Books: The Lances Of Lynwood
C >>
Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Lances Of Lynwood
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13
For a day or two Gaston d'Aubricour's fever ran very high, and just
when its violence was beginning to diminish, a fresh access was
occasioned by the journey from Burgos to Valladolid, whither he was
carried in a litter, when the army, by Pedro's desire, marched thither
to await his promised subsidy. The unwholesome climate was of most
pernicious effect to the whole of the English army, and in especial
to the Black Prince, who there laid the foundation of the disorder
which destroyed his health. Week after week passed on, each adding
heat to the summer, and increasing the long roll of sick and dying in
the camp, while Gaston still lay, languid and feeble by day, and
fevered by night; there were other patients among the men-at-arms,
requiring scarcely less care; and the young Knight himself, though,
owing to his temperate habits, he had escaped the prevailing sickness,
was looking thin and careworn with the numerous troubles and anxieties
that were pressing on him.
Still he had actually lost not one of his men, and after the first
week or two, began to have more confidence in himself, and to feel
his place as their commander more than he would have done had Gaston
been able to assist him. At last his trusty Squire began slowly to
recover, though nightly returns of fever still kept him very weak.
"The Pyrenean breezes would make me another man," said he, one evening,
when Eustace had helped him to the front of the tent, where he might
enjoy the coolness which began to succeed the sultry heat of the day.
"I hear," said Eustace, "that we are to return as soon as the Prince
can be moved. He is weary of waiting till this dog of a Spaniard
will perform his contract."
"By my faith," said d'Aubricour, "I believe the butcherly rogue means
to cancel his debts by the death of all his creditors. I would give
my share of the pay, were it twenty times more, for one gust of the
mountain air of my own hills."
"Which way lies your home, Gaston?" asked Eustace. "Near the pass by
which we crossed?"
"No; more to the west. My home, call you it? You would marvel to
see what it is now. A shattered, fire-scathed keep; the wolf's den in
earnest, it may be. It is all that is left of the Castle d'Albricorte."
How?" exclaimed Eustace. "What brought this desolation?"
"Heard you never my story?" said Gaston. "Mayhap not. You are
fresh in the camp, and it is no recent news, nor do men question
much whence their comrades come. Well, Albricorte was always a
noted house for courage, and my father, Baron Beranger, not a whit
behind his ancestors. He called himself a liegeman of England,
because England was farthest off, and least likely to give him any
trouble, and made war with all his neighbours in his own fashion.
Rare was the prey that the old Black Wolf of the Pyrenees was wont
to bring up to his lair, and right merry were the feastings there.
Well I do remember how my father and brothers used to sound their
horns as a token that they did not come empty-handed, and then,
panting up the steep path, would come a rich merchant, whose ransom
filled our purses half a year after, or a Knight, whose glittering
armour made him a double prize, or--"
"What! you were actually--"
"Freebooters, after the fashion of our own Quatre fils Aymon,"
answered Gaston, composedly. "Yes, Beranger d'Albricorte was the
terror of all around, and little was the chance that aught would
pursue him to his den. So there I grew up, as well beseemed the
cub of such a wolf, racing through the old halls at my will."
"Your mother?" asked Eustace.
"Ah! poor lady! I remember her not. She died when I was a babe,
and all I know of her was from an old hag, the only woman in the
Castle, to whom the charge of me was left. My mother was a noble
Navarrese damsel whom my father saw at a tourney, seized, and bore
away as she was returning from the festival. Poor lady! our grim
Castle must have been a sad exchange from her green valleys--and
the more, that they say she was soon to have wedded the Lord of
Montagudo, the victor of that tourney. The Montagudos had us in
bitter feud ever after, and my father always looked like a
thunderstorm if their name was spoken. They say she used to
wander on the old battlements like a ghost, ever growing thinner
and whiter, and scarce seemed to joy even in her babes, but would
only weep over them. That angered the Black Wolf, and there were
chidings which made matters little better, till at last the poor
lady pined away, and died while I was still an infant."
"A sad tale," said Eustace.
