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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7387-0.txt b/7387-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1a81a23 --- /dev/null +++ b/7387-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7153 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Grisly Grisell, by Charlotte M. Yonge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Grisly Grisell + or, the Laidly Lady of Whitburn + A Tale of the Wars of the Roses + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: November 10, 2014 [eBook #7387] +[This file was first posted on April 24, 2003] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRISLY GRISELL*** + + +Transcribed from the 1906 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + + + + + GRISLY GRISELL + OR + THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN + + + A TALE OF THE WARS OF THE ROSES + + * * * * * + + BY + CHARLOTTE M. YONGE + AUTHOR OF ‘THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE’, ETC. ETC. + + * * * * * + + London + MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY + 1906 + + _All rights reserved_ + + * * * * * + + Copyright, 1893, + BY MACMILLAN & CO. + + * * * * * + + Men speak of Job, and for his humblesse, + And clerkes when hem list can well endite, + Namely of men, but as in stedfastnese + Though clerkes preisin women but a lite, + There can no man in humblesse him acquite + As women can, nor can be half so trewe + As women ben. + + CHAUCER, _The Clerke’s Tale_. + + * * * * * + + _First Edition_ (2 _Vols. Crown_ 8_vo_) 1893 + _Second Edition_ (1 _Vol. Crown_ 8_vo_) 1894, 1906. + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAPTER PAGE + I. AN EXPLOSION 1 + II. THE BROKEN MATCH 12 + III. THE MIRROR 26 + IV. PARTING 36 + V. SISTER AVICE 46 + VI. THE PROCTOR 57 + VII. THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY 68 + VIII. OLD PLAYFELLOWS 80 + IX. THE KING-MAKER 87 + X. COLD WELCOME 101 + XI. BERNARD 112 + XII. WORD FROM THE WARS 127 + XIII. A KNOT 137 + XIV. THE LONELY BRIDE 150 + XV. WAKEFIELD BRIDGE 159 + XVI. A NEW MASTER 169 + XVII. STRANGE GUESTS 177 + XVIII. WITCHERY 185 + XIX. A MARCH HARE 195 + XX. A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE 205 + XXI. THE WOUNDED KNIGHT 213 + XXII. THE CITY OF BRIDGES 222 + XXIII. THE CANKERED OAK GALL 231 + XXIV. GRISELL’S PATIENCE 244 + XXV. THE OLD DUCHESS 253 + XXVI. THE DUKE’S DEATH 260 + XXVII. FORGET ME NOT 268 + XXVIII. THE PAGEANT 274 + XXIX. DUCHESS MARGARET 285 + XXX. THE WEDDING CHIMES 295 + + + + +CHAPTER I +AN EXPLOSION + + + It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous saltpetre should be + digg’d out of the bowels of the harmless earth. + + SHAKESPEARE, _King Henry IV._, Part I. + +A TERRIBLE shriek rang through the great Manor-house of Amesbury. It was +preceded by a loud explosion, and there was agony as well as terror in +the cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some of pain, some of +fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every one in the house ran +together to the spot whence the cries proceeded, namely, the lower court, +where the armourer and blacksmith had their workshops. + +There was a group of children, the young people who were confided to the +great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of Salisbury for education and +training. Boys and girls were alike there, some of the latter crying and +sobbing, others mingling with the lads in the hot dispute as to “who did +it.” + +By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, all +the grown-up persons of the establishment—knights, squires, grooms, +scullions, and females of every degree—had thronged round them, but +parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, “Nay, Lady +Countess, ’tis no sight for you. The poor little maid is dead, or nigh +upon it.” + +“But who is it? What is it?” asked the Countess, still advancing. + +A confused medley of voices replied, “The Lord of Whitburn’s little +wench—Leonard Copeland—gunpowder.” + +“And no marvel,” said a sturdy, begrimed figure, “if the malapert young +gentles be let to run all over the courts, and handle that with which +they have no concern, lads and wenches alike.” + +“Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the maidens kept ever +at their distaffs and needles in seemly fashion,” cried a small but stout +and self-assertive dame, known as “Mother of the Maidens,” then starting, +“Oh! my lady, I crave your pardon, I knew not you were in this coil! And +if the men-at-arms be let to have their perilous goods strewn all over +the place, no wonder at any mishap.” + +“Do not wrangle about the cause,” said the Countess. “Who is hurt? How +much?” + +The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of about ten +was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a woman’s lap. + +“Poor maid,” was the cry, “poor maid! ’Tis all over with her. It will +go ill with young Leonard Copeland.” + +“Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his irons.” + +“Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning gunpowder—a +device of Satan—in this yard? A mercy we are not all blown to the +winds.” + +The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose moans showed +that she was still alive, and between the barber-surgeon and the porter’s +wife she was lifted up, and carried to a bed, the Countess Alice keeping +close to her, though the “Mother of the Maidens,” who was a somewhat +helpless personage, hung back, declaring that the sight of the wounds +made her swoon. There were terrible wounds upon the face and neck, which +seemed to be almost bared of skin. The lady, who had been bred to some +knowledge of surgical skill, together with the barber-surgeon, did their +best to allay the agony with applications of sweet oil. Perhaps if they +had had more of what was then considered skill, it might have been worse +for her. + +The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay the suffering +of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaning for “nurse.” +She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron of Whitburn, and had +been placed, young as she was, in the household of the Countess of +Salisbury on her mother being made one of the ladies attending on the +young Queen Margaret of Anjou, lately married to King Henry VI. + +Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing the +history of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses’ feet showed +that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to her old nurse, +she went down to the hall to receive him. + +The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged, +round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood before him, +in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulder held fast +by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stood behind. + +There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose, came +forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting, demanded, +“What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?” + +“Nay, but I fear me she cannot live,” was the answer. + +“Will Dacre of Whitburn’s maid? That’s ill, poor child! How fell it +out?” + +“That I know as little as you,” was the answer. “I have been seeing to +the poor little maid’s hurts.” + +Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point of fact, +she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had been created +Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, the staunch +warrior of Henry V. in the siege of Orleans. + +“Speak out, Leonard Copeland,” said the Earl. “What hast thou done?” + +The boy only growled, “I never meant to hurt the maid.” + +“Speak to the point, sir,” said Lord Salisbury sternly; “give yourself at +least the grace of truth.” + +Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only hung his +head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl turned to those who +were only too eager to accuse him. + +“He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, and put it +to the barrel of powder.” + +“Is this true, Leonard?” demanded the Earl again, amazed at the frantic +proceeding, and Leonard muttered “Aye,” vouchsafing no more, and looking +black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed to his side and +said, “Uncle,” doffing his cap, “so please you, my lord, the barrels had +just been brought in upon Hob Carter’s wain, and Leonard said they ought +to have the Lord Earl’s arms on them. So he took a bar of hot iron from +the forge to mark the saltire on them, and thereupon there was this burst +of smoke and flame, and the maid, who was leaning over, prying into his +doings, had the brunt thereof.” + +“Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done,” ejaculated the lady +shuddering, while her lord proceeded—“It was not malice, but malapert +meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, thou must be scourged to make +thee keep thine hands off where they be not needed. For the rest, thou +must await what my Lord of Whitburn may require. Take him away, John +Ellerby, chastise him, and keep him in ward till we see the issue.” + +Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not uttering a +word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire’s grasp, +but only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster. + +Next, Lord Salisbury’s severity fell upon Hob the carter and Hodge the +smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court-yard. +Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, but soundly +flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the “blackguard” at any age, +even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat higher in +position, and not in charge at the moment, was not called to account, but +the next question was, how the “Mother of the Maids”—the gouvernante in +charge of the numerous damsels who formed the train of the Lady of +Salisbury, and were under education and training—could have permitted her +maidens to stray into the regions appropriated to the yeomen and archers, +and others of the meiné, where they certainly had no business. + +It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls in the +gardens “a playing at the ball” with some of the pages, and that there, +on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented her from discovering the +absence of the younger part of the bevy. The demure elder damsels +deposed that, at the sound of wains coming into the court, the boys had +rushed off, and the younger girls had followed them, whether with or +without warning was not made clear. Poor little Grisell’s condition +might have been considered a sufficient warning, nevertheless the two +companions in her misdemeanour were condemned to a whipping, to enforce +on them a lesson of maidenliness; and though the Mother of the Maids +could not partake of the flagellation, she remained under her lord’s and +lady’s grave displeasure, and probably would have to submit to a severe +penance from the priest for her carelessness. Yet, as she observed, +Mistress Grisell was a North Country maid, never couthly or conformable, +but like a boy, who would moreover always be after Leonard Copeland, +whether he would or no. + +It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his wife, +because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; and the King +had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, and to bring about a +contract of marriage between these two unfortunate children, but he +feared that whatever he could do, there would only be additional feud and +bitterness, though it was clear that the mishap was accidental. The Lord +of Whitburn himself was in Ireland with the Duke of York, while his lady +was in attendance on the young Queen, and it was judged right and seemly +to despatch to her a courier with the tidings of her daughter’s disaster, +although in point of fact, where a house could number sons, damsels were +not thought of great value, except as the means of being allied with +other houses. A message was also sent to Sir William Copeland that his +son had been the death of the daughter of Whitburn; for poor little +Grisell lay moaning in a state of much fever and great suffering, so that +the Lady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear her sighs and sobs +without tears, and the barber-surgeon, unaccustomed to the effects of +gunpowder, had little or no hope of her life. + +Leonard Copeland’s mood was sullen, not to say surly. He submitted to +the chastisement without a word or cry, for blows were the lot of boys of +all ranks, and were dealt out without much respect to justice; and he +also had to endure a sort of captivity, in a dismal little circular room +in a turret of the manorial house, with merely a narrow loophole to look +out from, and this was only accessible by climbing up a steep broken +slope of brick-work in the thickness of the wall. + +Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, Edmund +Plantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, building up +fragments of stone and mortar into the plan of a castle. + +“How dost thou, Leonard?” he asked. “Did old Hal strike very hard?” + +“I reck not,” growled Leonard. + +“How long will my uncle keep thee here?” asked Edmund sympathisingly. + +“Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should go and die. She +brought it on me, the peevish girl. She is always after me when I want +her least.” + +“Yea, is not she contracted to thee?” + +“So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being plagued with +her—do what they may to me. There’s an end to it, if I hang for it.” + +“They would never hang thee.” + +“None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a loyal house,” +growled Leonard. + +“Traitor, saidst thou,” cried Edmund, clenching his fists. “’Tis thy +base Somerset crew that be the traitors.” + +“I’ll brook no such word from thee,” burst forth Leonard, flying at him. + +“Ha! ha!” laughed Edmund even as they grappled. “Who is the traitor +forsooth? Why, ’tis my father who should be King. ’Tis white-faced +Harry and his Beauforts—” + +The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the warder presently +found the two boys rolling on the floor together in hot contest. + +And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn and flayed +cheeks and lips, “O lady, lady, visit it not on him! Let not Leonard be +punished. It was my fault for getting into his way when I should have +been in the garden. Dear Madge, canst thou speak for him?” + +Madge was Edmund’s sister, Margaret of York, who stood trembling and +crying by Grisell’s bed. + + + + +CHAPTER II +THE BROKEN MATCH + + + The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence. + + _Contemporary Poem_. + +LITTLE Grisell Dacre did not die, though day after day she lay in a +suffering condition, tenderly watched over by the Countess Alice. Her +mother had been summoned from attendance on the Queen, but at first there +only was returned a message that if the maid was dead she should be +embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, when her father +would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boy should be called to +account for his crime, his father being, as the Lady of Whitburn caused +to be written, an evil-minded minion and fosterer of the house of +Somerset, the very bane of the King and the enemies of the noble Duke of +York and Earl of Warwick. + +The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl of Salisbury +was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of Raby Castle in +Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by marriage with Alice Montagu, +heiress of that earldom. His youngest sister had married Richard +Plantagenet, Duke of York, who being descended from Lionel, Duke of +Clarence, was considered to have a better right to the throne than the +house of Lancaster, though this had never been put forward since the +earlier years of Henry V. + +Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne Beauchamp, and +was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates larger even than those +of his father. He had not, however, as yet come forward, and the +disputes at Court were running high between the friends of the Duke of +Somerset and those of the Duke of York. + +The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of Somerset, who +were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more inclined to uphold +royalty, while York was considered as the champion of the people. The +gentle King and the Beauforts wished for peace with France; the nation, +and with them York, thought this was giving up honour, land, and plunder, +and suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, of truckling to the enemy. +Jack Cade’s rising and the murder of the Duke of Suffolk had been the +outcome of this feeling. Indeed, Lord Salisbury’s messenger reported the +Country about London to be in so disturbed a state that it was no wonder +that the Lady of Whitburn did not make the journey. She was not, as the +Countess suspected, a very tender mother. Grisell’s moans were far more +frequently for her nurse than for her, but after some space they ceased. +The child became capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and +both barber and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any vital +part, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently with hopelessly +injured features. + +Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, and allowed to +resume his usual place among the Earl’s pages; when the warder announced +that he saw two parties approaching from opposite sides of the down, one +as if from Salisbury, the other from the north; and presently he reported +that the former wore the family badge, a white rosette, the latter none +at all, whence it was perceived that the latter were adherents of the +Beauforts of Somerset, for though the “Rose of Snow” had been already +adopted by York, Somerset had in point of fact not plucked the Red Rose +in the Temple gardens, nor was it as yet the badge of Lancaster. + +Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn was in the +fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury hastened to receive +her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put into some order. + +She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very smooth of +speech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough courtesy, +demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, “Lives my wench +still?” + +“Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she will yet be +healed.” + +“Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught further had befallen +her. Be that as it may, no doubt you have given the malapert boy his +deserts.” + +“I hope I have, madam,” began the Earl. “I kept him in close ward while +she was in peril of death, but—” A fresh bugle blast interrupted him, as +there clattered through the resounding gate the other troop, at sight of +whom the Lady of Whitburn drew herself up, redoubling her grim dignity, +and turning it into indignation as a young page rushed forward to meet +the newcomers, with a cry of “Father! Lord Father, come at last;” then +composing himself, doffed his cap and held the stirrup, then bent a knee +for his father’s blessing. + +“You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous fellow was in safe +hold,” said the lady, bending her dark brows. + +“While the maid was in peril,” hastily answered Salisbury. “Pardon me, +madam, my Countess will attend you.” + +The Countess’s high rank and great power were impressive to the Baroness +of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost her first words were, +“Madam, you at least will not let the murderous traitors of Somerset and +the Queen prevail over the loyal friends of York and the nation.” + +“There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be to the saints,” said +Countess Alice, “your little maid—” + +“Aye, that’s what they said as to the poor good Duke Humfrey,” returned +the irate lady; “but that you, madam, the good-sister of the noble York, +should stand up for the enemies of him, and the friends of France, is +more than a plain North Country woman like me can understand. And +there—there, turning round upon the steep steps, there is my Lord Earl +hand and glove with that minion fellow of Somerset, who was no doubt at +the bottom of the plot! None would believe it at Raby.” + +“None at Raby would believe that my lord could be lacking in courtesy to +a guest,” returned Lady Salisbury with dignity, “nor that a North Country +dame could expect it of him. Those who are under his roof must respect +it by fitting demeanour towards one another.” + +The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the Countess asked +whether she did not wish to see her daughter, leading the way to a +chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great curtained bed nearly filling +it up, for the patient had been installed in one of the best +guest-chambers of the Castle. Lady Whitburn was surprised, but was too +proud to show herself gratified by what she thought was the due of the +dignity of the Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat by the bed, where +there was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired little girl stood by the +window, whence she had been describing the arrivals in the Castle court. + +“Here is your mother, my poor child,” began the Lady of Salisbury, but +there was no token of joy. Grisell gave a little gasp, and tried to say +“Lady Mother, pardon—” but the Lady of Whitburn, at sight of the reddened +half of the face which alone was as yet visible, gave a cry, “She will be +a fright! You evil little baggage, thus to get yourself scarred and made +hideous! Running where you ought not, I warrant!” and she put out her +hand as if to shake the patient, but the Countess interposed, and her +niece Margaret gave a little cry. “Grisell is still very weak and +feeble! She cannot bear much; we have only just by Heaven’s grace +brought her round.” + +“As well she were dead as like this,” cried this untender parent. “Who +is to find her a husband now? and as to a nunnery, where is one to take +her without a dower such as is hard to find, with two sons to be fitly +provided? I looked that in a household like this, better rule should be +kept.” + +“None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl,” said the gentle +Countess; “but young folks can scarce be watched hour by hour.” + +“The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to you to give it +them, madam,” said Lady Whitburn. “Now, the least that can be done is to +force yonder malapert lad and his father into keeping his contract to +her, since he has spoilt the market for any other.” + +“Is he contracted to her?” asked the Countess. + +“Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, and the King, and +all the rest, thought to heal the breach between the houses by planning a +contract between their son and my daughter. He shall keep it now, at his +peril.” + +Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how much she +heard or understood. The Countess was glad to get Lady Whitburn out of +the room, but both she and her Earl had a very trying evening, in trying +to keep the peace between the two parents. Sir William Copeland was +devoted to the Somerset family, of whom he held his manor; and had had a +furious quarrel with the Baron of Whitburn, when both were serving in +France. + +The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and had +induced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the future marriage +of Leonard, Copeland’s second son, to Grisell Dacre, then the only child +of the Lord of Whitburn. He had also obtained that the two children +should be bred up in the household of the Earl of Salisbury, by way of +letting them grow up together. On the same principle the Lady of +Whitburn had been made one of the attendants of Queen Margaret—but +neither arrangement had been more successful than most of those of poor +King Henry. + +Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of hers, but she +beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent from younger girls, +and when he was thirteen, and she ten years old, there was very little +affection on his side. Moreover, the birth of two brothers had rendered +Grisell’s hand a far less desirable prize in the eyes of the Copelands. + +To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, used to a +hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute rule, and no hand +over her save her husband’s; while the young and outspoken Queen, bred up +in the graceful, poetical Court of Aix or Nancy, looked on her as no +better than a barbarian, and if she did not show this openly, reporters +were not wanting to tell her that the Queen called her the great northern +hag, or that her rugged unwilling curtsey was said to look as if she were +stooping to draw water at a well. Her husband had kept her in some +restraint, but when be had gone to Ireland with the Duke of York, +offences seemed to multiply upon her. The last had been that when she +had tripped on her train, dropped the salver wherewith she was serving +the Queen, and broken out with a loud “Lawk a daisy!” all the ladies, and +Margaret herself, had gone into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the +Queen had begged her to render her exclamation into good French for her +benefit. + +“Madam,” she had exclaimed, “if a plain woman’s plain English be not good +enough for you, she can have no call here!” And without further ceremony +she had flown out of the royal presence. + +Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had sent her a +message, that her attendance was no longer required. So here she was +going out of her way to make a casual inquiry, from the Court at +Winchester, whether that very unimportant article, her only daughter, +were dead or alive. + +The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in debate +during the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite as much state +as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than was to be found at +Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All the high born sat on the dais, +raised on two steps with gorgeous tapestry behind, and a canopy overhead; +the Earl and Countess on chairs in the centre of the long narrow table. +Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William Copeland by the Countess, +watching with pleasure how deftly his son ran about among the pages, +carrying the trenchers of food, and the cups. He entered on a +conversation with the Countess, telling her of the King’s interest and +delight in his beautiful freshly-founded Colleges at Eton and Cambridge, +how the King rode down whenever he could to see the boys, listen to them +at their tasks in the cloisters, watch them at their sports in the +playing fields, and join in their devotions in the Chapel—a most holy +example for them. + +“Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings,” broke in the North +Country voice sarcastically. + +“There are others—sons of gentlemen and esquires—lodged in houses +around,” said Sir William, “who are not meant for cowl or for +mass-priests.” + +“Yea, forsooth,” called Lady Whitburn across the Earl and the Countess, +“what for but to make them as feckless as the priests, unfit to handle +lance or sword!” + +“So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and lance,” said +the Earl. + +“I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray,” laughed the +Dame of Dacre. “’Tis all a device of the Frenchwoman!” + +“Verily?” said the Earl, in an interrogative tone. + +“Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with this clerkly +lore, so that her folk may have the better of them in France; and the +poor, witless King gives in to her. And so while the Beauforts rule the +roast—” + +Salisbury caught her up. “Ay, the roast. Will you partake of these +roast partridges, madam?” + +They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a page for the +guest to help herself. Whether by her awkwardness or that of the boy, it +so chanced that the bird made a sudden leap from the impalement, and +deposited itself in the lap of Lady Whitburn’s scarlet kirtle! The fact +was proclaimed by her loud rude cry, “A murrain on thee, thou +ne’er-do-weel lad,” together with a sounding box on the ear. + +“’Tis thine own greed, who dost not—” + +“Leonard, be still—know thy manners,” cried both at once the Earl and Sir +William, for, unfortunately, the offender was no other than Leonard +Copeland, and, contrary to all the laws of pagedom, he was too angry not +to argue the point. “’Twas no doing of mine! She knew not how to cut +the bird.” + +Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and his father +only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered off under the +squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the more sharply for his +continuing to mutter, “It was her fault.” + +And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to exclaim, when his +friend Edmund of York came to condole with him as usual in all his +scrapes, “’Tis she that should have been scourged for clumsiness! A +foul, uncouth Border dame! Well, one blessing at least is that now I +shall never be wedded to her daughter—let the wench live or die as she +lists!” + +That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and no +sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debate +began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland was +bound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all the more +since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never be done away +with. On the other hand, Sir William Copeland was naturally far less +likely to accept such a daughter-in-law, since her chances of being an +heiress had ceased, and he contended that he had never absolutely +accepted the contract, and that there had been no betrothal of the +children. + +The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly honourable man +would have felt poor Grisell’s disaster inflicted by his son’s hands all +the more reason for holding to the former understanding; but the loud +clamours and rude language of Lady Whitburn were enough to set any one in +opposition to her, and moreover, the words he said in favour of her side +of the question appeared to Copeland merely spoken out of the general +enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts and all their following. + +Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the Earl, +whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while Copeland stood +sullen and silent, but determined. + +“My lord,” she said, “were you a true friend to York and Raby, you would +deal with this scowling fellow as we should on the Border.” + +“We are not on the Border, madam,” quietly said Salisbury. + +“But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to keep faith. No +contract, forsooth! I hate your mincing South Country forms of law.” +Then perhaps irritated by a little ironical smile which Salisbury could +not suppress. “Is this your castle, or is it not? Then bring him and +his lad to my poor wench’s side, and see their troth plighted, or lay him +by the heels in the lowest cell in your dungeon. Then will you do good +service to the King and the Duke of York, whom you talk of loving in your +shilly-shally fashion.” + +“Madam,” said the Earl, his grave tones coming in contrast to the shrill +notes of the angry woman, “I counsel you, in the south at least, to have +some respect to these same forms of law. I bid you a fair good-night. +The chamberlain will marshal you.” + + + + +CHAPTER III +THE MIRROR + + + “Of all the maids, the foulest maid + From Teviot unto Dee. + Ah!” sighing said that lady then, + “Can ne’er young Harden’s be.” + + SCOTT, _The Reiver’s Wedding_. + +“THEY are gone,” said Margaret of York, standing half dressed at the +deep-set window of the chamber where Grisell lay in state in her big bed. + +“Who are gone?” asked Grisell, turning as well as she could under the +great heraldically-embroidered covering. + +“Leonard Copeland and his father. Did’st not hear the horses’ tramp in +the court?” + +“I thought it was only my lord’s horses going to the water.” + +“It was the Copelands going off without breaking their fast or taking a +stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they be,” said Margaret, in no +measured language. + +“And are they gone? And wherefore?” asked Grisell. + +“Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury should hold them to +their contract. Sir William sat as surly as a bear just about to be +baited, while thy mother rated and raved at him like a very sleuth-hound +on the chase. And Leonard—what think’st thou he saith? “That he would +as soon wed the loathly lady as thee,” the cruel Somerset villain as he +is; and yet my brother