The Last of the Barons — Complete

by Baron Edward Bulwer Lytton Lytton

  CHAPTER V. THE FUGITIVES ARE CAPTURED--THE TYMBESTERESREAPPEAR--MOONLIGHT ON THE REVEL OF THE LIVING--MOONLIGHT ON THE SLUMBEROF THE DEAD.

  The father and child made their resting-place under the giant oak. Theyknew not whither to fly for refuge; the day and the night had become thesame to them,--the night menaced with robbers, the day with the mob. Ifreturn to their home was forbidden, where in the wide world a shelterfor the would-be world-improver? Yet they despaired not, their heartsfailed them not. The majestic splendour of the night, as it deepened inits solemn calm; as the shadows of the windless trees fell larger andsharper upon the silvery earth; as the skies grew mellower and moreluminous in the strengthening starlight, inspired them with the serenityof faith,--for night, to the earnest soul, opens the Bible of theuniverse, and on the leaves of Heaven is written, "God is everywhere."

  Their hands were clasped each in each, their pale faces were upturned;they spoke not, neither were they conscious that they prayed, but theirsilence was thought, and the thought was worship.

  Amidst the grief and solitude of the pure, there comes, at times, astrange and rapt serenity,--a sleep-awake,--over which the instinctof life beyond the grave glides like a noiseless dream; and ever thatheaven that the soul yearns for is coloured by the fancies of the fondhuman heart, each fashioning the above from the desires unsatisfiedbelow.

  "There," thought the musing maiden, "cruelty and strife shall cease;there, vanish the harsh differences of life; there, those whom we haveloved and lost are found, and through the Son, who tasted of mortalsorrow, we are raised to the home of the Eternal Father!"

  "And there," thought the aspiring sage, "the mind, dungeoned and chainedbelow, rushes free into the realms of space; there, from every mysteryfalls the veil; there, the Omniscient smiles on those who, through thedarkness of life, have fed that lamp, the soul; there, Thought, but theseed on earth, bursts into the flower and ripens to the fruit!"

  And on the several hope of both maid and sage the eyes of the angelstars smiled with a common promise.

  At last, insensibly, and while still musing, so that slumber butcontinued the revery into visions, father and daughter slept.

  The night passed away; the dawn came slow and gray; the antlers of thedeer stirred above the fern; the song of the nightingale was hushed; andjust as the morning star waned back, while the reddening east announcedthe sun, and labour and trouble resumed their realm of day, a fierceband halted before those sleeping forms.

  These men had been Lancastrian soldiers, and, reduced to plunder for aliving, had, under Sir Geoffrey Gates, formed the most stalwart part ofthe wild, disorderly force whom Hilyard and Coniers had led to Olney.They had heard of the new outbreak, headed by their ancient captain, SirGeoffrey (who was supposed to have been instigated to his revolt by thegold and promises of the Lancastrian chiefs), and were on their way tojoin the rebels; but as war for them was but the name for booty, theyfelt the wonted instinct of the robber, when they caught sight of theold man and the fair maid.

  Both Adam and his daughter wore, unhappily, the dresses in which theyhad left the court, and Sibyll's especially was that which seemed tobetoken a certain rank and station.

  "Awake, rouse ye!" said the captain of the band, roughly shaking the armwhich encircled Sibyll's slender waist. Adam started, opened his eyes,and saw himself begirt by figures in rusty armour, with savage facespeering under their steel sallets.

  "How came you hither? Yon oak drops strange acorns," quoth the chief.

  "Valiant sir," replied Adam, still seated, and drawing his gowninstinctively over Sibyll's face, which nestled on his bosom, in slumberso deep and heavy, that the gruff voice had not broken it, "valiantsir! we are forlorn and houseless, an old man and a simple girl. Someevil-minded persons invaded our home; we fled in the night, and--"

  "Invaded your house! ha, it is clear," said the chief. "We know therest."

  At this moment Sibyll woke, and starting to her feet in astonishment andterror at the sight on which her eyes opened, her extreme beauty made asensible effect upon the bravoes.

  "Do not be daunted, young demoiselle," said the captain, with an airalmost respectful; "it is necessary thou and Sir John should follow us,but we will treat you well, and consult later on the ransom ye will payus. Jock, discharge the young sumpter mule; put its load on the blackone. We have no better equipment for thee, lady; but the first haqueneewe find shall replace the mule, and meanwhile my knaves will heap theircloaks for a pillion."

  "But what mean you?--you mistake us!" exclaimed Sibyll. "We are poor; wecannot ransom ourselves."

