CHAPTER III. A STRANGE VISITOR.--ALL AGES OF THE WORLD BREEDWORLD-BETTERS.
Sibyll, whose soft heart bled for her father, and who now reproachedherself for having concealed from him her little hoard, began hastily todress that she might seek him out, and soothe the painful feelingswhich the honest rudeness of Madge had aroused. But before her task wasconcluded, there pealed a loud knock at the outer door. She heard theold housekeeper's quivering voice responding to a loud clear tone; andpresently Madge herself ascended the stairs to Warner's room, followedby a man whom Sibyll instantly recognized--for he was not one easily tobe forgotten--as their protector from the assault of the mob. She drewback hastily as he passed her door, and in some wonder and alarmawaited the descent of Madge. That venerable personage having with somedifficulty induced her master to open his door and admit the stranger,came straight into her young lady's chamber. "Cheer up, cheer up,sweetheart," said the old woman; "I think better days will shine soon;for the honest man I have admitted says he is but come to tell MasterWarner something that will redound much to his profit. Oh, he is awonderful fellow, this same Robin! You saw how he turned the cullionsfrom burning the old house!"
"What! you know this man, Madge! What is he, and who?"
Madge looked puzzled. "That is more than I can say, sweet mistress. Butthough he has been but some weeks in the neighbourhood, they all holdhim in high count and esteem. For why--it is said he is a rich man and akind one. He does a world of good to the poor."
While Sibyll listened to such explanations as Madge could give her, thestranger, who had carefully closed the door of the student's chamber,after regarding Adam for a moment with silent but keen scrutiny, thusbegan,--
"When last we met, Adam Warner, it was with satchells on our backs. Lookwell at me!"
"Troth," answered Adam, languidly, for he was still under the deepdejection that had followed the scene with Sibyll, "I cannot call you tomind, nor seems it veritable that our schooldays passed together,seeing that my hair is gray and men call me old; but thou art in all thelustihood of this human life."
"Nathless," returned the stranger, "there are but two years or sobetween thine age and mine. When thou wert poring over the crabbed text,and pattering Latin by the ell, dost thou not remember a lack-gracegood-for-naught, Robert Hilyard, who was always setting the school inan uproar, and was finally outlawed from that boy-world, as he hath beensince from the man's world, for inciting the weak to resist the strong?"
"Ah," exclaimed Adam, with a gleam of something like joy on his face,"art thou indeed that riotous, brawling, fighting, frank-hearted, boldfellow, Robert Hilyard? Ha! ha!--those were merry days! I have knownnone like them--" The old schoolfellows shook hands heartily.
"The world has not fared well with thee in person or pouch, I fear me,poor Adam," said Hilyard; "thou canst scarcely have passed thy fiftiethyear, and yet thy learned studies have given thee the weight of sixty;while I, though ever in toil and bustle, often wanting a meal, and evenfearing the halter, am strong and hearty as when I shot my first fallowbuck in the king's forest, and kissed the forester's pretty daughter.Yet, methinks, Adam, if what I hear of thy tasks be true, thou and Ihave each been working for one end; thou to make the world other than itis, and I to--"
"What! hast thou, too, taken nourishment from the bitter milk ofPhilosophy,--thou, fighting Rob?"
"I know not whether it be called philosophy, but marry, Edward of Yorkwould call it rebellion; they are much the same, for both war againstrules established!" returned Hilyard, with more depth of thought thanhis careless manner seemed to promise. He paused, and laying his broadbrown hand on Warner's shoulder, resumed, "Thou art poor, Adam!"
"Very poor,--very, very!"
"Does thy philosophy disdain gold?"
"What can philosophy achieve without it? She is a hungry dragon, and hervery food is gold!"
"Wilt thou brave some danger--thou went ever a fearless boy when thyblood was up, though so meek and gentle--wilt thou brave some danger forlarge reward?"
"My life braves the scorn of men, the pinchings of famine, and, it maybe, the stake and the fagot. Soldiers brave not the dangers that arebraved by a wise man in an unwise age!"
"Gramercy! thou hast a hero's calm aspect while thou speakest, and thywords move me! Listen! Thou wert wont, when Henry of Windsor was Kingof England, to visit and confer with him on learned matters. He is nowa captive in the Tower; but his jailers permit him still to receive thevisits of pious monks and harmless scholars. I ask thee to pay him sucha visit, and for this office I am empowered, by richer men than myself,to award thee the guerdon of twenty broad pieces of gold."
"Twenty!--A mine! a Tmolus!" exclaimed Adam, in uncontrollable glee."Twenty! O true friend, then my work will be born at last!"
