CHAPTER XXV.
_CHRISTMAS AT KENILWORTH._
"Alys! Alys! Alys!" cried a clear young voice from above. Alys, muffledto the very eyes in her furs, and stiff from the exposure of her longride, had been almost lifted from her saddle by strong arms, and carriedwithin the hospitable portals of the grim-looking fortress. She wasdazed with the change from snowy darkness to the blaze of light,confused by the number of strange voices and faces around her, and noteven reassured by the welcome of Amalric, who was seeking to win fromher one of the smiles that had become so much to him.
"Alys! Alys! Alys!"
The call was repeated in clear, imperious tones of bell-like sweetness;and Alys, lifting her eyes to see whence they came, saw the laughingface of the Demoiselle looking over at her from the dimness of thegallery above.
"Amalric, bring her hither to me; she is my lawful prey--my prisoner!Don't keep her standing down there in that crowd! I am waiting for herhere. Bring her to me; I will warm her and make her happy. You clumsymen never understand how to do that!"
The next minute the two girls had met half-way up the great staircase,and the imperious Demoiselle, who had changed but little from the day onwhich she and Alys had last seen each other, dragged off her willingcaptive to the bedchamber which the little lady had insisted that herfriend should share with her. It was lighted only by the glow of aroaring fire of pine logs, but it looked so bright and cheery andcomfortable that Alys uttered a little exclamation of pleasure, and sankdown before the grateful blaze, chafing her numbed hands and smiling upgratefully at Eleanora as she loosed her heavy cloak and hood andsmoothed the ruffled hair beneath.
"It has been such a cold, cold journey!" she said. "Right glad am I thatour mother and Edmund did not attempt it. Fifty times I was minded toimplore my father to turn back; but I misdoubt me if he would have doneso."
"Nay, fie upon thee for a coward," cried the Demoiselle, with upliftedfinger, "with me, thine own friend, waiting for thee at the other end!To turn back is but the act of a poltroon! Fight and not flight is themotto of the brave. O Alys, what a world of things have happened sincewe said adieu! Didst ever think that men would say of my noble fatherthat he was the uncrowned King of England?"
The maiden spoke with a great pride in her voice, and with a flash inher eyes that bespoke a sense of keen triumph. Alys shivered a little atthe words; for she had heard them spoken with different intonation byothers not very long before, and knew that a leaven was working in thecountry of which this child knew nothing as yet.
"My father leads the Council of Three, who really govern the realm,"continued the Demoiselle, talking in her eager, rapid way. "They saythat Gilbert of Gloucester will give trouble; he is showing himselfunruly and rapacious. But I trow my father can control him. Oh, it is awonderful power which my father has gained! All men bow down before him.And yet his heart is not puffed up; he is grave and sober in hisbearing. Why was he not born the King, instead of Henry ofWinchester--poor puppet, who can never stand alone, but must be proppedup by the will of those about him? Why, my father is ten times more aKing than he!"
"And so is his own son," said Alys gently. "If any ruled in the place ofthe King, methinks it should surely be the Prince."
"Ah yes," cried the Demoiselle quickly--"my cousin Edward. He isdifferent indeed from his father, but he cannot be set upon the throne.If he could, perchance that would end the troubles. Didst know that heis at Kenilworth now? He has been in gentle captivity in many placesthese past months, and from the Castle of Wallingford but lately hisfriends sought to obtain his escape. But he is on parole, so he bid themdepart. Nevertheless my father thought it not safe to leave him therelonger; and now he is here, sharing our Christmas gaieties. I trow wewill have a merry time."
But the little lady had much to ask as well as much to tell. She wantedto know where Leofric was, who had been so faithful an esquire to herbrother, and had won her own esteem and good-will.