  "Poor!--tut!" said the captain, pointing significantly to the costlyrobe of the maiden--"moreover his worship's wealth is well known. Mountin haste,--we are pressed." And without heeding the expostulations ofSibyll and the poor scholar, the rebel put his troop into motion, andmarched himself at their head, with his lieutenant.

  Sibyll found the subalterns sterner than their chief; for as Warneroffered to resist, one of them lifted his gisarme, with a frightfuloath, and Sibyll was the first to persuade her father to submit. Shemildly, however, rejected the mule, and the two captives walked togetherin the midst of the troop.

  "Pardie!" said the lieutenant, "I see little help to Sir Geoffrey inthese recruits, captain!"

  "Fool!" said the chief, disdainfully, "if the rebellion fail, theseprisoners may save our necks. Will Somers last night was to break intothe house of Sir John Bourchier, for arms and moneys, of which theknight hath a goodly store. Be sure, Sir John slinked off in the siege,and this is he and his daughter. Thou knowest he is one of the greatestknights, and the richest, whom the Yorkists boast of; and we may nameour own price for his ransom."

  "But where lodge them while we go to the battle?"

  "Ned Porpustone hath a hostelry not far from the camp, and Ned is a goodLancastrian, and a man to be trusted."

  "We have not searched the prisoners," said the lieutenant; "they mayhave some gold in their pouches."

  "Marry, when Will Somers storms a hive, little time does he leave to thebees to fly away with much money. Nathless, thou mayest search the oldknight, but civilly, and with gentle excuses."

  "And the damsel?"

  "Nay! that were unmannerly, and the milder our conduct, the larger theransom,--when we have great folks to deal with."

  The lieutenant accordingly fell back to search Adam's gipsire, whichcontained only a book and a file, and then rejoined his captain, withoutoffering molestation to Sibyll.

  The mistake made by the bravo was at least so far not wholly unfortunatethat the notion of the high quality of the captives--for Sir JohnBourchier was indeed a person of considerable station and importance (anotion favoured by the noble appearance of the scholar and thedelicate and highborn air of Sibyll)--procured for them all the respectcompatible with the circumstances. They had not gone far before theyentered a village, through which the ruffians marched with the mostperfect impunity; for it was a strange feature in those civil wars thatthe mass of the population, except in the northern districts, remainedperfectly supine and neutral. And as the little band halted at a smallinn to drink, the gossips of the village collected round them, with thesame kind of indolent, careless curiosity which is now evinced in somehamlet at the halt of a stage-coach. Here the captain learned, however,some intelligence important to his objects,--namely, the night march ofthe troop under Lord Hastings, and the probability that the conflictwas already begun. "If so," muttered the rebel, "we can see how the tideturns, before we endanger ourselves; and at the worst, our prisonerswill bring something of prize-money."

  While thus soliloquizing, he spied one of those cumbrous vehicles ofthe day called whirlicotes [Whirlicotes were in use from a very earlyperiod, but only among the great, till, in the reign of Richard II., hisqueen, Anne, introduced side-saddles, when the whirlicote fell out offashion, but might be found at different hostelries on the main roadsfor the accommodation of the infirm or aged.] standing in the yard ofthe hostelry; and seizing upon it, v
i et armis, in spite of all thecries and protestations of the unhappy landlord, he ordered his captivesto enter, and recommenced his march.

  As the band proceeded farther on their way, they were joined by freshtroops of the same class as themselves, and they pushed on gayly, till,about the hour of eight, they halted before the hostelry the captain hadspoken of. It stood a little out of the high road, not very far fromthe village of Hadley, and the heath or chase of Gladsmore, on which wasfought, some time afterwards, the battle of Barnet. It was a house ofgood aspect, and considerable size, for it was much frequented by allcaravanserais and travellers from the North to the metropolis. Thelandlord, at heart a stanch Lancastrian, who had served in the Frenchwars, and contrived, no one knew how, to save moneys in the course of anadventurous life, gave to his hostelry the appellation and sign of theTalbot, in memory of the old hero of that name; and, hiring a tract ofland, joined the occupation of a farmer to the dignity of a host. Thehouse, which was built round a spacious quadrangle, represented thedouble character of its owner, one side being occupied by barns anda considerable range of stabling, while cows, oxen, and ragged coltsgrouped amicably together in a space railed off in the centre ofthe yard. At another side ran a large wooden staircase, with an opengallery, propped on wooden columns, conducting to numerous chambers,after the fashion of the Tabard in Southwark, immortalized by Chaucer.Over the archway, on entrance, ran a labyrinth of sleeping lofts forfoot passengers and muleteers; and the side facing the entrance wasnearly occupied by a vast kitchen, the common hall, and the bar, withthe private parlour of the host, and two or three chambers in the secondstory. The whirlicote jolted and rattled into the yard. Sibyll andher father were assisted out of the vehicle, and, after a few wordsinterchanged with the host, conducted by Master Porpustone himself upthe spacious stairs into a chamber, well furnished and fresh littered,with repeated assurances of safety, provided they maintained silence,and attempted no escape.

