A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  _THE CAPTIVE A CONQUEROR._

  "We shall meet again!" the Prince had said as he rode off fromKenilworth upon that bright summer's morning.

  The time was drawing near when that promise was about to befulfilled--when Edward, the King's son, was to come to Kenilworth oncemore, not as captive, but as conqueror.

  All England was up in arms, watching with a sense of breathlessexpectancy the result of the collision, when the armies of Prince andEarl should stand face to face and meet in mortal conflict.

  De Montfort was still the idol of the people, and many a notablefortress and city was in his hands, declaring for him and his cause. Butthe anomaly of a captive King ruling through and by the will of aconquering subject was becoming intolerable to knights and nobles. Itwas a state of affairs which could last only so long as King and Princeremained captives. The moment young Edward was free, ready to head aparty that was already gathering enthusiastically about him, De Montfortknew that a great and grave peril threatened him and his cause. Theyhad the King in their hands, and the King was induced to disclaim anddenounce his son as "a son of rebellion;" nevertheless all the worldknew that, were Henry himself free, he would not lose a moment injoining young Edward, and in crushing by every means in his power thestrong opposition of his Barons.

  And now the Barons' party was split and rent. Gloucester and all hisfollowing had gone over to the Prince. He was master of all the line ofthe Severn, and his own county of Chester had unanimously declared forhim.

  London and the Cinque Ports were all in the Earl's interest, and theWelsh had joined with him against their English foe. The struggle wasplainly to take place out here in the west, where the Prince seemed tobe gathering power and the Earl losing it, unless indeed the wild Welshkerns could be regarded as a set off against the desertion of Englishknights and nobles.

  The heart of the Prince beat high with anticipation of coming triumph.He was at Worcester, and his position was not without elements of peril;for Leicester was at Hereford, and was looking for reinforcements fromhis son Simon, whom he had summoned from the south to meet him. It wasrumoured that Simon was returning by way of Kenilworth, and it was thepurpose of the Earl to hem in the army of the Prince between his ownlines and the advancing forces of his son. If he could achieve thispurpose, all might yet be saved; but Simon had already delayed too long,and even now no certain tidings of his whereabouts had reached theEarl's camp.

  The household of Kenilworth was broken up. Almost immediately after theescape of the Prince, De Montfort had sent his son Amalric to fetch hismother and sister away to some safer place, nearer to the coast, wherethey would be farther removed from the scene of conflict, and ready toleave the country should the day go against them. The Countess with herdaughter was now at Dover, eagerly seeking to gather and sendreinforcements to her lord in the west.

  Some of these things were known to Edward as he lay in his quarters atWorcester; and yet his soul was in no wise dismayed, for he wassurrounded by brave hearts and willing hands, and had a premonitionwithin him that the tide of fortune had turned, and that the days of hisadversity were drawing to a close.

  He was walking to and fro in meditation in the precincts of theCathedral, where he had heard mass earlier in the day, when the sound ofrapid approaching steps caused him to turn, and he saw Hugh le Barbierhastening towards him.

  "Comest thou with tidings?" asked the Prince eagerly.

  "I have been told that a woman has arrived at the city, desiring speechwith the Prince," answered Hugh. "She will not answer questions, norunveil her face, but says that she comes from Kenilworth, and that shebrings tidings for the ears of the Prince. Since she would not say morewhatever was asked of her, I came forth to find you. Will it please youto grant her an audience? If she comes indeed from Kenilworth, she maybring news worth hearing, for men say that young Simon de Montfort iscollecting reinforcements there."

  "I will see her at once," answered the Prince. "Go, have her brought tomy quarters, and come thou thither thyself. It may well be that shebrings tidings. I will hear what she has to say."

  Hugh hastened away, the Prince returned to his lodgings, and before longthere was brought before him a veiled figure that seemed strangelyfamiliar, albeit for the moment he could not recollect where or in whatcircumstances he had seen it before.