The colour rose in Alys's face as she made reply,--
"In sooth I have seen less of him of late. He is growing to be muchsought after for his lectures, and in the spring he will take his degreeas Master in Arts. Since that mandate from the King nigh upon a year agothere have been changes in Oxford. Many of the masters who went forththen to other places have not returned, having found pupils and workelsewhere. This has made it the easier for bachelors with good store ofknowledge, like Leofric Wyvill, to gain pupils, and obtain theChancellor's licence to lecture on many books. Men say that he will be aRegent Master ere long, and likely enough a Doctor in time. But formyself, I have not seen him oft of late. He is busy, and Edmund hath hisown tutors and lectures now."
The Demoiselle glanced rather sharply into the face of her friend, andsaid questioningly,--
"Is that a note of melancholy I hear in thy voice?"
Alys shook her head, and her cheek flamed.
"I know not what thou dost mean by that, Eleanora. Come, let us talk ofother things; and I must see to my toilet, if I am to be taken to thylady mother for her greeting."
The Demoiselle put her arm about Alys as she looked into her face halfarchly, half pleadingly, and said,--
"Nay, chide me not, sweet Alys; for thou dost know I love thee, and thatI would not even desire the happiness of calling thee sister, were itnot for thine own happiness too."
At those words Alys caught her breath in a little gasp, and Eleanoratightened the clasp of her loving arms.
"My mother will indeed desire to see thee and to welcome thee, sweetAlys. Thou must know that well. But fear not what may befall. Myfather--ay, and Amalric too--will never urge thee to any act againstwhich thy heart rebels. We cannot give our love as if it were a toy. Ourhearts will speak, and they discourse eloquent music that no man hearssave ourselves. I would fain call thee sister, but I will be thy friend.It shall never be said of the house of De Montfort that its sons wooedunwilling brides!"
The Demoiselle threw back her head with a gesture of pride, and thenkissed Alys on the mouth. It was no revelation to Alys that she had beenbrought to Kenilworth with the idea of being shown there as the futurebride of the Lord Amalric. Her father had never said as much openly, butshe had had an instinct of this, and now these words from Eleanorashowed her that she had not been deceived.
But it was not a subject on which she could speak. Her heart and mindwere alike in a chaotic state. She revered the house of De Montfort; shehad the warmest liking for Amalric, and would hate to give him pain. Shemight well have loved him, and she knew it, had there been no otherimage graven on her heart. And now it was hard to know what to say ordo. Indeed she felt, whatever the Demoiselle might aver, that littleoption would be given her in the matter. Her father would decide thequestion of his daughter's betrothal. She would be expected simply toobey. She could not urge any dislike to the chivalrous young lord whohad honoured her by his preference, and to confess that she had givenher heart to one who had never spoken a word of love to her was not tobe dreamed of.
Just now, however, there was little time to think of such matters.Kenilworth Castle was filled from end to end, and all the wild revelryincident to the Christmas season was in full swing.
Alys had seen nothing like it in all her life, and her whole time andattention was engrossed by watching the brilliant scenes about her. Shewas admitted into the immediate family circle at the Castle--ranked asthe companion and friend of the Demoiselle, tenderly treated by theCountess, and evidently regarded by the Earl and his sons as the futurebride of young Amalric.
His own attentions were unfailing, but so chivalrously and deferentiallyproffered that she could not repulse him. Indeed, she had no desire togive him pain, although in her heart of hearts she shrank from any openstep which should force the thought of marriage upon her.
Just now, however, there seemed too much on hand for any one to presssuch a matter to a conclusion. The Earl had his hands and his thoughtsfull to overflowing, and although he went about with a face full ofcourage and serenity, it could
not be disguised that the clouds weregathering ominously round him in many quarters.
For one thing, the Pope had excommunicated him; and that was in itself aserious matter in those days. True, he had appealed against theinterdict, which had been brought by a legate, and having been lost atsea had never been delivered. The clergy of the realm had joined withhim in his appeal; and the Pope having died meantime, the matter wasstill in suspense, and could not be settled till a successor was chosen.So that for the present the Earl's household received the benefits ofthe church, and were not cut off from communion; but the cloud ofuncertainty rested over them, and made some even of their friends lookslightly askance upon them.