  "Ye are in time," said Ned Porpustone to the captain. "Lord Hastingsmade proclamation at daybreak that he gave the rebels two hours todisperse."

  "Pest! I like not those proclamations. And the fellows stood theirground?"

  "No; for Sir Geoffrey, like a wise soldier, mended the ground byretreating a mile to the left, and placing the wood between the Yorkistsand himself. Hastings, by this, must have remarshalled his men. But topass the wood is slow work, and Sir Geoffrey's crossbows are no doubtdoing damage in the covert. Come in, while your fellows snatch a morselwithout; five minutes are not thrown away on filling their bellies."

  "Thanks, Ned, thou art a good fellow; and if all else fail, why, SirJohn's ransom shall pay the reckoning. Any news of bold Robin?"

  "Ay, he has 'scaped with a whole skin, and gone back to the North,"answered the host, leading the way to his parlour, where a flask ofstrong wine and some cold meat awaited his guest. "If Sir Geoffrey Gatescan beat off the York troopers, tell him, from me, not to venture toLondon, but to fall back into the marshes. He will be welcome there, Iforeguess; for every northman is either for Warwick or for Lancaster,and the two must unite now, I trow."

  "But Warwick is flown!" quoth the captain.

  "Tush! he has only flown as the falcon flies when he has a heron tofight with,--wheeling and soaring. Woe to the heron when the falconswoops! But you drink not!"

  "No; I must keep the head cool to-day; for Hastings is a perilouscaptain. Thy fist, friend! If I fall, I leave you Sir John and his girlto wipe off old scores; if we beat off the Yorkists I vow to Our Lady ofWalsingham an image of wax of the weight of myself." The marauder thenstarted up, and strode to his men, who were snatching a hasty meal onthe space before the hostel. He paused a moment or so, while his hostwhispered,--

  "Hastings was here before daybreak: but his men only got the sour beer;yours fight upon huffcap."

  "Up, men! to your pikes! Dress to the right!" thundered the captain,with a sufficient pause between each sentence. "The York lozels havestarved on stale beer,--shall they beat huffcap and Lancaster? Friskand fresh-up with the Antelope banner [The antelope was one of theLancastrian badges. The special cognizance of Henry VI. was two feathersin saltire.], and long live Henry the Sixth!"

  The sound of the shout that answered this harangue shook the thin wallsof the chamber in which the prisoners were confined, and they heardwith joy the departing tramp of the soldiers. In a short time, MasterPorpustone himself, a corpulent, burly fellow, with a face by nomeans unprepossessing, mounted to the chamber, accompanied by a comelyhousekeeper, linked to him, as scandal said, by ties less irksome thanHymen's, and both bearing ample provisions, with rich pigment and lucidclary [clary was wine clarified], which they spread with great formalityon an oak table before their involuntary guest.

  "Eat, your worship, eat!" cried mine host, heartily. "Eat,lady-bird,--nothing like eating to kill time and banish care. Fortuneof war, Sir John,--fortune of war, never be daunted! Up to-day, downto-morrow. Come what may--York or Lancaster--still a rich man alwaysfalls on his legs. Five hundred or so to the captain; a noble or two,out of pure generosity, to Ned Porpustone (I scorn extortion), and youand the fair young dame may breakfast at home to-morrow, unless thecaptain or his favourite lieutenant is taken prisoner; and then, yousee, they will buy off their necks by letting you out of the bag. Eat, Isay,--eat!"

  "Verily," said Adam, seating himself solemnly, and preparing to obey, "Iconfess I'm a hungered, and the pasty hath a savoury odour; but I praythee to tell me why I am called Sir John. Adam is my baptismal name."

  "Ha! ha! good--very good, your honour--to be sure, and your father'sname before you. We are all sons of Adam, and every son, I trow, has ajust right and a lawful to his father's name."

  With that, followed by the housekeeper, the honest landlord, chucklingheartily, rolled his goodly bulk from the chamber, which he carefullylocked.

  "Comprehendest thou yet, Sibyll?"

  "Yes, dear sir and father, they mistake us for fugitives of mark andimportance; and when they discover their error, no doubt we shall gofree. Courage, dear father!"

