Books: The Lances Of Lynwood
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Charlotte M. Yonge >> The Lances Of Lynwood
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"Never," said Eustace. "His parents have trusted him to me, and
I will fulfil my promise. The scandal of the fray be on him who
occasions it."
"Recollect, my Lord," said Ashton, turning to Fulk, "that this may
be misrepresented. These young warriors are hot and fiery, and this
young Knight, they say, has succeeded to all his brother's favour
with the Prince."
"I will not be bearded by a boy," returned Clarenham, thrusting him
aside. "Hark you, Sir Eustace. You have been raised to a height
which has turned your head, your eyes have been dazzled by the
gilding of your spurs, and you have fancied yourself a man; but in
your own county and your own family, airs are not to be borne. We
rate you at what you are worth, and are not to be imposed on by idle
tales which the boastful young men of the Prince's court frame of
each other. Give up these pretensions, depart in peace to your
fellows at Bordeaux, and we will forget your insolent interference."
"Never, while I live," replied Eustace. "Vassals of Lynwood, guard
your young Lord."
"Vassals of Lynwood," said Fulk, will you see your young Lord carried
off to perish in some unknown region, and yourselves left a prey to
an adventurer and freebooter?"
"For that matter, my Lord," said an old farmer, "if all tales be true,
Master Arthur is like to learn less harm with Sir Eustace than in your
jolly household--I for one will stand by our good Lord's brother to
the last. What say you, comrades?"
"Hurrah for the Lances of Lynwood!" shouted John Ingram, and the cry
was taken up by many a gruff honest voice, till the hall rang again,
and the opposing shout of "a Clarenham, a Clarenham!" was raised by
the retainers of the Baron. Eustace, at the same moment, raised his
nephew in his arms, and lifted him up into the embrasure of one of
the high windows. Sir Philip Ashton still hung upon Clarenham,
pleading in broken sentences which were lost in the uproar: "Hold!
Hold! my Lord. Nay, nay, think but"--(here he was thrust roughly
aside by Fulk)--"Sir Eustace, do but hear--it will be a matter for
the council--in the name of the King--for the love of Heaven--Leonard,
son Leonard! for Heaven's sake what have you to do with the matter?
Down with that sword, and follow me! Dost not hear, froward boy?
Our names will be called in question! Leonard, on your duty--Ha!
have a care! there!"
These last words were broken short, as Gaston, rushing forwards to
his master's side, overthrew the table, which carried Sir Philip with
it in the fall, and he lay prostrate under the boards, a stumbling-
block to a stream of eager combatants, who one after another dashed
against him, fell, and either rose again, or remained kicking and
struggling with each other.
After several minutes' confused fighting, the tumult cleared away,
as it were, leaving the principals on each side opposite to each
other, and as the fortune of the day rested on their conflict, all
became gradually fixed in attention, resting upon their weapons, in
readiness at any moment to renew their own portion of the combat.
Fulk, tall and robust, had far more the appearance of strength than
his slenderly-made antagonist, but three years in the school of
chivalry had not been wasted by Eustace, and the sword of Du Guesclin
was in a hand well accustomed to its use. Old Ralph was uttering
under his breath ecstatic exclamations: "Ha! Well struck! A rare
foil--a perfect hit--Have a care--Ah! there comes my old blow--That
is right--Old Sir Henry's master-stroke-- There--one of your new
French backstrokes--but it told--Oh! have a care--The Saints guard--
Ay--There--Follow it up! Hurrah for Lynwood!" as Fulk tottered,
slipped, sank on one knee, and receiving a severe blow on the head
with the back of the sword, measured his length on the ground.
"Hurrah for Lynwood!" re-echoed through the hall, but Eustace cut
short the clamour at once, by saying, "Peace, my friends, and thanks!
Sir Fulk de Clarenham," he added, as his fallen foe moved, and began
to raise himself, "you have received a lesson, by which I hope you
will profit. Leave the house, whose mourning you have insulted, and
thank your relationship that I forbear to bring this outrage to the
notice of the King."
While Eustace spoke, Fulk had, by the assistance of two of his
retainers, recovered his feet; but though unwounded, he was so
dizzied with the blow as to be passive in their hands, and to
allow himself to be led into the court, and placed on his horse.
Before riding out of the gates, he turned round, and clenching
his fist, glanced malignantly at Eustace, and muttered, "You shall
aby it."