Edmund is fain to love him. So off they are gone, +like recreant curs as they are, lest my uncle should make them hear +reason.” + +“But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very loathly?” asked poor +Grisell. + +“Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell thee,” responded +Margaret, in some confusion. + +“Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My mother, she shrieked at sight +of me!” + +“I would not have your mother,” said the outspoken daughter of “proud +Cis.” “My Lady Duchess mother is stern enough if we do not bridle our +heads, and if we make ourselves too friendly with the meiné, but she +never frets nor rates us, and does not heed so long as we do not demean +ourselves unlike our royal blood. She is no termagant like yours.” + +It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her mother to be +very sensitive on her account. In fact, she was chiefly occupied with +what she had heard about her own appearance—a matter which had not +occurred to her before in all her suffering. She returned again to +entreat Margaret to tell her whether she was so foully ill-favoured that +no one could look at her, and the damsel of York, adhering to the letter +rather young than the spirit of the cautions which she had received, +pursed up her lips and reiterated that she had been commanded not to +mention the subject. + +“Then,” entreated Grisell, “do—do, dear Madge—only bring me the little +hand mirror out of my Lady Countess’s chamber.” + +“I know not that I can or may.” + +“Only for the space of one Ave,” reiterated Grisell. + +“My lady aunt would never—” + +“There—hark—there’s the bell for mass. Thou canst run into her chamber +when she and the tirewomen are gone down.” + +“But I must be there.” + +“Thou canst catch them up after. They will only think thee a slug-a-bed. +Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I cannot rest without. Weeping will be worse +for me.” + +She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she gained her +point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her sobs being heard, and +inquired into, and therefore promised to make the attempt, keeping a +watch out of sight till she had seen the Lady of Salisbury in her padded +head-gear of gold net, and long purple train, sweep down the stair, +followed by her tirewomen and maidens of every degree. Then darting into +the chamber, she bore away from a stage where lay the articles of the +toilette, a little silver-backed and handled Venetian mirror, with +beautiful tracery in silvered glass diminishing the very small oval left +for personal reflection and inspection. That, however, was quite enough +and too much for poor Grisell when Lady Margaret had thrown it to her on +her bed, and rushed down the stair so as to come in the rear of the +household just in time. + +A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set in light +yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in a bucket of +water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous sight. One half, as she +expected, was hidden by bandages, but the other was fiery red, except +that from the corner of the eye to the ear there was a purple scar; the +upper lip was distorted, the hair, eyebrows, and lashes were all gone! +The poor child was found in an agony of sobbing when, after the service, +the old woman who acted as her nurse came stumping up in her wooden clogs +to set the chamber and bed in order for Lady Whitburn’s visit. + +The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife as to Scottish +invasions, and her tower was not too far south not to need to be on its +guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on a small litter slung to a sumpter +mule, and she snorted a kind of defiant contempt when the Countess, +backed by the household barber-surgeon, declared the proceeding barbarous +and impossible. Indeed she had probably forgotten that Grisell was far +too tall to be made up into the bundle she intended; but she then +declared that the wench might ride pillion behind old Diccon, and she +would not be convinced till she was taken up to the sick chamber. There +the first sound that greeted them was a choking agony of sobs and moans, +while the tirewoman stood over the bed, exclaiming, “Aye, no wonder; it +serves thee right, thou evil wench, filching my Lady Countess’s mirror +from her very chamber, when it might have been broken for all thanks to +thee. The Venice glass that the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair +a sight, I trow, as to be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all +the scathe in the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee.” + +So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hear the +approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of the Countess, +“Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated! Silence!” + +“See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship’s Venice glass, which +she never should have touched. She must have run to your chamber while +you were at mass. All false her feigning to be so sick and feeble.” + +“Ay,” replied Lady Whitburn, “she must up—don her clothes, and away with +me.” + +“Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor child. Call Master +Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water.” The Countess was raising the poor +child in her arms, and against her bosom, for the shock of that glance in +the mirror, followed by the maid’s harsh reproaches, and fright at the +arrival of the two ladies, had brought on a choking, hysterical sort of +convulsive fit, and the poor girl writhed and gasped on Lady Salisbury’s +breast, while her mother exclaimed, “Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on +to hinder me from taking her home. If she could go stealing to your +room—” + +“No, no,” broke out a weeping, frightened voice. “It was I, Lady Aunt. +You bade me never tell her how her poor face looked, and when she begged +and prayed me, I did not say, but I fetched the mirror. Oh! oh! It has +not been the death of her.” + +“Nay, nay, by God’s blessing! Take away the glass, Margaret. Go and +tell thy beads, child; thou hast done much scathe unwittingly! Ah, +Master Miles, come to the poor maid’s aid. Canst do aught for her?” + +“These humours must be drawn off, my lady,” said the barber-surgeon, who +advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse of the poor little patient. “I +must let her blood.” + +Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess Alice still +held her up, while, after the practice of those days, he bled the already +almost unconscious child, till she fainted and was laid down again on her +pillows, under the keeping of Maudlin, while the clanging of the great +bell called the family down to the meal which broke fast, whether to be +called breakfast or dinner. + +It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a journey, and +her mother went grumbling down the stair at the unchancy bairn always +doing scathe. + +Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though perhaps hardly +willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter was ready to move. + +“Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do that. I be +sorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The knaves go all agee when both my +lord and myself have our backs turned, and my lad bairns—worth a dozen of +yon whining maid—should no longer be left to old Cuthbert Ridley and +Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way ’tis all misrule, and +who knows what the Scots may do?” + +“There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and the Border,” +observed the Earl gravely. However, the visitor was not such an +agreeable one as to make him anxious to press her stay beyond what +hospitality demanded, and his wife could not bear to think of giving over +her poor little patient to such usage as she would have met with on the +journey. + +Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled the maid +might mend her, if they could; and accordingly she acquiesced, not too +graciously, when the Countess promised to tend the child like her own, +and send her by and by to Whitburn under a safe escort; and as Middleham +Castle lay on the way to Whitburn, it was likely that means would be +found of bringing or sending her. + +This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to reach a +hostel before night. + +She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in upon +Grisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been made to +swallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads formed a great +part, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep, moaning now +and then. Her mother did not scruple to try to rouse her with calls of +“Grizzy! Look up, wench!” but could elicit nothing but a half turn on +the pillow, and a little louder moan, and Master Miles, who was still +watching, absolutely refused to let his patient be touched or shaken. + +“Well a day!” said Lady Whitburn, softened for a moment, “what the Saints +will must be, I trow; but it is hard, and I shall let St. Cuthbert of +Durham know it, that after all the candles I have given him, he should +have let my poor maid be so mauled and marred, and then forsaken by the +rascal who did it, so that she will never be aught but a dead weight on +my two fair sons! The least he can do for me now is to give me my +revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight and his son. But he hath no +care for lassies. Mayhap St. Hilda may serve me better.” + +Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It may be feared +that in the ignorance in which northern valleys were left she was very +little more enlightened in her ideas of what would please the Saints, or +what they could do for her, than were the old heathen of some unknown +antiquity who used to worship in the mysterious circles of stones which +lay on the downs of Amesbury. + + + + +CHAPTER IV +PARTING + + + There in the holy house at Almesbury + Weeping, none with her save a little maid. + + TENNYSON, _Idylls of the King_. + +THE agitations of that day had made Grisell so much worse that her mind +hardly awoke again to anything but present suffering from fever, and in +consequence the aggravation of the wounds on her neck and cheek. She +used to moan now and then “Don’t take me away!” or cower in terror, “She +is coming!” being her cry, or sometimes “So foul and loathly.” She hung +again between life and death, and most of those around thought death +would be far better for the poor child, but the Countess and the Chaplain +still held to the faith that she must be reserved for some great purpose +if she survived so much. + +Great families with all their train used to move from one castle or manor +to another so soon as they had eaten up all the produce of one place, and +the time had come when the Nevils must perforce quit Amesbury. Grisell +was in no state for a long journey; she was exceedingly weak, and as fast +as one wound in her face and neck healed another began to break out, so +that often she could hardly eat, and whether she would ever have the use +of her left eye was doubtful. + +Master Miles was at his wits’ end, Maudlin was weary of waiting on her, +and so in truth was every one except the good Countess, and she could not +always be with the sufferer, nor could she carry such a patient to +London, whither her lord was summoned to support his brother-in-law, the +Duke of York, against the Duke of Somerset. + +The only delay was caused by the having to receive the newly-appointed +Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been translated from his former see at +Hereford on the murder of his predecessor, William Ayscough, by some of +Jack Cade’s party. + +In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and cross-bearers, +and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to meet him, and to arrange +with him for his reception and installation. It was then that the +Countess heard that there was a nun at Wilton Abbey so skilled in the +treatment of wounds and sores that she was thought to work miracles, +being likewise a very holy woman. + +The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be present at his +enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady made this an +opportunity of riding to the convent on her way back, consulting the +Abbess, whom she had long known, and likewise seeing Sister Avice, and +requesting that her poor little guest might be received and treated +there. + +There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles were sovereigns in +their own domains; the Countess owned half Wiltshire, and was much loved +and honoured in all the religious houses for her devotion and +beneficence. + +The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the demoiselle +Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady Countess would +entrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that Sister Avice could +effect a cure. + +Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all night crying, so +she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage of those days was +called, was actually being prepared, and then she went to the chamber +where the poor child had spent five months, and where she was now sitting +dressed, but propped up on a sort of settle, and with half her face still +bandaged. + +“My little maid, this is well,” said the Countess. “Come with me. I am +going to take thee to a kind and holy dame who will, I trust, with the +blessing of Heaven, be able to heal thee better than we have done.” + +“Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!” cried Grisell; “not from you and +Madge.” + +“My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, and Madge +is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. Thou couldst not +brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to the good Sister Avice.” + +“A nun, a nunnery,” sighed Grisell. “Oh! I shall be mewed up there and +never come forth again! Do not, I pray, do not, good my lady, send me +thither!” + +Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might be the +fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, but she only +told her that there was no reason she should not leave Wilton, as she was +not put there to take the vows, but only to be cured. + +Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much as she +dared over the order; but no child ventured to make much resistance to +elders in those days, and especially not to the Countess, so Grisell, a +very poor little wasted being, was carried down, and only delayed in the +hall for an affectionate kiss from Margaret of York. + +“And here is a keepsake, Grisell,” she said. “Mine own beauteous pouncet +box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round each little hole.” + +“I will keep it for ever,” said Grisell, and they parted, but not as +girls part who hope to meet again, and can write letters constantly, but +with tearful eyes and clinging hands, as little like to meet again, or +even to hear more of one another. + +The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, and Lady +Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best to lessen the +force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was dragged over the chalk +road over the downs, passing the wonderful stones of Amesbury—a wider +circle than even Stonehenge, though without the triliths, _i.e._ the +stones laid one over the tops of the other two like a doorway. Grisell +heard some thing murmured about Merlin and Arthur and Guinevere, but she +did not heed, and she was quite worn out with fatigue by the time they +reached the descent into the long smooth valley where Wilton Abbey stood, +and the spire of the Cathedral could be seen rising tall and beautiful. + +The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm trees, and +the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven home, their bells +tinkling. There was an outer court, within an arched gate kept by a +stout porter, and thus far came the whirlicote and the Countess’s +attendants; but a lay porteress, in a cap and veil and black dress, came +out to receive her as the door of the carriage was opened, and held out +her arms to receive the muffled figure of the little visitor. “Ah, poor +maid,” she said, “but Sister Avice will soon heal her.” + +At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to the +cloistered court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all her sisters, +drawn up in double line to receive the Countess, whom they took to their +refectory and to their chapel. + +Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken into the +arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she shuddered and would +have screamed if she had been a little stronger and less tired, for +illness and weakness had brought back the babyish horror of anything +black; but she felt soothed by the sweet voice and tender words, “Poor +little one! she is fore spent. She shall lie down on a soft bed, and +have some sweet milk anon.” + +Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she had been +carried to the little bed which had been made ready for her. When she +opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to her lips, the first thing she +saw was the sweetest, calmest, most motherly of faces bent over her, one +arm round her, the other giving her the spoon of some cordial. She +looked up and even smiled, though it was a sad contorted smile, which +brought a tear into the good sister’s eyes; but then she fell asleep, and +only half awoke when the Countess came up to see her for the last time, +and bade her farewell with a kiss on her forehead, and a charge to Sister +Avice to watch her well, and be tender with her. Indeed no one could +look at Sister Avice’s gentle face and think there was much need of the +charge. + +Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially born for the +gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have been an excellent wife and +mother, but from the very hour of her birth she had been vowed to be a +nun in gratitude on her mother’s part for her father’s safety at +Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost a baby, and had +never gone farther from it than on very rare occasions to the Cathedral +at Salisbury; but she had grown up with a wonderful instinct for nursing +and healing, and had a curious insight into the properties of herbs, as +well as a soft deft hand and touch, so that for some years she had been +sister infirmarer, and moreover the sick were often brought to the gates +for her counsel, treatment, or, as some believed, even her healing touch. + +When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, which was +really built over the Norman cloister. The walls were of pale creamy +stone, but at the end where she lay there were hangings of faded +tapestry. At one end there was a window, through the thick glass of +which could be dimly seen, as Grisell raised herself a little, beautiful +trees, and the splendid spire of the Cathedral rising, as she dreamily +thought, like a finger pointing upwards. Nearer were several more narrow +windows along the side of the room, and that beside her bed had the +lattice open, so that she saw a sloping green bank, with a river at the +foot; and there was a trim garden between. Opposite to her there seemed +to be another window with a curtain drawn across it, through which came +what perhaps had wakened her, a low, clear murmuring tone, pausing and +broken by the full, sweet, if rather shrill response in women’s voices. +Beneath that window was a little altar, with a crucifix and two +candlesticks, a holy-water stoup by the side, and there was above the +little deep window a carving of the Blessed Virgin with the Holy Child, +on either side a niche, one with a figure of a nun holding a taper, the +other of a bishop with a book. + +Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself alone, but the +sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her pillows, half dozing +but quite content, except that the wound on her neck felt stiff and dry; +and by and by when the chanting ceased, the kind nun, with a lay sister, +came back again carrying water and other appliances, at sight of which +Grisell shuddered, for Master Miles never touched her without putting her +to pain. + +“_Benedicite_, my little maid, thou art awake,” said Sister Avice. “I +thought thou wouldst sleep till the vespers were ended. Now let us dress +these sad wounds of thine, and thou shalt sleep again.” + +Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise Sister +Avice’s touch was as soft and soothing as were her words, and the +ointment she applied was fragrant and delicious and did not burn or hurt +her. + +She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then the evening +meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it on the seat of the +window looking out on the Cathedral spire. It was a milk posset far more +nicely flavoured than what she had been used to at Amesbury, where, in +spite of the Countess’s kindness, the master cook had grown tired of any +special service for the Dacre wench; and unless Margaret of York secured +fruit for her, she was apt to be regaled with only the scraps that +Maudlin managed to cater for her after the meals were over. + +After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that she said +her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, herself telling her +that she should sleep beside her, and that she would hear the voices of +the sisters singing in the chapel their matins and lauds. Grisell did +hear them, as in a dream, but she had not slept so well since her +disaster as she slept on that night. + + + + +CHAPTER V +SISTER AVICE + + + Love, to her ear, was but a name + Combined with vanity and shame; + Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all + Bounded within the cloister wall. + + SCOTT, _Marmion_. + +SISTER AVICE sat in the infirmary, diligently picking the leaves off a +large mass of wood-sorrel which had been brought to her by the children +around, to make therewith a conserve. + +Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had knelt at the +window, where the curtain was drawn back while mass was said by the +Chaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and making their responses. +It was a low-browed chapel of Norman or even older days, with circular +arches and heavy round piers, and so dark that the gleam of the candles +was needed to light it. + +Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her couch, +slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice still compounding +her simples. + +She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell her all the +news of Amesbury—who was riding at the ring, or who had shot the best +bolt, or who had had her work picked out as not neat or well shaded +enough. + +Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a dried plum and +a little milk, and began to talk to her. + +“You will soon be better,” she said, “and then you will be able to play +in the garden.” + +“Is there any playfellow for me?” asked Grisell. + +“There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily to learn her +hornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay and play with you.” + +“I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as Madge! See what +she gave me.” + +Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and then she +asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in the convent. + +“Oh no, not of need,” said the sister. “Many a maiden who has been here +for a time has gone out into the world, but some love this home the best, +as I have done.” + +“Did yonder nun on the wall?” asked Grisell. + +“Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, though she was a +King’s daughter. Edith was her name, and two days after Holy Cross day +we shall keep her feast. Shall I tell you her story?” + +“Prithee, prithee!” exclaimed Grisell. “I love a tale dearly.” + +Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love and tenderness +at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and the flowers in the +garden, and how all loved her, her young playmates especially. She +promised one who went away to be wedded that she would be godmother to +her first little daughter, but ere the daughter was born the saintly +Edith had died. The babe was carried to be christened in the font at +Winchester Cathedral, and by a great and holy man, no other than +Alphegius, who was then Bishop of Winchester, but was made Archbishop of +Canterbury, and died a holy martyr. + +“Then,” said Sister Avice, “there was a great marvel, for among the +sponsors around the square black font there stood another figure in the +dress of our Mother Abbess, and as the Bishop spake and said, “Bear this +taper, in token that thy lamp shall be alight when the Bridegroom +cometh,” the form held the torch, shining bright, clear, and like no +candle or light on earth ever shone, and the face was the face of the +holy Edith. It is even said that she held the babe, but that I know not, +being a spirit without a body, but she spake the name, her own name +Edith. And when the holy rite was over, she had vanished away.” + +“And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I should have been +afraid!” cried Grisell. + +“Not of the holy soul?” said the sister. + +“Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the little window into the +church,” cried Grisell trembling. + +Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, Grisell +could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from St. Edith, who, +as she was told, slept her long sleep in the church below. It may be +feared that one chief reliance was on the fact that she could not be holy +enough for a vision of the Saint, but this was not so valuable to her as +the touch of Sister Avice’s kind hand, or the very knowing her present. + +That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted to hear it over +again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, and who were the Virgins +in memory of whom the lamps were carried. Both these, and many another +history, parable, or legend were told her by Sister Avice, training her +soul, throughout the long recovery, which was still very slow, but was +becoming more confirmed every day. Grisell could use her eye, turn her +head, and the wounds closed healthily under the sister’s treatment +without showing symptoms of breaking out afresh; and she grew in strength +likewise, first taking a walk in the trim garden and orchard, and by and +by being pronounced able to join the other girl scholars of the convent. +Only here was the first demur. Her looks did not recover with her +health. She remained with a much-seamed neck, and a terrible scar across +each cheek, on one side purple, and her eyebrows were entirely gone. + +She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely in the +infirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and occasionally a lay +sister, who came to help; but the first time she went down the turret +stair into the cloister—a beautiful succession of arches round a green +court—she met a novice and a girl about her own age; the elder gave a +little scream at the sight and ran away. + +The other hung back. “Mary, come hither,” said Sister Avice. “This is +Grisell Dacre, who hath suffered so much. Wilt thou not come and kiss +and welcome her?” + +Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her head +within, “Oh, if you had liefer not!” and turned her back on the girl. + +Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her weakness +allowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third step on the +stairs. + +“Oh, no—go away—don’t bring her. Every one will hate me,” sobbed the +poor child. + +Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces were against +the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and coax her to believe +that by one at least she was not hated. + +“I had forgotten,” said Grisell. “I saw myself once at Amesbury! but my +face was not well then. Let me see again, sister! Where’s a mirror?” + +“Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of worldly things like +mirrors; I never saw one in my life.” + +“But oh, for pity’s sake, tell me what like am I. Am I so loathly?” + +“Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of aught save that thou +art mine own little one, given back to us by the will of Heaven. Aye, +and so will others think of thee, if thou art good and loving to them.” + +“Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate and flee from me, as +from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the Loathly Worm of Spindlesheugh,” +sobbed Grisell. + +“Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet words and kind +deeds. They are better than looks. And here too they shall soon think +only of what thou art, not of what thou look’st.” + +“But know you, sister, how—how I should have been married to Leonard +Copeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he is fair and +beauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now he and his +father rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so foul to see,” +cried Grisell, between her sobs. + +“If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would surely not have +made thee a good husband,” reasoned the sister. + +“But I shall never have a husband now,” wailed Grisell. + +“Belike not,” said Sister Avice; “but, my sweetheart, there is better +peace and rest and cheer in such a home as this holy house, than in the +toils and labours of the world. When my sisters at Dunbridge and Dinton +come to see me they look old and careworn, and are full of tales of the +turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, and dues, and tenants’ fees, +and villeins, and I know not what, that I often think that even in this +world’s sense I am the best off. And far above and beyond that,” she +added, in a low voice, “the virgin hath a hope, a Spouse beyond all human +thought.” + +Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept bitterly. “Must +she be a nun all her life?” was all she thought of, and the shady +cloister seemed to her like a sort of prison. Sister Avice had to soothe +and comfort her, till her tears were all spent, as so often before, and +she had cried herself so ill that she had to be taken back to her bed and +lie down again. It was some days before she could be coaxed out again to +encounter any companions. + +However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and life, came back +to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became accustomed to being with the +other inmates of the fine old convent, as they grew too much used to her +appearance to be startled or even to think about it. The absence of +mirrors prevented it from ever being brought before her, and Sister Avice +set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, and kindness could +endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw for herself how much more +loved was the old and very plain Mother Anne than the very beautiful +young Sister Isabel, who had been forced into the convent by her +tyrannical brother, and wore out her life in fretting and rudeness to all +who came in her way. She declared that the sight of Grisell made her +ill, and insisted that the veiled hood which all the girls wore should be +pulled forward whenever they came near one another, and that Grisell’s +place should be out of her sight in chapel or refectory. + +Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, Sister Avice +especially so, and Grisell soon forgot her disfigurement when she ceased +to suffer from it. She had begun to learn reading, writing, and a little +Latin, besides spinning, stitchery, and a few housewifely arts, in the +Countess of Salisbury’s household, for every lady was supposed to be +educated in these arts, and great establishments were schools for the +damsels there bred up. It was the same with convent life, and each +nunnery had traditional works of its own, either in embroidery, cookery, +or medicine. Some secrets there were not imparted beyond the professed +nuns, and only to the more trustworthy of them, so that each sisterhood +might have its own especial glory in confections, whether in +portrait-worked vestments, in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in salves +and unguents; but the pensioners were instructed in all those common arts +of bakery, needlework, notability, and surgery which made the lady of a +castle or manor so important, and within the last century in the more +fashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French “of the school of Stratford le +Bowe,” and the like, were added. Thus Grisell learnt as an apt scholar +these arts, and took especial delight in helping Sister Avice to compound +her simples, and acquired a