  "Me seemeth," quoth Adam, almost merrily, as the good man filled his cupfrom the wine flagon, "me seemeth that, if the mistake could continue,it would be no weighty misfortune; ha! ha!" He stopped abruptly in theunwonted laughter, put down the cup; his face fell. "Ah, Heaven forgiveme!--and the poor Eureka and faithful Madge!"

  "Oh, Father! fear not; we are not without protection. Lord Hastings isreturned to London,--we will seek him; he will make our cruel neighboursrespect thee. And Madge--poor Madge!--will be so happy at our return,for they could not harm her,--a woman, old and alone; no, no, man is notfierce enough for that."

  "Let us so pray; but thou eatest not, child."

  "Anon, Father, anon; I am sick and weary. But, nay--nay, I am betternow,--better. Smile again, Father. I am hungered, too; yes, indeed andin sooth, yes. Ah, sweet Saint Mary, give me life and strength, and hopeand patience, for his dear sake!"

  The stirring events which had within the last few weeks diversifiedthe quiet life of the scholar had somewhat roused him from his wontedabstraction, and made the actual world a more sensible and living thingthan it had hitherto seemed to his mind; but now, his repast ended, thequiet of the place (for the inn was silent and almost deserted) with thefumes of the wine--a luxury he rarely tasted--operated soothingly uponhis thought and fancy, and plunged him into those reveries, so dearalike to poet and mathematician. To the thinker the most triflingexternal object often suggests ideas, which, like Homer's chain, extend,link after link; from earth to heaven. The sunny motes, that in aglancing column came through the lattice, called Warner from the realday,--the day of strife and blood, with thousands hard by driving eachother to the Hades,--and led his scheming fancy into the ideal andabstract day,--the theory of light itself; and the theory suggestedmechanism, and mechanism called up the memory of his oracle, old RogerBacon; and that memory revived the great friar's hints in the Opusmagnus,--hints which outlined the grand invention of the telescope; andso, a
s over some dismal precipice a bird swings itself to and fro uponthe airy bough, the schoolman's mind played with its quivering fancy,and folded its calm wings above the verge of terror.

  Occupied with her own dreams, Sibyll respected those of her father; andso in silence, not altogether mournful, the morning and the noon passed,and the sun was sloping westward, when a confused sound below calledSibyll's gaze to the lattice, which looked over the balustrade of thestaircase into the vast yard. She saw several armed men, their harnesshewed and battered, quaffing ale or wine in haste, and heard one of themsay to the landlord,--

  "All is lost! Sir Geoffrey Gates still holds out, but it is butcherwork. The troops of Lord Hastings gather round him as a net round thefish!"

  Hastings!--that name!--he was at hand! he was near! they would be saved!Sibyll's heart beat loudly.

  "And the captain?" asked Porpustone.

  "Alive, when I last saw him; but we must be off. In another hour allwill be hurry and skurry, flight and chase." At this moment from one ofthe barns there emerged, one by one, the female vultures of the battle.The tymbesteres, who had tramped all night to the spot, had sleptoff their fatigue during the day, and appeared on the scene as theneighbouring strife waxed low, and the dead and dying began to cumberthe gory ground. Graul Skellet, tossing up her timbrel, darted to thefugitives and grinned a ghastly grin when she heard the news,--for thetymbesteres were all loyal to a king who loved women, and who had a winkand a jest for every tramping wench! The troopers tarried not, however,for further converse, but, having satisfied their thirst, hurried andclattered from the yard. At the sight of the ominous tymbesteres Sibyllhad drawn back, without daring to close the lattice she had opened; andthe women, seating themselves on a bench, began sleeking their long hairand smoothing their garments from the scraps of straw and litter whichbetokened the nature of their resting-place.

  "Ho, girls!" said the fat landlord, "ye will pay me for board and bed,I trust, by a show of your craft. I have two right worshipful lodgersup yonder, whose lattice looks on the yard, and whom ye may serve todivert."

  Sibyll trembled, and crept to her father's side.

  "And," continued the landlord, "if they like the clash of your musicals,it may bring ye a groat or so, to help ye on your journey. By the way,whither wend ye, wenches?"

  "To a bonny, jolly fair," answered the sinister voice of Graul,--

  "Where a mighty SHOWMAN dyes The greenery into red; Where, presto! at the word Lies his Fool without a head; Where he gathers in the crowd To the trumpet and the drum, With a jingle and a tinkle, Graul's merry lasses come!"