"Ay! I used to weep at it, when the old crone who nursed me would
tell it over as I sat by her side in the evening. See, here is
holy relic that my mother wore round her neck, and my nurse hung
round mine. It has never been parted from me. So I grew up to the
years of pagehood, which came early with me, and forth I went on my
first foray with the rest of them. But as we rode joyously home
with our prey before us, a band of full a hundred and fifty men-at-
arms set on us in the forest. Our brave thirty--down they went on
all side. I remember the tumult, the heavy mace uplifted, and my
father's shield thrust over me. I can well-nigh hear his voice
saying, 'Flinch not, Gaston, my brave wolf-cub!' But then came a
fall, man and horse together, and I went down stunned, and knew no
more till a voice over me said, 'That whelp is stirring--another
sword-thrust!' But another replied, 'He bears the features of
Alienor, I cannot slay him'"
"It was your mother's lover?"
"Montagudo? Even so; and I was about to beg for mercy, but, at my
first movement, the other fellow's sword struck me back senseless
once more, and when I recovered my wits, all was still, and the
moonlight showed me where I was. And a fair scene to waken to!
A score of dark shapes hung on the trees--our trusty men-at-arms
--and my own head was resting on my dead father's breast. Us they
had spared from hanging--our gentle blood did us that service; but
my father and my three brethren all were stone dead. The Count de
Bearn had sworn to put an end to the ravages of the Black Wolf,
and, joining with the Montagudos, had done the work, like traitor
villains as they were."
"And yourself, Gaston?"
"I was not so badly wounded but that I could soon rise to my feet
--but where should I go? I turned towards the Castle, but the
Bearnese had been there before me, and I saw flames bursting
from every window. I was weak and wounded, and sank down,
bleeding and bewailing, till my senses left me; and I should have
died, but for two Benedictines journeying for the service of their
Convent. The good brethren were in fear for their bags in going
through the Black Wolf's country, but they had pity on me; they
brought me to myself, and when they had heard my tale, they
turned aside to give Christian burial to my father and brothers.
They were holy men, those monks, and, for their sakes, I have
spared the cowl ever since. They tended me nearly as well as
you have done, and brought me to their Convent, where they would
fain have made a monk of me, but the wolf was too strong in me,
and, ere a month was passed, I had been so refractory a pupil,
that they were right glad to open the Convent gates. I walked
forth to seek my fortune, without a denier, with nothing but the
sword I had taken from my father's hand, and borne with me, much
against the good men's will. I meant to seek service with any
one who would avenge me on the Count de Bearn. One night I slept
on the hill-side, one day I fasted, the next I fell in with Sir
Perduccas d'Albret's troop. I had seen him in my father's company.
He heard my tale, saw me a strong, spirited lad, and knew a
d'Aubricour would be no discredit to his free lances. So he took
me as his page, and thence--but the tale would be long--I became
what you see me."
"And you have never seen your own Castle again?"
"But once. D'Albret laughed when I called on him to revenge me
on the Count de Bearn, and bade me bide my time till I met him in
battle. As to my heritage, there was no hope for that. Once, when
I had just broken with Sir Nele Loring, and left his troop, and
times were hard with me, I took my horse and rode to Albricorte,
but there was nought but the bare mountain, and the walls black
with fire. There was, indeed, a wretched shepherd and his wife,
who trembled and looked dismayed when they found that one of the
Albricortes still lived; but I could get nothing from them, unless
I had taken a sheep before me on the saddle; so I rode off again
to seek some fresh service, and, by good hap, lit on Sir Reginald
just as old Harwood was dead. All I have from my father is my
name, my shield, and an arm that I trust has disgraced neither."
"No, indeed. Yours is a strange history, Gaston; such as we dream
not of in our peaceful land. Homeless, friendless, I know not how
you can be thus gay spirited?"
"A light heart finds its way through the world the easiest," said
Gaston, smiling. "I have nothing to lose, and no sorrows to waste
time on. But are you not going forth this cool evening, Sir
Eustace? you spoke of seeking fresh tidings of the Prince."
Eustace accordingly walked forth, attended by his yeoman, John Ingram;
but all he could learn was, that Edward had sent a remonstrance to the
King of Castile on the delay of the subsidy.
CHAPTER VII
As Eustace was returning, his attention was caught by repeated groans,
which proceeded from a wretched little hovel almost level with the
earth. "Hark!" said he to Ingram, a tall stout man-at-arms from the
Lynwood estate. "Didst thou not hear a groaning?"
"Some of the Castilians, Sir. To think that the brutes should be
content to live in holes not fit for swine!"
"But methought it was an English tongue. Listen, John!"
And in truth English ejaculations mingled with the moans: "To St.
Joseph of Glastonbury, a shrine of silver! Blessed Lady of Taunton,
a silver candlestick! Oh! St. Dunstan!"