Nor was it any light matter that they held in their power the person ofthe King's son.
Edward showed no resentment against his kinsfolk for his captivityamongst them. He went about the Castle and its precincts with a braveface and a light heart. He played with the Demoiselle in the longcorridors, helped Alys with the intricacies of her embroidery silks,when in the long evenings the party gathered together in some of thefamily apartments. He tilted in the yards with his cousins, and joinedin all the revels which made the walls of the Castle-fortress ringagain. No word of complaint ever crossed his lips. He never betrayedeven a consciousness that he was followed and watched, and that he mightnot walk or ride abroad without a goodly retinue.
There was about him, as the girls oftentimes agreed, a nobility andmagnanimity which was something remarkable in one so young. He eventalked of public matters with his uncle without rancour, and with acertain sympathy in the difficulties of the situation.
Personally, the Prince was greatly beloved by all at Kenilworth, andperhaps this made the position all the more difficult. None knew betterthan De Montfort that it would be impossible to keep the King and thePrince in permanent captivity, however easy and honourable thatcaptivity might be. Yet, let young Edward once be at large, and so greata following would muster round him that he would have it in his powerbefore long to reverse the success of the Barons, and once more set uponthe throne his inglorious father, whose incapacity and powers ofmischief-working had been so abundantly tested before.
"And my brothers do nothing to help my father!" once lamented theDemoiselle, with tears of anger in her eyes, coming to Alys to discusssome of the anxieties which from time to time she learned from hermother. "Guy and Amalric are too young to be entrusted with much power,else they might perhaps help. But Henry and Simon do naught but stir upstrife and ill-will. As if it were not bad enough to have the EarlGilbert desert our cause, they must go and challenge him in a tourneythey desire to hold at Dunstable--openly showing that they hold him tobe a foe. My mother says that my father will forbid the tourney, butthat the rash and haughty spirit of Henry and Simon give him much painand trouble. They are so puffed up they will not heed a word that issaid to them. They are not worthy to be called my father's sons!"
It was no wonder that the brow of the Earl was often lined with care,and that the glance of the eagle eye was often dimmed by clouds ofanxiety and presage of coming woe. The old trouble with Richard ofGloucester was being repeated now with Gilbert, the son. Young as hewas, he would not brook the control of Leicester's guiding hand. Heresented his assumption of power, and was almost openly breaking away.None knew better than De Montfort that if once Prince Edward were atlarge, the whole Gloucester faction, and doubtless many more with them,would go over to him in a body. Already the nation was forgetting itsgrievances, and was pitying the royal captives. A spark would suffice inmany quarters to cause an explosion of anger against him and his"usurpation" of practical monarchy; and yet, as matters now stood, thereseemed nothing for it but for him, in the name of King and Council, tosway the sceptre of the kingdom.
On New-Year's Eve a great banquet was to be held in the vast hall ofKenilworth. Despite the carking care that was gnawing at the heart ofthe Earl and Countess, the revelries of the season were kept up in fullmeasure. Nothing was omitted which had ever had place before, and theclose of the old year had always been celebrated by a great feast, whichwas kept up until the new year had been ushered in with shouts andsongs and the draining of bumpers.
Alys and the Demoiselle had asked to witness the feast from the galleryabove, as upon another occasion now several years distant. And as theCountess had no desire to be present herself, ready permission was giventhem, and they established themselves there, with Amalric as theircompanion, he having excused himself from sitting at the feast below.
Prince Edward was, however, there, seated upon the right hand of hisuncle. His handsome face wore a rather set expression, and although hesmiled and jested as the wine circulated and the huge dishes werebrought in one after the other by staggering servants, he continued towear the look of a man in whose head some great purpose lies.