Another shout of "Down with the false Clarenham! Hurrah for the
Lances of Lynwood, and the brave young Knight!" was raised in the
court by the peasantry, among whom Fulk was so much hated, that not
even regard for their future welfare could prevent them from indulging
in this triumph. Probably, too, they expected the satisfaction of
drinking the health of the victor, for there were many disappointed
countenances when he spoke from the steps of the porch:--"Thanks for
your good-will, my friends. Fare ye well, depart in peace, and
remember your young Lord." Then turning to the parish Priest, he
added, in a low voice, "See that they leave the Castle as soon as
possible. The gates must be secured as soon as may be."
He turned back into the hall, and at the door was met by little
Arthur, who caught hold of his hand, exclaiming, "So you have
won me, and shall keep me forever, Uncle Eustace; but come in,
for here is poor old Sir Philip, who was thrown down under the
table in the scuffle, bemoaning himself most lamentably."
"Sir Philip hurt?" said Eustace, who, vexed as he was by Sir Philip's
behaviour, preserved a certain neighbourly hereditary respect for
him; "I trust not seriously," and he advanced towards the arm-chair,
where Sir Philip Ashton was sitting, attended by Father Cyril and a
man-at-arms, and groaning and complaining of his bruises, while at
the same time he ordered the horses to be brought out as speedily as
possible.
"Surely," said Eustace, "you should not be in such haste, Sir Philip.
I grieve that you should have met with this mishap. But you had
better remain here, and try what rest will do for you."
"Remain here!" said Sir Philip, almost shuddering. "Nay, nay, my
young Sir, I would not have you to remain here, nor any of us, for
longer space than the saddling of a horse. Alas! alas! my young
friend, I grieve for you. I loved your father well.--Look from the
window, Leonard. Are the horses led forth?"
"But why this haste?" asked Sir Eustace. "You are heavily bruised--
best let Father Cyril look to your hurts."
"Thanks, Sir Eustace; but--Ah! my back!--but I would not remain under
this roof for more than you could give me. I should but endanger
myself without benefiting you. Alas! alas! that I should have fallen
upon such a fray! I am sorry for you, my brave youth!"
"I thank you, Sir Philip, but I know not what I have done to deserve
your concern."
"Hot blood! wilful blood!" said Sir Philip, shaking his head. "Are
the horses come? Here! your hand, Leonard, help me to rise--Ah! ah!
not so fast--Oh! I shall never get over it! There--mind you, I did
all to prevent this unhappy business--I am clear of it! Fare you
well, Sir Eustace--take an old man's advice, give up the boy, and
leave the country before worse comes of it."
"What is likely to come of it?" said Eustace; "Clarenham made an
uncalled-for, unjust, shameless attempt to seize the person of
my ward. I repelled him by force of arms, and I think he would
scarce like to call the attention of justice to his own share in
the matter."
"Ah! well, you speak boldly, but before you have reached my years,
you will have learnt what it is to have for your foe the most mighty
man of the county--nay, of the court; for your foe, Lord de Clarenham,
is in close friendship with the Earl of Pembroke. Beware, my young
friend, beware!"
When the hall was clear of guests, a council was held between the
Knight, the Priest, and the two Esquires. Its result was, that
Arthur's person, as the most important point, should be secured,
by his uncle carrying him at once to the Prince's protection at
Bordeaux; but it was only with difficulty that Eustace was
prevailed on to fly, as he said, from his accusers. The good
Father had to say, with a smile, that after all there was as much
need for patience and submission under the helm as under the cowl,
before Eustace at length consented. Cyril meanwhile was to lay the
case before the Chancellor, William of Wykeham, and Eustace gave him
letters to the Duke of Lancaster and to Sir Richard Ferrars, in the
hopes of their recommending his suit.
Eustace then received from the hands of the Priest a bag of gold
coins, his portion as a younger son, part of which he gave to be
distributed in alms, part he still confided to Father Cyril's
keeping, and the rest he was to take away for present needs--and
they parted for the last night of his brief stay at Lynwood Keep.
CHAPTER X
In the early morning, Sir Eustace and his few followers were in
their saddles, little Arthur riding between his uncle and Gaston.
The chief part of the day was spent on the journey. They dined, to
Arthur's glee, on provisions they had brought with them, seated on
a green bank near a stream, and at evening found themselves at the
door of a large hostel, its open porch covered by a vine.
The host and his attendants ran out at first to meet them with
alacrity, but, on seeing them, appeared disappointed. And as the
Knight, dismounting, ordered supper and bed, the host replied that
he could indeed engage to find food, and to accommodate their
steeds, but that the whole of the inn had been secured on behalf
of two noble ladies and their train, who were each moment expected.
