CHAPTER X
A noble girl, i' faith. Heart! I think I fight with a familiar, or the ghost of a fencer. Call you this an amorous visage? Here's blood that would have served me these seven years, in broken heads and cut fingers, and now it runs out all together.--MIDDLETON. Roaring Girl.
Prince John sat down impatiently before Arlingford castle in the hopeof starving out the besieged; but finding the duration of their suppliesextend itself in an equal ratio with the prolongation of his hope,he made vigorous preparations for carrying the place by storm. Heconstructed an immense machine on wheels, which, being advanced to theedge of the moat, would lower a temporary bridge, of which one end wouldrest on the bank, and the other on the battlements, and which, beingwell furnished with stepping boards, would enable his men to ascend theinclined plane with speed and facility. Matilda received intimation ofthis design by the usual friendly channel of a blunt arrow, which musteither have been sent from some secret friend in the prince's camp,or from some vigorous archer beyond it: the latter will not appearimprobable, when we consider that Robin Hood and Little John could shoottwo English miles and an inch point-blank,
Come scrive Turpino, che non erra.
The machine was completed, and the ensuing morning fixed for theassault. Six men, relieved at intervals, kept watch over it duringthe night. Prince John retired to sleep, congratulating himself inthe expectation that another day would place the fair culprit at hisprincely mercy. His anticipations mingled with the visions of hisslumber, and he dreamed of wounds and drums, and sacking and firingthe castle, and bearing off in his arms the beautiful prize through themidst of fire and smoke. In the height of this imaginary turmoil, heawoke, and conceived for a few moments that certain sounds which rang inhis ears, were the continuation of those of his dream, in that sortof half-consciousness between sleeping and waking, when reality andphantasy meet and mingle in dim and confused resemblance. He was,however, very soon fully awake to the fact of his guards calling on himto arm, which he did in haste, and beheld the machine in flames, anda furious conflict raging around it. He hurried to the spot, and foundthat his camp had been suddenly assailed from one side by a party offoresters, and that the baron's people had made a sortie on the other,and that they had killed the guards, and set fire to the machine, beforethe rest of the camp could come to the assistance of their fellows.
The night was in itself intensely dark, and the fire-light shed aroundit a vivid and unnatural radiance. On one side, the crimson lightquivered by its own agitation on the waveless moat, and on the bastionsand buttresses of the castle, and their shadows lay in massy blacknesson the illuminated walls: on the other, it shone upon the woods,streaming far within among the open trunks, or resting on the closerfoliage. The circumference of darkness bounded the scene on all sides:and in the centre raged the war; shields, helmets, and bucklers gleamingand glittering as they rang and clashed against each other; plumesconfusedly tossing in the crimson light, and the messy light and shadethat fell on the faces of the combatants, giving additional energy totheir ferocious expression.
John, drawing nearer to the scene of action, observed two young warriorsfighting side by side, one of whom wore the habit of a forester, theother that of a retainer of Arlingford. He looked intently on them both:their position towards the fire favoured the scrutiny; and the hawk'seye of love very speedily discovered that the latter was the fairMatilda. The forester he did not know: but he had sufficient tact todiscern that his success would be very much facilitated by separatingher from this companion, above all others. He therefore formed a partyof men into a wedge, only taking especial care not to be the point ofit himself, and drove it between them with so much precision, that theywere in a moment far asunder.
"Lady Matilda," said John, "yield yourself my prisoner."
"If you would wear me, prince," said Matilda, "you must win me:" andwithout giving him time to deliberate on the courtesy of fighting withthe lady of his love, she raised her sword in the air, and lowered it onhis head with an impetus that would have gone nigh to fathom even thatextraordinary depth of brain which always by divine grace furnishes theinterior of a head-royal, if he had not very dexterously parried theblow. Prince John wished to disarm and take captive, not in any way towound or injure, least of all to kill, his fair opponent. Matilda wasonly intent to get rid of her antagonist at any rate: the edge of herweapon painted his complexion with streaks of very unloverlike crimson,and she would probably have marred John's hand for ever signing MagnaCharta, but that he was backed by the advantage of numbers, and that hersword broke short on the boss of his buckler. John was following up hisadvantage to make a captive of the lady, when he was suddenly felled tothe earth by an unseen antagonist. Some of his men picked him carefullyup, and conveyed him to his tent, stunned and stupified.