  As the two closing lines were caught by the rest of the tymbesteres,striking their timbrels, the crew formed themselves into a semicircle,and commenced their dance. Their movements, though wanton and fantastic,were not without a certain wild grace; and the address with which,from time to time, they cast up their instruments and caught themin descending, joined to the surprising agility with which, in theevolutions of the dance, one seemed now to chase, now to fly from, theother, darting to and fro through the ranks of her companions, windingand wheeling,--the chain now seemingly broken in disorder, nowunited link to link, as the whole force of the instruments clashed inchorus,--made an exhibition inexpressibly attractive to the vulgar.

  The tymbesteres, however, as may well be supposed, failed to drawSibyll or Warner to the window; and they exchanged glances of spite anddisappointment.

  "Marry," quoth the landlord, after a hearty laugh at the diversion, "Ido wrong to be so gay, when so many good friends perhaps are lying starkand cold. But what then? Life is short,--laugh while we can!"

  "Hist!" whispered his housekeeper; "art wode, Ned? Wouldst thou haveit discovered that thou hast such quality birds in the cage--nobleYorkists--at the very time when Lord Hastings himself may be riding thisway after the victory?"

  "Always right, Meg,--and I'm an ass!" answered the host, in the sameundertone. "But my good nature will be the death of me some day. Poorgentlefolks, they must be unked dull, yonder!"

  "If the Yorkists come hither,--which we shall soon know by thescouts,--we must shift Sir John and the damsel to the back of the house,over thy tap-room."

  "Manage it as thou wilt, Meg; but thou seest they keep quiet and snug.Ho, ho, ho! that tall tymbestere is supple enough to make an owl holdhis sides with laughing. Ah! hollo, there, tymbesteres, ribaudes,tramps, the devil's chickens,--down, down!"

  The host was too late in his order. With a sudden spring, Graul, who hadlong fixed her eye on the open lattice of the prisoners, had wreathedherself round one of the pillars that supported the stairs, swunglightly over the balustrade; and with a faint shriek the startled Sibyllbeheld the tymbestere's hard, fierce eyes, glaring upon her through thelattice, as her long arm extended the timbrel for largess. But no soonerhad Sibyll raised her face than she was recognized.

  "Ho, the wizard and the wizard's daughter! Ho, the girl who glamourslords, and wears sarcenet and lawn! Ho, the nigromancer who starves thepoor!"

  At the sound of their leader's cry, up sprang, up climbed the hellishsisters! One after the other, they darted through the lattice into thechamber.

  "The ronions! the foul fiend has distraught them!" groaned the landlord,motionless with astonishment; but the more active Meg, calling to thevarlets and scullions, whom the tymbesteres had collected in the yard,to follow her, bounded up the stairs, unlocked the door, and arrivedin time to throw herself between the captives and the harpies, whomSibyll's rich super-tunic and Adam's costly gown had inflamed into allthe rage of appropriation.

  "What mean ye, wretches?" cried the bold Meg, purple with anger. "Doye come for this into honest folk's hostelries, to rob their guests inbroad day--noble guests--guests of mark! Oh, Sir John! Sir John! whatwill ye think of us?"

  "Oh, Sir John! Sir John!" groaned the landlord, who had now moved hisslow bulk into the room. "They shall be scourged, Sir John! They shallbe put in the stocks, they shall be brent with hot iron, they--"

  "Ha, ha!" interrupted the terrible Graul, "guests of mark! noble guests,trow ye! Adam Warner, the wizard, and his daughter, whom we drove lastnight from their den, as many a time, sisters, and many, we have driventhe rats from charnel and cave."

  "Wizard! Adam! Blood of my life!" stammered the landlord, "is his nameAdam after all?"

  "My name is Adam Warner," said the old man, with dignity, "no wizard--ahumble scholar, and a poor gentleman, who has injured no one. Wherefore,women--if women ye are--would ye injure mine and me?"

  "Faugh, wizard!" returned Graul, folding her arms. "Didst thou not sendthy spawn, yonder, to spoil our mart with her gittern? Hast thou nottaught her the spells to win love from the noble and young? Ho, howdaintily the young witch robes herself! Ho, laces and satins, and weshiver with the cold, and parch with the heat--and--doff thy tunic,minion!"

  And Graul's fierce gripe was on the robe, when the landlord interposedhis huge arm, and held her at bay.

  "Softly, my sucking dove, softly! Clear the room and be off!"

  "Look to thyself, man. If thou harbourest a wizard against law,--awizard whom King Edward hath given up to the people,--look to thybarns,--they shall burn; look to thy cattle,--they shall rot; look tothy secrets,--they shall be told. Lancastrian, thou shalt hang! We go!we go! We have friends amongst the mailed men of York. We go,--we willreturn! Woe to thee, if thou harbourest the wizard and the succuba!"

