Books: The Herd Boy and His Hermit
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Herd Boy and His Hermit
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'I know nothing of young lords,' sulkily growled Anne, who had been
hitherto busy with her pets, striking her hand on the table.
'And I tell thee, Bertram Selby,' exclaimed the Prioress, 'that if
thou art ware of a poor fatherless lad lurking in hiding in these
parts, it is not the part of an honest man to seek him out for his
destruction, and still less to try to make the maid he rescued betray
him. Well done, little Anne, thou knowest how to hold thy tongue.'
'Reverend Mother,' expostulated Bertram, 'if you knew what some would
give to be on the scent of the wolf-cub!'
'I know not, nor do I wish to know, for what price a Selby would sell
his honour and his bowels of mercy,' said Mother Agnes. 'Come away,
Nan; thou hast done well.'
Bertram muttered something about having thought her a better Yorkist,
women not understanding, and mischief that might be brewing; but the
Prioress, taking Anne by the hand, went her way, leaving Bertram
standing confused.
'Oh, mother,' sighed Anne, 'do you think he will go after him? He
will think I was treacherous!'
'I doubt me whether he will dare,' said the Prioress. 'Moreover, it
is too late in the day for a search, and another snow-shower seems
coming up again. I cannot turn the youth, my kinsman, from my door,
and he is safer here than on his quest, but he shall see no more of
thee or me to-night. I may hold that Edward of March has the right,
but that does not mean hunting down an orphan child.'
'Mother, mother, you are good indeed!' cried Anne, almost weeping for
joy.
Bertram, though hurt and offended, was obliged by advance of evening
to remain all night in the hospitium, with only the chaplain to bear
him company, and it was reported that though he rode past Blackpool,
no trace of shepherd or hovel was found.
CHAPTER V. MOTHER AND SON
My own, my own, thy fellow-guest
I may not be, but rest thee, rest--
The lowly shepherd's life is best.--WORDSWORTH.
The Lady Threlkeld stood in the lower storey of her castle, a sort of
rough-built hall or crypt, with a stone stair leading upward to the
real castle hall above, while this served as a place where she met
her husband's retainers and the poor around, and administered to
their wants with her own hands, assisted by the maidens of her
household.
Among the various hungry and diseased there limped in a sturdy beggar
with a wallet on his back, and a broad shady hat, as though on
pilgrimage. He was evidently a stranger among the rest, and had his
leg and foot bound up, leaning heavily on a stout staff.
'Italy pilgrim, what ails thee?' demanded the lady, as he approached
her.
'Alack, noble dame! we poor pilgrims must ever be moving on, however
much it irks foot and limb, over these northern stones,' he answered,
and his accent and tone were such that a thrill seemed to pass over
the lady's whole person, but she controlled it, and only said, 'Tarry
till these have received their alms, then will I see to thee and thy
maimed foot. Give him a stool, Alice, while he waits.'
The various patients who claimed the lady's assistance were attended
to, those who needed food were relieved, and in due time the hall was
cleared, excepting of the lady, an old female servant, and Hob, who
had sat all the time with his foot on a stool, and his back against
the wall, more than half asleep after the toils and long journey of
the night.
Then the Lady Threlkeld came to him, and making him a sign not to
rise, said aloud, 'Good Gaffer, let me see what ails thy leg.' Then
kneeling down and busying herself with the bandages, she looked up
piteously in his face, with the partly breathed inquiry, 'My son?'
'Well, my lady, and grown into a stalwart lad,' was Hob's answer,
with an eye on the door, and in a voice as low as his gruff tones
would permit.
'And wherefore? What is it?' she asked anxiously. 'Be they on the
track of my poor boy?'
'They may be,' answered Hob, 'wherefore I deemed it well to shift our
quarters. As hap would have it, the lad fell upon a little wench
lost in the mosses, and there was nothing for it but to bring her
home for the night. I would have had her away as soon as day dawned,
and no questions asked, but the witches, or the foul fiend himself,
must needs bring up a snow-storm, and there was nothing for it but to
let her bide in the cot all day, giving tongue as none but womenfolk
can do; and behold she is the child of the Lord St. John of Bletso.'
'Nay, what should bring her north?'
'She wonnes at Greystone with the wild Prioress Selby, who lost her
out hawking. Her father is a black Yorkist. I saw him up to his
stirrups in blood at St. Albans!'
'But sure my boy did not make himself known to her?' exclaimed the
lady.