tender hand with which to apply them. + +Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, but to know +the signification in English. There were translations of the Lord’s +Prayer and Creed in the hands of all careful and thoughtful people, even +among the poor, if they had a good parish priest, or had come under the +influence of the better sort of friars. In convents where discipline was +kept up the meaning was carefully taught, and there were English primers +in the hands of all the devout, so that the services could be +intelligently followed even by those who did not learn Latin, as did +Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, generally clothed in rhyme, +and versified lives of the Saints, were read aloud at meal-times in the +refectory, and Grisell became so good a reader that she was often chosen +to chant out the sacred story, and her sweet northern voice was much +valued in the singing in the church. She was quite at home there, and +though too young to be admitted as a novice, she wore a black dress and +white hood like theirs, and the annual gifts to the nunnery from the +Countess of Salisbury were held to entitle her to the residence there as +a pensioner. She had fully accepted the idea of spending her life there, +sheltered from the world, among the kind women whom she loved, and who +had learnt to love her, and in devotion to God, and works of mercy to the +sick. + + + + +CHAPTER VI +THE PROCTOR + + + But if a mannes soul were in his purse, + For in his purse he should yfurnished be. + + CHAUCER, _Canterbury Pilgrims_. + +FIVE years had passed since Grisell had been received at Wilton, when the +Abbess died. She had been infirm and confined to her lodging for many +months, and Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death was to change the +whole tenor of the maiden’s life. + +The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The Bishop himself came +to attend them, and likewise all the neighbouring clergy, and the monks, +friars, and nuns, overflowing the chapel, while peasants and beggars for +whom there was no room in the courts encamped outside the walls, to +receive the dole and pray for the soul of the right reverend Mother +Abbess. + +For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem mass was +daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed on the crowd, +who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, but beguiled the time +by watching _jongleurs_ and mountebanks performing beyond the walls. + +There was the “Month’s Mind” still to come, and then the chapter of nuns +intended to proceed to the election of their new Abbess, unanimously +agreeing that she should be their present Prioress, who had held kindly +rule over them through the slow to-decay of the late Abbess. Before, +however, this could be done a messenger arrived on a mule bearing an +inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election. + +His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the next appointment +to this as well as to certain other wealthy abbeys. + +The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could do nothing +for them. Such reservations had been constant in the subservient days +that followed King John’s homage, and though the great Edwards had +struggled against them, and the yoke had been shaken off during the Great +Schism, no sooner had this been healed than the former claims were +revived, nay, redoubled, and the pious Henry VI. was not the man to +resist them. The sisters therefore waited in suspense, daring only +meekly to recommend their Prioress in a humble letter, written by the +Chaplain, and backed by a recommendation from Bishop Beauchamp. Both +alike were disregarded, as all had expected. + +The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, a relation +of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as the Commissioner +assured the nuns; but they had never heard of her before, and were not at +all gratified. They had always elected their Abbess before, and had +quite made up their minds as to the choice of the present Mother Prioress +as Abbess, and of Sister Avice as Prioress. + +However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King or to their +Bishop would have been quite useless; they could only do as the Pope +commanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling themselves with the +reflection that she was not likely to trouble herself about them, and +their old Prioress would govern them. And so she did so far as regarded +the discipline of the house, but what they had not so entirely understood +was the Mother de Borgia’s desire to squeeze all she could out of the +revenues of the house. + +Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and square cap, +and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her steward, and to overlook +the income and expenditure of the convent; to know who had duly paid her +dowry to the nunnery, what were the rents, and the like. The sisters had +already raised a considerable gift in silver merks to be sent through +Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, and this requisition was a fresh +blow. + +Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on what terms +she was at the convent. It was explained that she had been brought +thither for her cure by the Lady of Salisbury, and had stayed on, without +fee or payment from her own home in the north, but the ample donations of +the Earl of Salisbury had been held as full compensation, and it had been +contemplated to send to the maiden’s family to obtain permission to enrol +her as a sister after her novitiate—which might soon begin, as she was +fifteen years old. + +The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had no right to +receive a pensioner without payment, far less to admit a novice as a +sister without a dowry. + +Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands either of her +own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and certainly not readmitted +unless her dowry were paid. He scarcely consented to give time for +communication with the Countess, to consider how to dispose of the poor +child. + +The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, but the +Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where they were likely +to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to in the time allowed by the +Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing from her home all the time she had +been at Wilton. The only thing that the Prioress could devise, was to +request the Chaplain to seek her out at Salisbury a trustworthy escort, +pilgrim, merchant or other, with whom Grisell might safely travel to +London, and if the Earl and Countess were not there, some responsible +person of theirs, or of their son’s, was sure to be found, who would send +the maiden on. + +The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, whence he +returned, bringing with him news of a merchant’s wife who was about to go +on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at Walsingham, and would feel herself +honoured by acting as the convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre as far at +least as London. + +There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor Grisell must be cast +out on the world—the Proctor even spoke of calling the Countess, or her +steward, to account for her maintenance during these five years. + +There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, and +Grisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, holy life. + +“Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy life.” + +“If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder me.” + +“That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to take such a vow on +herself without consent of her father, nor is it binding otherwise. No! +but no one can take away from a Christian maid the power of holiness. +Bear that for ever in mind, sweetheart. Naught that can be done by man +or by devil to the body can hurt the soul that is fixed on Christ and +does not consent to evil.” + +“The Saints forefend that ever—ever I should consent to evil.” + +“It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, my child. Will +and soul not consenting nor being led astray thou art safe. Nay, the +lack of a fair-favoured face may be thy guard.” + +“All will hate me. Alack! alack!” + +“Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. Wherefore shouldst not +thou in like manner win love among thine own people?” + +“My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me not.” + +“Love them, child! Do them good offices! None can hinder thee from +that.” + +“Can I love those who love not me?” + +“Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings the heart to love. +Even as thou seest a poor dog love the master who beats him, so it is +with us, only with the higher Christian love. Service and prayer open +the heart to love, hoping for nothing again, and full oft that which was +not hoped for is vouchsafed.” + +That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her home of +peace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, who would +herself give her into the hands of the good Mistress Hall. + +Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along the bank +of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other side, and the +grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they came nearer; while the +sound of the bells grew upon them, for there was then a second tower +beyond to hold the bells, whose reverberation would have been dangerous +to the spire, and most sweet was their chime, the sound of which had +indeed often reached Wilton in favourable winds; but it sounded like a +sad farewell to Grisell. + +The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by kneeling in the +Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and entered by the west door +with the long vista of clustered columns and pointed arches before them. + +Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their ears, for it +was still early in the day. The Prioress passed the length of nave, and +went beyond the choir to the lady chapel, with its slender supporting +columns and exquisite arches, and there she, with Grisell by her side, +joined in earnest supplications for the child. + +The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that the dame +arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark riding-dress was Mistress +Hall. + +Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially in the +naves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no sooner was the +mass finished and “_Ite missa est_” pronounced than the scarlet cloak +rose, and hastened into the south transept, where she waited for the +Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction seemed needed. “The +Holy Mother Prioress,” she began, bending her knee and kissing the lady’s +hand. “Much honoured am I by the charge of this noble little lady.” +Grisell by the by was far taller than the plump little goodwoman Hall, +but that was no matter, and the Prioress had barely space to get in a +word of thanks before she went on: “I will keep her and tend her as the +apple of mine eye. She shall pray with me at all the holy shrines for +the good of her soul and mine. She shall be my bedfellow wherever we +halt, and sit next me, and be cherished as though she were mine own +daughter—ladybird as she is—till I can give her into the hands of the +good Lady Countess. Oh yes—you may trust Joan Hall, dame reverend +mother. She is no new traveller. I have been in my time to all our +shrines—to St. Thomas of Canterbury, to St. Winifred’s Well, aye, and, +moreover, to St. James of Compostella, and St. Martha of Provence, not to +speak of lesser chantries and Saints. Aye, and I crossed the sea to see +the holy coat of Trèves, and St. Ursula’s eleven thousand skulls—and a +gruesome sight they were. Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in London it +would cost me little to go on to the north with her. There’s St. Andrew +of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them at +Lincoln, and there’s St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly, not to +speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby, who might +take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I have been to so +many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverend mother; I’ll +never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out of my sight till I +have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our good customer for all +manner of hardware, or else with her own kin.” + +The good woman’s stream of conversation lasted almost without drawing +breath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured hearty +voice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature, while +her bright black eyes had a lively glance. + +The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one of the +good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation, consecrated and +meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifying their desire for +change and variety. She was a kindly person of good reputation, +trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall, her husband, +could manage the business alone, and was thought not to regret a little +reprieve from her continual tongue. + +She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fast with +her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having once seen her +charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell, blessed by the +Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was led away to the +substantial smith’s abode, where she was to take a first meal before +starting on her journey on the strong forest pony which the Chaplain’s +care had provided for her. + + + + +CHAPTER VII +THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY + + + She hadde passed many a strange shrine, + At Rome she had been and at Boleine, + At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine, + She could moche of wandering by the way. + + CHAUCER, _Canterbury Pilgrims_. + +GRISELL found herself brought into a hall where a stout oak table +occupied the centre, covered with home-spun napery, on which stood +trenchers, wooden bowls, pewter and a few silver cups, and several large +pitchers of ale, small beer, or milk. A pie and a large piece of bacon, +also a loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, were there. + +Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper dishes, cups, +kettles, and vessels and implements of all household varieties, and +ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, axes, and mattocks, all polished +up. The ring of hammers on the anvil was heard in the court in the rear. +The front of the hall was open for the most part, without windows, but it +could be closed at night. + +Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had partaken of it, +so that there was no one in the hall excepting Master Hall, a stout, +brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured face, and his son, more slim, +but growing into his likeness, also a young notable-looking +daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby tucked under her arm. + +They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to eat. The wheaten +bread and the fowl were, it seemed, provided in her honour, and she could +not but take her little knife from the sheath in her girdle, turn back +her nun-like veil, and prepare to try to drive back her sobs, and swallow +the milk of almonds pressed on her. + +“Eh!” cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. “She’s only scarred after +all.” + +“Well, what else should she be, bless her poor heart?” said Mrs. Hall the +elder. + +“Why, wasn’t it thou thyself, good mother, that brought home word that +they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton there?” + +“Bless thee, Agnes, thou should’st know better than to lend an ear to all +the idle tales thy poor old mother may hear at market or fair.” + +“Then should we have enough to do,” muttered her husband. + +“And as thou seest, ’tis a sweet little face, only cruelly marred by the +evil hap.” + +Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal she had +never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled forward her veil. + +“Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words in ill part,” +pleaded the good hostess. “We all know how to love thee, and what is a +smooth skin to a true heart? Take a bit more of the pasty, ladybird; +we’ll have far to ride ere we get to Wherwell, where the good sisters +will give us a meal for young St. Edward’s sake and thy Prioress’s. +Aye—I turn out of my way for that; I never yet paid my devotion to poor +young King Edward, and he might take it in dudgeon, being a king, and his +shrine so near at hand.” + +“Ha, ha!” laughed the smith; “trust my dame for being on the right side +of the account with the Saints. Well for me and Jack that we have little +Agnes here to mind the things on earth meanwhile. Nay, nay, dame, I say +nought to hinder thee; I know too well what it means when spring comes, +and thou beginn’st to moan and tell up the tale of the shrines where thou +hast not told thy beads.” + +It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the city gate to +speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might call her, on her +way, apparently quite content to let her go on her pilgrimages for the +summer quarter. + +She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets—quite +sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry any +valuables. Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well over her +face, yearning over the last view of the beloved spire, thinking of +Sister Avice ministering to her poor, and with a very definite fear of +her own reception in the world and dread of her welcome at home. Yet +there was a joy in being on horseback once more, for her who had ridden +moorland ponies as soon as she could walk. + +Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that they passed, +and these were not very many. At each church they dismounted and said +their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they let their animals +feed the while, and obtained some refreshment themselves. England was +not a very safe place for travellers just then, but the cockle-shells +sewn to the pilgrim’s hat of the dame, and to that of one of her +attendants, and the tall staff and wallet each carried, were passports of +security. Nothing could be kinder than Mistress Hall was to her charge, +of whom she was really proud, and when they halted for the night at the +nunnery of Queen Elfrida at Wherwell, she took care to explain that this +was no burgess’s daughter but the Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, trusted +to _her_ convoy, and thus obtained for her quarters in the guest-chamber +of the refectory instead of in the general hospitium; but on the whole +Grisell had rather not have been exposed to the shock of being shown to +strangers, even kindly ones, for even if they did not exclaim, some one +was sure to start and whisper. + +After another halt for the night the travellers reached London, and +learned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess of Salisbury were +absent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of Warwick, was keeping court +at Warwick House. + +Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct Grisell. The way lay +through narrow streets with houses overhanging the roadway, but the house +itself was like a separate castle, walled round, enclosing a huge space, +and with a great arched porter’s lodge, where various men-at-arms +lounged, all adorned on the arm of their red jackets with the bear and +ragged staff. + +They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwick insisted on +civility to all comers, and they respected the scallop-shell on the +dame’s hat. They greeted her good-humouredly. + +“Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for St. Paul’s? Here’s +supper to the fore for all comers!” + +“Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is the Lady +Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady.” + +“Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. Come this way, +dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her.” + +Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind old +friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in a fine court +with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people of all kinds, +for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats and the bear and +ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to her guide, but she was +not allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stone steps into a great +hall, where tables were being laid, covered with white napery and +glittering with silver and pewter. + +The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where +there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, and +shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half circle of +ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed surcoat in +their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in long robes and +gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her chair. + +The seneschal announced, “Place, place for the Lady Grisell Dacre of +Whitburn,” and Grisell bent low, putting back as much of her veil as she +felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady rose, the knight held out +his hand to raise the bending figure. He had that power of recollection +and recognition which is so great an element in popularity. “The Lady +Grisell Dacre,” he said. “She who met with so sad a disaster when she +was one of my lady mother’s household?” + +Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, “Welcome to +my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife.” + +The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She was the +heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of the recent +death of her brother, “the King of the Isle of Wight”—and through her +inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. She was delicate +and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her husband’s lead, and +received her guest with fair courtesy; and Grisell ventured in a +trembling voice to explain that she had spent those years at Wilton, but +that the new Abbess’s Proctor would not consent to her remaining there +any longer, not even long enough to send to her parents or to the +Countess of Salisbury. + +“Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where the King is not +man enough to stand in his way,” said Warwick. “So, fair maiden, if you +will honour my house for a few days, as my lady’s guest, I will send you +north in more fitting guise than with this white-smith dame.” + +“She hath been very good to me,” Grisell ventured to add to her thanks. + +“She shall have good entertainment here,” said the Earl smiling. “No +doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. See that Goodwife Hall, the white +smith’s wife, and her following have the best of harbouring,” he added to +his silver-chained steward. + +“You are a Dacre of Whitburn,” he added to Grisell. “Your father has not +taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the Percies.” Then seeing that +Grisell knew nothing of all this, he laughed and said, “Little convent +birds, you know nought of our worldly strifes.” + +In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last five years, +which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mother could +write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent know much of the +state of England, though prayers had been constantly said for the King’s +recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings for the birth of the +Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did know that just now the +Duke of York was governing, for the poor King seemed as senseless as a +stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his Chancellor. Nevertheless +Salisbury was absent in the north, and there was a quarrel going on +between the Nevils and the Percies which Warwick was going to compose, +and thus would be able to take Grisell so far in his company. + +The great household was larger than even what she remembered at the +houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, fresh from +the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazing to her +when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along the vast hall. +She was placed at the upper one to her relief, beside an old lady, Dame +Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen at Montacute Castle in her +childhood, as one of the attendants on the Countess. She was forced to +put back her veil, and she saw some of the young knights and squires +staring at her, then nudging one another and laughing. + +“Never mind them, sweetheart,” said Dame Gresford kindly; “they are but +unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make them know what is +befitting if his eye fell on them.” + +The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she kept +Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a city in +itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with innumerable +knights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred red +jacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court of the +buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six oxen were +daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and any friend or +acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might come in, and not +only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much meat as he could on +the point of his dagger. + +Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free quarters, +while she made the round of all the shrines in London, and she was +intensely gratified by the great Earl recollecting, or appearing to +recollect, her and inquiring after her husband, that hearty burgess, +whose pewter was so lasting, and he was sure was still in use among his +black guard. + +When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she was +carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of “my Lord Earl’s +grace to her.” She hoped that her sweet Lady Grisell would remain here, +as the best hap she could have in the most noble, excellent, and +open-handed house in the world! Grisell’s own wishes were not the same, +for the great household was very bewildering—a strange change from her +quietly-busy convent. The Countess was quiet enough, but dull and +sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. She seemed to be always +thinking about leeches, wise friars, wonderful nuns, or even wizards and +cunning women, and was much concerned that her husband absolutely forbade +her consulting the witch of Spitalfields. + +“Nay, dame,” said he, “an thou didst, the next thing we should hear would +be that thou hadst been sticking pins into King Harry’s waxen image and +roasting him before the fire, and that nothing but roasting thee in life +and limb within a fire would bring him to life and reason.” + +“They would never dare,” cried the lady. + +“Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!” demanded +the Earl. “Wouldst like to do penance with sheet and candle, like +Gloucester’s wife?” + +Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on the score +of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to ask her about +Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuade her husband to +let her go down to one of his mother’s Wiltshire houses to consult the +nun, but Warwick had business in the north, nor would he allow her to be +separated from him, lest she might be detained as a hostage. + +Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell’s protector, and let the girl sit +and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies of the house +played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of the pages and +squires. The dame’s presence and authority prevented Grisell’s being +beset with uncivil remarks, but she knew she was like a toad among the +butterflies, as she overheard some saucy youth calling her, while a laugh +answered him, and she longed for her convent. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +OLD PLAYFELLOWS + + + Alone thou goest forth, + Thy face unto the north, + Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee. + + E. BARRETT BROWNING, _A Valediction_. + +ONE great pleasure fell to Grisell’s share, but only too brief. The +family of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard’s Castle halted at +Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, sailed +into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while Warwick, her +nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with his wife to meet and +receive her. + +In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings a cry +of joy was heard, “My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!” and springing from +the midst of her mother’s suite, Margaret Plantagenet, a tall, lovely, +dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin slight maiden with the +scarred face, which excited the scorn and surprise of her two sisters. + +“Margaret! What means this?” demanded the Duchess severely. + +“It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at my aunt of +Salisbury’s manor,” said Margaret, trying to lead forward her shrinking +friend. “She who was so cruelly scathed.” + +Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick briefly +explained. “Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch baron of the +north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the creature of the +Pope’s intruding Abbess has taken upon him to expel her. So I am about +to take her to Middleham, where my mother may see to her further +bestowal.” + +“We have even now come from Middleham,” said the Duchess. “My Lord Duke +sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose the strife between +your father and the insolent Percies.” + +The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl and the +Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of the northern +counties and of the Court. The elder daughters were languidly +entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed the interview of +Margaret and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawn into the embrasure +of a window, and there fondled each other, and exchanged tidings of their +young lives, and Margaret told of friends in the Nevil household. + +All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, after partaking +of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard’s Castle, and the Lady +Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, not to say +displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. “Don’t go into a +convent, Grisell,” she entreated. “When I am wedded to some great earl, +you must come and be my lady, mine own, own dear friend. Promise me! +Your pledge, Grisell.” + +There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorily summoned. +They would not meet again. The Duchess’s intelligence had quickened +Warwick’s departure, and the next day the first start northwards was to +be made. + +It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the kitchen ménage, +with all their pots and pans, kettles and spits, were sent on a day’s +march beforehand, then came the yeomen, the knights and squires, followed +by the more immediate attendants of the Earl and Countess and their +court. She travelled in a whirlicote, and there were others provided for +her elder ladies, the rest riding singly or on pillions according to age +or taste. Grisell did not like to part with her pony, and Dame Gresford +preferred a pillion to the bumps and jolts of the waggon-like conveyances +called chariots, so Grisell rode by her side, the fresh spring breezes +bringing back the sense of being really a northern maid, and she threw +back her veil whenever she was alone with the attendants, who were used +to her, though she drew it closely round when she encountered town or +village. There were resting-places on the way. In great monasteries all +were accommodated, being used to close quarters; in castles there was +room for the “Gentles,” who, if they fared well, heeded little how they +slept, and their attendants found lairs in the kitchens or stables. In +towns there was generally harbour for the noble portion; indeed in some, +Warwick had dwellings of his own, or his father’s, but these, at first, +were at long distances apart, such as would be ridden by horsemen alone, +not encumbered with ladies, and there were intermediate stages, where +some of the party had to be dispersed in hostels. + +It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had taken +Grisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the escort. A +minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of the chimney, and began to +sound his harp and sing long ballads in recitative to the company. +Whether he did it in all innocence and ignorance, or one of the young +squires had mischievously prompted him, there was no knowing; Dame +Gresford suspected the latter, when he began the ballad of “Sir Gawaine’s +Wedding.” She would have silenced it, but feared to draw more attention +on her charge, who had never heard the song, and did not know what was +coming, but listened with increasing eagerness as she heard of King +Arthur, and of the giant, and the secret that the King could not guess, +till as he rode— + + He came to the green forest, + Underneath a green hollen tree, + There sat that lady in red scarlet + That unseemly was to see. + +Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she hardly saw +them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor had her eyes and +mouth changed places, as in the case of the “Loathly Lady.” She heard of +the condition on which the lady revealed the secret, and how King Arthur +bound himself to bring a fair young knight to wed the hideous being. +Then when he revealed to his assembled knights— + + Then some took up their hawks, + And some took up their hounds, + And some sware they would not marry her + For cities nor for towns. + +Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell was heedless +of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur’s nephew, felt that his +uncle’s oath must be kept, and offered himself as the bridegroom. + +Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead of the +loathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told by her that he +might choose whether she should be foul at night and fair by day, or fair +each evening and frightful in the daylight hours. His choice at first +was that her beauty should be for him alone, in his home, but when she +objected that this would be hard on her, since she could thus never show +her face when other dames ride with their lords— + + Then buke him gentle Gawayne, + Said, “Lady, that’s but a shill; + Because thou art mine own lady + Thou shalt have all thy will.” + +And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady related— + + “She witched me, being a fair young lady, + To the green forest to dwell, + And there must I walk in woman’s likeness, + Most like a fiend in hell.” + +Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir Gawaine’s bride was fair +to see. + +Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so losing +personal thought and feeling that it was startling to her to perceive +that Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, and one of the young +squires was saying, “Hush, hush! for very shame.” + +Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the blood +rushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was trying to turn +away attention by calling on the harper for “The Beggar of Bethnal +Green,” or “Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,” or any merry ballad. So it was +borne in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen she was the lady +unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, indignant and +sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth revived. “Sister Avice had told +her how to be not loathly in the sight of those whom she could teach to +love her.” + +There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never fulfil it. If he +should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose within her that though she could +not be transformed, he should not see her loathly in his sight, and in +that hope she slept. + + + + +CHAPTER IX +THE KING-MAKER + + + O where is faith? O where is loyalty? + + SHAKESPEARE, _Henry VI._, _Part II_. + +GRISELL was disappointed in her hopes of seeing her Countess of Salisbury +again, for as she rode into the Castle of York she heard the Earl’s +hearty voice of greeting. “Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, well met! What, +from the north?” + +The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and strong, brown and +weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff leather stained to all sorts of +colours, in which rust predominated, and a face all brown and red except +for the grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. She had not seen her +father since she was five years old, and she would not have known him. + +“I am from the south now, my lord,” she heard his gruff voice say. “I +have been taking my lad to be bred up in the Duke of York’s house, for +better nurture than can be had in my sea-side tower.” + +“Quite right. Well done in you,” responded Warwick. “The Duke of York +is the man to hold by. We have an exchange for you, a daughter for a +son,” and he was leading the way towards Grisell, who had just dismounted +from her pony, and stood by it, trembling a little, and bending for her +father’s blessing. It was not more than a crossing of her, and he was +talking all the time. + +“Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had bestowed her in the +Abbey—how call you it?” + +“Aye,” returned Warwick; “but since we have not had King or Parliament +with spirit to stand up to the Pope, he thrusts his claw in everywhere, +puts a strange Abbess into Wilton, and what must she do but send down her +Proctor to treat the poor nunnery as it were a sponge, and spite of all +my Lady Mother’s bounties to the place, what lists he do but turn out the +poor maid for lack of a dowry, not so much as giving time for a notice to +be sent.” + +“If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should know how to serve +him,” observed Sir William, and Warwick laughed as befitted a +Westmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to more civilised ways. + +“Scurvy usage,” he said, “but the Prioress had no choice save to put her +in such keeping as she could, and send her away to my Lady Mother, or +failing her to her home.” + +“Soh! She must e’en jog off with me, though how it is to be with her my +lady may tell, not I, since every groat those villain yeomen and fisher +folk would raise, went to fit out young Rob, and there has not been so +much as a Border raid these four years and more. There are the nuns at +Gateshead, as hard as nails, will not hear of a maid without a dower, and +yonder mansworn fellow Copeland casts her off like an old glove! Let us +look at you, wench! Ha! Face is unsightly enough, but thou wilt not be +a badly-made woman. Take heart, what’s thy name—Grisell? May be there’s +luck for thee still, though it be hard of coming to Whitburn,” he added, +turning to Warwick. “There’s this wench scorched to a cinder, enough to +fright one, and my other lad racked from head to foot with pain and +sores, so as it is a misery to hear the poor child cry out, and even if +he be reared, he will be good for nought save a convent.” + +Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little brother, but +the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to follow them. She saw +no more of her father except from the far end of the table, but orders +were issued that she should be ready to accompany him on his homeward way +the next morning at six o’clock. Her brother Robert had been sent in +charge of some of the Duke of York’s retainers, to join his household as +a page, though they had missed him on the route, and the Lord of Whitburn +was anxious to get home again, never being quite sure what the Scots, or +the Percies, or his kinsmen of Gilsland, might attempt in his absence. +“Though,” as he said, “my lady was as good as a dozen men-at-arms, but +somehow she had not been the same woman since little Bernard had fallen +sick.” + +There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very sorry to part, +for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it had been merely the +attending to the needs of a charge, not showing her any affection, and +she had shrunk from the eyes of so large a party. + +When she came down early into the hall, her father’s half-dozen retainers +were taking their morning meal at one end of a big board, while a manchet +of bread and a silver cup of ale was ready for each of them at the other, +and her father while swallowing his was in deep conversation over +northern politics with the courteous Earl, who had come down to speed his +guests. As she passed the retainers she heard, “Here comes our Grisly +Grisell,” and a smothered laugh, and in fact “Grisly Grisell” continued +to be her name among the free-spoken people of the north. The Earl broke +off, bowed to her, and saw that she was provided, breaking into his +conversation with the Baron, evidently much to the impatience of the +latter; and again the polite noble came down to the door with her, and +placed her on her palfrey, bidding her a kind farewell ere she rode away +with her father. It would be long before she met with such courtesy +again. Her father called to his side his old, rugged-looking esquire +Cuthbert Ridley, and began discussing with him what Lord Warwick had +said, both wholly absorbed in the subject, and paying no attention to the +girl who rode by the Baron’s side, so that it was well that her old +infantine training in horsemanship had come back to her. + +She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and petted her +long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than he had done in those +days when he had seemed to her infinitely aged. Indeed it was to him, +far more than to her father, that she owed any attention or care taken of +her on the journey. Her father was not unkind, but never seemed to +recollect that she needed any more care than his rough followers, and +once or twice he and all his people rode off headlong over the fell at +sight of a stag roused by one of their great deer-hounds. Then Cuthbert +Ridley kept beside her, and when the ground became too rough for a New +Forest pony and a hand unaccustomed to northern ground, he drew up. She +would probably—if not thrown and injured—have been left behind to feel +herself lost on the moors. She minded the less his somewhat rude +ejaculation, “Ho! Ho! South! South! Forgot how to back a horse on +rough ground. Eh? And what a poor soft-paced beast! Only fit to ride +on my lady’s pilgrimage or in a State procession.” + +(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern dialect could +be understood by the writer or the reader, and must be taken for +granted.) + +“They are all gone!” responded Grisell, rather frightened. + +“Never guessed you were not among them,” replied Ridley. “Why, my lady +would be among the foremost, in at the death belike, if she did not cut +the throat of the quarry.” + +Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she shuddered a +little as she asked what they were to do next. + +“Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord comes up with us,” +answered Ridley. “Or you might be fain to rest under a rock for a +while.” + +The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a mossy stone +while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and presently even brought +her a branch or two of whortle-berries. She felt that she had a friend, +and was pleased when he began to talk of how he remembered her long ago. + +“Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, when you were fetched +home from Herring Dick’s house, how you used to run after the dogs like a +kitten after her tail, and used to crave to be put up on old Black +Durham’s back.” + +“I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on his forehead?” + +“A white blaze sure enough.” + +“Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump of spears.” + +“No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago come Martinmas, in +a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, and I tarried to +cut his throat with my dagger—though it went to my heart, for his good +old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord told me I was a fool +for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, but I could not leave +him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the rest in time, though I +had to cut down the foremost lad.” + +Certainly “home” would be very unlike the experience of Grisell’s +education. + +Ridley gave her a piece of advice. “Do not be daunted at my lady; her +bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will not bear with is the +seeming cowed before her. She is all the sharper with her tongue now +that her heart is sore for Master Bernard.” + +“What ails my brother Bernard?” then asked Grisell anxiously. + +“The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked Nan of +Strait Glen overlooked the poor child,” returned the esquire. “Ever +since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but peak and pine, +and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking out on him; +though there’s a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed. My lord took +out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, but she got scent of it +no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath that he had seen a muckle +hare run up the glen that morn, and when we got there she was not to be +seen or heard of. We have heard of her in the Gilsland ground, where +they would all the sooner see a the young lad of Whitburn crippled and a +mere misery to see or hear.” + +Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the old +squire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She asked what +nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing within easy +reach. St. Cuthbert’s diocese had not greatly favoured womankind, and +Whitby was far away. + +By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horses being +heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted again before he +came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and best portions of the +deer. + +“Left out, my wench,” he shouted. “We must mount you better. Ho! +Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? Ha! Ha!” + +“The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells,” muttered the +squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy. + +“She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim and dainty +lassies here,” growled her father. “Look you, Ridley, that horse of +Hob’s—” and the rest was lost in a discussion on horseflesh. + +Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedingly +uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerable seclusion, +brought her at last within reach of home. There was a tall church tower +and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord of Whitburn halted, and blew +his bugle with the peculiar note that signified his own return, then all +rode down to the old peel, the outline of which Grisell saw with a sense +of remembrance, against the gray sea-line, with the little breaking, +glancing waves, which she now knew herself to have unconsciously wanted +and missed for years past. + +Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlooking the +sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but to Grisell, +accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles and abbeys of +the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrow and cramped, +for truly there was need to have no more walls than could be helped for +the few defenders to guard. + +All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullis over +her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of the lady, +grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seen her, and +beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, small and stunted for +six years old. + +“Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?” shouted the Baron in his gruff, +hoarse voice. + +“He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold your +stirrup,” said the mother. “You are soon returned. Is all well with +Rob?” + +“O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on the way to the +Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need all his following if the +Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered as much wit as ever he +had. So I e’en sent Rob on with him, and came back so as to be ready in +case there’s a call for me. Soh! Berney; on thy feet again? That’s +well, my lad; but we’ll have thee up the steps.” + +He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it was +Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then little +Bernard in his father’s arms exclaimed— + +“Black nun woman!” + +“By St. Cuthbert!” cried the Baron, “I mind me! Here, wench! I have +brought back the maid in her brother’s stead.” + +And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, Bernard +screamed, “Ugsome wench, send her away!” threw his arms round his +father’s neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture. + +“Saints have mercy!” cried the mother, “thou hast not mended much since I +saw thee last. They that marred thee had best have kept thee. Whatever +shall we do with the maid?” + +“Send her away, the loathly thing,” reiterated the boy, lifting up his +head from his father’s shoulder for another glimpse, which produced a +puckering of the face in readiness for crying. + +“Nay, nay, Bernard,” said Ridley, feeling for the poor girl and speaking +up for her when no one else would. “She is your sister, and you must be +a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured lad spoilt her poor face when +it was as fair as your own. Kiss your sister like a good lad, and— + +“No! no!” shouted Bernard. “Take her away. I hate her.” He began to +cry and kick. + +“Get out of his sight as fast as may be,” commanded the mother, alarmed +by her sickly darling’s paroxysm of passion. + +Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to be led +away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her in his rough +way. “’Tis the petted bairn’s way, you see, mistress—and my lady has no +thought save for him. He will get over it soon enough when he learns +your gentle convent-bred conditions.” + +Still the cry of “Grisly Grisell,” picked up as if by instinct or by some +echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears in the angry fretful +voice of the poor little creature towards whom her heart was yearning. +Even the two women-servants there were, no more looked at her askance, as +they took her to a seat in the hall, and consulted where my lady would +have her bestowed. She was wiping away bitter tears as she heard her +only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. “The chamber within the solar is +the place for the noble damsels.” + +“That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish.” + +“Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord’s daughter.” + +There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang up. +“Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have done so for many nights. +Only let me be no burthen. Show me where I can go to be an anchoress, +since they will not have me in a convent or anywhere,” and bitterly she +wept. + +“Peace, peace, lady,” said the squire kindly. “I will deal with these +ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! Go off, and make the chamber ready, +or I’ll find a scourge for you. And as to my lady—she is wrapped up in +the sick bairn, but she has only to get used to you to be friendly +enough.” + +“O what a hope in a mother,” thought poor Grisell. “O that I were at +Wilton or some nunnery, where my looks would be pardoned! Mother Avice, +dear mother, what wouldst thou say to me now!” + +The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as it were +the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrow castle +court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise the hall and +kitchen—which were the dwelling and sleeping places of the men of the +household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentle blood, would +sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob when at home in the +tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where was the great box-bed +of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard. + +Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for the +daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley to the +Lady Grisell. The two women-servants—Bell and Madge—were wives to the +cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused and made a +receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus the sudden call +for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle voices, and Grisell +shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishing she could efface herself. + +And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed to her +dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary. + + + + +CHAPTER X +COLD WELCOME + + + Seek not for others to love you, + But seek yourself to love them best, + And you shall find the secret true, + Of love and joy and rest. + + I. WILLIAMS. + +TO lack beauty was a much more serious misfortune in the Middle Ages than +at present. Of course it was probable that there might be a contract of +marriage made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, long before the +development of either of the principal parties concerned; but even then +the rude, open-spoken husband would consider himself absolved from any +attention to an ill-favoured wife, and the free tongues of her +surroundings would not be slack to make her aware of her defects. The +cloister was the refuge of the unmarried woman, if of gentle birth as a +nun, if of a lower grade as a lay-sister; but the fifteenth century was +an age neither of religion nor of chivalry. Dowers were more thought of +than devotion in convents as elsewhere. Whitby being one of the oldest +and grandest foundations was sure to be inaccessible to a high-born but +unportioned girl, and Grisell in her sense of loneliness saw nothing +before her but to become an anchoress, that is to say, a female hermit, +such as generally lived in strict seclusion under shelter of the Church. + +“There at least,” thought poor Grisell, “there would be none to sting me +to the heart with those jeering eyes of theirs. And I might feel in time +that God and His Saints loved me, and not long for my father and mother, +and oh! my poor little brother—yes, and Leonard Copeland, and Sister +Avice, and the rest. But would Sister Avice call this devotion? Nay, +would she not say that these cruel eyes and words are a cross upon me, +and I must bear them and love in spite—at least till I be old enough to +choose for myself?” + +She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense of dreariness, +for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not come near him, or he +would not eat, and she had to take her meal of dried fish and barley +bread in the wide chimney corner, where there always was a fire at every +season of the year. + +Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley’s exertions had compelled the women to +prepare for her, was—as seen in the light of the long evening—a desolate +place, within a turret, opening from the solar, or chamber of her parents +and Bernard, the loophole window devoid of glass, though a shutter could +be closed in bad weather, the walls circular and of rough, untouched, +unconcealed stone, a pallet bed—the only attempt at furniture, except one +chest—and Grisell’s own mails tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an +ancient and fishy smell. She felt too downhearted even to creep out and +ask for a pitcher of water. She took a long look over the gray, heaving +sea, and tired as she was, it was long before she could pray and cry +herself to sleep, and accustomed as she was to convent beds, this one +appeared to be stuffed with raw apples, and she awoke with aching bones. + +Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as southland +finery, for those who washed at all used the horse trough, but +fortunately for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the request. He had been +enough in the south in attendance on his master to know how young damsels +lived, and what treatment they met with, and he was soon rating the women +in no measured terms for the disrespect they had presumed to show to the +Lady Grisell, encouraged by the neglect of her parents + +The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, backed up his +retainer, and made it plain that he intended his daughter to be respected +and obeyed, and the grumbling women had to submit. Nor did he refuse to +acknowledge, on Ridley’s representation, that Grisell ought to have an +attendant of her own, and the lady of the castle, coming down with +Bernard clinging to her skirt with one hand, and leaning on his crutch, +consented. “If the maid was to be here, she must be treated fitly, and +Bell and Madge had enough to do without convent-bred fancies.” + +So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt the fisher +folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, bareheaded, with long, +streaming, lint-white locks, and the scantiest of garments, crying +bitterly with fright, and almost struggling to go back. She was the +orphan remnant of a family drowned in the bay, and was a burthen on her +fisher kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose of her. + +She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost screamed when +Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the hand. Ridley fairly drove +her upstairs, step by step, and then shut her in with his young lady, +when she sank on the floor and hid her face under all her bleached hair. + +“Poor little thing,” thought Grisell; “it is like having a fresh-caught +sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I am, and more afraid!” + +So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl to look up, +and assuring her that she would not be hurt. Grisell had a very soft and +persuasive voice. Her chief misfortune as regarded her appearance was +that the muscles of one cheek had been so drawn that though she smiled +sweetly with one side of her face, the other was contracted and went +awry, so that when the kind tones had made the girl look up for a moment, +the next she cried, “O don’t—don’t! Holy Mary, forbid the spell!” + +“I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor girl, a stranger +here in my own home. Come, and do not fear me.” + +“Madge said you had witches’ marks on your face,” sobbed the child. + +“Only the marks of gunpowder,” said Grisell. “Listen, I will tell thee +what befell me.” + +Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn nature, +but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and the girl’s +terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which was Thora, and +learning, too, that she had led a hard life since her granny died, and +her uncle’s wife beat her, and made her carry heavy loads of seaweed when +it froze her hands, besides a hundred other troubles. As to knowing any +kind of feminine art, she was as ignorant as if the rough and extremely +dirty woollen garment she wore, belted round with a strip of leather, had +grown upon her, and though Grisell’s own stock of garments was not +extensive, she was obliged, for very shame, to dress this strange +attendant in what she could best spare, as well as, in spite of sobs and +screams, to wash her face, hands, and feet, and it was wonderful how +great a difference this made in the wild creature by the time the clang +of the castle bell summoned all to the midday meal, when as before, +Bernard professed not to be able to look at his sister, but when she had +retreated he was seen spying at her through his fingers, with great +curiosity. + +Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries for +herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning. She was not +very graciously answered; but she was allowed an old frayed horse-cloth +on which Thora might sleep, and for the rest she might see what she could +find under the stairs in the turret, or in the chest in the hall window. + +The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mere rubbish +were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them she picked enough to +render her dreary chamber a very few degrees more habitable. Thora would +sleep there, and certainly their relations were reversed, for carrying +water was almost the only office she performed at first, since Grisell +had to dress her, and teach her to keep herself in a tolerable state of +neatness, and likewise how to spin, luring her with the hope of spinning +yarn for a new dress for herself. As to prayers, her mind was a mere +blank, though she said something that sounded like a spell except that it +began with “Pater.” She did not know who made her, and entirely believed +in Niord and Rana, the storm-gods of Norseland. Yet she had always been +to mass every Sunday morning. So went all the family at the castle as a +matter of course, but except when the sacring-bell hushed them, the Baron +freely discussed crops or fish with the tenants, and the lady wrangled +about dues of lambs, eggs, and fish. Grisell’s attention was a new +thing, and the priest’s pronunciation was so defective to her ear that +she could hardly follow. + +That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling her room and +training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more apt scholar than she +had expected, and became devoted to her like a little faithful dog. + +No one else took much notice of either, except that at times Cuthbert +Ridley showed himself to be willing to stand up for her. Her father was +out a great deal, hunting or hawking or holding consultations with +neighbouring knights or the men of Sunderland. Her mother, with the +loudest and most peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, ordered the +men on their guards and at the stables, and the cook, scullions, and +other servants, but without much good effect as household affairs were +concerned, for the meals were as far removed from the delicate, dainty +serving of the simplest fast-day meal at Wilton as from the sumptuous +plenty and variety of Warwick house, and Bernard often cried and could +not eat. She longed to make up for him one of the many appetising +possets well known at Wilton, but her mother and Ralf the cook both +scouted her first proposal. They wanted no south-bred meddlers over +their fire. + +However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in pain, the Baron +had growled out that the child was cockered beyond all bearing, and the +mother had flown out at the unnatural father, and on his half laughing at +her doting ways, had actually rushed across with clenched fist to box his +ears; he had muttered that the pining brat and shrewish dame made the +house no place for him, and wandered out to the society of his horses. +Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath in abuse of him and all around, +carried the child up to his bed. There he was moaning, and she trying to +soothe him, when, darkness having put a stop to Grisell’s spinning, she +went to her chamber with Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, +and she even thought her mother was crying. She ventured to approach and +ask, “Fares he no better? If I might rub that poor leg.” + +But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, “Go away, Grisly,” and her +mother exclaimed, “Away with you, I have enough to vex me here without +you.” + +She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down her +face as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices, the +same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Before they +were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harsh and angered +voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness for some little time, +but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again, and there was a +jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, now thinner and +weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, and crept out. “If I +might rub him a little while, and you rest, Lady Mother. He cannot see +me now.” + +She prevailed, or rather the poor mother’s utter weariness and dejection +did, together with the father’s growl, “Let her bring us peace if she +can.” + +Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand to the +aching thigh. + +“Soft! Soft! Good! Good!” muttered Bernard presently. “Go on!” + +Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical touch of +Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her hand. Her mother, who was +quite worn out, moved to her own bed, and fell asleep, while the snores +of the Baron proclaimed him to have been long appeased. The boy, too, +presently was breathing softly, and Grisell’s attitude relaxed, as her +prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by and by, what she thought +was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light