  "Who art thou?" he asked courteously; "and whence dost thou come? andwhat is thy message?"

  "I come from the forests surrounding the Castle of Kenilworth," answeredthe veiled woman in a low voice. "I have come with news for thee, OPrince. I have sworn to be avenged upon the house of De Montfort for thedeath of my brother. I come now to sell one scion of that bloody houseinto thine hands!"

  As she spoke the woman threw back her veil, and Hugh gave a great startof surprise. For standing before him, wan and wild, haggard anddishevelled, was the once beautiful Lotta Balzani, the woman who hadonce madly loved himself--or feigned to do so--the twin sister of hisown wife!

  For Hugh was married now. He had wedded Linda shortly after the battleof Lewes, with the full consent of his parents. His wife was not faraway, for Hugh's home lay not any great distance from this town, and hehad but lately parted from her to join the standard of the Prince. Witha great astonishment in his eyes he gazed at the changed face of Lotta.There was in her look something of wildness akin to madness, and whenher eyes met his she gave no sign of recognition. It seemed as thoughthe present had completely blotted out the past.

  The Prince was eyeing her intently, almost sternly.

  "Art thou the veiled woman who whispered strange words to me atKenilworth on New-Year's Eve, and brought to me a word in writing frommy mother?"

  "The same," answered Lotta, in her still, low-toned fashion.

  "The sister of him who did strive to do to death mine uncle, the Earl ofLeicester, in his own house? Was it, in sooth, thine hand which placedthe fatal chalice in his?"

  "It was!" answered Lotta, flinging back her head in a superb gesture ofscorn; "and would that he had drained it on the spot! I knew not thenwhat it contained, though I would have given it to him even had I known;for why should I pity or spare? none has ever showed pity upon me! Butwhen he did to death my brother--when I saw that lifeless form swingingfrom the battlements of the Castle in the dim light of dawn--then, thenI lifted my hand to heaven, and vowed vengeance upon Earl Simon and hishouse! I have bided my time--I have waited and watched--and now the hourfor vengeance is at hand. I will sell him into the hand of his foes,even as Jael sold Sisera. Would that I could with these very handsdrive a nail into his temples, that he should no more lift up thatproud head!"

  There was something so wild and strange in the manner of the woman thatthe Prince recoiled a little, and glanced at Hugh with questioning eyes.

  "I know her well," he replied in a whisper to the Prince. "She is thatstrange creature of whom we have told you, the twin sister of mywife--the one of whom we heard that she had been dabbling in black magicand forbidden arts, and that she had disappeared from her home, no oneknew whither."

  Edward, who had the proverbial memory of royalty, bent his head. Heremembered the strange story told him of the twin sisters, and theadventures which had befallen Hugh during his courtship of the one.Little likeness now existed between the gentle Linda and this gaunt,haggard sister; but the Prince's eyes rested with interest upon the oncebeautiful face, and he spoke more gently as he put the next question,--

  "But the Earl of Leicester is at Hereford; what canst thou do againsthim?"

  "Simon the elder may be there, but Simon the younger is atKenilworth--feasting, drinking, idling his time away; whilsthis men lie not within the strong walls of the Castle, but in thevillage--unprotected, careless, secure! They spend their days indrinking confusion to the Prince and his army, and laugh to scorn allthought of fear. Instead of pressing on to join his father, the foolishyouth delights himself in his present pleasant quarters, and sendsforth wine and all good stores from the Castle, to re
fresh andstrengthen the men after their march, as he says, but rather that theymay enjoy themselves and sing songs to his honour and glory. He is sopuffed up that none may speak a word of warning to him. Fall then uponhim. Cut his army in pieces. There will be none to resist, none to givebattle. All are sunk in the security of the fool; the Lord will givethem a prey into thine hand."