'I trow not. He has been well warned, and is a lad of his word; but
the two bairns, left to themselves, could scarce help finding out
that each was of gentle blood and breeding, and how much more my
goodwife cannot tell. I took the maid back so soon as it was safe
yester morn, and sent back my young lord, much against his will,
half-way to Greystone. And well was it I did so, for he was scarce
over the ridge when a plump of spears came in sight on the search for
him, and led by the young squire of Selby.'
'Ah! and if the damsel does but talk, even if she knows nought, the
foe will draw their conclusions!' said the lady, clasping her hands.
'Oh, would that I had sent him abroad with his little brothers!'
'Nay, then might he have fallen into the hands of Bletso himself, and
they say Burgundy is all for the Yorkists now,' said Hob. 'This is
what I have done, gracious lady. I bade my good woman carry off all
she could from the homestead and burn the rest; and for him we wot
on, I sent him and his flock off westward, appointing each of them
the same trysting-place--on the slope beneath Derwent Hill, my lady--
whence I thought, if it were your will and the good knight Sir
Lancelot's, we might go nigher to the sea and the firth, where the
Selby clan have no call, being at deadly feud with the Ridleys. So
if the maiden's tongue goes fast, and the Prioress follows up the
quest with young Selby, they will find nought for their pains.'
'Thou art a good guardian, Hob! Ah! where would my boy be save for
thee? And thou sayest he is even now at the very border of the
forest ground! Sure, there can be no cause that I should not go and
see him. My heart hungers for my children. Oh, let me go with
thee!'
'Sir Lancelot--' began Hob.
'He is away at the Warden's summons. He will scarce be back for a
week or more. I will, I must go with thee, good Hob.'
'Not in your own person, good madam,' stipulated Hob. 'As thou
knowest, there are those in Sir Lancelot's following who might be too
apt to report of secret visits, and that were as ill as the Priory
folk.'
It was then decided that the lady should put on the disguise of a
countrywoman bringing eggs and meat to sell at the castle, and meet
Hob near the postern, whence a path led to Penrith.
Hob, having received a lump of oatcake and a draught of very small
ale, limped out of the court, and, so soon as he could find a
convenient spot behind the gorse bushes, divested himself of his
bandages, and changed the side of his shepherd's plaid to one much
older and more weather-beaten; also his pilgrim's hat for one in his
pouch--a blue bonnet, more like the national Scottish head-gear,
hiding the hat in the gorse.
Then he lay down and waited, where he could see a window, whence a
red kerchief was to be fluttered to show when the lady would be ready
for him to attend her. He waited long, for she had first to disarm
suspicion by presiding at the general meal of the household, and
showing no undue haste.
At last, though not till after he had more than once fallen asleep
and feared that he had missed the signal, or that his wife and 'Hal'
might be tempted to some imprudence while waiting, he beheld the
kerchief waving in the sunset light of the afternoon, and presently,
shrouded in such a black and white shepherd's maud as his own, and in
a russet gown with a basket on her arm, his lady came forth and
joined him.
His first thought was how would she return again, when the darkness
was begun, but her only answer was, 'Heed not that! My child, I must
see.'
Indeed, she was almost too breathless and eager with haste, as he
guided her over the rough and difficult path, or rather track, to
answer his inquiries as to what was to be done next. Her view,
however, agreed with his, that they must lurk in the borders of the
woodland for a day or two till Sir Lancelot's return, when he would
direct them to a place where he could put them under the protection
of one of the tenants of his manor. It was a long walk, longer than
Hob had perhaps felt when he had undertaken to conduct the lady
through it, for ladies, though inured to many dangers in those days,
were unaccustomed to travelling on their own feet; but the mother's
heart seemed to heed no obstacle, though moments came when she had to
lean heavily on her companion, and he even had to lift her over
brooks or pools; but happily the sun had not set when they made their
way through the tangles of the wood, and at last saw before them the
fitful glow of a fire of dead leaves, branches and twigs, while the
bark of a dog greeted the rustling, they made.
'Sweetheart, my faithful!' then shouted Hob, and in another moment
there was a cry, 'Ha! Halloa! Master Hob--beest there?'
'His voice!--my son's!' gasped the lady, and sank for a moment of
overwhelming joy against the faithful retainer, while the shaggy dog
leapt upon them both.
'Ay, lad, here--and some one else.'
The boy crashed through the underwood, and stood on the path in a
moment's hesitation. Mother and son were face to face!