"But hear me further, Adam, for I will not deceive thee; the visit hathits peril! Thou must first see if the mind of King Henry, for king heis, though the usurper wear his holy crown, be clear and healthful. Thouknowest he is subject to dark moods,--suspension of man's reason; and ifhe be, as his friends hope, sane and right-judging, thou wilt give himcertain papers, which, after his hand has signed them, thou wilt bringback to me. If in this thou succeedest, know that thou mayst restore theroyalty of Lancaster to the purple and the throne; that thou wilt haveprinces and earls for favourers and protectors to thy learned life; thatthy fortunes and fame are made! Fail, be discovered,--and Edward of Yorknever spares!--thy guerdon will be the nearest tree and the strongestrope!"
"Robert," said Adam, who had listened to this address with unusualattention, "thou dealest with me plainly, and as man should deal withman. I know little of stratagem and polity, wars and kings; and savethat King Henry, though passing ignorant in the mathematics, and moregiven to alchemists than to solid seekers after truth, was once or twicegracious to me, I could have no choice, in these four walls, between anEdward and a Henry on the throne. But I have a king whose throne isin mine own breast, and, alack, it taxeth me heavily, and with soreburdens."
"I comprehend," said the visitor, glancing round the room,--"Icomprehend: thou wantest money for thy books and instruments, and thymelancholic passion is thy sovereign. Thou wilt incur the risk?"
"I will," said Adam. "I would rather seek in the lion's den for what Ilack than do what I well-nigh did this day."
"What crime was that, poor scholar?" said Robin, smiling.
"My child worked for her bread and my luxuries--I would have robbed her,old schoolfellow. Ha, ha! what is cord and gibbet to one so tempted?"
A tear stood in the bright gray eyes of the bluff visitor. "Ah, Adam,"he said sadly, "only by the candle held in the skeleton hand of Povertycan man read his own dark heart. But thou, Workman of Knowledge,hast the same interest as the poor who dig and delve. Though strangecircumstance hath made me the servant and emissary of Margaret, thinknot that I am but the varlet of the great." Hilyard paused a moment, andresumed,--
"Thou knowest, peradventure, that my race dates from an elder date thanthese Norman nobles, who boast their robber-fathers. From therenowned Saxon Thane, who, free of hand and of cheer, won the name ofHildegardis, [Hildegardis, namely, old German, a person of noble orgenerous disposition. Wotton's "Baronetage," art. Hilyard, or Hildyard,of Pattrington.] our family took its rise. But under these Norman baronswe sank with the nation to which we belonged. Still were we calledgentlemen, and still were dubbed knights. But as I grew up to man'sestate, I felt myself more Saxon than gentleman, and, as one of asubject and vassal race, I was a son of the Saxon people. My father,like thee, was a man of thought and bookcraft. I dare own to theethat he was a Lollard; and with the religion of those bold foes topriest-vice, goes a spirit that asks why the people should be evermorethe spoil and prey of lords and kings. Early in my youth, my father,fearing rack and fagot in England, sought refuge in the Hans townof Lubeck. There I learned grave truths,--how liberty can be won andguarded. Later in life I saw the republics of Italy, and I asked whythey were so glorious in all the arts and craft of civil
life, while thebraver men of France and England seemed as savages by the side of theFlorentine burgess, nay, of the Lombard vine-dresser. I saw that, evenwhen those republics fell a victim to some tyrant or podesta, their menstill preserved rights and uttered thoughts which left them more freeand more great than the Commons of England after all their boasted wars.I came back to my native land and settled in the North, as my franklinancestry before me. The broad lands of my forefathers had devolved onthe elder line, and gave a knight's fee to Sir Robert Hilyard, who fellafterwards at Towton for the Lancastrians. But I had won gold in thefar countree, and I took farm and homestead near Lord Warwick's tower ofMiddleham. The feud between Lancaster and York broke forth; Earl Warwicksummoned his retainers, myself amongst them, since I lived upon hisland; I sought the great earl, and I told him boldly--him whom theCommons deemed a friend, and a foe to all malfaisance and abuse--I toldhim that the war he asked me to join seemed to me but a war of ambitiouslords, and that I saw not how the Commons were to be bettered, let whowould be king. The earl listened and deigned to reason; and when he sawI was not convinced, he left me to my will; for he is a noble chief,and I admired even his angry pride, when he said, 'Let no man fightfor Warwick whose heart beats not in his cause.' I lived afterwards todischarge my debt to the proud earl, and show him how even the lionmay be meshed, and how even the mouse may gnaw the net. But to my owntragedy. So I quitted those parts, for I feared my own resolution nearso great a man; I made a new home not far from the city of York. So,Adam, when all the land around bristled with pike and gisarme, and whilemy own cousin and namesake, the head of my House, was winning laurelsand wasting blood--I, thy quarrelsome, fighting friend--lived at home inpeace with my wife and child (for I was now married, and wife and childwere dear to me), and tilled my lands. But in peace I was active andastir, for my words inflamed the bosoms of labourers and peasants, andmany of them, benighted as they were, thought with me. One day--I wasabsent from home, selling my grain in the marts of York--one day thereentered the village a young captain, a boy-chief, Edward Earl of March,beating for recruits. Dost thou heed me, Adam? Well, man--well, thepeasants stood aloof from tromp and banner, and they answered, to allthe talk of hire and fame, 'Robin Hilyard tells us we have nothing togain but blows,--leave us to hew and to delve.' Oh, Adam, this boy, thischief, the Earl of March, now crowned King Edward, made but one reply,'This Robin Hilyard must be a wise man,--show me his house.' Theypointed out the ricks, the barns, the homestead, and in five minutesall--all were in flames. 'Tell the hilding, when he returns, that thusEdward of March, fair to friends and terrible to foes, rewards thecoward who disaffects the men of Yorkshire to their chief.' And by theblazing rafters, and the pale faces of the silent crowd, he rode on hisway to battle and the throne!"