  Edward's face lighted up with a strange expression. If this news wereindeed true, it was a great thing for him to know. He had been aware ofhis own peril should father and son effect a junction, and he hadmarched thus far to seek to avert it. If he could fall upon youngSimon's army in this state of demoralization, and effectually rout it orcut it to pieces, why then he could give battle fearlessly to the Earl,with at least equal chances of success.

  But if this should be a trap?

  He looked earnestly into the woman's face. The eyes were wild, but therewas no shiftiness in them. Rather it seemed as though a fire of furyburned within her--as though she were inspired with a prophetic fire.Suddenly she raised her arms and called aloud in tragic tones,--

  "Fall upon them! fall upon them! do unto them as they have done! TheLord has given them an easy prey into thine hand. Let not one of themescape thee! Slay them without mercy, even as Elijah slew the prophetsof Baal at the brook Kishon. Let the river which washes the walls ofKenilworth be dyed red by the blood of those that serve the bloodthirstyEarl, who slew my brother!"

  The Prince turned to Hugh and said in a low voice,--

  "Methinks she speaks truth. These may be the words of madness, but notof falsehood. I will forthwith summon the men, and to-night we will makea rapid march and seek to surprise this sluggard captain. But what shallwe do for this poor creature? She is not fit to be left to wander in thewoods as she speaks of doing. She should be cared for somewhere, andbrought if possible to her right mind."

  "I will take care of her," answered Hugh quickly; "I will take her hometo my wife, her sister. If any one can do her good, it will be my gentleLinda. Methinks that the old fire of malice and jealousy is burnt out.She seems not to know my face or voice. Let me have the charge of her,and I will join your highness's forces at Kenilworth as soon as may be."

  "Yes, that will be best," answered the Prince. "Take her to thy home andthy wife, and leave her not till thou dost see all well betwixt them.Then follow me if thou canst; for methinks the tide of battle is aboutto turn, and that soon I may have the power as well as the will toreward those faithful and loyal servants who have followed me in thedays of adversity."

  Hugh approached Lotta, who with trembling hands was drawing the veilover her face once again, and he noted that she seemed to sway like abroken reed.

  "Lotta," he said, in a very gentle tone, "come with me, my sister. Iwill take thee to Linda."

  A little shiver ran through her frame, and suddenly she spoke in wild,eager tones,--

  "Linda! Linda! Linda! O sister, sister, have pity, have mercy upon me!"and then she burst into wild weeping, and sank senseless to the groundat his feet.

  A litter was quickly prepared, Lotta was placed in it, and beforenightfall Hugh had arrived with his charge at the door of his own home.

  Already the stir of arrival had aroused the inmates, and Linda camerunning forth from the parlour, uttering a cry of joy as she flungherself upon her husband's neck. Then Hugh, holding her close to him,whispered in her ear the strange story he had to tell, and Lindaapproached the litter with a face full of awe, affection, and eagerness.

  "Lotta!" she said softly, "dear, dear Lotta! Thou hast come back tome--at last!"

  With a strange strangled cry Lotta sprang forward, clasped her sisterwildly in her arms, and then once more fell senseless to the ground.

  Late that night, as Hugh sat over the fire after having told all histale to his parents, who had then gone to bed, the door opened, andLinda stole in, a strange expression upon her pale face. She madestraight for the shelter of her husband's arms, and lay there, the tearscoursing quietly down her face.

  "How is it with Lotta, sweetheart?" he asked.

  "Hugh," answered Linda, "I think she will die; but she has no desire tolive. I think she has bitterly repented of the past; and if she can butlay aside her thoughts of hatred, and learn to forgive even herenemies, methinks death would perhaps be the happiest thing for her. Oh,she has had a strange and terrible life! Heaven grant that she has notlost her soul, seeking after unhallowed things! But that was Tito'sfault. Surely God will not visit it upon her!"

  Then Linda told to her husband the tale that she had heard in fragmentsfrom her sister's fevered lips.