"Be it so," said Eustace; "a truss of hay beside our horses, or a
settle by the fire, is all we need. Here is a taste already of a
warrior's life for you, Arthur."
The boy was delighted, certain that to sleep beside his pony was far
more delightful, as well as more manly, than to rest in his bed, like
a lady at home.
As this was arranged, a sound of horses' feet approached, and a
band of men-at-arms rode up to the door. Arthur started and
seized his uncle's hand as he recognized the Clarenham colours
and badge, uttering an exclamation of dismay. "Never fear,
Arthur," said Eustace, "they come from the way opposite to ours.
It is not pursuit. See, it is an escort--there are ladies among
them."
"Four!" said Arthur. "Uncle, that tall dame in black must be the
Lady Muriel. And surely the white veil tied with rose-colour
belongs to kind Cousin Agnes."
"True! These are no Clarenhams to guard against," said Eustace to
his Squire, who looked ready for action. "Lady Muriel, the step-
mother of the Baron and his sister, is my godmother, and, by birth,
a Lynwood."
Then stepping forward, he assisted the elder lady to dismount; she
returned his courtesy by a slight inclination, as to a stranger,
but her companion, who had lightly sprung to the ground, no sooner
perceived him than she exclaimed, "Eustace!" then laying her hand
on Lady Muriel's arm, "Mother, it is Sir Eustace Lynwood."
"Ha! my gallant godson!" said the Baroness, greeting him cordially.
"Well met, brave youth! No wonder in that knightly figure I did not
know my kinswoman's little page. How does my gentle niece, Eleanor?"
"Alack! then you have not heard the tidings?" said Eustace.
"We heard long since she was sick with grief," said Lady Muriel, much
alarmed. "What mean you? Is she worse? You weep--surely she still
lives!"
"Ah! honoured dame, we come even now from laying her in her grave.
Here is her orphan boy."
Young Agnes could not restrain a cry of grief and horror, and trying
to repress her weeping till it should be without so many witnesses,
Lady Muriel and her bower-woman led her to their apartments in the
inn. Eustace was greatly affected by her grief. She had often
accompanied her step-mother on visits to Lynwood Keep in the peaceful
days of their childhood; she had loved no sport better than to sit
listening to his romantic discourses of chivalry, and had found in
the shy, delicate, dreamy boy, something congenial to her own quiet
nature; and, in short, when Eustace indulged in a vision, Agnes was
ever the lady of it, the pale slight Agnes, with no beauty save her
large soft brown eyes, that seemed to follow and take in every fancy
or thought of his. Agnes was looked down on,--her father thought she
would do him little honour,--her brother cared not for her; save for
her step-mother she would have met with little fostering attention,
and when Eustace saw her set aside and disregarded, his heart had
bounded with the thought that when he should lay his trophies at her
feet, Agnes would be honoured for his sake. But Eustace's honours
had been barren, and he could only look back with a sad heart to the
fancies of his youth, when he had deemed Knight-errantry might win
the lady of his love.
Eleanor had been one of the few who had known and loved the damsel
of Clarenham, and had encouraged her to lay aside her timidity.
Agnes wept for her as a sister, and still could hardly restrain
her sobs, when Eustace and his nephew were invited to the presence
of the ladies to narrate their melancholy tale.
Many tears were shed, and caresses lavished upon the orphan. The
ladies asked his destination, and on hearing that he was to be
taken to the Prince's court at Bordeaux, Agnes said, "We, too, are
bound to the Prince's court. I am to journey thither with Fulk.
Were it not better for Arthur to travel with us? Most carefully
would we guard him. It would spare him many a hardship, for which
he is scarce old enough; and his company would be a solace, almost
a protection to me. My pretty playfellow, will you be my travelling
companion?"
"I would go with you, Cousin Agnes, for you are kind and gentle, and
I love you well; but a brave Knight's son must learn to rough it;
and besides, I would not go with Sir Fulk, your brother, for he is
a false and cruel Knight, who persecuted my blessed mother to the
very death."
"Can this be? O speak, Eustace!" said Agnes. "What means the boy?
Hath Fulk shown himself other than a loving kinsman?"
The Baroness, who understood her step-son's character better than
did his young sister, and who was informed of the old enmity between
the two houses, felt considerable anxiety as to what they were now
to hear; when Eustace, beginning, "Ah, Lady, I grieve twice in the
day to sadden your heart; yet since so much has been said, it were
best to relate the whole truth," proceeded to tell what had passed
respecting the wardship of young Arthur. Agnes's eyes filled with
burning tears of indignation. "O dear Lady Mother!" cried she, "take
me back to our Convent! How can I meet my brother! How conceal my
anger and my shame!"