Eustace doubted no longer; and stooping down and entering the hut,
he beheld, as well as the darkness would allow him, Leonard Ashton
himself, stretched on some mouldy rushes, and so much altered, that
he could scarcely have been recognized as the sturdy, ruddy youth
who had quitted the Lances of Lynwood but five weeks before.
"Eustace! Eustace!" he exclaimed, as the face of his late companion
appeared. "Can it be you? Have the saints sent you to my succour?"
"It is I, myself, Leonard," replied Eustace; "and I hope to aid you.
How is it--"
"Let me feel your hand, that I may be sure you are flesh and blood,"
cried Ashton, raising himself and grasping Eustace's hand between his
own, which burnt like fire; then, lowering his voice to a whisper of
horror, "She is a witch!"
"Who?" asked Eustace, making the sign of the cross.
Leonard pointed to a kind of partition which crossed the hut, beyond
which Eustace could perceive an old hag-like woman, bending over a
cauldron which was placed on the fire. Having made this effort, he
sank back, hiding his face with his cloak, and trembling in every
limb. A thrill of dismay passed over the Knight, and the giant,
John Ingram, stood shaking like an aspen, pale as death, and crossing
himself perpetually. "Oh, take me from this place, Eustace,"
repeated Leonard, "or I am a dead man, both body and soul!"
"But how came you here, Leonard?"
"I fell sick some three days since, and--and, fearing infection, Sir
William Felton bade me be carried from his lodgings; the robbers,
his men-at-arms, stripped me of all I possessed, and brought me to
this dog-hole, to the care of this old hag. Oh, Eustace, I have
heard her mutter prayers backwards; and last night--oh! last night!
at the dead hour, there came in a procession--of that I would take
my oath--seven black cats, each holding a torch with a blue flame,
and danced around me, till one laid his paw upon my breast, and
grew and grew, with its flaming eyes fixed on me, till it was as
big as an ox, and the weight was intolerable, the while her spells
were over me, and I could not open my lips to say so much as an Ave
Mary. At last, the cold dew broke out on my brow, and I should have
been dead in another instant, when I contrived to make the sign of
the Cross, whereat they all whirled wildly round, and I fell--oh!
I fell miles and miles downwards, till at last I found myself, at
morning's light, with the hateful old witch casting water in my
face. Oh, Eustace, take me away!"
Such were the times, that Eustace Lynwood, with all his cool sense
and mental cultivation, believed implicitly poor Leonard's delirious
fancy--black cats and all; and the glances he cast at the poor old
Spaniard were scarcely less full of terror and abhorrence, as he
promised Leonard, whom he now regarded only in the light of his old
comrade, that he should, without loss of time, be conveyed to his
own tent.
"But go not--leave me not," implored Leonard, clinging fast to him,
almost like a child to its nurse, with a hand which was now cold
as marble.
"No; I will remain," said Eustace; "and you, Ingram, hasten to bring
four of the men with the litter in which Master d'Aubricour came from
Burgos. Hasten I tell you."
"Ingram, with his eyes dilated with horror, appeared but too anxious
to quit this den, yet lingered. "I leave you not here, Sir Knight."
"Thanks, thanks, John," replied the youth; "but remain I must, and
will. As a Christian man, I defy the foul fiend and all his
followers!"
John departed. Never was Leonard so inclined to rejoice in his
friend's clerkly education, or in his knighthood, which was then
so much regarded as a holy thing, that the presence of one whose
entrance into the order was so recent was deemed a protection.
The old woman, a kind-hearted creature in the main, though,
certainly forbidding-looking in her poverty and ugliness, was
rejoiced to see her patient visited by a friend. She came towards
them, addressing Eustace with what he took for a spell, though,
had he understood Spanish he would have found it a fine flowing
compliment. Leonard shrank closer to him, pressed his hand
faster, and he, again crossing himself, gave utterance to a charm.
Spanish, especially old Castilian, had likeness enough to Latin
for the poor old woman to recognize its purport; she poured out
a voluble vindication, which the two young men believed to be an
attempt at further bewitching them. Eustace, finding his Latin
rather the worse for wear, had recourse to all the strange rhymes,
or exorcisms, English, French, or Latin, with which his memory
supplied him. Thanks to these, the sorceress was kept at bay,
and the spirits of his terrified companion were sustained till
the arrival of all the Lances of Lynwood, headed by Gaston
himself, upon his mule, in the utmost anxiety for his Knight,
looking as gaunt and spectral as the phantoms they dreaded. He
blessed the saints when Eustace came forth safe and sound, and
smiled and shook his head with an arch look when Leonard was
carried out; but his never-failing good-nature prevented him
from saying a word which might savour of reproach when he saw
to what a condition the poor youth was reduced. As four stout
men-at-arms took up the litter, the old woman, coming forth to
her threshold, uttered something which his knowledge of the
Romanesque tongues of Southern France enabled him to interpret
into a vindication of her character, and a request for a reward
for her care of the sick Englishman.