  After the failure of the second attempt upon Hugh's life and liberty,when Lotta had been forced to the conclusion that she would never winhim against his will, and when Tito and Boger, who had been the authorsof both plots, had been forced to fly, the unhappy girl had turned herattention to the study of those black arts of magic and mystery whichhad so fascinated Tito, and of which he possessed a certain amount ofknowledge, gleaned from books in his possession. Lotta now studiedthese, with the result that a morbid and unhealthy curiosity arosewithin her, and she believed herself gifted by some occult powers whichshe might develop, did she but know how.

  Thus it was that when, after a considerable interval, Roger and Titoventured once more to return to England, and Tito desired to obtainpossession of his books and other things, he found that Lotta was eagerand willing to join them; and in their travels she proved a valuableally, her gifts of thought-reading and her mesmeric powers, whichrapidly developed with practice, making her a useful medium.

  They travelled both in England and in France, and after a time shemarried Roger de Horn, who appeared to have transferred to her thefierce affection he had once shown for Linda. It did not appear,however, that her heart was greatly drawn towards her husband. It wasmore of Tito that she talked, and his untimely and tragic death wasplainly graven upon her heart in characters of fire.

  Of the poisoning plot itself Lotta had small knowledge. She could notsay at whose instigation it had been planned, though she knew that alarge sum had been paid to her husband and brother for the death of theEarl, which they had sworn to compass. Part of the reward was paidbeforehand, but the bulk was to be given if the matter were brought to asuccessful issue. When all was lost, Lotta had rushed out to seek torouse Roger to some desperate attempt at the rescue of the hapless Tito.But not only did Roger refuse to move hand or foot; he also forciblywithheld her from seeking to save him or to die with him, as shedesired. Since then there had been burning within the sister's heart afierce flame of hatred against the Earl who had condemned her brother,and against the man who refused to try to aid his comrade in the hour ofextremity.

  She had refused to leave the neighbourhood of Kenilworth, and Roger hadseemed afraid to leave her there alone. They had led a strange life incaves and fastnesses of the forest, living upon such game as they couldsnare and shoot, and upon the wild berries and herbs of the woods. Theyhad money, and occasionally bought from the peasants, but feared to showthemselves openly; for it was said that there was a price set upon theheads of the accomplices of the wizard, and they were afraid of beingrecognized.

  Now, however, in the confusion and excitement of Lord Simon's arrivalwith his disorderly host, and their ill-advised stay at and about theCastle of Kenilworth, Lotta felt that her day of vengeance had come.Without a word to her husband--who was drinking with the soldiers,secure now from recognition in so great a company--she had started forthto find the army of the Prince, and having delivered her foe into thehands of the enemy, it seemed as though all wish for life had expiredwithin her. To be avenged for the fate of Tito had been her one desire;if that were accomplished, she seemed to have nothing else for which tolive. But she had turned with all the affection of childhood towards hersister, and Linda's tears flowed as she spoke of this. Lotta appeared tohave no real recollection of the episodes of her life in which Hugh hada part. When Linda had spoken of them, she had assented with somethingof perplexity in her face
, but without seeming to recollect fully whatit was all about. She appeared to know that her sister was married, andshowed no emotion at the sound of her husband's name. To hold Linda'shand, to feel her near, to feel her kisses on her cheek, appeared allshe wanted. She was so tired, she kept saying, she wanted to rest--torest. And presently when she sank to sleep, Linda had gone to find herhusband to tell him all.

  "I must forth to join the Prince to-morrow," he said; "but I am rightglad to leave Lotta so well cared for. Perchance she will live to be oursister and friend yet; and I will seek news of that evil man herhusband, and we will hope that he may yet come to repent of his sins.Keep her safe, and let her rest. Whether she live or die, we shallalways be glad that we have seen her again, and that she has returned toher better self."

  Hugh rode forth at break of day, after a few hours of rest, and in duecourse found himself drawing near to Kenilworth. The sun was sinking bythat time, and he was aware of a great tumult and excitement as heapproached. All the country folks were in a state of the greatestagitation and alarm, and from them Hugh first learned the nature of theengagement in which he had not partaken, but which had occurred earlythat very morning.