  With that Graul moved slowly to the door. Host and housekeeper, varlet,groom, and scullion made way for her in terror; and still, as she moved,she kept her eyes on Sibyll, till her sisters, following in successivefile, shut out the hideous aspect: and Meg, ordering away her gapingtrain, closed the door.

  The host and the housekeeper then gazed gravely at each other. Sibylllay in her father's arms breathing hard and convulsively. The old man'sface bent over her in silence. Meg drew aside her master. "You must ridthe house at once of these folks. I have heard talk of yon tymbesteres;they are awsome in spi
te and malice. Every man to himself!"

  "But the poor old gentleman, so mild, and the maid, so winsome!"

  The last remark did not over-please the comely Meg. She advanced at onceto Adam, and said shortly,--

  "Master, whether wizard or not is no affair of a poor landlord, whosehouse is open to all; but ye have had food and wine,--please to pay thereckoning, and God speed ye; ye are free to depart."

  "We can pay you, mistress!" exclaimed Sibyll, springing up. "We havemoneys yet. Here, here!" and she took from her gipsire the broad pieceswhich poor Madge's precaution had placed therein, and which the bravoeshad fortunately spared.

  The sight of the gold somewhat softened the housewife. "Lord Hastings isknown to us," continued Sibyll, perceiving the impression she hadmade; "suffer us to rest here till he pass this way, and ye will findyourselves repaid for the kindness."

  "By my troth," said the landlord, "ye are most welcome to all my poorhouse containeth; and as for these tymbesteres, I value them not astraw. No one can say Ned Porpustone is an ill man or inhospitable.Whoever can pay reasonably is sure of good wine and civility at theTalbot."

  With these and many similar protestations and assurances, which wereless heartily re-echoed by the housewife, the landlord begged to conductthem to an apartment not so liable to molestation; and after having ledthem down the principal stairs, through the bar, and thence up a narrowflight of steps, deposited them in a chamber at the back of the house,and lighted a sconce therein, for it was now near the twilight. Hethen insisted on seeing after their evening meal, and vanished with hisassistant. The worthy pair were now of the same mind; for guests knownto Lord Hastings it was worth braving the threats of the tymbesteres;especially since Lord Hastings, it seems, had just beaten theLancastrians.

  But alas! while the active Meg was busy on the hippocras, and the worthylandlord was inspecting the savoury operations of the kitchen, a vastuproar was heard without. A troop of disorderly Yorkist soldiers, whohad been employed in dispersing the flying rebels, rushed helter-skelterinto the house, and poured into the kitchen, bearing with them thedetested tymbesteres, who had encountered them on their way. Among thesesoldiers were those who had congregated at Master Sancroft's the daybefore, and they were well prepared to support the cause of theirgriesly paramours. Lord Hastings himself had retired for the night toa farmhouse nearer the field of battle than the hostel; and as in thosedays discipline was lax enough after a victory, the soldiers had a rightto license. Master Porpustone found himself completely at the mercyof these brawling customers, the more rude and disorderly from theremembrance of the sour beer in the morning, and Graul Skellet'sassurances that Master Porpustone was a malignant Lancastrian. They laidhands on all the provisions in the house, tore the meats from the spit,devouring them half raw; set the casks running over the floors; andwhile they swilled and swore, and filled the place with the uproar of ahell broke loose, Graul Skellet, whom the lust for the rich garments ofSibyll still fired and stung, led her followers up the stairs towardsthe deserted chamber. Mine host perceived, but did not dare openly toresist the foray; but as he was really a good-natured knave, and as,moreover, he feared ill consequences might ensue if any friends of LordHastings were spoiled, outraged,--nay, peradventure murdered,--in hishouse, he resolved, at all events, to assist the escape of his guests.Seeing the ground thus clear of the tymbesteres, he therefore stole fromthe riotous scene, crept up the back stairs, gained the chamber to whichhe had so happily removed his persecuted lodgers, and making them, in afew words, sensible that he was no longer able to protect them, andthat the tymbesteres were now returned with an armed force to back theirmalice, conducted them safely to a wide casement only some three or fourfeet from the soil of the solitary garden, and bade them escape and savethemselves.

  "The farm," he whispered, "where they say my Lord Hastings is quarteredis scarcely a mile and a half away; pass the garden wicket, leaveGladsmore Chase to the left hand, take the path to the right, throughthe wood, and you will see its roof among the apple-blossoms. Our Ladyprotect you, and say a word to my lord on behalf of poor Ned."