"This is far worse than even I feared," said Lady Muriel. "I knew
Fulk to be unscrupulous and grasping, but I did not think him capable
of such foul oppression. For you, my sweet Agnes--would that I could
prevail on him to leave you in the safe arms of the cloister-- but,
alas! I have no right to detain you from a brother's guardianship."
"I dreaded this journey much before," said Agnes; "but now, even my
trust in Fulk is gone; I shall see round me no one in whom to place
confidence. Alas! alas!"
"Nay, fair Agnes," said Eustace, "he will surely be a kind brother
to thee--he cannot be otherwise."
"How love and trust when there is no esteem? Oh, Mother, Mother!
this is loneliness indeed! In that strange, courtly throng, who
will protect and shelter me?"
"There is an Arm--" began the Baroness.
"Yes, noble Lady, there is one arm," eagerly exclaimed Eustace, "that
would only deem itself too much honoured if it could be raised in your
service."
"I spoke of no arm of flesh," said Lady Muriel, reprovingly--and
Eustace hung his head abashed. "I spake of the Guardian who will
never be wanting to the orphan."
There was a silence, first broken by Eustace. "One thing there is,
that I would fain ask of your goodness," said he: "many a false tale,
many a foul slander, will be spoken of me, and many may give heed to
them; but let that be as it will, they shall not render my heart
heavy while I can still believe that you give no ear to them."
"Sir Eustace," said the Lady of Clarenham, "I have known you from
childhood, and it would go hard with me to believe aught dishonourable
of the pupil of Sir Reginald and of Eleanor."
"Yes, Sir Eustace," added Agnes, "it would break my heart to distrust
you; for then I must needs believe that faith, truth, and honour had
left the world."
"And now," said Lady Muriel, who thought the conversation had been
sufficiently tender to fulfil all the requirements of the connection
of families, and of their old companionship, "now, Agnes, we must
take leave of our kind kinsman, since, doubtless, he will desire to
renew his journey early to-morrow."
Eustace took the hint, and bent his knee to kiss the hands which
were extended to him by the two ladies; then left the room, feeling,
among all the clouds which darkened his path, one clear bright ray
to warm and gladden his heart. Agnes trusted his truth, Agnes would
be at Bordeaux,--he might see her, and she would hear of his deeds.
Agnes, while she wept over her kinswoman's death and her brother's
faults, rejoiced in having met her old playfellow, and found him as
noble a Knight as her fancy had often pictured him; and in the
meanwhile, the good old Lady Muriel sighed to herself, and shook
her head at the thought of the sorrows which an attachment would
surely cause to these two young creatures.
It was early in the morning that Eustace summoned his nephew from
the couch which one of the Clarenham retainers had yielded him, and,
mounting their horses, they renewed their journey towards the coast.
Without further adventure, the Lances of Lynwood, as Arthur still
chose to call their little party, safely arrived at Rennes, the
capital of Brittany, where Jean de Montford held his court. Here
they met the tidings that Charles V. had summoned the Prince of
Wales to appear at his court, to answer an appeal made against
him to the sovereign by the vassals of the Duchy of Aquitaine.
Edward's answer was, that he would appear indeed, but that it
should be in full armour, with ten thousand Knights and Squires
at his back; and the war had already been renewed.
The intelligence added to Eustace's desire to be at Bordeaux, but
he could not venture through the enemy's country without exposing
himself to death or captivity; and even within the confines of
Brittany itself, Duke John, though bound by gratitude and affection
to the alliance of the King, who had won for him his ducal coronet,
was unable to control the enmity which his subjects bore to the
English, and assured the Knight that a safe-conduct from him would
only occasion his being robbed and murdered in secret, instead of
being taken a prisoner in fair fight and put to ransom.
If Eustace had been alone with his staunch followers, he would have
trusted to their good swords and swift steeds; but to place Arthur
in such perils would be but to justify Fulk's accusations; and there
was no alternative but to accept the offer made to him by Jean de
Montford, for the sake of his Duchess, a daughter of Edward III., to
remain a guest at his court until the arrival of a sufficient party
of English Knights, who were sure to be attracted by the news of
the war.