What that purpose was, was presently revealed when the time came forhealths to be drunk and speeches made. It was from time to time needfulthat De Montfort should remind his followers and retainers of theirposition, of the things which had been achieved, and of those whichstill remained to be done. It seemed a fitting time, at the close ofthis memorable year, to speak of the events which had marked its course,and the successes which it had witnessed. To discourse thus, with thePrince sitting by, was not perhaps the easiest of tasks; but De Montforthad a gift for moderation and tact in speaking when his temper was notruffled. He played his part well, and elicited bursts of applause; andthe Prince himself applauded when he spoke of the rights of the nationand the need for wise government by means of a council of Englishmenrather than a crew of foreign favourites. In the end the Earl lookeddirectly at the Prince, drank to his good health and speedy release,when the arbitrators appealed to should have given their decision, andthe coming Parliament have ratified the terms of the Mise of Lewes.
Thus openly brought into notice, the Prince rose to his feet, thankedhis uncle and host for many kind marks of good-will, and expressed hisrecognition of the courtesy and friendliness with which he had beentreated. But after having said this much he did not sit down; he stoodlooking around at the company with a strange intent gaze. Deep silencereigned in the hall, for all felt that there was more to come, andwaited breathlessly to hear. De Montfort looked up with a keen, quickglance into the face of the Prince, and then a slight cloud as ofanxious thought passed across his thin face.
"My lords and gentlemen," said the Prince, in clear tones that wereheard all over the hall, "I have once before addressed you, even as Iaddress you to-night. The sword had not then been unsheathed. My heartinclined to the cause which you have made yours, and which even this dayI regard with much of good-will. But I warned you then that my duty tomy father would compel me to withdraw from your counsels, should youelect to rise in arms against him. This has now been done. I kept theword I gave you then, and to-day I am a prisoner in your chief's hands.The fortune of the day is so far with you, but it may not always be so.As I made an open declaration upon that occasion, so I make anotherto-day. I have given my parole for the present not to seek to escape outof this honourable captivity in which I am placed; and I redeemed myword at Wallingford Castle, showing to you that when I say a thing, Imean it; when I make a promise, I keep it. Now, in the presence of allof you, and of you my uncle and cousins, I herewith declare that myparole is for one year, dating from the battle of Lewes, when I gavemyself up into your hands. One year I give to you for arbitration, forthe assembling of Parliament, for all the reasonable steps which akingdom must take for the adjustment of difficult questions. After theexpiration of that year my parole expires. I will not then be bound byany promise. If my liberty is not then accorded me, I shall seek, bywhatever means I may, to attain it. Already the nation is impatient ofseeing her King and her Prince in captivity. The thing, if needful forthe moment, becomes a monstrous iniquity in time. It will not besuffered to continue. _I_ shall not suffer it to continue. Shut me up ifyou choose in the lowest dungeon--keep all my friends away fromme--treat me as you will, I shall find means to
escape from your hands;and I shall then fight with every weapon in my power for the liberty ofmy father, and for the restoration of that monarchy which, even thoughabused, is yet the prop and the source of England's greatness, andwhich, purged of its faults, will yet shine with undiminished lustre!"
The Prince sat down amid a breathless silence. Men had not been preparedfor any such open declaration, and it took them by complete surprise.The Earl himself felt that thrill of generous admiration which thespeech had enkindled in many hearts.
"The father I can dominate; the son will be my undoing," was the thoughtthat came to him at that moment, and he felt it still more so when youngSimon sprang to his feet and began one of his ill-considered and haughtyspeeches, which was listened to with cold displeasure even within thewalls of his own home, and which brought a little sarcastic smile to thelips of his cousin Edward.