The years that had passed had changed the lad from almost a babe into
a well-grown strong boy but the mother was little altered, and as she
held out her arms no word was wasted ere he sprang into them, and his
face was hidden on her neck as when he knew his way into her embrace
of old!
When the intense rapturous hold was loosed they were aware of
Goodwife Dolly looking on with clasped hands and streaming eyes,
giving thanks for the meeting of her dear lady and the charge whom
she and her husband had so faithfully kept.
When the mother and son had leisure to look round, and there was a
pleased survey of the boy's height and strength, Goodwife Dolly came
forward to beg the lady to come to her fire, and rest under the gipsy
tent which she and nephew Piers--her _real_ herd-boy, a rough,
shaggy, almost dumb and imbecile lad--had raised with branches, skins
and canvas, to protect their few articles of property. There was a
smouldering fire, over which Doll had prepared a rabbit which the dog
had caught, and which she had intended for Hal's supper and that of
her husband if he came home in time. While the lady lavished thanks
upon her for all she had done for the boy she was intent on improving
the rude meal, so as to strengthen her mistress after her long walk,
and for the return. The lady, however, could see and think of
nothing but her son, while he returned her tearful gaze with open
eyes, gathering up his old recollections of her.
'Mother!' he said--with a half-wondering tone, as the recollections
of six years old came back to him more fully, and then he nestled
again in her arms as if she were far more real to him than at first--
'Mother!' And then, as she sobbed over him, 'The little one?'
'The babe is well, when last I heard of her, in a convent at York.
Thou rememberest her?'
'Ay--my little sister! Ay,' he said, with a considering
interrogative sound, 'I mind her well, and old Bunce too, that taught
me to ride.'
But Hob interrupted the reminiscences by bringing up the pony on
which Anne had ridden, and insisting that the lady should not tarry
longer. 'He,' indicating Hal, might walk beside her through the
wood, and thus prolong their interview, but, as she well knew, it was
entirely unsafe to remain any longer away from the castle.
There were embraces and sobbing thanks exchanged between the lady and
her son's old nurse, and then Hal, at a growling hint from Hob, came
forward, and awkwardly helped her to her saddle. He walked by her
side through the wood, holding her rein, while Hob, going before, did
his best in the twilight to clear away the tangled branches and
brambles that fell across the path, and were near of striking the
lady across the face as she rode.
On the way she talked to her son about his remembrances, anxious to
know how far his dim recollections went of the old paternal castle in
Bedfordshire, of his infant sister and brother, and his father. Of
him he had little recollection, only of being lifted in his arms,
kissed and blessed, and seeing him ride away with his troop, clanking
in their armour. After that he remembered nothing, save the being
put into a homelier dress, and travelling on Nurse Dolly's lap in a
wain, up and down, it seemed to him, for ever, till at last clearer
recollections awoke in him, and he knew himself as Hal the shepherd's
boy, with the sheep around him, and the blue starry sky above him.
'Dost thou remember what thou wast called in those times?' asked his
mother.
'I was always Hal. The little one was Meg,' he said.
'Even so, my boy, my dear boy! But knowst thou no more than this?'
'Methinks, methinks there were serving-men that called me the young
Lord. Ay, so! But nurse said I must forget all that. Mother dear,
when that maiden came and talked of tilts and lances, meseemed that I
recollected somewhat. Was then my father a knight?'
'Alack! alack! my child, that thou shouldst not know!'
'Memories came back with that maiden's voice and thine,' said Hal, in
a bewildered tone. 'My father! Was he then slain when he rode
farther?'
'Ah! I may tell thee now thou art old enough to guard thyself,' she
said. 'Thy father, whom our blessed Lord assoilzie, was the Lord
Clifford, slain by savage hands on Towton field for his faith to King
Harry! Thou, my poor boy, art the Baron of Clifford, though while
this cruel House of York be in power thou must keep in hiding from
them in this mean disguise. Woe worth the day!'
'And am I then a baron--a lord?' said the boy. 'Great lords have
books. Were there not some big ones on the hall window seats? Did
not Brother Eldred begin to teach me my letters? I would that I
could go on to learn more!'
'Oh, I would that thou couldst have all knightly training, and learn
to use sword and lance like thy gallant father!'
'Nay, but I saw a poor man fall off his horse and lie hurt, I do not
want those hard, cruel ways. And my father was slain. Must a lord
go to battle?'
'Boy, boy, thou wilt not belie thy Clifford blood,' cried the lady in
consternation, which was increased when he said, 'I have no mind to
go out and kill folks or be killed. I had rather mark the stars and
tend my sheep.'