  Scarce had he seen his guests descend into the garden before he heardthe yell of the tymbesteres, in the opposite part of the house, asthey ran from room to room after their prey. He hastened to regain thekitchen; and presently the tymbesteres, breathless and panting, rushedin, and demanded their victims.

  "Marry," quoth the landlord, with the self-possession of a cunning oldsoldier-"think ye I cumbered my house with such cattle after prettylasses like you had given me the inkling of what they were? No wizardshall fly away with the sign of the Talbot, if I can help it. Theyskulked off I can promise ye, and did not even mount a couple ofbroomsticks which I handsomely offered for their ride up to London."

  "Thunder and bombards!" cried a trooper, already half-drunk, and seizingGraul in his iron arms, "put the conjuror out of thine head now, andbuss me, Graul, buss me!"

  Then the riot became hideous; the soldiers, following their comrade'sexample, embraced the grim glee-women, tearing and hauling them to andfro, one from the other, round and round, dancing, hallooing, chanting,howling, by the blaze of a mighty fire,--many a rough face and hard handsmeared with blood still wet, communicating the stain to the cheeks andgarb of those foul feres, and the whole revel becoming so unutterablyhorrible and ghastly, that even the veteran landlord fled from the spot,trembling and crossing himself. And so, streaming athwart the lattice,and silvering over that fearful merry-making, rose the moon.

  But when fatigue and drunkenness had done their work, and the soldiersfell one over the other upon the floor, the tables, the benches, intothe heavy sleep of riot, Graul suddenly rose from amidst the huddledbodies, and then, silently as ghouls from a burial-ground, her sistersemerged also from their resting-places beside the sleepers. The dyinglight of the fire contended but feebly with the livid rays of the moon,and played fantastically over the gleaming robes of the tymbesteres.They stood erect for a moment, listening, Graul with her finger onher lips; then they glided to the door, opened and reclosed it, dartedacross the yard, scaring the beasts that slept there; the watch-dogbarked, but drew back, bristling, and showing his fangs, as Red Grisell,undaunted, pointed her knife, and Graul flung him a red peace-sop ofmeat. They launched themselves through the open entrance, gained thespace beyond, and scoured away to the battlefield.

  Meanwhile, Sibyll and her father were still under the canopy of heaven,they had scarcely passed the garden and entered the fields, when theysaw horsemen riding to and fro in all directions. Sir Geoffrey Gates,the rebel leader, had escaped; the reward of three hundred marks was seton his head, and the riders were in search of the fugitive. The humanform itself had become a terror to the hunted outcasts; they crept undera thick hedge till the horsemen had disappeared, and then resumed theirway. They gained the wood; but there again they halted at the soundof voices, and withdrew themselves under covert of some entangledand trampled bushes. This time it was but a party of peasants, whomcuriosity had led to see the field of battle, and who were now returninghome. Peasants and soldiers both were human, and therefore to be shunnedby those whom the age itself put out of the pale of law. At last theparty also left the path free; and now it was full night. They pursuedtheir way, they cleared the wood; before them lay the field of battle;and a deeper silence seemed to fall over the world! The first stars hadrisen, but not yet the moon. The gleam of armour from prostrate bodies,which it had mailed in vain, reflected the quiet rays; here and thereflickered watchfires, where sentinels were set, but they were scatteredand remote. The outcasts paused and shuddered, but there seemed noholier way for their feet; and the roof of the farmer's homesteadslept on the opposite side of the field, amidst white orchard blossoms,whitened still more by the stars. They went on, hand in hand,--thedead, after all, were less terrible than the living. Sometimes a stern,upturned face, distorted by the last violent agony, the eyes unclosedand glazed, encountered them with its stony stare; but the weapon waspowerless in the stiff hand,
the menace and the insult came not fromthe hueless lips; persecution reposed, at last, in the lap of slaughter.They had gone midway through the field, when they heard from a spotwhere the corpses lay thickest piled, a faint voice calling upon God forpardon; and, suddenly, it was answered by a tone of fiercer agony,--thatdid not pray, but curse.

  By a common impulse, the gentle wanderers moved silently to the spot.

  The sufferer in prayer was a youth scarcely passed from boyhood: hishelm had been cloven, his head was bare, and his long light hair,clotted with gore, fell over his shoulders. Beside him lay astrong-built, powerful form, which writhed in torture, pierced underthe arm by a Yorkist arrow, and the shaft still projecting from thewound,--and the man's curse answered the boy's prayer.