Hilyard paused, and the anguish of his countenance was terrible tobehold.
"I returned to find a heap of ashes; I returned to find my wife amaniac; I returned to find my child--my boy--great God!--he had run tohide himself, in terror at the torches and the grim men; they had failedto discover him, till, too late, his shrieks, amidst the crashing walls,burst on his mother's ear,--and the scorched, mangled, lifeless corpselay on that mother's bosom!"
Adam rose; his figure was transformed. Not the stooping student, butthe knight-descended man, seemed to tower in the murky chamber; his handfelt at his side, as for a sword; he stifled a curse, and Hilyard, inthat suppressed low voice which evinces a strong mind in deep emotion,continued his tale.
"Blessed be the Divine Intercessor, the mother of the dead died too!Behold me, a lonely, ruined, wifeless, childless wretch! I made all theworld my foe! The old love of liberty (alone left me) became a crime;I plunged into the gloom of the forest, a robber-chief, sparing--no,never-never--never one York captain, one spurred knight, one beltedlord! But the poor, my Saxon countrymen, they had suffered, and weresafe!
"One dark twilight--thou hast heard the tale, every village minstrelsets it to his viol--a majestic woman, a hunted fugitive, crossed mypath; she led a boy in her hand, a year or so younger than my murderedchild. 'Friend!' said the woman, fearlessly, 'save the son of your king;I am Margaret, Queen of England!' I saved them both. From that hour therobber-chief, the Lollard's son, became a queen's friend. Here opened,at least, vengeance against the fell destroyer. Now see you why I seekyou, why tempt you into danger? Pause, if you will, for my passion heatsmy blood,--and all the kings since Saul, it may be, are not worth onescholar's life! And yet," continued Hilyard, regaining his ordinarycalm tone, "and yet, it seemeth to me, as I said at first, that allwho labour have in this a common cause and interest with the poor. Thiswoman-king, though bloody man, with his wine-cups and his harlots, thisusurping York--his very existence flaunts the life of the sons of toil.In civil war and in broil, in strife that needs the arms of the people,the people shall get their own."
"I will go," said Adam, and he advanced to the door. Hilyard caught hisarm. "Why, friend, thou hast not even the documents, and how wouldstthou get access to the prison? Listen to me; or," added the conspirator,observing poor Adam's abstracted air, "or let me rather speak a wordto thy fair daughter; women have ready wit, and are the pioneers tothe advance of men! Adam, Adam! thou art dreaming!"--He shook thephilosopher's arm roughly.
"I heed you," said Warner, meekly.
"The first thing required," renewed Hilyard, "is a permit to see KingHenry. This is obtained either from the Lord Worcester, governor ofthe Tower, a cruel man, who may deny it, or the Lord Hastings, Edward'schamberlain, a humane and gentle one, who will readily grant it. Let notthy daughter know why thou wouldst visit Henry; let her suppose it issolely to make report of his health to Margaret; let her not know thereis scheming or danger,--so, at least, her ignorance will secure hersafety. But let her go to the lord chamberlain, and obtain the orderfor a learned clerk to visit the learned prisoner--to--ha! well thoughtof--this strange machine is, doubtless, the invention of which thyneighbours speak; this shall make thy excuse; thou wouldst divert theprisoner with thy mechanical--comprehendest thou, Adam?"