"Throw her a gold piece, Sir Eustace, or she may cast at you an
evil eye. There, you old hag," he added in the Provencal patois,
"take that, and thank your stars that 'tis not with a fire that
your tender care, as you call it, is requited."
The men-at-arms meditated ducking the witch after their own English
fashion, but it was growing late and dark, and the Knight gave strict
orders that they should keep together in their progress to their own
tents. Here Leonard was deposited on the couch which Gaston insisted
on giving up to him; but his change of residence appeared to be of
little advantage, for the camp was scarce quiet for the night, before
he shrieked out that the black cats were there. Neither Eustace nor
Gaston could see them, but that was only a proof that they were not
under the power of the enchantment, and John Ingram was quite sure
that he had not only seen the sparkle of their fiery eyes, but felt
the scratch of their talons, which struck him to the ground, with his
foot caught in the rope of the tent, while he was walking about with
his eyes shut.
The scratch was actually on his face the next morning, and he set out
at the head of half the Lances of Lynwood to find the poor old woman,
and visit her with condign punishment; but she was not forthcoming,
and they were obliged to content themselves with burning her house,
assisted by a host of idlers. In the meantime, Sir Eustace had called
in the aid of the clergy: the chaplains of the camp came in procession,
sprinkled the patient's bed with holy water, and uttered an exorcism,
but without availing to prevent a third visit from the enemy. After
this, however, Leonard's fever began to abate, and he ceased to be
haunted.
He had been very ill; and, thoroughly alarmed, he thought himself
dying, and bitterly did he repent of the headstrong insubordination
and jealously which had lead him to quit his best and only friend.
He had not, indeed, the refinement of feeling which would have made
Eustace's generosity his greatest reproach; he clung to him as his
support, and received his attentions almost as a right; but still he
was sensible that he had acted like a fool, and that such friendship
was not to be thrown away; and when he began to recover he showed
himself subdued, to a certain degree grateful, and decidedly less
sullen and more amenable to authority.
In the meantime, the Prince of Wales found himself sufficiently
recovered to undertake to return to Aquitaine, and, weary of the
treacherous delays and flagrant crimes of his ally, he resolved
to quit this fatal land of Castile.
There was a general cry of joy throughout the camp when orders were
given that the tents should be struck and the army begin its march
in the early coolness of the next morning; and, without further
adventure, the Black Prince led his weakened and reduced forces
over the Pyrenees back into France. Here they were again dispersed,
as the war was at an end; and the young Sir Eustace Lynwood received
high commendation from the Prince, and even from Chandos himself,
for being able to show his brother's band as complete in numbers
and discipline as on the day when it was given into his charge.
"This," as Chandos said, "was a service which really showed him
worthy of his spurs, if he would but continue the good course."
The peace with France, however, prevented the Prince from being
desirous of keeping up the Lances of Lynwood, and he therefore
offered to take their young leader into his own troop of Knights,
who were maintained at his own table, and formed a part of his
state; and so distinguished was this body, that no higher favour
could have been offered. Edward likewise paid to Sir Eustace a
considerable sum as the purchase of his illustrious captive, and
this, together with the ransoms of the two other prisoners, enabled
him to reward the faithful men-at-arms, some of whom took service
with other Knights, and others returned to England. Leonard Ashton
having no pleasant reminiscences of his first campaign, and having
been stripped of all his property by his chosen associates, was
desirous of returning to his father; and Eustace, after restoring
his equipments to something befitting an Esquire of property, and
liberally supplying him with the expenses of his journey, bade
him an affectionate farewell, and saw him depart, not without
satisfaction at no longer feeling himself accountable for his
conduct.
"There he goes," said Gaston, "and I should like to hear the tales
he will amaze the good Somersetshire folk with. I trow he will
make them believe that he took Du Guesclin himself, and that the
Prince knighted you by mistake."
"His tale of the witches will be something monstrous," said Eustace;
"but still, methinks he is much the better for his expedition: far
less crabbed in temper, and less clownish in manners."