  "Peace to thy parting soul, brother!" said Warner, bending over the man.

  "Poor sufferer!" said Sibyll to the boy; "cheer thee, we will sendsuccour; thou mayest live yet!"

  "Water! water!--hell and torture!--water, I say!" groaned the man; "onedrop of water!"

  It was the captain of the maurauders who had captured the wanderers.

  "Thine arm! lift me! move me! That evil man scares my soul from heaven!"gasped the boy.

  And Adam preached penitence to the one that cursed, and Sibyll kneltdown and prayed with the one that prayed. And up rose the moon!

  Lord Hastings sat with his victorious captains--over mead, morat, andwine--in the humble hall of the farm.

  "So," said he, "we have crushed the last embers of the rebellion! ThisSir Geoffrey Gates is a restless and resolute spirit; pity he escapesagain for further mischief. But the House of Nevile, that overshadowedthe rising race, hath fallen at last,--a waisall, brave sirs, to the newmen!"

  The door was thrown open, and an old soldier entered abruptly.

  "My lord! my lord! Oh, my poor son! he cannot be found! The women, whoever follow the march of soldiers, will be on the ground to despatch thewounded, that they may rifle the corpses! O God! if my son, my boy, myonly son--"

  "I wist not, my brave Mervil, that thou hadst a son in our bands; yet Iknow each man by name and sight. Courage! Our wounded have been removed,and sentries are placed to guard the field."

  "Sentries! O my lord, knowest thou not that they wink at the crime thatplunders the dead? Moreover, these corpse-riflers creep stealthily andunseen, as the red earth-worms, to the carcass. Give me some few of thymen, give me warrant to search the field! My son, my boy--not sixteensummers--and his mother!"

  The man stopped, and sobbed.

  "Willingly!" said the gentle Hastings, "willingly! And woe to thesentries if it be as thou sayest! I will go myself and see! Torchesthere--what ho!--the good captain careth even for his dead!--Thy son! Imarvel I knew him not! Whom served he under?"

  "My lord! my lord! pardon him! He is but a boy--they misled him! hefought for the rebels. He crossed my path to-day, my arm was raised; weknew each other, and he fled from his father's sword! Just as the strifewas ended I saw him again, I saw him fall!--Oh, mercy, mercy! do not lethim perish of his wounds or by the rifler's knife, even though a rebel!"

  "Homo sum!" quoth the noble chief; "I am a man; and, even in thesebloody times, Nature commands when she speaks in a father's voice!Mervil, I marked thee to-day! Thou art a brave fellow. I meant theeadvancement; I give thee, instead, thy son's pardon, if he lives; tenMasses if he died as a soldier's son should die, no matter under whatflag,--antelope or lion, pierced manfully in the breast, his feet to thefoe! Come, I will search with thee!"

  The boy yielded up his soul while Sibyll prayed, and her sweet voicesoothed the last pang; and the man ceased to curse while Adam spoke ofGod's power and mercy, and his breath ebbed, gasp upon gasp, away. Whilethus detained, the wanderers saw not pale, fleeting figures, that hadglided to the ground, and moved, gleaming, irregular, and rapid, asmarsh-fed vapours, from heap to heap of the slain. With a loud, wildcry, the robber Lancastrian half sprung to his feet, in the paroxysm ofthe last struggle, and then fell on his face, a corpse!

  The cry reached the tymbesteres, and Graul rose from a body from whichshe had extracted a few coins smeared with blood, and darted to thespot; and so, as Adam raised his face from contemplating the dead, whoselast moments he had sought to soothe, the Alecto of the battlefieldstood before him, her knife bare in her gory arm. Red Grisell, who hadjust left (with a spurn of wrath--for the pouch was empty) the corpse ofa soldier, round whose neck she had twined her hot clasp the day before,sprang towards Sibyll; the rest of the sisterhood flocked to the place,and laughed in glee as they beheld their unexpected prey. The dangerwas horrible and imminent; no pity was seen in those savage eyes. Thewanderers prepared for death--when, suddenly, torches flashed overthe ground. A cry was heard, "See, the riflers of the dead!" Armed menbounded forward, and the startled wretches uttered a shrill, unearthlyscream, and fled from the spot, leaping over the carcasses, and doublingand winding, till they had vanished into the darkness of the wood.

  "Provost!" said a commanding voice, "hang me up those sentinels atday-break!"

  "My son! my boy! speak, Hal,--speak to me. He is here, he is found!"exclaimed the old soldier, kneeling beside the corpse at Sibyll's feet.

  "My lord! my beloved! my Hastings!" And Sibyll fell insensible beforethe chief.