'Alack! alack! This comes of keeping company with the sheep. That
my son, and my lord's son, should be infected with their sheepish
nature!'
'Never fear, madam,' said Hob. 'When occasion comes, and strength is
grown, his blood will show itself.'
'If I could only give him knightly breeding!' sighed the lady. 'Sir
Lancelot may find the way. I cannot see him grow up a mere shepherd
boy.'
'Content you, madam,' said Hob. 'Never did I see a shepherd boy with
the wisdom and the thought there is in that curly pate!'
'Wisdom! thought!' muttered the lady. 'Those did not save our good
King, only made him a saint. I had rather hear the boy talk of sword
and lance than prate of books and stars! And that wench, whom to our
misfortune thou didst find! What didst tell her?'
'I told her nought, mother, for I had nought to tell.'
'She scented mystery, though,' said Hob. 'She saw he was no herd
boy.'
'Nay? Though he holds himself like a lout untrained! Would that I
could have thee in hand, my son, to make thee meet to tread in thy
brave father's steps! But now, comrade of sheep thou art, and I fear
me thou wilt ever be! But that maid, I trust that she perceived
nothing in thy bearing or speech?'
'She will not betray whatever she perceived,' said Hal stoutly.
The wood was by this time nearly past, and the moment of parting had
come. The lady had decided on going on foot to the little grey stone
church whose low square tower could be seen rising like another rock.
Thither she could repair in her plaid, and by-and-by throw it off,
and return in her own character to the castle, as though she had gone
forth to worship there. When lifted off the shaggy pony she threw
her arms round Hal, kissed him passionately, and bade him never
breathe a word of it, but never to forget that a baron he was, and
bound to be a good brave knight, fit to avenge his father's death!
Hal came to understand from Dolly's explanations that his recent
abode had been on the estate of his grandfather, Baron de Vesci, at
Londesborough, but his mother had since married Sir Lancelot
Threlkeld, and had intimated that her boy should be removed thither
as soon as might be expedient, and therefore the house on the
Yorkshire moor had been broken up.
CHAPTER VI. A CAUTIOUS STEPFATHER
Thou tree of covert and of rest
For this young bird that was distrest.--WORDSWORTH.
A baron--bound to be a good knight, and to avenge my father's death!
What does it all mean?' murmured Hal to himself as he lay on his back
in the morning sunshine, on the hill-side, the wood behind him, and
before him a distance of undulating ground, ending in the straight
mysterious blue-grey line that Hob Hogward had told him was the sea.
'Baron! Lord Clifford, like my father! He was a man in steel
armour; I remember how it rang, and how his gorget--yes, that was the
thing round his throat--how it hurt me when he lifted me up to kiss
me, and how they blamed me for crying out. Ay, and he lived in a
castle with dark, dull, narrow chambers, all save the hall, where
there was ever a tramping and a clamouring, and smells of hot burning
meat, and horses, and all sorts of things, and they sat and sat over
their meat and wine, and drank health to King Harry and the Red Rose.
I mind now how they shouted and roared, and how I wanted to go and
hide on the stairs, and my father would have me shout with them, and
drink confusion to York out of his cup, and shook me and cuffed me
when I cried. Oh! must one be like that to be a knight? I had
rather live on these free green hills with the clear blue sky above
me, and my good old ewe for my comrade'--and he fell to caressing the
face of an old sheep which had come up to him, a white, mountain-
bleached sheep with fine and delicate limbs. 'Yes, I love thee,
good, gentle, little ewe, and thee, faithful Watch,' as a young
collie pressed up to him, thrusting a long nose into his hand, 'far
better than those great baying hounds, or the fierce-eyed hawks that
only want to kill. If I be a baron, must it be in that sort?
Avenge! avenge! what does that mean? Is it, as in Goodwife Dolly's
ballads, going forth to kill? Why should I? I had rather let them
be! Hark! Yea, Watch,' as the dog pricked his ears and raised his
graceful head, then sprang up and uttered a deep-mouthed bark. The
sheep darted away to her companions, and Hal rose to his feet, as the
dog began to wave his tail, and Hob came forward accompanied by a
tall, grave-looking gentleman. 'Here he be, sir. Hal, come thou and
ask the blessing of thy knightly stepfather.'