"Ah, King Henry will see the model, and when he is on the throne--"
"He will protect the scholar!" interrupted Hilyard. "Good! good! Waithere; I will confer with thy daughter." He gently pushed aside Adam,opened the door, and on descending the stairs, found Sibyll by the largecasement where she had stood with Marmaduke, and heard the rude stave ofthe tymbesteres.
The anxiety the visit of Hilyard had occasioned her was at once allayed,when he informed her that he had been her father's schoolmate, anddesired to become his friend. And when he drew a moving picture of theexiled condition of Margaret and the young prince, and their naturaldesire to learn tidings of the health of the deposed king, her gentleheart, forgetting the haughty insolence with which her royal mistresshad often wounded and chilled her childhood, felt all the generousand compassionate sympathy the conspirator desired to awaken. "Theoccasion," added Hilyard, "for learning the poor captive's state nowoffers! He hath heard of your father's labours; he desires to learntheir nature from his own lips. He is allowed to receive, by an orderfrom King Edward's chamberlain, the visits of those scholars inwhose converse he was ever wont to delight. Wilt thou so far aid thecharitable work as to seek the Lord Hastings, and crave the necessarylicense? Thou seest that thy father has wayward and abstract moods; hemight forget that Henry of Windsor is no longer king, and might give himthat title in speaking to Lord Hastings,--a slip of the tongue which thelaw styles treason."
"Certes," said Sibyll, quickly, "if my father would seek the poorcaptive, I will be his messenger to my Lord Hastings. But oh, sir, asthou hast known my father's boyhood, and as thou hopest for mercy in thelast day, tempt to no danger one so guileless!"
Hilyard winced as he interrupted her hastily,
"There is no danger if thou wilt obtain the license. I will say more,--areward awaits him, that will not only banish his poverty but save hislife."
"His life!"
"Ay! seest thou not, fair mistress, that A
dam Warner is dying, not ofthe body's hunger, but of the soul's? He craveth gold, that his toilsmay reap their guerdon. If that gold be denied, his toils will fret himto the grave!"
"Alas! alas! it is true."
"That gold he shall honourably win! Nor is this all. Thou wilt see theLord Hastings: he is less learned, perhaps, than Worcester, less daintyin accomplishments and gifts than Anthony Woodville, but his mind isprofound and vast; all men praise him save the queen's kin. He lovesscholars; he is mild to distress; he laughs at the superstitions of thevulgar. Thou wilt see the Lord Hastings, and thou mayst interest him inthy father's genius and his fate!"
"There is frankness in thy voice, and I will trust thee," answeredSibyll. "When shall I seek this lord?"
"This day, if thou wilt. He lodges at the Tower, and gives access, it issaid, to all who need his offices, or seek succour from his power."
"This day, then, be it!" answered Sibyll, calmly.
Hilyard gazed at her countenance, rendered so noble in its youthfulresignation, in its soft firmness of expression, and muttering, "Heavenprosper thee, maiden; we shall meet tomorrow," descended the stairs, andquitted the house.
His heart smote him when he was in the street. "If evil should come tothis meek scholar, to that poor child's father, it would be a sore sinto my soul. But no; I will not think it. The saints will not suffer thisbloody Edward to triumph long; and in this vast chessboard of vengeanceand great ends, we must move men to and fro, and harden our natures tothe hazard of the game."
Sibyll sought her father; his mind had flown back to the model. He wasalready living in the life that the promised gold would give to the dumbthought. True that all the ingenious additions to the engine--additionsthat were to convince the reason and startle the fancy--were not yetcomplete (for want, of course, of the diamond bathed in moonbeams);but still there was enough in the inventions already achieved to excitecuriosity and obtain encouragement. So, with care and diligence andsanguine hope the philosopher prepared the grim model for exhibition toa man who had worn a crown, and might wear again. But with that innocentand sad cunning which is so common with enthusiasts of one idea, thesublime dwellers of the narrow border between madness and inspiration,Adam, amidst his excitement, contrived to conceal from his daughter allglimpse of the danger he ran, of the correspondence of which he was tobe the medium,--or rather, may we think that he had forgotten both! Notthe stout Warwick himself, in the roar of battle, thought so little ofperil to life and limb as that gentle student, in the reveries of hislonely closet; and therefore, all unsuspicious, and seeing but diversionto Adam's recent gloom of despair, an opening to all his brightprospects, Sibyll attired herself in her holiday garments, drew herwimple closely round her face, and summoning Madge to attend her, benther way to the Tower. Near York House, within view of the Sanctuary andthe Palace of Westminster, they took a boat, and arrived at the stairsof the Tower.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 18
