aradas; and if you don'tthink so, by'r lady, you'd better bestow yourself where----"
"Whoop! whoop! So ho! He mounts! he mounts!" A loud shout from therear of the party interrupted her. In the earnestness of theirconversation, they had cleared the confines of the winding lane, andentered, without observing it, a beautiful stretch of meadow-land,intersected by small rivulets and water-courses, sloping down to thelake shore. Some of the grooms and varlets had spread out over theflat grass-land, beating the reeds with their hawking-poles, andcheering their merry spaniels. The shout was elicited by the suddenuprising of the great, long-necked hermit-fisher, from a broad reedbelt by the stream-side, flapping his broad gray vans heavily on thelight air, and stretching his long yellow legs far behind him, as hesoared skyward, with his harsh, clanging cry.
All eyes were instantly turned to the direction of the shout, andevery heart bounded at the sight of the quarry.
"Whoop! Diamond! whoop!" cried the young girl, as she cast off hergallant falcon; and then, seeing her lover throw off his long-wingedperegrine to join in the flight, "A wager, Aradas. My glove on'Diamond' against 'Helvellyn.' What will you wager, Beausire?"
"My heart!"
"Nay! I have that already. Else you swore falsely. Against yourturquoise ring. I'll knot my kerchief with it."
"A wager! Now ride, Guendolen; ride; if you would see the wager won."
And they gave the head to their horses, and rode furiously. No ridingis so desperate, it is said, no excitement so tremendous, as that ofthe short, fierce, reckless gallop in the chase where bird hunts birdthrough the boundless fields of air. Not even the tremendous burst andrally of the glorious hunts-up, with the heart-inspiring crash of thehounds, and the merry blare of the bugles, when the hart of grease hasbroken covert, and the pack are running him breast high.
In the latter, the heart may beat, the pulse may throb and quiver, butthe eye is unoccupied, and free to direct the hand, to rule thecourser's gallop, and mark the coming leap. In the former, the eye, asthe heart, and the pulse, and the ear, are all bent aloft, up! up!with the straining, towering birds; while the steed must pick its ownway over smooth or rough, and the rider take his leaps as they chanceto come, unseen and unexpected. Such was the glorious mystery ofRivers!
The wind, what little of it there was when the heron rose, was fromthe southward, and the bird flew before it directly toward the cottageof Kenric, rising slowly but strongly into the upper regions of air.The two falcons, which were nearly half a mile astern of the quarrywhen they were cast off, flew almost, as it seemed, with the speed oflightning, in parallel lines about fifty yards apart, rising as herose, and evidently gaining on him at every stroke of their long,sharp pinions, in pursuit. And in pursuit of those, their riderssitting well back in their saddles, and holding them hard by the head,the high-blooded horses tore across the marshy plain, drivingfragments of turf high into the air at every stroke, and sweeping overthe drains and water-courses which obstructed their career, like theunbridled wind. It was a glorious spectacle--a group of incomparablesplendor, in coloring, in grace, in vivacity, motion, fire, sweepingthrough that panorama of magnificent mountain scenery.
The day was clear and sunny, the skies soft and transparently blue;but, ever and anon, huge clouds came driving over the scene, castingvast purple-shadows over the green meadows and the mirrored lake. Oneof these now came sweeping overhead, and toward it towered thecontending birds. The heron, when he saw that he was pursued, uttereda louder and harsher cry, and began to scale the sky in great aerialcircles. Silent, in smaller circles, towered the falcons, each emulousto out-top the others. Up! up! higher and higher! Neither victoriousyet, neither vanquished. Now! now! the falcons are on a level withhim, and again rings the clanging shriek of the wild water-bird, andhe redoubles his last effort. He rises, he out-tops the hawks, and allvanish in an instant from the eyes of the pursuers, swallowed up inthe depths of the great golden cloud.
Still the harsh clanking cry is heard; and now, as they and the cloudstill drift northward, they reappear, now all descending, above the
little esplanade before the cottage-door where Edith stands watching.
The heron is below, falling plumb through the air with his backdownward, his wings flapping at random, his long neck trussed on hisbreast, and his sharp bill projecting upward, perilous as the point ofa Moorish assagay. The falcons both above him, towering for the swoop,Aradas' Helvellyn the topmost.
He pointed to the birds with his riding-rod triumphantly, and glancingan arch look at his mistress, "Helvellyn has it," he said; "Palestineor no Palestine, on the stoop!"
"On the hawks!" she replied; "and heaven decide it!"
"I will wear the glove in my casque in the first career," and, as hespoke, the falcon closed his wings and came down with a swoop likelightning on the devoted quarry. The rush of his impetuous plunge,cleaving the air, was clearly audible, above the rustling of theleaves and the noise of the pursuers.