Hal obeyed the summons, and coming forward put a knee to the ground,
while Sir Lancelot Threlkeld uttered the conventional blessing,
adding, 'Fair son, I am glad to see thee. Would that we might be
better acquainted, but I fear it is not safe for thee to come and be
trained for knighthood in my poor house. Thou art a well grown lad,
I rejoice to see, and strong and hearty I have no doubt.'
'Ay, sir, he is strong enow, I wis; we have done our best for him,'
responded Hob, while Hal stood shy and shamefaced; but there was
something about his bearing that made Sir Lancelot observe, 'Ay, ay,
he shows what he comes of more than his mother made me fear. Only
thou must not slouch, my fair son. Raise thy head more. Put thy
shoulders back. So! so! Nay.'
Poor Hal tried to obey, the colour mounting in his face, but he only
became more and more stiff when he tried to be upright, and his
expression was such that Sir Lancelot cried out, 'Put not on the
visage of one of thine own sheep! Ah! how shalt thou be trained to
be a worthy knight? I cannot take thee to mine house, for I have men
there who might inform King Edward that thy mother harboured thee.
And unless I could first make interest with Montagu or Salisbury,
that would be thy death, if not mine.'
The boy had nothing to say to this, and stood shy by, while his
stepfather explained his designs to Hal. It was needful to remove
the young Baron as far as possible from the suspicion of the greater
part of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld's household, and the present resting-
place, within a walk of his castle, was therefore unsafe; besides
that, freebooters might be another danger, so near the outskirts of
the wood, since the northern districts of moor and wood were by no
means clear of the remnants of the contending armies, people who were
generally of the party opposite to that which they intended to rob.
But on the banks of the Derwent, not far from its fall into the sea,
Sir Lancelot had granted a tenure to an old retainer of the De
Vescis, who had followed his mistress in her misfortunes; and on his
lands Hob Hogward might be established as a guardian of the herds
with his family, which would excite no suspicion. Moreover, he could
train the young Baron in martial exercises, the only other way of
fitting him for his station unless he could be sent to France or
Burgundy like his brother; but besides that the journey was a
difficulty, it was always uncertain whether there would be revengeful
exiles of one or other side in the service of their King, who might
wreak the wrongs of their party on Clifford's eldest son. There was
reported to be a hermit on the coast, who, if he was a scholar, might
teach the young gentleman. To Sir Lancelot's surprise, his stepson's
face lighted up more at this suggestion than at that of being trained
in arms.
Hob had done nothing in that way, not even begun to teach him the
quarterstaff, though he avouched that when there was cause the young
lord was no craven, no more than any Clifford ever was--witness when
he drove off the great hound, which some said was a wolf, when it
fell upon the flock, or when none could hold him from climbing down
the Giant's Cliff after the lamb that had fallen. No fear but he had
heart enough to make his hand keep his own or other folks' heads.
'That is well,' said Sir Lancelot, looking at the lad, who stood
twisting his hands in the speechless silence induced by being the
subject of discussion; 'but it would be better, as my lady saith, if
he could only learn not to bear himself so like a clown.'
However, there was no more time, for Simon Bunce, the old man-at-arms
whom Sir Lancelot had appointed to meet him there, came in sight
through the trees, riding an old grey war-horse, much resembling
himself in the battered and yet strong and effective air of both.
Springing down, the old man bent very low before the young Baron,
raising his cap as he gave thanks to Heaven for permitting him to see
his master's son. Then, after obeisance to his present master, he
and Hob eagerly shook hands as old comrades and fellow-soldiers who
had thought never to meet again.
Then turning again to the young noble, he poured out his love,
devotion and gratitude for being able to serve his beloved lord's
noble son; while poor Hal stood under the discomfort of being
surrounded with friends who knew exactly what to say and do to him,
their superior, while he himself was entirely at a loss how to show
himself gracious or grateful as he knew he ought to do. It was a
relief when Sir Lancelot said 'Enough, good Simon! Forget his
nobility for the present while he goes with thee to Derwentside as
herd boy to Halbert Halstead here; only thou must forget both their
names, and know them only as Hal and Hob.'
With a gesture of obedience, Simon listened to the further
directions, and how he was to explain that these south country folks
had been sent up in charge of an especial flock of my lady's which
she wished to have on the comparatively sheltered valley of the
Derwent. Perhaps further directions as to the training of the young
Baron were added later, but Hal did not hear them. He was glad to be
dismissed to find Piers and gather the sheep together in preparation
for the journey to their new quarters. Yet he did not fail to hear
the sigh with which his stepfather noted that his parting salutation
was far too much in the character of the herd boy.
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