When he recovered, he found Harpiton diligently assisting in hisrecovery, more in the fear of losing his place than in that of losinghis master: the prince's first inquiry was for the prisoner he hadbeen on the point of taking at the moment when his habeas corpus wasso unseasonably suspended. He was told that his people had been on thepoint of securing the said prisoner, when the devil suddenly appearedamong them in the likeness of a tall friar, having his grey frockcinctured with a sword-belt, and his crown, which whether it were shavenor no they could not see, surmounted with a helmet, and flourishing aneight-foot staff, with which he laid about him to the right and to theleft, knocking down the prince and his men as if they had been somany nine-pins: in fine, he had rescued the prisoner, and made a clearpassage through friend and foe, and in conjunction with a chosenparty of archers, had covered the retreat of the baron's men and theforesters, who had all gone off in a body towards Sherwood forest.
Harpiton suggested that it would be desirable to sack the castle, andvolunteered to lead the van on the occasion, as the defenders werewithdrawn, and the exploit seemed to promise much profit and littledanger: John considered that the castle would in itself be a greatacquisition to him, as a stronghold in furtherance of his design on hisbrother's throne; and was determining to take possession with the firstlight of morning, when he had the mortification to see the castle burstinto flames in several places at once. A piteous cry was heard fromwithin, and while the prince was proclaiming a reward to any one whowould enter into the burning pile, and elucidate the mystery of thedoleful voice, forth waddled the little fat friar in an agony of fear,out of the fire into the frying-pan; for he was instantly taken intocustody and carried before Prince John, wringing his hands and tearinghis hair.
"Are you the friar," said Prince John, in a terrible voice, "thatlaid me prostrate in battle, mowed down my men like grass, rescued mycaptive, and covered the retreat of my enemies? And, not content withthis, have you now set fire to the castle in which I intended to take upmy royal quarters?"
The little friar quaked like a jelly: he fell on his knees, andattempted to speak; but in his eagerness to vindicate himself from thisaccumulation of alarming charges, he knew not where to begin; his ideasrolled round upon each other like the radii of a wheel; the words hedesired to utter, instead of issuing, as it were, in a right line fromhis lips, seemed to conglobate themselves into a sphere turning on itsown axis in his throat: after several ineffectual efforts, his utterancetotally failed him, and he remained gasping, with his mouth open, hislips quivering, his hands clasped together, and the whites of his eyesturned up towards the prince with an expression most ruefully imploring.
"Are you that friar?" repeated the prince.
Several of the by-standers declared that he was not that friar. Thelittle friar, encouraged by this patronage, found his voice, and pleadedfor mercy. The prince questioned him closely concerning the burning ofthe castle. The little friar declared, that he had been in too greatfear during the siege to know much of what was going forward, exceptthat he had been conscious during the last few days of a lamentabledeficiency of provisions, and had been present that very morning at thebroaching of the last butt o
f sack. Harpiton groaned in sympathy. Thelittle friar added, that he knew nothing of what had passed since tillhe heard the flames roaring at his elbow.
"Take him away, Harpiton," said the prince, "fill him with sack, andturn him out."
"Never mind the sack," said the little friar, "turn me out at once."
"A sad chance," said Harpiton, "to be turned out without sack."
But what Harpiton thought a sad chance the little friar thought a merryone, and went bounding like a fat buck towards the abbey of Rubygill.
An arrow, with a letter attached to it, was shot into the camp, andcarried to the prince. The contents were these:--
"Prince John,--I do not consider myself to have resisted lawfulauthority in defending my castle against you, seeing that you are atpresent in a state of active rebellion against your liege sovereignRichard: and if my provisions had not failed me, I would have maintainedit till doomsday. As it is, I have so well disposed my combustibles thatit shall not serve you as a strong hold in your rebellion. If you huntin the chases of Nottinghamshire, you may catch other game than mydaughter. Both she and I are content to be houseless for a time, inthe reflection that we have deserved your enmity, and the friendship ofCoeur-de-Lion.
"FITZWATER."
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