"Ay," said Gaston, "if he were never to be under any other guidance
than yours, I think the tough ash-bough might be moulded into
something less unshapely. You have a calmness and a temper such as
he cannot withstand, nor I understand. 'Tis not want of spirit, but
it is that you never seem to take or see what is meant for affront.
I should think it tameness in any other."
"Well, poor fellow, I wish he may prosper," said Eustace. "But now,
Gaston, to our own affairs. Let us see what remains of the gold."
"Ah! your bounty to our friend there has drawn deeply on our purse,"
said Gaston.
"It shall not be the worse for you, Gaston, for I had set aside these
thirty golden crowns for you before I broke upon my own store. It is
not such a recompense as Reginald or I myself would have wished after
such loving and faithful service; but gold may never recompense truth."
"As for recompense," said Gaston, "I should be by a long score the
debtor if we came to that. If it had not been for Sir Reginald, I
should be by this time a reckless freebooter, without a hope in this
world or the next; if it had not been for you, these bones of mine
would long since have been picked by my cousins, the Spanish wolves.
But let the gold tarry in your keeping: it were better King Edward's
good crowns should not be, after all else that has been, in my hands."
"But, Gaston, you will need fitting out for the service of Sir
William Beauchamp."
"What! What mean you, Sir Eustace?" cried Gaston. "What have I
done that you should dismiss me from your followers?"
"Nay, kind Gaston, it were shame that so finished a Squire should be
bound down by my poverty to be the sole follower of a banner which
will never again be displayed at the head of such a band as the
Lances of Lynwood."
"No, Sir Eustace, I leave you not. Recall your brother's words, 'Go
not back to old ways and comrades,' quoth he; and if you cast me off,
what else is left for me? for having once served a banneret, no other
shall have my service. Where else should I find one who would care
a feather whether I am dead or alive? So there it ends--put up your
pieces, or rather, give me one wherewith to purvey a new bridle for
Brigliador, for the present is far from worthy of his name."
Accordingly, the Gascon Squire still remained attached to Eustace's
service, while the trusty Englishman, John Ingram, performed the
more menial offices. Time sped away at the court of Bordeaux; the
gallant Du Guesclin was restored to liberty, after twice paying
away his ransom for the deliverance of his less renowned brethren
in captivity, and Enrique of Trastamare, returning to Castile, was
once more crowned by the inhabitants. His brother Pedro, attempting
to assassinate him, fell by his hand, and all the consequences of
the English expedition were undone--all, save the wasting disease
that preyed on England's heir, and the desolation at the orphaned
hearth of Lynwood Keep.
CHAPTER VIII
Two years had passed since the fight of Navaretta, when Sir Eustace
Lynwood received, by the hands of a Knight newly arrived from England,
a letter from Father Cyril, praying him to return home as soon as
possible, since his sister-in-law, Dame Eleanor, was very sick, and
desired to see him upon matters on which more could not be disclosed
by letter.
Easily obtaining permission to leave Bordeaux, he travelled safely
through France, and crossing from Brittany, at length found himself
once more in Somersetshire. It was late, and fast growing dark,
when he rode through Bruton; but, eager to arrive, he pushed on,
though twilight had fast faded into night, and heavy clouds, laden
with brief but violent showers, were drifting across the face of
the moon. On they rode, in silence, save for Gaston's execrations
of the English climate, and the plashing of the horses' feet in the
miry tracks, along which, in many places, the water was rushing in
torrents.
At length they were descending the long low hill, or rather
undulation, leading to the wooded vale of Lynwood, and the bright
lights of the Keep began to gleam like stars in the darkness--stars
indeed to the eager eyes of the young Knight, who gazed upon them
long and affectionately, as he felt himself once more at home. "I
wonder," said he, "to see the light strongest towards the east end
of the Castle! I knew not that the altar lights in the chapel could
be seen so far!" Then riding on more quickly, and approaching more
nearly, he soon lost sight of them behind the walls, and descending
the last little rising ground, the lofty mass of building rose huge
and black before him.
He wound his bugle and rode towards the gate, but at the moment he
expected to cross the drawbridge, Ferragus suddenly backed, and he
perceived that it was raised. "This is some strange chance!" said
he, renewing the summons, but in vain, for the echoes of the
surrounding woods were the only reply. "Ralph must indeed be deaf!"
said he.
Pages:
1 |
2 |
3 |
4 | 5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13