But the gallant heron met the shock unflinching, and Helvellyn,gallant Helvellyn, came down like a catapult upon the deadly beak ofthe fierce wader, and was impaled from breast to back in a second.There was a minute of wild convulsive fluttering, and then the heronshook off his assailant, who drifted slowly down, writhing andstruggling, with all his beauteous plumes disordered and bedroppedwith gore, to the dull earth, while, with a clang of triumph, thevictor once more turned to rise heavenward.
The cry of triumph was premature, for, even as it was uttered, braveDiamond made his stoop. Swift and sure as the bolt of Heaven, he foundhis aim, and, burying his keen singles to the sheath in the back ofthe tortured waterfowl, clove his skull at a single stroke of thetrenchant bill.
"Hurrah! hurrah! brave Diamond," cried the delighted girl. "NoPalestine! no Palestine! For this, your bells and jesses shall be ofgold, beautiful Diamond, and your drink of the purest wine ofGascony."
And, giving head to her jennet, the first of all the train she reachedthe spot where the birds lay struggling on the grass within ten yardsof Kenric's door, and, as she sprang from her saddle, was caught inthe arms of Edith.
"God's blessings on you! welcome! welcome! dearest lady," cried thebeautiful Saxon, raining down tears of gratitude.
"Thanks, Edith; but, quick! quick! help me save the falcon, lest theheronshaw hurt him. My life was at stake on his flight, and he hassaved my life!"
"The heronshaw is dead enough, lady, he will hurt nothing more," saidthe Saxon, following her lady, nevertheless, to secure the gallantgosshawk, which in a moment sat pluming his ruffled feathers, andglaring at her triumphantly with his clear golden eye, as he archedhis proud neck to her caresses, on the wrist of his fair mistress.
It seemed as though he knew that he had won her wager.
The hour of the noonday meal had now fully arrived, and the sumptermules were soon brought up, and carpets spread on the turf, and flasksand barrels, pasties and brawns, and huge boars' heads unpacked intempting profusion, and all preparations made for a meal in the openair.
But Edith pleaded so hard that her dear lady, to whom she owed morethan life, whom she loved more than her own life, would honor herhumble roof, would suffer the choicest of the viands to be borne intoher pleasant, sunny room, and taste her home-brewed mead, thatGuendolen, who was in rapture at her triumph, readily consented, andAradas, who was pleased to see Guendolen happy, made no opposition.
So, while amid loud merriment, and the clang of flasks and beakers,and the clash of knives and trenchers, their train fared jovially andlustily without, they feasted daintily and happily within the Saxon'scottage.
And the sunny room was pleasant; and the light played cheerfully onthe polished pewter trenchers on the dresser, and the varnished hollyand scarlet berries, and bright wild-flowers on the wall; and thesparkling wood fire was not amiss after the gallop in the clear air;and Guendolen preferred the light, foaming mead of the Saxonhousewife, to the wines of Gascony and Bordeaux; and all went happilyand well.
Above all, Edith gained her point. She got occasion to tell the taleof Eadwulf's flight, arrival, and departure, and obtained a promise ofprotection for her husband, in case he should be brought in questionfor his share in his brother's escape; and even prevailed that nosearch should be made after Eadwulf, provided he would keep himselfaloof, and commit no offense against the pitiless forest laws, ordepredations on the people of the dales.
Many strange emotions of indignation, sympathy, horror, alternatelyswept through the mind of Guendolen, and were reflected from hereloquent eyes; and many times did Aradas twirl his thick mustache, andgripe his dagger's hilt, as they heard the vicissitudes of thatstrange tale--the base and dastardly murder of the noble and good SirPhilip de Morville; the slaying of the bailiff by the hand of Eadwulf,which thus came to look liker to lawful retribution than to merehomicide; the strange chances of the serf's escape; the wonderfulwiles by which he had baffled the speed of horses and the scent ofbloodhounds; and the final catastrophe of the sands, swallowing up, asit would seem, well-nigh all the slaughterers of Sir Philip, whilesparing the panting and heart-broken fugitive. It was indeed a talemore strange and horrible than any thing, save truth.
They sat some time in silence, musing. Then suddenly, as by animpulse, their eyes met. Their meaning was the same.
"Yes!" he said, bowing his head gravely, in answer to what he read inher look, "there may be an occasion, and a very noble one."
"And for such an one, I will bind my glove on your casque, and buckleyour sword to your side very gladly."
"Amen!" said he. "Be it as God wills. He will defend the right."
So, bidding their pretty hostess adieu, not leaving her without atoken of their visit and good-will, they mounted and rode homeward,thinking no more of the sport; graver, perhaps, and more solemn intheir manner; but, on the whole, happier and more hopeful than whenthey set forth in the morning.
And Edith, though she understood nothing of the impulses of theirhearts, was grateful and content; and when her husband returned home,and, hanging about his neck, she told him what she had done, and howshe had prospered, and received his approbation and caresses, was thatnight the happiest woman within the four seas that gird Britain.
Wager of Battle: A Tale of Saxon Slavery in Sherwood Forest Page 22