The Prince turned suddenly to his uncle and said,--
"Uncle, I would that thou and I could rule this realm, and that myfather and thy sons could play at holding mimic court and gay tourneysin sunny France. Then, methinks, we should see an end of this confusion.But fate has willed that we shall stand in hostile camps; only believeme that for thee and for thy aims and objects I have both love andreverence; and if the day shall come when I sit upon the throne of thisrealm, the lore I have learned from thee will be my safeguard when I amtempted to forget the lessons learned in the school of adversity, and tothink myself too great a man to need to think of the welfare of mypeople."
Leicester's eyes suddenly softened; he put out his hand and laid it uponthat of the Prince.
"I thank thee for that word, Edward," he said; "and believe me, I lovethee as though thou wert mine own son. If it were possible, we wouldfight side by side; but thou hast chosen thy father's cause, and I ampledged to that of the nation."
"I know it cannot be," said Edward regretfully; "yet let us eachpreserve the love which one brave and honourable man may feel foranother, even though he be a foe. In the days to come, if my star arise,and I in turn be victor, I will not forget the kindness I have receivedat thine hands. It shall be repaid--I promise it."
"But not to me," said Leicester gravely, "for with this cause I sink orswim--I live or die. If it is the will of Heaven to reverse the victoryaccorded to us, I shall not live to see the day. There is always asoldier's death left for the man who sees his cause lost."
"Nay," said Edward warmly--for, strange as it may seem, he was full ofhope and courage to-day, whilst his victorious uncle seemed weighed downby a load of care--"thou must live to be mine adviser and friend; forthe time will come when I shall need both, if indeed I live to sit in myfather's place."
The Earl slightly shook his head, but uttered no word. He felt from timeto time a strange presage of coming trouble, and to-night the feelingwas strong upon him.
The Demoiselle in the gallery, leaning over and listening eagerly to allthat passed, now turned back to her companions, almost stamping her footas she cried,--
"I would I could put a gag in Simon's foolish mouth! Why will he alwaysseek to give umbrage by his arrogance and pride? He has no talents, nopowers, nothing but the reflected glory of our great father's name; andyet, to hear him brag, one might well think that he was the lord of allthe realm! Why have such sons been given to my noble father and royalmother? They have greatness, talent, goodness, power! Why are their sonssuch miserable braggarts? It makes my heart burn to think of it!"
But there was no time for the consideration of this point, for a suddenhush fell upon the hall. It was whispered round that the hour ofmidnight had all but arrived, and in dead silence the company awaitedthe stroke of the great bell which would clang overhead when the momentshould have actually arrived. Glasses were filled, and the companystood, awaiting in breathless expectancy for the signal.
The Demoiselle pressed up close to Alys, and pointed to a dusky mirrorhanging upon the wall of the little gallery in which they stood, whichwas more of an alcove than a gallery proper.
"Dost see yon mirror?" she whispered. "It was taken from one of therooms and hung here, because they said it was an uncanny thing. They saythat if you look in it as the bell tolls in the new year, you will seetherein the face of the man whom you will one day marry. It was movedfrom the bedchamber, where once it stood, because they say it caused thedeath of a maiden who looked in it, and saw therein a skeleton form witha scythe over his shoulder. I looked once, but saw nothing. Wilt thounot look to-night?--only one maid may do so each year--and I will turnmine eyes away."
Alys was shivering with a strange sort of tremor. Suppose young LordAmalric were to move so that his face should be reflected in the glass:would that not seem like an omen to her? But he was leaning over thebalustrade and looking down into the hall below, and the Demoisellelinked her arm in his as though to keep him where he was.
The silence was a strange, uncanny thing in a place filled with amultitude of revellers. Alys felt her breath come thick and fast, andthe colour ebb from her lips.
"Boom--boom--boom!"
The great bell overhead had begun to toll forth its message. Shiveringall over, Alys felt her eyes drawn as if by magnetic attraction to theface of the dusky mirror.
Suddenly a little gasping cry broke from her, drowned by the suddenclamour that rose from below; for in the dim black surface of theancient mirror she had distinctly seen the face of Leofric Wyvill formitself, and stand out distinct and clear!
A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War Page 25