  It had been as Lotta had described. In fancied security, in the heart ofhis own county, where all were loyal to the cause, the younger Simon hadneglected all precautions, had left his soldiers outside the Castlewalls, and had not even posted sentries to watch the roads.

  At dawn upon that fatal first of August, the sleeping soldiers had beenawakened by the clash and crash of arms, and by loud, fierce cries.

  "Come forth, traitors; come out of your holes, ye dogs! Ye shall all beslain. Ye have betrayed your King. His vengeance be upon you!"

  Then had followed a scene of indescribable confusion. The wretched men,thus awakened from sleep, their enemies actually upon them, sprang fromtheir beds, and rushed half naked to their death. Some fought gallantlyfor their lives, and fighting fell. Some fled across the moat, and founda temporary asylum in the Castle with Lord Simon himself, who, paralyzedby terror, could do nothing but hide behind his strong walls, with a fewof his own immediate knights and gentlemen about him, whilst his armymelted like snow before this vigorous attack, and the waters of the moatwere dyed red with the blood of the slain.

  This was the tale that Hugh heard from the terrified peasants as he rodeonwards, and indeed soon enough he saw for himself abundant signs ofcarnage. But the slaughter, if sudden, had been brief; for the Princehad given quarter to all who asked, and had been content to permit theescape of great numbers of raw youths, who, having been hastily leviedduring Simon's march, were ready to disperse in the extremity of terror,and could be trusted, once they reached the safe shelter of their ownhomes, not to tempt their fate by taking up arms again.

  As for the plunder, that was something to boast of. Simon had maderequisition all along the route from the friendly towns, and his motherhad collected and furnished him with ample supplies. The horses takenwere so numerous that the very pages and foot-boys of Edward's armycould ride the steeds of knights, and the weary chargers which hadbrought the victors all those miles from Worcester could take their easein the wake of the army, whilst the Prince, with fresh horses, rodeforward as fast as he would.

  For he had no desire to tarry here, nor to attempt to storm the fortressitself, with its small garrison and Lord Simon at the head. The Prince'sgreat aim and object now was to meet the Earl in person on thebattlefield, and to try conclusions with him once and for all, before hehad had time to recover from the heavy blow struck him to-day, of whichhe could not yet be aware.

  Hugh found him giving personal orders for a rapid march on Gloucester,with prisoners and booty, from which place he would next march againstDe Montfort's army, and overthrow it in open battle. The light ofvictory was already in Edward's eyes, and his cheerful confidence seemedto have communicated itself to all his host.

  A touch upon his arm made Hugh look suddenly round, and he found himselfface to face with his quondam comrade Gilbert Barbeck. Gilbert was not aman of war, but had fallen in with the Prince's army as he was taking ajourney upon business. He had seen the battle and its result, and nowspoke a word in Hugh's ear.

  "Come," he said; "I have somewhat to show thee."

  And when Hugh followed him wonderingly, he added,--

  "Dost remember how we fruitlessly pursued Roger de Horn into the forestlong ago, and how he once and again escaped the fate he deserved? Well,he has not escaped it to-day. He has been eating and drinking andsleeping with the soldiers of young De Montfort since they came here.And now he lies in the trench with the slain, and will trouble the earthno more. He has met the fate his deeds deserve, albeit not as we oncedesired."

  Hugh started at the sound of these words, and followed Gilbert quicklyto the spot where the soldiers of Edward were burying the slain. Ifindeed this thing were so, he ought to know it for a certainty.

  "See there," said Gilbert, pointing downwards; "methinks there is nomistaking that face!"

  Hugh looked, and a slight shiver took hold upon him.

  "True enough," he answered briefly, as he turned away; "that is the deadface of him who was Roger de Horn."

  So Lotta was a widow!