No less than two months was he obliged to wait, during which both
he and Gaston chafed grievously under their forced captivity; but
at length he learnt that a band of Free Companions had arrived at
Rennes, on their way to offer their service to the Prince of Wales;
accordingly he set forth, and after some interval found himself once
more in the domains of the house of Plantagenet.
It was late in the evening when he rode through the gates of Bordeaux,
and sought the abode of the good old Gascon merchant, where he had
always lodged. He met with a ready welcome, and inquiring into the
most recent news of the town, learnt that the Prince was considered
to be slightly improved in health; but that no word was spoken of
the army taking the field, and the war was chiefly carried on by the
siege of Castles. He asked for Sir John Chandos, and was told that
high words had passed between him and the Prince respecting a hearth-
tax, and that since he had returned to his government, and seldom
or never appeared at the council board. It was the Earl of Pembroke
who was all-powerful there. And here the old Gascon wandered into
lamentable complaints of the aforesaid hearth-tax, from which Eustace
could scarcely recall him to answer whether the English Baron de
Clarenham had arrived at Bordeaux. He had come, and with as splendid
a train as ever was beheld, and was in high favour at court.
This was no pleasing intelligence, but Eustace determined to go the
next day to present his nephew to the Prince immediately after the
noontide meal, when it was the wont of the Plantagenet Princes to
throw their halls open to their subjects.
Accordingly, leading Arthur by the hand, and attended by Gaston, he
made his appearance in the hall just as the banquet was concluded,
but ere the Knights had dispersed. Many well-known faces were there,
but as he advanced up the space between the two long tables, he was
amazed at meeting scarce one friendly glance of recognition; some
looked unwilling to seem to know him, and returned his salutation
with distant coldness; others gazed at the window, or were intent on
their wine, and of these was Leonard Ashton, whom to his surprise he
saw seated among the Knights.
Thus he passed on until he had nearly reached the dais where dined
the Prince and the personages of the most exalted rank. Here he
paused as his anxious gaze fell upon the Prince, and marked his
countenance and mien--alas! how changed! He sat in his richly-
carved chair, wrapped in a velvet mantle, which, even on that
bright day of a southern spring, he drew closer round him with a
shuddering chilliness. His elbow rested on the arm of his chair,
and his wasted cheek leant on his hand--the long thin fingers of
which showed white and transparent as a lady's; his eyes were bent
on the ground, and a look of suffering or of moody thought hung over
the whole of that face, once full of free and open cheerfulness.
Tears filled Eustace's eyes as he beheld that wreck of manhood and
thought of that bright day of hope and gladness when his brother
had presented him to the Prince.
As he hesitated to advance, the Prince, raising his eyes, encountered
that earnest and sorrowful gaze, but only responding by a stern glance
of displeasure. Eustace, however, stepped forward, and bending one
knee, said, "My Lord, I come to report myself as returned to your
service, and at the same time to crave for my nephew the protection
you were graciously pleased to promise him."
"It is well, Sir Eustace Lynwood," said Edward, coldly, and with a
movement of his head, as if to dismiss him from his presence; "and
you, boy, come hither," he added as Arthur, seeing his uncle rise
and retreat a few steps, was following his example. "I loved your
father well," he said, laying his hand on the boy's bright wavy hair,
"and you shall find in me a steady friend as long as you prove
yourself not unworthy of the name you bear."
In spite of the awe with which Arthur felt his head pressed by
that royal hand, in spite of his reverence for the hero and the
Prince, he raised his eyes and looked upon the face of the Prince
with an earnest, pleading, almost upbraiding gaze, as if, child as
he was, he deprecated the favour, which so evidently marked the
slight shown to his uncle. But the Prince did not heed him, and
rising from his chair, said, "Thine arm, Clarenham. Let us to the
Princess, and present her new page. Follow me, boy."
With a wistful look at his uncle, standing alone on the step of
the dais, Arthur reluctantly followed the Prince as, leaning on
Clarenham's arm, he left the hall, and, crossing a gallery, entered
a large apartment. At one end was a canopy embroidered with the
arms and badges of the heir of England, and beneath it were two
chairs of state, one of which was occupied by Joan Plantagenet,
Princess of Wales, once the Fair Maid of Kent, and though now long
past her youth, still showing traces of beauty befitting the lady
for whom her royal cousin had displayed such love and constancy.
As her husband entered, she rose, and looking anxiously at him, while
she came forward to meet him, inquired whether he felt fatigued. "No,
my fair dame," replied the Prince, "I came but to present you your new
page; the young cousin, respecting whose safety my Lord de Clarenham
hath been so much in anxiety."
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