of St. Edith’s taper, +proved to be the musical rush of the incoming tide, and the golden +sunrise over the sea, while all lay sound asleep around her, and she +ventured gently to withdraw into her own room. + +That night was Grisell’s victory, though Bernard still held aloof from +her all the ensuing day, when he was really the better and fresher for +his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as usual the pain came on, he +wailed for her to rub him, and as it was still daylight, and her father +had gone out in one of the boats to fish, she ventured on singing to him, +as she rubbed, to his great delight and still greater boon to her +yearning heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, the little fellow +limped up to her, and said, “Grisly, sing that again,” staring hard in +her face as she did so. + + + + +CHAPTER XI +BERNARD + + + I do remember an apothecary,— + And hereabouts he dwells. + + SHAKESPEARE, _Romeo and Juliet_. + +BERNARD’S affection was as strong as his aversion had been. Poor little +boy, no one had been accustomed enough to sickly children, or indeed to +children at all, to know how to make him happy or even comfortable, and +his life had been sad and suffering ever since the blight that had fallen +on him, through either the evil eye of Nan the witch, or through his fall +into a freezing stream. His brother, a great strong lad, had teased and +bullied him; his father, though not actually unkind except when wearied +by his fretfulness, held him as a miserable failure, scarcely worth +rearing; his mother, though her pride was in her elder son, and the only +softness in her heart for the little one, had been so rugged and violent +a woman all the years of her life, and had so despised all gentler habits +of civilisation, that she really did not know how to be tender to the +child who was really her darling. Her infants had been nursed in the +cottages, and not returned to the castle till they were old enough to +rough it—indeed they were soon sent off to be bred up elsewhere. Some +failure in health, too, made it harder for her to be patient with an +ailing child, and her love was apt to take the form of anger with his +petulance or even with his suffering, or else of fierce battles with her +husband in his defence. + +The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that beldame had +disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady Whitburn still cherished +the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres or the Percies to yield the woman +up. Failing this, the boy had been shown to a travelling friar, who had +promised cure through the relics he carried about; but Bernard had only +screamed at him, and had been none the better. + +And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he found that +“Grisly,” as he still called her, but only as an affectionate +abbreviation, was the only person who could relieve his pain, or amuse +him, in the whole castle; and he was incessantly hanging on her. She +must put him to bed and sing lullabies to him, she must rub his limbs +when they ached with rheumatic pains; hers was the only hand which might +touch the sores that continually broke out, and he would sit for long +spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down the scar and pitying it with +“Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throw down my glove, and fight with +that lad, and kill him.” + +“O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me evil. He is a fair, brave, +good boy.” + +“He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn and recreant,” +persisted Bernard. “Rob and I will make him say that you are the fairest +of ladies.” + +“O nay, nay. That he could not.” + +“But you are, you are—on this side—mine own Grisly,” cried Bernard, whose +experiences of fair ladies had not been extensive, and who curled himself +on her lap, giving unspeakable rest and joy to her weary, yearning +spirit, as she pressed him to her breast. “Now, a story, a story,” he +entreated, and she was rich in tales from Scripture history and legends +of the Saints, or she would sing her sweet monastic hymns and chants, as +he nestled in her lap. + +The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, and now and +then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn and keeping him a +helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his mother for this +ill-favoured, useless sister, and would even snatch away the boy, and +declare that she wanted no one to deal with him save herself; but Bernard +had a will of his own, and screamed for his Grisly, throwing himself +about in such a manner that Lady Whitburn was forced to submit, and quite +to the alarm of her daughter, on one of these occasions she actually +burst into a flood of tears, sobbing loud and without restraint. Indeed, +though she hotly declared that she ailed nothing, there was a lassitude +about her that made it a relief to have the care of Bernard taken off her +hands; and the Baron’s grumbling at disturbed nights made the removal of +Bernard’s bed to his sister’s room generally acceptable. + +Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora the +English version of the Lord’s Prayer and Creed, and moreover to be +telling him the story of the Gospel, there came, no one knew from where, +an accusation which made her father tramp up and say, “Mark you, wench, +I’ll have no Lollards here.” + +“Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!” said Grisell trembling. + +“Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things common?” + +“We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend mothers and the holy +father.” + +The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn was fit +only for a shaveling, it might be all right. + +Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation of manhood? +However, Grisell had won permission to compound broths, cakes, and +possets for him, over the hall fire, for the cook and his wife would not +endure her approach to their domain, and with great reluctance allowed +her the materials. Bernard watched her operations with intense delight +and amusement, and tasted with a sense of triumph and appetite, calling +on his mother to taste likewise; and she, on whose palate semi-raw or +over-roasted joints had begun to pall, allowed that the nuns had taught +Grisell something. + +And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. Every one around +was used to her scars, and took no notice of them, and there was nothing +to bring the thought before her, except now and then when a fishwife’s +baby, brought to her for cure, would scream at her. She never went +beyond the castle except to mass, now and then to visit a sick person, +and to seek some of the herbs of which she had learnt the use, and then +she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, who made a great favour of +going. + +Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she soothed his +pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the knowledge she brought from +the convent. Her affections were with him, and though her mother could +scarcely be said to love her, she tolerated and depended more and more on +the daughter who alone could give her more help or solace. + +That was Grisell’s second victory, when she was actually asked to +compound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when be was caught in +a storm and came in drenched and weary. + +She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of Sister +Avice’s ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficacious than +melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from the church +bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients were out of reach, +unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and she obtained permission to +ride thither under the escort of Cuthbert Ridley, and was provided with a +small purse—the proceeds of the Baron’s dues out of the fishermen’s sales +of herrings. + +She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her mother, and +enough of cloth to afford winter garments for Bernard; and a steady old +pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn to be exchanged for these +commodities, since the Whitburn household possessed no member dexterous +with the old disused loom, and the itinerant weavers did not come that +way—it was whispered because they were afraid of the fisher folk, and got +but sorry cheer from the lady. + +The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two miles’ ride +along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at the curious caverns in the +rock, and seeking for the very strangely-formed stones supposed to have +magic power, which fell from the rock. In the distance beyond the river +to the southward, Ridley pointed to the tall square tower of Monks +Wearmouth Church dominating the great monastery around it, which had once +held the venerable Bede, though to both Ridley and Grisell he was only a +name of a patron saint. + +The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel to +Grisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and gaily-coloured +vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very new sights to one best +acquainted with Noah’s ark or St. Peter’s ship in illuminations. + +“Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding,” said Ridley. “Moreover, +these come for wool, salt-fish, and our earth coal, and they bring us +fine cloth, linen, and stout armour. I am glad to see yonder Flemish +ensign. If luck goes well with us, I shall get a fresh pair of gauntlets +for my lord, straight from Gaunt, the place of gloves.” + +“_Gant_ for glove,” said Grisell. + +“How? You speak French. Then you may aid me in chaffering, and I will +straight to the Fleming, with whom I may do better than with Hodge of the +Lamb. How now, here’s a shower coming up fast!” + +It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was already +bursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a thoroughfare across salt +marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was not enough to prevent their being +drenched by a torrent of rain and hail before they reached the +tall-timbered houses of Wearmouth. + +“In good time!” cried Ridley; “here’s the Poticary’s sign! You had best +halt here at once.” + +In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, hung a +sign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a stall, open to the +street, which the owner was sheltering with a deep canvas awning. + +“Hola, Master Lambert Groats,” called Ridley. “Here’s the young +demoiselle of Whitburn would have some dealings with you.” + +Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a small, +keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing his green +velvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take shelter in his poor +house. + +Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundry marvellous +curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, the shells of +tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her eyes most strange and +weird; but Master Lambert was begging her to hasten in at once to his +dwelling-room beyond, and let his wife dry her clothes, and at once there +came forward a plump, smooth, pleasant-looking personage, greatly his +junior, dressed in a tight gold-edged cap over her fair hair, a dark +skirt, black bodice, bright apron, and white sleeves, curtseying low, but +making signs to invite the newcomers to the fire on the hearth. “My +housewife is stone deaf,” explained their host, “and she knows no tongue +save her own, and the unspoken language of courtesy, but she is rejoiced +to welcome the demoiselle. Ah, she is drenched! Ah, if she will honour +my poor house!” + +The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the demoiselle to +come to the fire, and take off her wet mantle. It was a very comfortable +room, with a wide chimney, and deep windows glazed with thick circles of +glass, the spaces between leaded around in diamond panes, through which +vine branches could dimly be seen flapping and beating in the storm. A +table stood under one with various glasses and vessels of curious shapes, +and a big book, and at the other was a distaff, a work-basket, and other +feminine gear. Shelves with pewter dishes, and red, yellow, and striped +crocks, surrounded the walls; there was a savoury cauldron on the open +fire. It was evidently sitting-room and kitchen in one, with offices +beyond, and Grisell was at once installed in a fine carved chair by the +fire—a more comfortable seat than had ever fallen to her share. + +“Look you here, mistress,” said Ridley; “you are in safe quarters here, +and I will leave you awhile, take the horses to the hostel, and do mine +errands across the river—’tis not fit for you—and come back to you when +the shower is over, and you can come and chaffer for your woman’s gear.” + +From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell was glad to +have time for consultation. An Apothecary of those days did not rise to +the dignity of a leech, but was more like the present owner of a +chemist’s shop, though a chemist then meant something much more abstruse, +who studied occult sciences, such as alchemy and astrology. + +In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though English lips had +made it Groats, belonged to one of the prosperous guilds of the great +merchant city of Bruges, but he had offended his family by his +determination to marry the deaf, and almost dumb, portionless orphan +daughter of an old friend and contemporary, and to save her from the +scorn and slights of his relatives—though she was quite as well-born as +themselves—he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth and Sunderland had +a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These cities enjoyed the +cultivation of the period, and this room, daintily clean and fresh, +seemed to Grisell more luxurious than any she had seen since the Countess +of Warwick’s. A silver bowl of warm soup, extracted from the _pot au +feu_, was served to her by the Hausfrau, on a little table, spread with a +fine white cloth edged with embroidery, with an earnest gesture begging +her to partake, and a slender Venice glass of wine was brought to her +with a cake of wheaten bread. Much did Grisell wish she could have +transferred such refreshing fare to Bernard. She ventured to ask “Master +Poticary” whether he sold “Balsam of Egypt.” He was interested at once, +and asked whether it were for her own use. + +“Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that was a burn long +ago healed. It is for my poor little brother.” + +Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions of symptoms, +drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she learnt a good deal and +perhaps disclosed more of Sister Avice’s methods than Wilton might have +approved. In the midst the sun broke out gaily after the shower, and +disclosed, beyond the window, a garden where every leaf and spray were +glittering and glorious with their own diamond drops in the sunshine. A +garden of herbs was a needful part of an apothecary’s business, as he +manufactured for himself all of the medicaments which he did not import +from foreign parts, but this had been laid out between its high walls +with all the care, taste, and precision of the Netherlander, and Grisell +exclaimed in perfect ecstasy: “Oh, the garden, the garden! I have seen +nothing so fair and sweet since I left Wilton.” + +Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is no describing +how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the bare, dry walls of the +castle, and the tossing sea which the maiden had not yet learnt to love. +Nor was the garden dull, though meant for use. There was a well in the +centre with roses trained over it, roses of the dark old damask kind and +the dainty musk, used to be distilled for the eyes, some flowers +lingering still; there was the brown dittany or fraxinella, whose dried +blossoms are phosphoric at night; delicate pink centaury, good for ague; +purple mallows, good for wounds; leopard’s bane with yellow blossoms; +many and many more old and dear friends of Grisell, redolent of Wilton +cloister and Sister Avice; and she ran from one to the other quite +transported, and forgetful of all the dignities of the young Lady of +Whitburn, while Lambert was delighted, and hoped she would come again +when his lilies were in bloom. + +So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was asked of +the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert answered that the +value was fully balanced by what he had learnt from the lady. This, +however, did not suit the honour of the Dacres, and Grisell, as well as +her squire, who looked offended, insisted on leaving two gold crowns in +payment. The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it the last sprays of +roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom. + +She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where she obtained +the warm winter garments that she needed for her mother and brother, and +likewise some linen, for the Lady of Whitburn had never been housewife +enough to keep up a sufficient supply for Bernard, and Grisell was +convinced that the cleanliness which the nuns had taught her would +mitigate his troubles. With Thora to wash for her she hoped to institute +a new order of things. + +Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She was met there by +more grumbling than satisfaction. Her father had expected more coin to +send to Robert, who, like other absent youths, called for supplies. + +The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of paper with +the words:— + + “MINE HONOURED LORD AND FATHER—I pray you to send me Black Lightning + and xvj crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have you in + their keeping.—Your dutiful sonne, + + “ROBERT DACRE.” + +xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn vowed that +he had never so called on his father except when he was knighted, but +those were the good old days when spoil was to be won in France. What +could Rob want of such a sum? + +“Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no place to stint in. +The two young Earls of March and of Rutland, as they call them, walk in +red and blue and gold bravery, and chains of jewels, even like king’s +sons, and none of the squires and pages can be behind them.” + +“Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the lad fitted out for +years to come. I never sent home the like message to my father under the +last good King Henry, but purveyed myself of a horse on the battlefield +more than once. But those good old days are over, and lads think more of +velvet and broidery than of lances and swords. Forsooth, their +coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk robes instead of helm and shield; +and as to our maids, give them their rein, and they spend more than all +the rest on women’s tawdry gear!” + +Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and nothing for +herself except a few needles. + +However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and sent away +with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell became more and more a +needful person. Bernard was stronger, and even rode out on a pony, and +the fame of his improvement brought other patients to the Lady Grisell +from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best she might, successfully or +the reverse, while her mother, as her health failed, let fall more and +more the reins of household rule. + + + + +CHAPTER XII +WORD FROM THE WARS + + + Above, below, the Rose of Snow, + Twined with her blushing face we spread. + + GRAY’S _Bard_. + +NEWS did not travel very fast to Whitburn, but one summer’s day a tall, +gallant, fair-faced esquire, in full armour of the cumbrous plate +fashion, rode up to the gate, and blew the family note on his bugle. + +“My son! my son Rob,” cried the lady, starting up from the cushions with +which Grisell had furnished her settle. + +Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the gate, by +his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in the rear, while +Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung back. + +The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not conceal a good +deal of contempt for the rude northern habits. “How small and dark the +hall is! My lady, how old you have grown! What, Bernard, still fit only +for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, eh? Ha! is that Grisell? St. +Cuthbert to wit! Copeland has made a hag of her!” + +“’Tis a good maid none the less,” replied her father; the first direct +praise that she had ever had from him, and which made her heart glow. + +“She will ne’er get a husband, with such a visage as that,” observed +Robert, who did not seem to have learnt courtesy or forbearance yet on +his travels; but he was soon telling his father what concerned them far +more than the maiden’s fate. + +“Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to summon you. What, +you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as may be, the arms of every +honest man. How many can you get together?” + +“But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the roast last time I heard +of him.” + +“You know as little as my horse here in the north!” cried Rob. + +“This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the Queen, that +mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord of Salisbury, and +that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten her and the men of +Cheshire.” + +“Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the Copeland +banner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant that bore +it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed.” + +“I’ll warrant it,” muttered his father. + +“When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere in sight, +but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascaille after that.” + +“Ha!” half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. “That’s my +brave lad! And what then? More hopes of the spurs, eh?” + +“Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would willingly stir +a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, she gets a host +together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with her, at Ludlow. +Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass was said for the repose +of his soul, but with the morning what should we see on the other side of +the river Teme but the royal standard, and who should be under it but +King Harry himself with his meek face and fair locks, twirling his +fingers after his wont. So the men would have it that they had been +gulled, and they fell away one after another, till there was nothing for +it but for the Duke and his sons, and my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick +and a few score more of us, to ride off as best we might, with Sir Andrew +Trollope and his men after us, as hard as might be, so that we had to +break up, and keep few together. I went with the Duke of York and young +Lord Edmund into Wales, and thence in a bit of a fishing-boat across to +Ireland. Ask me to fight in full field with twice the numbers, but never +ask me to put to sea again! There’s nothing like it for taking heart and +soul out of a man!” + +“I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, and known +nothing worse than a qualm or two.” + +“That was to France,” said his son. “This Irish Sea is far wider and far +more tossing, I know for my own part. I’d have given a knight’s fee to +any one who would have thrown me overboard. I felt like an empty bag! +But once there, they could not make enough of us. The Duke had got their +hearts before, and odd sort of hearts they are. I was deaf with the wild +kernes shouting round about in their gibberish—such figures, too, as they +are, with their blue cloaks, streaming hair, and long glibbes +(moustaches), and the Lords of the Pale, as they call the English sort, +are nigh about as wild and savage as the mere Irish. It was as much as +my Lord Duke could do to hinder two of them from coming to blows in his +presence; and you should have heard them howl at one another. However, +they are all with him, and a mighty force of them mean to go back with +him to England. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais to hold counsel with +him, and they have sworn to one another to meet with all their forces, +and require the removal of the King’s evil councillors; and my Lord Duke, +with his own mouth, bade me go and summon his trusty Will Dacre of +Whitburn—so he spake, sir—to be with him with all the spears and bowmen +you can raise or call for among the neighbours. And it is my belief, +sir, that he means not to stop at the councillors, but to put forth his +rights. Hurrah for King Richard of the White Rose!” ended Robert, +throwing up his cap. + +“Nay, now,” said his father. “I’d be loth to put down our gallant King +Harry’s only son.” + +“No one breathes a word against King Harry,” returned Robert, “no more +than against a carven saint in a church, and he is about as much of a +king as old stone King Edmund, or King Oswald, or whoever he is, over the +porch. He is welcome to reign as long as he likes or lives, provided he +lets our Duke govern for him, and rids the country of the foreign woman +and her brat, who is no more hers than I am, but a mere babe of +Westminster town carried into the palace when the poor King Harry was +beside himself.” + +“Nay, now, Rob!” cried his mother. + +“So ’tis said!” sturdily persisted Rob. “’Tis well known that the King +never looked at him the first time he was shown the little imp, and next +time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted up his hands and said he +wotted nought of the matter. Hap what hap, King Harry may roam from +Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, so long as he lists, but none of +us will brook to be ruled or misruled by the foreign woman and the +Beauforts in his name, nor reigned over by the French dame or the +beggar’s brat, and the traitor coward Beaufort, but be under our own +noble Duke and the White Rose, the only badge that makes the Frenchman +flee.” + +The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of one who knew +the world, made his father laugh and say, “Hark to the cockerel crowing +loud. Spurs forsooth!” + +“The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted,” grunted Rob, “and there’s but +few years betwixt us.” + +“But a good many earldoms and lands,” said the Baron. “Hadst spoken of +being out of pagedom, ’twere another thing.” + +“You are coming, sir,” cried Rob, willing to put by the subject. “You +are coming to see how I can win honours.” + +“Aye, aye,” said his father. “When Nevil calls, then must Dacre come, +though his old bones might well be at rest now. Salisbury and Warwick +taking to flight like attainted traitors to please the foreign woman, +saidst thou? Then it is the time men were in the saddle.” + +“Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my lord,” exclaimed Robert. + +“Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was greatly reassured by thy +testimony,” said his father drily, while the mother, full of pride and +exultation in her goodly firstborn son, could not but exclaim, “Daunt him +not, my lord; he has done well thus to be sent home in charge.” + +“_I_ daunt him?” returned Lord Whitburn, in his teasing mood. “By his +own showing not a troop of Somerset’s best horsemen could do that!” + +Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations of +resources, which they kept up all through supper-time, and all the +evening, till the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like rang like a +repeating echo in Grisell’s ears. All through those long days of summer +the father and son were out incessantly, riding from one tenant or +neighbour to another, trying to raise men-at-arms and means to equip them +if raised. All the dues on the herring-boats and the two whalers, on +which Grisell had reckoned for the winter needs, were pledged to +Sunderland merchants for armour and weapons; the colts running wild on +the moors were hastily caught, and reduced to a kind of order by rough +breaking in. The women of the castle and others requisitioned from the +village toiled under the superintendence of the lady and Grisell at +preparing such provision and equipments as were portable, such as dried +fish, salted meat, and barley cakes, as well as linen, and there was a +good deal of tailoring of a rough sort at jerkins, buff coats, and sword +belts, not by any means the gentle work of embroidering pennons or +scarves notable in romance. + +“Besides,” scoffed Robert, “who would wear Grisly Grisell’s scarf!” + +“I would,” manfully shouted Bernard; “I would cram it down the throat of +that recreant Copeland.” + +“Oh! hush, hush, Bernard,” exclaimed Grisell, who was toiling with aching +fingers at the repairs of her father’s greasy old buff coat. “Such +things are, as Robin well says, for noble demoiselles with fair faces and +leisure times like the Lady Margaret. And oh, Robin, you have never told +me of the Lady Margaret, my dear mate at Amesbury.” + +“What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such gear,” growled Robin, +whose chivalry had not reached the point of caring for ladies. + +“The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret of York,” Grisell +explained. + +“Oh! That’s what you mean is it? There’s a whole troop of wenches at +the high table in hall. They came after us with the Duchess as soon as +we were settled in Trim Castle, but they are kept as demure and mim as +may be in my lady’s bower; and there’s a pretty sharp eye kept on them. +Some of the young squires who are fools enough to hanker after a few +maids or look at the fairer ones get their noses wellnigh pinched off by +Proud Cis’s Mother of the Maids.” + +“Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell’s greetings by you.” + +“I should like to see myself delivering them! Besides, we shall meet my +lord in camp, with no cumbrance of woman gear.” + +Lord Whitburn’s own castle was somewhat of a perplexity to him, for +though his lady had once been quite sufficient captain for his scanty +garrison, she was in too uncertain health, and what was worse, too much +broken in spirit and courage, to be fit for the charge. He therefore +decided on leaving Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter at least, was scarcely +as capable of roughing it as of old, to protect the castle, with a few +old or partly disabled men, who could man the walls to some degree, +therefore it was unlikely that there would be any attack. + +So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with its three +crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, and round it +mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been raised by the baron, +some being his own vassals, and others hired at Sunderland. The rest +were volunteers—gentlemen, their younger sons, and their +attendants—placing themselves under his leadership, either from goodwill +to York and Nevil, or from love of enterprise and hope of plunder. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII +A KNOT + + + I would mine heart had caught that wound + And slept beside him rather! + I think it were a better thing + Than murdered friend and marriage-ring + Forced on my life together. + + E. B. BROWNING, _The Romaunt of the Page_. + +LADIES were accustomed to live for weeks, months, nay, years, without +news of those whom they had sent to the wars, and to live their life +without them. The Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husband or +son again till the summer campaign was over, and she was not at all +uneasy about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrived at such +a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult to kill him, and +such was the weight, that his danger in being overthrown was of never +being able to get up, but lying there to be smothered, made prisoner, or +killed, by breaking into his armour. The knights could not have moved at +all under the weight if they had not been trained from infancy, and had +nearly reduced themselves to the condition of great tortoises. + +It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, when, though +twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were in bed, and he was +asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the master’s note, at first in +the usual tones, then more loudly and impatiently. Hastening out of bed +to her loophole window, Grisell saw a party beneath the walls, her +father’s scallop-shells dimly seen above them, and a little in the rear, +one who was evidently a prisoner. + +The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were beginning to be +astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer room, she found her mother +afoot and hastily dressing. + +“My lord! my lord! it is his note,” she cried. + +“Father come home!” shouted Bernard, just awake. “Grisly! Grisly! help +me don my clothes.” + +Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could not help +her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling rather than calling +for help all the time; and before she, still less Grisell, was fit for +the public, her father’s heavy step was on the stairs, and she heard +fragments of his words. + +“All abed! We must have supper—ridden from Ayton since last baiting. +Aye, got a prisoner—young Copeland—old one slain—great +victory—Northampton. King taken—Buckingham and Egremont killed—Rob +well—proud as a pyet. Ho, Grisell,” as she appeared, “bestir thyself. +We be ready to eat a horse behind the saddle. Serve up as fast as may +be.” + +Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word Copeland +aright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just crossing the +hall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, with hands over his +face and elbows on his knees, but she could not pause, and went on to the +kitchen, where the peat fire was never allowed to expire, and it was easy +to stir it into heat. Whatever was cold she handed over to the servants +to appease the hunger of the arrivals, while she broiled steaks, and +heated the great perennial cauldron of broth with all the expedition in +her power, with the help of Thora and the grumbling cook, when he +appeared, angry at being disturbed. + +Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were over for the +dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and when she again +crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the straw-bestrewn floor +fast asleep. One she specially noticed, his long limbs stretched out as +he lay on his side, his head on his arm, as if he had fallen asleep from +extreme fatigue in spite of himself. + +His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and ruddy, and +all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been those long years ago +before her accident. Save for that, she would have been long ago his +wife, she with her marred face the mate of that nobly fair countenance. +How strange to remember. How she would have loved him, frank and often +kind as she remembered him, though rough and impatient of restraint. +What was that which his fingers had held till sleep had unclasped them? +An ivory chessrook! Such was a favourite token of ladies to their true +loves. What did it mean? Might she pause to pray a prayer over him as +once hers—that all might be well with him, for she knew that in this +unhappy war important captives were not treated as Frenchmen would have +been as prisoners of war, but executed as traitors to their King. + +She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one of the +dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, and she fled +up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fast asleep, and +across to her own room, where she threw herself on her bed, dressed as +she was, but could not sleep for the multitude of strange thoughts that +crowded over her in the increasing daylight. + +By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, and then +her mother came in. + +“Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning instantly. +Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. The Earl of Warwick hath +granted his life to thy father on that condition only.” + +“Oh, mother, is he willing?” cried Grisell trembling. + +“What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, and he must fulfil his +promise now that we have him.” + +“Was it troth? I cannot remember it,” said Grisell. + +“That matters not. Your father’s plight is the same thing. His father +was slain in the battle, so ’tis between him and us. Put on thy best +clothes as fast as may be. Thou shalt have my wedding-veil and miniver +mantle. Speed, I say. My lord has to hasten away to join the Earl on +the way to London. He will see the knot tied beyond loosing at once.” + +To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her bewilderment. +Remonstrance was vain. The actual marriage without choice was not so +repugnant to all her feelings as to a modern maiden; it was the ordinary +destiny of womanhood, and she had been used in her childhood to look on +Leonard Copeland as her property; but to be forced on the poor youth +instantly on his father’s death, and as an alternative to execution, set +all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard was sitting up in bed, +crying out that he could not lose his Grisly. Her mother was running +backwards and forwards, bringing portions of her own bridal gear, and +directing Thora, who was combing out her young lady’s hair, which was +long, of a beautiful brown, and was to be worn loose and flowing, in the +bridal fashion. Grisell longed to kneel and pray, but her mother hurried +her. “My lord must not be kept waiting, there would be time enough for +prayer in the church.” Then Bernard, clamouring loudly, threw his arms +round the thick old heavy silken gown that had been put on her, and +declared that he would not part with his Grisly, and his mother tore him +away by force, declaring that he need not fear, Copeland would be in no +hurry to take her away, and again when she bent to kiss him he clung +tight round her neck almost strangling her, and rumpling her tresses. + +Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the young lady, +and it was he who took the boy off and held him in his arms, as the +mother, who seemed endued with new strength by the excitement, threw a +large white muffling veil over Grisell’s head and shoulders, and led or +rather dragged her down to the hall. + +The first sounds she there heard were, “Sir, I have given my faith to the +Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I love.” + +“What is that to me? ’Twas a precontract to my daughter.” + +“Not made by me nor her.” + +“By your parents, with myself. You went near to being her death +outright, marred her face for life, so that none other will wed her. +What say you? Not hurt by your own will? Who said it was? What matters +that?” + +“Sir,” said Leonard, “it is true that by mishap, nay, if you will have it +so, by a child’s inadvertence, I caused this evil chance to befall your +daughter, but I deny, and my father denies likewise, that there was any +troth plight between the maid and me. She will own the same if you ask +her. As I spake before, there was talk of the like kind between you, +sir, and my father, and it was the desire of the good King that thus the +families might be reconciled; but the contract went no farther, as the +holy King himself owned when I gave my faith to the Lord Audley’s +daughter, and with it my heart.” + +“Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor fool of a King +believe and avouch anything she choose! This is not the point. No more +words, young man. Here stands my daughter; there is the rope. +Choose—wed or hang.” + +Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity over his +face. Then he said, “If I consent, am I at liberty, free at once to +depart?” + +“Aye,” said Whitburn. “So you fulfil your contract, the rest is nought +to me.” + +“I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to my Queen and King?” + +“Free.” + +“You swear it, on the holy cross?” + +Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, and made +oath on it that when once married to his daughter, Leonard Copeland was +no longer his prisoner. + +Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of grief and +renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs of King and +country, and his words chimed in with her conviction. + +“Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would die rather than be +false to my love, but my Queen needs good swords and faithful hearts, and +I may not fail her. I am ready!” + +“It is well!” said Lord Whitburn. “Ho, you there! Bring the horses to +the door.” + +Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had been thinking +of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but that look of grief +roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had no other love to sacrifice. + +“Sir! sir!” she cried, as her father turned to bid her mount the pillion +behind Ridley. “Can you not let him go free without? I always looked to +a cloister.” + +“That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me now, or it will be the +worse for him and you.” + +“One word I would say,” added the mother. “How far hath this matter with +the Audley maid gone? There is no troth plight, I trow?” + +“No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not have pleaded it if there +had been? No more dilly-dallying. Up on the horse, Grisly, and have +done with it. We will show the young recreant how promises are kept in +Durham County.” + +He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and lifted her +passively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert Ridley. A fine horse, +Copeland’s own, was waiting for him. He was allowed to ride freely, but +old Whitburn kept close beside him, so that escape would have been +impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, dimmed and +dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, which glittered on +the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, purple in the sun, was +rising in front of this strange bridal cavalcade. + +It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the heavy rain +that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole party come within +for the part of the ceremony usually performed outside the west door. + +It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, and filled with +dusky glass, and the arches were low browed. Grisell’s mufflings were +thrown aside, and she stood as became a maiden bride, with all her hair +flowing over her shoulders and long tresses over her face, but even +without this, her features would hardly have been visible, as the dense +cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall and straight was her figure +that no one would have supposed her other than a fair young spouse. She +trembled a good deal, but was too much terrified and, as it were, stunned +for tears, and she durst not raise her drooping head even to look at her +bridegroom, though such light as came in shone upon his fair hair and was +reflected on his armour, and on one golden spur that still he wore, the +other no doubt lost in the fight. + +All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was determined that no +ceremony that could make the wedlock valid should be omitted. The +priest, a kind old man, but of peasant birth, and entirely subservient to +the Dacres, proceeded to ask each of the pair when they had been +assoiled, namely, absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, had been shriven +only last Friday; Leonard muttered, “Three days since, when I was dubbed +knight, ere the battle.” + +“That suffices,” put in the Baron impatiently. “On with you, Sir Lucas.” + +The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, and Grisell +could not but look up anxiously when the solemn charge was given to +mention whether there was any lawful “letting” to their marriage. Her +heart bounded as it were to her throat when Leonard made no answer. + +But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise! + +It went on—those betrothal vows, dictated while the two cold hands were +linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, hers, quaking, especially +as, in the old use of York, he took her “for laither for fairer”—laith +being equivalent to loathly—“till death us do part.” And with failing +heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered out her vow to cleave to +him “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness or health, +and to be bonner (debonair or cheerful) and boughsome (obedient) till +that final parting.” + +The troth was plighted, and the silver mark—poor Leonard’s sole available +property at the moment—laid on the priest’s book, as the words were said, +“with worldly cathel I thee endow,” and the ring, an old one of her +mother’s, was held on Grisell’s finger. It was done, though, alas! the +bridegroom could hardly say with truth, “with my body I thee worship.” + +Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands barely +touching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when Latin did not +come home to the pair like English, though both fairly understood it. +Grisell’s feeling was by this time concentrated in the one hope that she +should be dutiful to the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more to be +pitied than herself, and that she should be guarded by God whatever +befell. + +It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, but there was +some delay, for the darkness was more dense than ever, the rush of +furious hail was heard without, a great blue flash of intense light +filled every corner of the church, the thunder pealed so sharply and +vehemently overhead that the small company looked at one another and at +the church, to ascertain that no stroke had fallen. Then the Lord of +Whitburn, first recovering himself, cried, “Come, sir knight, kiss your +bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard—here. Who hath seen him? Not +vanished in yon flash! Eh?” + +No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that Sir +Leonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he had fulfilled +the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, and galloped away +through the storm. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV +THE LONELY BRIDE + + + Grace for the callant + If he marries our muckle-mouth Meg. + + BROWNING. + +“THE recreant! Shall we follow him?” was the cry of Lord Whitburn’s +younger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his hand on his horse’s neck, in +spite of the torrents of rain and the fresh flash that set the horses +quivering. + +“No! no!” roared the Baron. “I tell you no! He has fulfilled his +promise; I fulfil mine. He has his freedom. Let him go! For the rest, +we will find the way to make him good husband to you, my wench,” and as +Harry murmured something, “There’s work enow in hand without spending our +horses’ breath and our own in chasing after a runaway groom. A brief +space we will wait till the storm be over.” + +Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling her beads, +and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all the time giving +thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her mother, whose needs had +been pressing strongly on her, yet that she might do right by this +newly-espoused husband, whose downcast, dejected look had filled her, not +with indignation at the slight to her—she was far past that—but with +yearning compassion for one thus severed from his true love. + +When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders to ride +home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, he asked, +“Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thy runaway +bridegroom?” + +“Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than be away +with yonder stranger I ken not whither.” + +“Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can break the marriage by +pleading precontract, you may lay your reckoning on it that so he will.” + +When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which Lady +Whitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her opinion. + +“He will get the knot untied,” she said. “So thick as the King and his +crew are with the Pope, it will cost him nothing, but we may, for very +shame, force a dowry out of his young knighthood to get the wench into +Whitby withal!” + +“So he even proffered on his way,” said the Baron. “He is a fair and +knightly youth. ’Tis pity of him that he holds with the Frenchwoman. +Ha, Bernard, ’tis for thy good.” + +For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring that his +Grisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile runaway +husbands. + +Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no difference in +her position, excepting that she was scrupulously called Dame Grisell +Copeland. Her father was soon called away by the summons to Parliament, +sent forth in the name of King Henry, who was then in the hands of the +Earl of Warwick in London. The Sheriff’s messenger who brought him the +summons plainly said that all the friends of York, Salisbury, and Warwick +were needed for a great change that would dash the hopes of the +Frenchwoman and her son. + +He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle to Ridley +and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not be downhearted. +He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir Leonard, to his marrow bones +before her. + +Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the summer +waned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low fever. In the +lady’s case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third day in her +bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over the child’s +bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all night, sometimes +craving to be on his sister’s lap, but too restless long to lie there. +Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of all Grisell’s simple +treatment, and at last she wrung from the lady permission to send Ridley +to Wearmouth to try if it was possible to bring out Master Lambert Groot +to give his advice, or if not, to obtain medicaments and counsel from +him. + +The good little man actually came, riding a mule. “Ay, ay,” quoth +Ridley, “I brought him, though he vowed at first it might never be, but +when he heard it concerned you, mistress—I mean Dame Grisell—he was ready +to come to your aid.” + +Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher’s dress and little +frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark old hall. + +Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferior +enough to be under her orders. “Ha! Is that your Poticary?” she +demanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. “Look at my bairn, +Master Dutchman; see to healing him,” she continued imperiously. + +Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed her manner, +though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more civilised than this +North Country dame. He looked anxiously at Bernard, who moaned a little +and turned his head away. “Nay, now, Bernard,” entreated his sister; +“look up at the good man, he that sent you the sugar-balls. He is come +to try to make you well.” + +Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand to the +leech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the stranger, who felt +his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for better examination. There +was at first a dismal little whine at being touched and moved, but when a +pleasantly acid drop was put into his little parched mouth, he smiled +with brief content. His mother evidently expected that both he and she +herself would be relieved on the spot, but the Apothecary durst not be +hopeful, though he gave the child a draught which he called a febrifuge, +and which put him to sleep, and bade the lady take another of the like if +she wished for a good night’s rest. + +He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage to +Lindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from the foul, +close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil odours of the court. +To the lady he thought it would really be healing, but he doubted whether +the poor little boy was not too far gone for such revival; indeed, he +made no secret that he believed the child was stricken for death. + +“Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!” cried the mother +passionately. “You outlandish cheat! you! What did you come here for? +You have not even let him blood!” + +“Let him blood! good madame,” exclaimed Master Lambert. “In his state, +to take away his blood would be to kill him outright!” + +“False fool and pretender,” cried Lady Whitburn; “as if all did not ken +that the first duty of a leech is to take away the infected humours of +the blood! Demented as I was to send for you. Had you been worth but a +pinch of salt, you would have shown me how to lay hands on Nan the +witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my poor bairn.” + +Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skill of a +witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having come on false +pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, and finally fell +into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisell was thankful to +convey her guest out of the chamber, and place him under the care of +Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, and safe convoy back to +Wearmouth when his mule had been rested and baited. + +“Oh, Master Lambert,” she said, “it grieves me that you should have been +thus treated.” + +“Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share to brook the like, +and I fear me that yours is a weary lot.” + +“But my brother! my little brother!” she asked. “It is all out of my +mother’s love for him.” + +“Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and little enough is +there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he high or low born. +Were it not better that the Saints should take him to their keeping, +while yet a sackless babe?” + +Grisell wrung her hands together. “Ah! he hath been all my joy or bliss +through these years; but I will strive to say it is well, and yield my +will.” + +The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called her back +before she could say or hear more. Her mother lay still utterly +exhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but all that evening, and +all the ensuing night, Grisell held the boy, sometimes on her lap, +sometimes on the bed, while all the time his moans grew more and more +feeble, his words more indistinct. By and by, as she sat on the bed, +holding him on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, outwearied as +she was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, till she was roused +by a cry from Thora, “Holy St. Hilda! the bairn has passed!” + +And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that had been +clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a strange cold at her +breast. + +Her mother woke with a loud wail. “My bairn! My bairn!” snatching him +to her arms. “This is none other than your Dutchman’s doings, girl. +Have him to the dungeon! Where are the stocks? Oh, my pretty boy! He +breathed, he is living. Give me the wine!” Then as there was no opening +of the pale lips, she fell into another tempest of tears, during which +Grisell rushed to the stair, where on the lowest step she met Lambert and +Ridley. + +“Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert,” she cried. “Out of the castle +instantly. My mother is distraught with grief; I know not what she may +do to him. O go! Not a word!” + +They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and leaving the +castle to its sorrow. + +So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault in the +church, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her mother, after +her burst of passion subsided, lay still and listless, hardly noticing +anything, as if there had fallen on her some stroke that affected her +brain. Tidings of the Baron were slow to come, and though Grisell sent a +letter by a wandering friar to York, with information of the child’s +death and the mother’s illness, it was very doubtful when or whether they +would ever reach him. + + + + +CHAPTER XV +WAKEFIELD BRIDGE + + + I come to tell you things since then befallen. + After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, + Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp. + + SHAKESPEARE, _King Henry VI._, Part III. + +CHRISTMAS went by sadly in Whitburn Tower, but the succeeding weeks were +to be sadder still. It was on a long dark evening that a commotion was +heard at the gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had been sitting by the +smouldering fire in her chamber, seemed suddenly startled into life. + +“Tidings,” she cried. “News of my lord and son. Bring them, Grisell, +bring them up.” + +Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the household, men and +maids, were gathered round some one freshly come in, and the first sound +she heard was, “Alack! Alack, my lady!” + +“How—what—how—” she asked breathlessly, just recognising Harry +Featherstone, pale, dusty, blood-stained. + +“It is evil news, dear lady,” said old Ridley, turning towards her with +outstretched hands, and tears flowing down his cheeks. “My knight. Oh! +my knight! And I was not by!” + +“Slain?” almost under her breath, asked Grisell. + +“Even so! At Wakefield Bridge,” began Featherstone, but at that instant, +walking stiff, upright, and rigid, like a figure moved by mechanism, Lady +Whitburn was among them. + +“My lord,” she said, still as if her voice belonged to some one else. +“Slain? And thou, recreant, here to tell the tale!” + +“Madam, he fell before I had time to strike.” She seemed to hear no +word, but again demanded, “My son.” + +He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated. + +“My son! Speak out, thou coward loon.” + +“Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside the Earl of +Rutland. ’Tis a lost field! I barely ’scaped with a dozen men. I came +but to bear the tidings, and see whether you needed an arm to hold out +the castle for young Bernard. Or I would be on my way to my own folk on +the Border, for the Queen’s men will anon be everywhere, since the Duke +is slain!” + +“The Duke! The Duke of York!” was the cry, as if a tower were down. + +“What would you. We were caught by Somerset like deer in a buck-stall. +Here! Give me a cup of ale, I can scarce speak for chill.” + +He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale was brought by +some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a sign from Ridley, one +of the serving-men began to draw off his heavy boots and greaves, covered +with frosted mud, snow, and blood, all melting together, but all the time +he talked, and the hearers remained stunned and listening to what had +hardly yet penetrated their understanding. Lady Whitburn had collapsed +into her own chair, and was as still as the rest. + +He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a question, but his +fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded. + +All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry was in the power +of the White Rose, and had actually consented that Richard of York should +be his next heir, but in the meantime Queen Margaret had been striving +her utmost to raise the Welsh and the Border lords on behalf of her son. +She had obtained aid from Scotland, and the Percies, the Dacres of +Gilsland, and many more, had followed her standard. The Duke of York and +Earl of Salisbury set forth to repress what they called a riot, probably +unaware of the numbers who were daily joining the Queen. With them went +Lord Whitburn, hoping thence to return home, and his son Robert, still a +squire of the Duke’s household. + +They reached York’s castle of Sendal, and there merrily kept Christmas, +but on St. Thomas of Canterbury’s Day they heard that the foe were close +at hand, many thousands strong, and on the morrow Queen Margaret, with +her boy beside her, and the Duke of Somerset, came before the gate and +called on the Duke to surrender the castle, and his own vaunting claims +with it, or else come out and fight. + +Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till his son +Edward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from Wales, but York +held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on account of a scolding +woman, and the prudence of the Earl of Salisbury was at fault, since both +presumed on the easy victories they had hitherto gained. Therefore they +sallied out towards Wakefield Bridge, to confront the main body of +Margaret’s army, ignorant or careless that she had two wings in reserve. +These closed in on them, and their fate was certain. + +“My lord fell in the melée among the first,” said Featherstone. “I was +down beside him, trying to lift him up, when a big Scot came with his +bill and struck at my head, and I knew no more till I found my master +lying stark dead and stripped of all his armour. My sword was gone, but +I got off save for this cut” (and he pushed back his hair) “and a horse’s +kick or two, for the whole battle had gone over me, and I heard the +shouting far away. As my lord lay past help, methought I had best shift +myself ere more rascaille came to strip the slain. And as luck or my +good Saint would have it, as I stumbled among the corpses I heard a +whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown Weardale, running masterless. +Glad enough was he, poor brute, to have my hand on his rein. + +“The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to put him to +the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young Master Robin, +and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, on the other side, +holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress Grisell wedded, and +though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand to them, and was letting +them go by in safety. I was calling to Master Rob to let me pass as one +of his own, when thundering on came the grim Lord Clifford, roaring like +the wind in Roker caves. I heard him howl at young Copeland for a +traitor, letting go the accursed spoilers of York. Copeland tried to +speak, but Clifford dashed him aside against the wall, and, ah! woe’s me, +lady, when Master Robin threw himself between, the fellow—a murrain on +his name—ran the fair youth through the neck with his sword, and swept +him off into the river. Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, +“Thy father slew mine, and so do I thee,” and dashed out his brains with +his mace. For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over the river in +the twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses and poor +slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was even worse, +some not yet dead, borne along and crying out. A woful day it was to all +who loved the kindly Duke of York, or this same poor house! As luck +would have it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale and a few more honest +fellows, who had ’scaped. We found none but friends when we were well +past the river. They succoured us at the first abbey we came to. The +rest have sped to their homes, and here am I.” + +Such was the tenor of Featherstone’s doleful history of that +blood-thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in dire suspense on his +words, and not till they were ended did Grisell become conscious that her +mother was sitting like a stone, with fixed, glassy eyes and dropped lip, +in the high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathing strangely. + +They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had received her +death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on the slopes between +Sendal and Wakefield. + +Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, and they +watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as they tried their +simple, ineffective remedies one after another, with no thought or +possibility of sending for further help, since the roads would be +impassable in the long January night, and besides, the Lancastrians might +make them doubly perilous. Moreover, this dumb paralysis was accepted as +past cure, and needing not the doctor but the priest. Before the first +streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, Ridley’s ponderous step +came up the stair, into the feeble light of the rush candle which the +watchers tried to shelter from the draughts. + +The sad question and answer of “No change” passed, and then Ridley, his +gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, “Featherstone would speak with +you, lady. He would know whether it be your pleasure to keep him in your +service to hold out the Tower, or whether he is free to depart.” + +“Mine!” said Grisell bewildered. + +“Yea!” exclaimed Ridley. “You are Lady of Whitburn!” + +“Ah! It is true,” exclaimed Grisell, clasping her hands. “Woe is me +that it should be so! And oh! Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, is a +Queen’s man! What can I do?” + +“If it were of any boot I would say hold out the Tower. He deserves no +better after the scurvy way he treated you,” said Cuthbert grimly. “He +may be dead, too, though Harry fears he was but stunned.” + +“But oh!” cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam of light, “did not I +hear something of his trying to save my brother and Lord Edmund?” + +“You had best come down and hear,” said Ridley. “Featherstone cannot go +till he has spoken with you, and he ought to depart betimes, lest the +Gilsland folk and all the rest of them be ravening on their way back.” + +Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, entirely past +her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had seemed to have no affection to +bestow on her daughter, had been entirely broken down and crushed by the +loss of her sons and husband. + +Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on young Copeland +they might be giving their Tower to their enemy. + +She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose night had done +him more good than hers had, came to meet her, looking much freshened, +and with a bandage over his forehead. He bent low before her, and +offered her his services, but, as he told her, he and Ridley had been +talking it over, and they thought it vain to try to hold out the Tower, +even if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, for the country +round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would be scarcely possible to get +provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, the Gilsland branch of the +family, who would be the male heirs, were on the side of the King and +Queen, and might drive her out if she resisted. Thus there seemed no +occasion for the squire to remain, and he hoped to reach his own family, +and save himself from the risk of being captured. + +“No, sir, we do not need you,” said Grisell. “If Sir Leonard Copeland +lives and claims this Tower, there is no choice save to yield it to him. +I would not delay you in seeking your own safety, but only thank you for +your true service to my lord and father.” + +She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his knee. + +His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his way more +safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in this war, the +poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were chiefly made on nobles +and gentlemen. So he prepared to set forth, but Grisell obtained from +him what she had scarcely understood the night before, the entire history +of the fall of her father and brother, and how gallantly Leonard Copeland +had tried to withstand Clifford’s rage. + +“He did his best for them,” she said, as if it were her one drop of hope +and comfort. + +Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford’s blow had freed her from her +reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage would give her claims on the +Copeland property. But Grisell somehow could not join in the wish. She +could only remember the merry boy at Amesbury and the fair face she had +seen sleeping in the hall, and she dwelt on Featherstone’s assurance that +no wound had pierced the knight, and that he would probably be little the +worse for his fall against the parapet of the bridge. Use her as he +might, she could not wish him dead, though it was a worthy death in +defence of his old playfellow and of her own brother. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI +A NEW MASTER + + + In the dark chambère, if the bride was fair, + Ye wis, I could not see. + . . . . + And the bride rose from her knee + And kissed the smile of her mother dead. + + E. B. BROWNING, _The Romaunt of the Page_. + +THE Lady of Whitburn lingered from day to day, sometimes showing signs of +consciousness, and of knowing her daughter, but never really reviving. +At the end of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhat better, but +that night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidently dying that the +priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the last Sacrament. The +passing bell rang out from the church, and the old man, with his little +server before him, came up the stair, and was received by Grisell, Thora, +and one or two other servants on their knees. + +Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest was crossing the +hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight at their head, rode to the +gate and demanded entrance. + +The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, instead of +escorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, had to go to the +gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, far from dead, in very +different guise from that in which he had been brought to the castle +before. He looked, however, awed, as he said, bending his head— + +“Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand with me?” + +“My old lady is _in extremis_, sir,” replied Ridley. “Poor soul, she +hath never spoken since she heard of my lord’s death and his son’s.” + +“The younger lad? Lives here?” demanded Copeland. “Is it as I have +heard?” + +“Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. Luke. I have my +lady’s orders,” he added reluctantly, “to open the castle to you, as of +right.” + +“It is well,” returned Sir Leonard. Then, turning round to the twenty +men who followed him, he said, “Men-at-arms, as you saw and heard, there +is death here. Draw up here in silence. This good esquire will see that +you have food and fodder for the horses. Kemp, Hardcastle,” to his +squires, “see that all is done with honour and respect as to the lady of +the castle and mine. Aught unseemly shall be punished.” + +Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, looking +about him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but speaking with low, +grave tones. + +“I may not tarry,” he said to Ridley, “but this place, since it falls to +me and mine, must be held for the King and Queen.” + +“My lady bows to your will, sir,” returned Ridley. + +Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, +observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lasted till +the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest came forth. + +“Sir,” he said to Copeland, “you will pardon the young lady. Her mother +is _in articulo mortis_, and she cannot leave her.” + +“I would not disturb her,” said Leonard. “The Saints forbid that I +should vex her. I come but as in duty bound to damn this Tower on behalf +of King Harry, Queen Margaret, and the Prince of Wales against all +traitors. I will not tarry here longer than to put it into hands who +will hold it for them and for me. How say you, Sir Squire?” he added, +turning to Ridley, not discourteously. + +“We ever did hold for King Harry, sir,” returned the old esquire. + +“Yea, but against his true friends, York and Warwick. One is cut off, +ay, and his aider and defender, Salisbury, who should rather have stood +by his King, has suffered a traitor’s end at Pomfret.” + +“My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my poor young lady,” sighed +Ridley. + +“He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the King,” said Leonard. +“We of his household long ago were happy enough, though strangely divided +now. For the rest, till that young wolf cub, Edward of March, and his +mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be put down, this place must be held +against them and theirs—whosoever bears the White Rose. Wilt do so, +Master Seneschal?” + +“I hold for my lady. That is all I know,” said Ridley, “and she holds +herself bound to you, sir.” + +“Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I see; but I must leave half a +score of fellows for the defence, and will charge them that they show all +respect and honour to the lady, and leave to you, as seneschal, all the +household, and of all save the wardship of the Tower, calling on you +first to make oath of faith to me, and to do nought to the prejudice of +King Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor to favour the friends of York or +Warwick.” + +“I am willing, sir,” returned Ridley, who cared a great deal more for the +house of Whitburn than for either party, whose cause he by no means +understood, perhaps no more than they had hitherto done themselves. As +long as he was left to protect his lady it was all he asked, and more +than he expected, and the courtesy, not to say delicacy, of the young +knight greatly impressed both him and the priest, though he suspected +that it was a relief to Sir Leonard not to be obliged to see his bride of +a few months. + +The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would rather have seen them +more of the North Country yeoman type than of the regular weather-beaten +men-at-arms whom wars always bred up; but their officer was a slender, +dainty-looking, pale young squire, with his arm in a sling, named Pierce +Hardcastle, selected apparently because his wound rendered rest +desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his charge that all honour and respect +was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, and that she was free to come and +go as she chose, and to be obeyed in every respect, save in what regarded +the defence of the Tower. He himself was going on to Monks Wearmouth, +where he had a kinsman among the monks. + +With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to Ridley, +“Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am grieved for her sorrow and +to be compelled to trouble her at such a time; but ’tis for my Queen’s +service, and when this troublous times be ended, she shall hear more from +me.” Turning to the priest he added, “I have no coin to spare, but let +all be done that is needed for the souls of the departed lord and lady, +and I will be answerable.” + +Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and squire +looked at one another, and Ridley said, “He will untie your knot, Sir +Lucas.” + +“He takes kindly to castle and lands,” was the answer, with a smile; +“they may make the lady to be swallowed.” + +“I trow ’tis for his cause’s sake,” replied Ridley. “Mark you, he never +once said ‘My lady,’ nor ‘My wife.’” + +“May the sweet lady come safely out of it any way,” sighed the priest. +“She would fain give herself and her lands to the Church.” + +“May be ’tis the best that is like to befall her,” said Ridley; “but if +that young featherpate only had the wit to guess it, he would find that +he might seek Christendom over for a better wife.” + +They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to say that my +lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to the bedside. + +All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, and Grisell +was left alone in her desolation. The only real, deep, mutual love had +been between her and poor little Bernard; her elder brother she had +barely seen; her father had been indifferent, chiefly regarding her as a +damaged piece of property, a burthen to the estate; her mother had been a +hard, masculine, untender woman, only softened in her latter days by the +dependence of ill health and her passion for her sickly youngest; but on +her Grisell had experienced Sister Avice’s lesson that ministry to others +begets and fosters love. + +And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her work for +her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except so far as that +the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home by a hostile garrison. +Her spirit sank within her, and she bitterly felt the impoverishment of +the always scanty means, which deprived her of the power of laying out +sums of money on those rites which were universally deemed needful for +the repose of souls snatched away in battle. It was a mercenary age +among the clergy, and besides, it was the depth of a northern winter, and +the funeral rites of the Lady of Whitburn would have been poor and maimed +indeed if a whole band of black Benedictine monks had not arrived from +Wearmouth, saying they had been despatched at special request and charge +of Sir Leonard Copeland. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII +STRANGE GUESTS + + + The needle, having nought to do, + Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, + Till closer still the tempter drew, + And off at length eloped the needle. + + T. MOORE. + +THE nine days of mourning were spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, who +went through every round of devotions prescribed or recommended by the +Church, and felt relief and rest in them. She shrank when Ridley on the +tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in the solar, but to +come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of the Castle, otherwise +he said he could not answer for the conduct of Copeland’s men. + +“Master Hardcastle desires it too,” he said. “He is a good lad enough, +but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough over those fellows! You +need not look for aught save courtesy from him! Come down, lady, or you +will never have your rights.” + +“Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?” + +“To be mistress of your own castle,” returned Ridley, “and that you will +never be unless you take the upper hand. Here are all our household +eating with these rogues of Copeland’s, and who is to keep rule if the +lady comes not?” + +“Alack, and how am I to do so?” + +However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very early +dinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the return from +mass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He was a tall slender stripling, +looking weak and ill, and he bowed very low as he said, “Greet you well, +lady,” and looked up for a moment as if in fear of what he might +encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with long watching and grief, +and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance all her scars and +distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than her wont. She saw him +shudder a little, but his lame arm and wan looks interested her kind +heart. “I fear me you are still feeling your wound, sir,” she said, in +the sweet voice which was evidently a surprise to him. + +“It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this morning,” he answered. + +They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and Hardcastle, the +servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge and broth and very small ale +were the fare, and salted meat would be for supper, and as Grisell knew +but too well already, her own retainers were grumbling at the voracious +appetites of the men-at-arms as much as did their unwilling guests at the +plainness and niggardliness of the supply. + +Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or even to +broach a cask of wine. “For,” said she, “they are none such fiends as we +thought, if one knows how to take them courteously.” + +“There is no need that you should have any dealings with them, Thora,” +said her lady, with some displeasure; “Master Ridley sees to their +provision.” + +Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about not being +mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And when she attended her lady +to the hall there certainly were glances between her and a slim young +archer. + +The lady’s presence was certainly a restraint on the rude men-at-arms, +though two or three of them seemed to her rough, reckless-looking men. +After the meal all her kindly instincts were aroused to ask what she +could do for the young squire, and he willingly put himself into her +hands, for his hurt had become much more painful within the last day or +two, as indeed it proved to be festering, and in great need of treatment. + +Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell had found +him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence of the Queen had +snatched from his studies into the battlefield. He told her a great deal +about the good King, and his encouragement of his beloved scholars at +Eton, and he spoke of Queen Margaret with an enthusiasm new to Grisell, +who had only heard her reviled as the Frenchwoman. Pierce could speak +with the greatest admiration, too, of his own knight, Sir Leonard, whom +he viewed as the pink of chivalry, assuring Lady Copeland, as he called +her, that she need never doubt for a moment of his true honour and +courtesy. Grisell longed to know, but modest pride forbade her to ask, +whether he knew how matters stood with her rival, Lady Eleanor Audley. +Ridley, however, had no such feeling, and he reported to Grisell what he +had discovered. + +Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought her very +beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry was riding to his +Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a squire, was standing beside her, +and it had been currently reported that he was to be her bridegroom. + +He had returned from his captivity after the battle of Northampton +exceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the cause of Lancaster, +and Hardcastle had heard that the question had been discussed whether the +forced marriage had been valid, or could be dissolved; but since the +bodies of Lord Whitburn and his son had been found on the ground at +Wakefield, this had ceased, and it was believed that Queen Margaret had +commanded Sir Leonard, on his allegiance, to go and take possession of +Whitburn and its vassals in her cause. + +But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley’s opinion, that did his knight +but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as man could wish +both in word and deed. + +“I would fain,” said he, “have the Lady Eleanor to look at, but this lady +to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. Never met I woman who was so +good company! She might almost be a scholar at Oxford for her wit.” + +However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of Master +Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thora +exchanged glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few days Ridley +spoke to Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue if the silly +wench were not checked in her habit of loitering and chattering whenever +she could escape from her lady’s presence in the solar, which Grisell +used as her bower, only descending to the hall at meal-times. + +Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed unreasonably +over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered something about young +Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcher up the stair. + +“It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strange +soldiers,” said Grisell. + +“No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse with +their captain,” retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free of speech +and with a toss of the head. + +“Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet,” said Grisell, clenching a fist +unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement as a duty. “You +know full well that my only speech with Master Hardcastle is as his +hostess.” + +Thora laughed. “Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. How that poor +youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour over him as +of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard.” + +“For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!” and Grisell’s hand actually +descended on her maiden’s face, but so slight was the force that it only +caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered the young mistress as to +give her energy to strike again with all her might. + +“And you’d beat me,” observed her victim, roused to anger. “You are so +ill favoured yourself that you cannot bear a man to look on a fair maid!” + +“What insolence is this?” cried Grisell, utterly amazed. “Go into the +turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till I call you to +supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems a modest maiden.” + +She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and withdrew +still pouting and grumbling. + +Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew not that her +wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, while sympathy might +have evoked wholesome confidence. + +For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, was attractive +enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison with nothing to do, +and on her side their notice, their rough compliments, and even their +jests, were delightful compared with the dulness of her mistress’s +mourning chamber, and court enough was paid to her completely to turn her +head. If there were love and gratitude lurking in the bottom of her +heart towards the lady who had made a fair and skilful maiden out of the +wild fisher girl, all was smothered in the first strong impulse of love +for this young Ralph Hart, the first to awaken the woman out of the +child. + +The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in all times, +placed in the course of this true love, did but serve to alienate the +girl and place her in opposition. The creature had grown up as wild and +untamed as one of the seals on the shore, and though she had had a little +training and teaching of late years, it was entirely powerless when once +the passion was evoked in her by the new intercourse and rough +compliments of the young archer, and she was for the time at his beck and +call, regarding her lady as her tyrant and enemy. It was the old story +of many a household. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII +WITCHERY + + + The lady has gone to her secret bower, + The bower that was guarded by word and by spell. + + SCOTT, _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. + +“MASTER SQUIRE,” said the principal man-at-arms of the garrison to Pierce +Hardcastle, “is it known to you what this laidly dame’s practices be?” + +“I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and esteem,” returned the +esquire, turning hastily round in wrath. He much disliked this man, a +regular mercenary of the free lance description, a fellow of French or +Alsatian birth, of middle age, much strength, and on account of a great +gash and sideways twist of his snub nose always known as Tordu, and +strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort of spy or check on Sir +Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man replied with a growl: + +“Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem dainty cakes to those +under her art.” + +In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the Lady +Castellane’s society, the great improvement in his wound under her +treatment, and the manner in which the serfs around came to ask her aid +in their maladies, had excited the suspicion of the men-at-arms. They +were older men, hardened and roughened, inclined to despise his youth, +and to resent the orderly discipline of the household, which under Ridley +went on as before, and the murmurs of Thora led to inquiries, answered +after the exaggerated fashion of gossip. + +There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and shouts +demanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not have the lady +insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He was about to order Tordu as +ringleader into custody, but Ridley said to him aside, “Best not, sir; +his fellows will not lay a finger on him, and if we did so, there would +be a brawl, and we might come by the worst.” + +So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, “Bear in mind that +Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and all miscourtesy to his lady is an +offence to himself, which will be visited with his wrath.” + +The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, “Ay, ay, sir; she +has bewitched you, and we’ll soon have him and you free.” + +Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but the other +men came between, and Ridley held him back. + +“You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled would be worse than to +let it pass.” + +“There, fellow, I’ll spare you, so you ask pardon of me and the lady.” + +Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a sulky growl +that might pass for an apology, and Ridley’s counsel was decided that +Pierce had better not pursue the matter. + +What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the watch, and +the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along the cliffs beyond the +castle, the lad who acted as his page came to him, with round, wondering +eyes, “Sir,” said he, after a little hesitation, “is it sooth that the +lady spake a spell over your arm?” + +“Not to my knowledge,” said Pierce smiling. + +“It might be without your knowledge,” said the boy. “They say it healed +as no chirurgeon could have healed it, and by magic arts.” + +“Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to believe them, Dick.” + +“Nay, sir, but ’tis her bower-woman and Madge, the cook’s wife. Both +aver that the lady hath bewitched whoever comes in her way ever since she +crossed the door. She hath wrought strange things with her father, +mother, and brothers. They say she bound them to her; that the little +one could not brook to have her out of sight; yet she worked on him so +that he was crooked and shrivelled. Yet he wept and cried to have her +ever with him, while he peaked and pined and dwindled away. And her +mother, who was once a fine, stately, masterful dame, pined to mere skin +and bone, and lay in lethargy; and now she is winding her charms on you, +sir!” + +Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. Dick lowered his +voice to a whisper of awe. + +“Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose to ride over to +Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her when he has found the +witch’s mark.” + +“The lady!” cried Hardcastle in horror. “You see her what she is! A +holy woman if ever there was one! At mass each morning.” + +“Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that ’tis prayers backward she says +there. Thora has oft heard her at night, and ’twas no Ave nor Credo as +they say them here.” + +Pierce burst out laughing. “I should think not. They speak gibberish, +and she, for I have heard her in Church, speaks words with a meaning, as +her priest and nuns taught her.” + +“But her face, sir. There’s the Evil One’s mark. One side says nay to +the other.” + +“The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than Sir Leonard himself. +’Twas he that all unwittingly, when a boy, fired a barrel of powder close +to her and marred her countenance. You are not fool and ass enough to +give credence to these tales.” + +“I said not that I did, sir,” replied the page; “but it is what the +men-at-arms swear to, having drawn it from the serving-maid.” + +“The adder,” muttered Pierce. + +“Moreover,” continued the boy, “they have found out that there is a wise +man witch-finder at Shields. They mean to be revenged for the scanty +fare and mean providings; and they deem it will be a merry jest in this +weary hold, and that Sir Leonard will be too glad to be quit of his +gruesome dame to call them to account.” + +It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence to +restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where his knight +was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likely that these +terrible intentions might be carried out before any messenger could reach +him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery was universal, and no rank was exempt +from the danger of the accusation. Thora’s treachery was specially +perilous. All that the young man could do was to seek counsel with +Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he was obliged to do in the stable, +bidding Dick keep watch outside. Ridley too had heard a spiteful whisper +or two, but it had seemed too preposterous for him to attend to it. “You +are young, Hardcastle,” he said, with a smile, “or you would know that +there is nothing a grumbler will not say, nor how far men’s tongues lie +from their hands.” + +“Nay, but if their hands _did_ begin to act, how should we save the lady? +There’s nothing Tordu would not do. Could we get her away to some +nunnery?” + +“There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there the +Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give her up, on +such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. My poor bairn! +That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring her neck! Yet here are our +fisher folk, who love her for her bounty.” + +“Would they hide her?” asked Pierce. + +“That serving-wench—would I had drowned her ere bringing her here—might +turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might not be scared or +tortured into giving her up!” + +Here Dick looked in. “Tordu is crossing the yard,” he said. + +They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition of +Featherstone’s horse, which had never wholly recovered the flight from +Wakefield. + +After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in her +apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulous alarm, +in her face. She put her hands in his. “Is it sooth?” she said, in a +strange, awe-stricken voice. + +“You have heard, then, my wench?” + +“Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing against me. +But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and the rest would never +let them touch me?” + +“They should only do so through my heart’s blood, dear child; but mine +would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, whom those fellows +believe to be bewitched. We must find some other way!” + +“Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good Earl of Salisbury +is dead.” + +“’Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid of these men. But +where?” and he made a despairing gesture. + +Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose before her +of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savage hands of the +witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or at best by water. +She pressed her hands together, feeling utterly desolate, and prayed her +prayer to the God of the fatherless to save her or brace her to endure. + +Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, “Would Master Groats, the Poticary, shelter +you till this is over-past? His wife is deaf and must perforce keep +counsel.” + +“He would! I verily believe he would,” exclaimed Grisell; “and no +suspicion would light on him. How soon can I go to him, and how?” + +“If it may be, this very night,” said Ridley. “I missed two of the +rogues, and who knows whither they may have gone?” + +“Will there be time?” said the poor girl, looking round in terror. + +“Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, and they cannot get +there and back under two days. Have you jewels, lady? And hark you, +trust not to Thora. She is the worst traitor of all. Ask me no more, +but be ready to come down when you hear a whistle.” + +That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her—the girl whom she +had taught, trained, and civilised—was too much to believe. She would +almost, in spite of cautions, have asked her if it were possible, and +tried to explain the true character of the services that were so cruelly +misinterpreted; but as she descended the dark winding stair to supper, +she heard the following colloquy: + +“You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear Ralph?” + +“That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a word to her.” + +“Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no evil.” + +“What! Going back on what thou saidst of her brother and her mother. +Take thou heed, or they will take order with thee.” + +“Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! I have done it for thee.” + +“Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little mouth;” and there +was a sound of kissing. + +“What will they do to her?” in a lower voice. + +“Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. Ha! ha! She will have enough +of the draught that is so free to us.” + +Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean against the wall +hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud enough to betray her, +till a call from the hall put an end to the terrible whispers. + +She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how near she +had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, trying to converse +with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror the absence of the two +soldiers. + +How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The castle keys were +never delivered to her, but always to Hardcastle, and she saw him take +them; but she received from Ridley a look and sign which meant that she +was to be ready, and when she left the hall she made up a bundle of +needments, and in it her precious books and all the jewels she had +inherited. That Thora did not follow her was a boon. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX +A MARCH HARE + + + Yonder is a man in sight— + Yonder is a house—but where? + No, she must not enter there. + To the caves, and to the brooks, + To the clouds of heaven she looks. + + WORDSWORTH, _Feast of Brougham Castle_. + +LONG, long did Grisell kneel in an agony of prayer and terror, as she +seemed already to feel savage hands putting her to the ordeal. + +The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, when there +was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang to the door and held +Ridley’s hand. + +“Now is the time,” he said, under his breath; “the squire waits. That +treacherous little baggage is safe locked into the cellar, whither I +lured her to find some malvoisie for the rascaille crew. Come.” + +He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the narrow +passage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle with the keys. +He let them out and crossed the court with them to the little door +leading to a steep descent of the cliffs by a narrow path. Not till the +sands were reached did any of the three dare to speak, and then Grisell +held out her hands in thanks and farewell. + +“May I not guard you on your way, lady?” said Pierce. + +“Best not, sir,” returned Ridley; “best not know whither she is gone. I +shall be back again before I am missed or your rogues are stirring.” + +“When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady,” said Pierce, “then will +Ridley tell him where to find you and bring you back in all honour.” + +Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the young man, +who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley as the waning moon +lighted them over the glistening sands, till they sought the friendly +shadows of the cliffs. And thus Grisell Dacre parted from the home of +her fathers. + +“Cuthbert,” she said, “should you see Sir Leonard, let him know that +if—if he would be free from any bond to me I will aid in breaking it, and +ask only dowry enough to obtain entrance to a convent, while he weds the +lady he loves.” + +Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, and exhortations +to her to hold her own, and not abandon her rights. “If he keep the +lands, he should keep the wife,” was his cry. + +“His word and heart—” began Grisell. + +“Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed on some one else. You +do not want to be quit of him and be mewed in a nunnery.” + +“I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his life.” + +“Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get over the first glance and +you are worth the fairest dame that ever was jousted for in the lists. +Send him at least a message as though it were not your will to cast him +off.” + +“If you will have it so, then,” said Grisell, “tell him that if it be his +desire, I will strive to make him a true, loyal, and loving wife.” + +The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little inward chuckle, +as of one who suspected that the duties of the good and loving wife would +not be unwillingly undertaken. + +Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and though the +distance was only two miles, it was a good deal for Grisell, and she +plodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of the sea and the cries of +the gulls. The caverns of the rock looked very black and gloomy, and she +clung to Ridley, almost expecting something to spring out on her; but all +was still, and the pale eastward light began to be seen over the sea +before they turned away from it to ascend to the scattered houses of the +little rising town. + +The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it was only +twilight when they reached the wall of Lambert’s garden of herbs, where +there was a little door that yielded to Ridley’s push. The house was +still closed, and hoar frost lay on the leaves, but Grisell proposed to +hide herself in the little shed which served the purpose of tool-house +and summer-house till she could make her entrance. She felt sure of a +welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave her, so as to return to +the Tower early enough to avert suspicion—an easier matter as the +men-at-arms were given to sleeping as late as they could. He would make +an errand to the Apothecary’s as soon as he could, so as to bring +intelligence. + +There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while the +blackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet odours rising +from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, and a morning bell +rang from the great monastery church. With that she saw the house door +open, and Master Lambert in a fur cap and gown turned up with lambs’-wool +come out into the garden, basket in hand, and chirp to the birds to come +down and be fed. + +It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, chaffinch, +robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited a moment to watch them +before she stepped forth and said, “Ah! Master Groot, here is another +poor bird to implore your bounty.” + +“Lady Grisell,” he cried, with a start. + +“Ah! not that name,” she said; “not a word. O Master Lambert, I came by +night; none have seen me, none but good Cuthbert Ridley ken where I am. +There can be no peril to you or yours if you will give shelter for a +little while to a poor maid.” + +“Dear lady, we will do all we can,” returned Lambert. “Fear not. How +pale you are. You have walked all night! Come and rest. None will +follow. You are sore spent! Clemence shall bring you a warm drink! +Condescend, dear lady,” and he made her lean on his arm, and brought her +into his large living room, and placed her in the comfortable +cross-legged chair with straps and cushions as a back, while he went into +some back settlement to inform his wife of her visitor; and presently +they brought her warm water, with some refreshing perfume, in a brass +basin, and he knelt on one knee to hold it to her, while she bathed her +face and hands with a sponge—a rare luxury. She started at every sound, +but Lambert assured her that she was safe, as no one ever came beyond the +booth. His Clemence had no gossips, and the garden could not be +overlooked. While some broth was heated for her she began to explain her +peril, but he exclaimed, “Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent +that a great strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to ask me +for a charm against gramarie, with hints that ’twas in high places. +’Twas enough to make one laugh to see the big lubber try to whisper +hints, and shiver and shake, as he showed me a knot in his matted locks +and asked if it were not the enemy’s tying. I told him ’twas tied by the +enemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, and that a stout Dutchman ought to +be ashamed of himself for carrying such a head within or without. But I +scarce bethought me the impudent Schelm could have thought of you, lady.” + +“Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone to Shields in search of the +witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe me, and drown me, or burn me,” cried +Grisell, clasping her hands. “Oh! take me somewhere if you cannot safely +hide me; I would not bring trouble on you!” + +“You need not fear,” he answered. “None will enter here but by my +goodwill, and I will bar the garden door lest any idle lad should pry in; +but they come not here. The tortoise who crawls about in the summer +fills them with too much terror for them to venture, and is better than +any watch-dog. Now, let me touch your pulse. Ah! I would prescribe +lying down on the bed and resting for the day.” + +She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where it was the +pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a guest-chamber, absolutely neat, +though very little furnished, and indeed seldom or never used; but she +solicitously stroked the big bed, and signed to Grisell to lie down in +the midst of pillows of down, above and below, taking off her hood, +mantle, and shoes, and smoothing her down with nods and sweet smiles, so +that she fell sound asleep. + +When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down to the +noontide meal. Master Groot was looking much entertained. + +Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch Whitburn +man-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful story. Not only had the +grisly lady vanished, but a cross-bow man had shot an enormous hare on +the moor, a creature with one ear torn off, and a seam on its face, and +Masters Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured the belief that it was +the sorceress herself without time to change her shape. Did Mynheer +Groot hold with them? + +For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at home, yet in a +strange country they held together, and remembered that they were both +Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know what thought the wise man. + +“Depend on it, there was no time for a change,” gravely said Groot. +“Have not Nostradamus, Albertus Magnus, and Rogerus Bacon” (he was +heaping names together as he saw Hannekin’s big gray eyes grow rounder +and rounder) “all averred that the great Diabolus can give his minions +power to change themselves at will into hares, cats, or toads to +transport themselves to the Sabbath on Walpurgs’ night?” + +“You deem it in sooth,” said the Dutchman, “for know you that the parish +priest swears, and so do the more part of the villein fisher folk, that +there’s no sorcery in the matter, but that she is a true and holy maid, +with no powers save what the Saints had given her, and that her cures +were by skill. Yet such was scarce like to a mere Jungvrow.” + +It went sorely against Master Lambert’s feelings, as well as somewhat +against his conscience, to encourage the notion of the death of his guest +as a hare, though it ensured her safety and prevented a search. He +replied that her skill certainly was uncommon in a Jungvrow, beyond +nature, no doubt, and if they were unholy, it was well that the arblaster +had made a riddance of her. + +“By the same token,” added Hannekin, “the elf lock came out of my hair +this very morn, I having, as you bade me, combed it each morn with the +horse’s currycomb.” + +Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to believe. And the +next day all Sunderland and the two Wearmouths believed that the dead +hare had shrieked in a human voice on being thrown on a fire, and had +actually shown the hands and feet of a woman before it was consumed. + +It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not recognised, and +of this there was little danger. She was scarcely known in Wearmouth, +and could go to mass at the Abbey Church in a deep black hood and veil. +Master Lambert sometimes received pilgrims from his own country on their +way to English shrines, and she could easily pass for one of these if her +presence were perceived, but except to mass in very early morning, she +never went beyond the garden, where the spring beauty was enjoyment to +her in the midst of her loneliness and entire doubt as to her future. + +It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, reminding her of +the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty though undecorated square +tower, entered by an archway adorned with curious twisted snakes with +long beaks, stretching over and under one another. + +The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small windows, casting +a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense of being in the +atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton Abbey. She longed after +Sister Avice’s wisdom and tenderness, and wondered whether her lands +would purchase from her knight, power to return thither with dower enough +to satisfy the demands of the Proctor. It was a hope that seemed like an +inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one was faithful save Cuthbert +Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart above all by Thora’s defection and +cruel accusations, not knowing that half was owning to the intoxication +of love, and the other half to a gossiping tongue. + + + + +CHAPTER XX +A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE + + + Witness Aire’s unhappy water + Where the ruthless Clifford fell, + And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter + On the day of Towton’s field. + Gathering in its guilty flood + The carnage and the ill spilt blood + That forty thousand lives could yield. + + SOUTHEY, _Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte_. + +GRISELL from the first took her part in the Apothecary’s household. +Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace with +Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days at Wilton; and +still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the house in making his +compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and imparting others to him, +showing a delicacy of finger which the old Fleming could not emulate. In +the fabrication of perfumes for the pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared +with honey and sugar, she proved to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, +who would not touch her jewels, declared that she was fully earning her +maintenance by the assistance that she gave to him. + +They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war of battles, +not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than were wont to reach +Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward to London; and the +terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out while the snow fell far +from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choir boys had been singing +their _Gloria_, _laus et honor_ in the gallery over the church door, +shivering a little at the untimely blast, there had been grim and awful +work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Aire the snow lay mixed with +blood. That the Yorkists had gained was known, and that the Queen and +Prince had fled; but nothing was heard of the fate of individuals, and +Master Lambert was much occupied with tidings from Bruges, whence +information came, in a messenger sent by a notary that his uncle, an old +miser, whose harsh displeasure at his marriage had driven him forth, was +just dead, leaving him heir to a fairly prosperous business and a house +in the city. + +To return thither was of course Lambert’s intention as soon as he could +dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell to accompany him +and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of so great a prince as +Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a better hope of hearing tidings +of her husband than in a remote town like Sunderland; and that if she +still wished to dispose of her jewels she would have a far better chance +of so doing. He was arguing the point with her, when there was a voice +in the stall outside which made Grisell start, and Lambert, going out, +brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering under the weight of his best suit +of armour, and with a bundle and bag under his mantle. + +Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands into his +he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, “Ah! Sir +Leonard—?” + +“No tidings of the recreant,” growled Ridley, “but ill tidings for both +of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, claiming your castle and lands +as male heirs to your father.” + +“Do they know that I live?” asked Grisell, “or”—unable to control a +little laugh—“do they deem that I was slain in the shape of a hare?” + +“Or better than that,” put in Lambert; “they have it now in the wharves +that the corpse of the hare took the shape and hands of a woman when in +the hall.” + +“I ken not, the long-tongued rogues,” said Ridley; “but if my young lady +were standing living and life-like before them as, thank St. Hilda, I see +her now, they would claim it all the more as male heirs, and this new +King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, being that she is the wife +of one of King Henry’s men!” + +“Are they there? How did you escape?” + +“I got timely notice,” said Cuthbert. “Twenty strong halted over the +night at Yeoman Kester’s farm on Heather Gill—a fellow that would do +anything for me since we fought side by side on the day of the Herrings. +So he sends out his two grandsons to tell me what they were after, while +they were drinking his good ale to health of their King Edward. So +forewarned, forearmed. We have left them empty walls, get in as they can +or may—unless that traitor Tordu chooses to stay and make terms with +them.” + +“Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!” asked Grisell. + +“Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better sort, went +off long since to join their knight’s banner, and the Saints know how the +poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they have had. For my part, I +felt not bound to hold out the castle against my old lord’s side, when +there was no saving it for you, so I put what belonged to me together, +and took poor old Roan, and my young lady’s pony, and made my way hither, +no one letting me. I doubt me much, lady, that there is little hope of +winning back your lands, whatever side may be uppermost, yet there be +true hearts among our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any +save their lord’s daughter.” + +“Then I am landless and homeless,” sighed Grisell. + +“The greater cause that you should make your home with us, lady,” +returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley the state of +the case, and his own plans. House and business, possibly a seat in the +city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, and the vessel from Ostend +which had continually brought him supplies for his traffic was daily +expected. He intended, so soon as she had made up her cargo of wool, to +return in her to his native country, and he was urgent that the Lady +Grisell should go with him, representing that all the changes of fortune +in the convulsed kingdom of England were sure to be quickly known there, +and that she was as near the centre of action in Flanders as in Durham, +besides that she would be out of reach of any enemies who might +disbelieve the hare transformation. + +After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to the +proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust and love, +and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she had +profitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels. +Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues on the +herring-boats and the wool. + +“Will not you come with the lady, sir?” asked Lambert. + +“Oh, come!” cried Grisell. + +“Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar’s shop,” +said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the rugged old +gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell were both about +to speak he went on, “I can serve her better elsewhere. I am going first +to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen it these forty year, and +whether my brother or my nephew make me welcome or no, I shall have seen +the old moors and mosses. Then methought I would come hither, or to some +of the towns about, and see how it fares with the old Tower and the folk; +and if they be as good as their word, and keep their dues for my lady, I +could gather them, and take or bring them to her, with any other matter +which might concern her nearly.” + +This was thoroughly approved by Grisell’s little council, and Lambert +undertook to make known to the good esquire the best means of +communication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments, +since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch and +Flemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible. + +Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, had come +up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foul practices. +He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had come after her, had +threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mob of fishermen, and +finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who married them willy-nilly. He +was the runaway son of a currier in York, and had taken her _en croupe_, +and ridden off to his parents at the sign of the Hart, to bespeak their +favour. + +Grisell grieved deeply over Thora’s ingratitude to her, and the two elder +men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and hoped that Thora +would sup sorrow. + +Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and before he +set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bag containing +a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostly French. They were, +he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry the Fifth and the two Lord +Salisburys, which he had never had occasion to spend, and he desired that +they might be laid out on the Lady Grisell in case of need, leaving her +to think they were the dues from her faithful tenantry. To the Hausvrow +Clemence it was a great grief to leave the peaceful home of her married +life, and go among kindred who had shown their scorn in neglect and cold +looks; but she kept a cheerful face for her husband, and only shed tears +over the budding roses and other plants she had to leave; and she made +her guest understand how great a comfort and solace was her company. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI +THE WOUNDED KNIGHT + + + Belted Will Howard is marching here, + And hot Lord Dacre with many a spear + + SCOTT, _The Lay of the Last Minstrel_. + +“MASTER GROOT, a word with you.” A lay brother in the coarse, dark robe +of St. Benedict was standing in the booth of the Green Serpent. + +Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, and touched +his brow in recognition. + +“Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an arquebuss, the +like of which our poor peaceful house never looked to harbour?” + +“For whom is it needed, good brother?” + +“Best not ask,” said Brother Christopher, who was, however, an inveterate +gossip, and went on in reply to Lambert’s question as to the place of the +wound. “In the shoulder is the worst, the bullet wound where the Brother +Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. St. Bede! How the poor knight howled, +though he tried to stop it, and brought it down to moaning. His leg is +broken beside, but we could deal with that. His horse went down with +him, you see, when he was overtaken and shot down by the Gilsland folk.” + +“The Gilsland folk!” + +“Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see after his own, or +his wife’s, since all the Whitburn sons are at an end, and the Tower gone +to the spindle side. They say, too, that the damsel he wedded perforce +was given to magic, and fled in form of a hare. But be that as it will, +young Copeland—St. Bede, pardon me! What have I let out?” + +“Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over the town. How of +Copeland?” + +“As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, when the Dacres—Will +and Harry—fell on him, and left him for dead; but by the Saints’ good +providence, his squire and groom put him on a horse, and brought him to +our Abbey at night, knowing that he is kin to our Sub-Prior. And there +he lies, whether for life or death only Heaven knows, but for death it +will be if only King Edward gets a scent of him; so hold your peace, +Master Groats, as to who it be, as you live, or as you would not have his +blood on you.” + +Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions as to the +application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took his leave, +reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard’s life depended on his secrecy. + +Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the inner room. +Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and the little shutter of the +wooden partition was open. Thus Lambert found Grisell standing with +clasped hands, and a face of intense attention and suspense. + +“You have heard, lady,” he said. + +“Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!” she cried. + +“The Saints grant him recovery.” + +“Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be free from such a +yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a Yorkist house, might win back your +lands, above all, since, as you once told me, you were a playmate of the +King’s sister.” + +“Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! treacherously wounded, and +lying moaning. That gruesome oil! Oh! my poor Leonard!” and she burst +into tears. “So fair, and comely, and young, thus stricken down!” + +“Bah!” exclaimed Lambert. “Such are women! One would think she loved +him, who flouted her!” + +“I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore pain and dolour, +he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his true love.” + +Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity of +womankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed that had +the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, ever at her feet, +the lady could not have been so sore troubled. + +The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request from the +Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that “Master Groats” would come to the +monastery, and give them the benefit of his advice on the wounds and the +fever which was setting in, since gun-shot wounds were beyond the scope +of the monastic surgery. + +To refuse would not have been possible, even without the earnest entreaty +of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical instinct which no training +can supply, went on his way with the lay brother. + +He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request that had +been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed sick nigh unto death, +grievously hurt, and distraught by the fever, or it might be by the blow +on his head in the fall with his horse, which seemed to have kicked him; +but there was no reason that with good guidance and rest he should not +recover. But, on the other hand, King Edward was known to be on his +progress to Durham, and he was understood to be especially virulent +against Sir Leonard Copeland, under the impression that the young knight +had assisted in Clifford’s slaughter of his brother Edmund of Rutland. +It was true that a monastery was a sanctuary, but if all that was +reported of Edward Plantagenet were true, he might, if he tracked +Copeland to the Abbey, insist on his being yielded up, or might make +Abbot and monks suffer severely for the protection given to his enemy; +and there was much fear that the Dacres might be on the scent. The Abbot +and Father Copeland were anxious to be able to answer that Sir Leonard +was not within their precincts, and, having heard that Master Groats was +about to sail for Flanders, the Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his +nephew might thus be conveyed to the Low Countries, where the fugitives +of each party in turn found a refuge. Father Copeland promised to be at +charges, and, in truth, the scheme was the best hope for Leonard’s +chances of life. Master Groot had hesitated, seeing various difficulties +in the way of such a charge, and being by no means disposed towards Lady +Grisell’s unwilling husband, as such, though in a professional capacity +he was interested in his treatment of his patient, and was likewise +touched by the good mien of the fine, handsome, straight-limbed young +man, who was lying unconscious on his pallet in a narrow cell. + +He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he had consulted +his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was needful; and there was of +course another, whom he did not mention. + +As he told all the colour rose in Grisell’s face, rosy on one side, +purple, alas, on the other. “O master, good master, you will, you will!” + +“Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should have held that the +kindness to you would be to rid you of him.” + +“No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know too well what I think! Is +not this my best hope of making him know me, and becoming his true +and—and—” + +A sob cut her short, but she cried, “I will be at all the pains and all +the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master Lambert, good Master +Groot.” + +“Ah, would I knew what is well for her!” said Lambert, turning to his +wife, and making rapid signs with face and fingers in their mutual +language, but Grisell burst in— + +“Good for her,” cried she. “Can it be good for a wife to leave her +husband to be slain by the cruel men of York and Warwick, him who strove +to save the young Lord Edmund? Master, you will suffer no such foul +wrong. O master, if you did, I would stay behind, in some poor hovel on +the shore, where none would track him, and tend him there. I will! I +vow it to St. Mary.” + +“Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange passion. You could not be more +moved if he were the tenderest spouse who ever breathed.” + +“But you will have pity, sir. You will aid us. You will save us. Give +him the chance for life.” + +“What say you, housewife?” said Groot, turning to the silent Clemence, +whom his signs and their looks had made to perceive the point at issue. +Her reply was to seize Grisell’s two hands, kiss them fervently, clasp +both together, and utter in her deaf voice two Flemish words, “_Goot +Vrow_.” Grisell eagerly embraced her in tears. + +“We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He may not choose to +meddle with English outlaws.” + +“If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not take me,” said +Grisell. + +There was no more to be said except something about the waywardness of +the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot was not ill-pleased at +the bottom that both the females of the household took part against him, +and they had a merry supper that night, amid the chests in which their +domestic apparatus and stock-in-trade were packed, with the dried lizard, +who passed for a crocodile, sitting on the settle as if he were one of +the company. Grisell’s spirits rose with an undefined hope that, like +Sir Gawaine’s bride, or her own namesake, Griselda the patient, she +should at last win her lord’s love; and, deprived as she was of all her +own relatives, there arose strongly within her the affection that ten +long years ago had made her haunt the footsteps of the boy at Amesbury +Manor. + +Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in his +family. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard at her +_démenagement_, and only with scruples accepted the assistance of her +guest, who was glad to work away her anxiety in the folding of curtains +and stuffing of mails. + +At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards many times +between the _Vrow Gudule_ and the Abbey, for Skipper Vrowst drove a hard +bargain, and made the most of the inconvenience and danger of getting +into ill odour with the authorities; and, however anxious Father Copeland +might be to save his nephew, Abbot and bursar demurred at gratifying +extortion, above all when the King might at any time be squeezing them +for contributions hard to come by. + +However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in to the Abbey +steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing of the home grange, +and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the wounded knight should be +brought on board the _Vrow Gudule_, where Groot and the women would await +him, their freight being already embarked, and all ready to weigh anchor. + +The chief danger was in a King’s officer coming on board to weigh the +fleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But Sunderland either had no +King, or had two just at that time, and Father Copeland handed Master +Groot a sum which might bribe one or both; while it was to the interest +of the captain to make off without being overhauled by either. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII +THE CITY OF BRIDGES + + + So for long hours sat Enid by her lord, + There in the naked hall, propping his head, + And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him. + And at the last he waken’d from his swoon. + + TENNYSON, _Enid_. + +THE transit was happily effected, and closely hidden in wool, Leonard +Copeland was lifted out the boat, more than half unconscious, and +afterwards transferred to the vessel, and placed in wrappings as softly +and securely as Grisell and Clemence could arrange before King Edward’s +men came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happily did not +concern themselves about the sick man. + +He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, for though he +suffered, he would not retain the recollection of his suffering, and the +voyage was very miserable to every one, though the weather was far from +unfavourable, as the captain declared. Grisell indeed was so entirely +taken up with ministering to her knight that she seemed impervious to +sickness or discomfort. It was a great relief to enter on the smooth +waters of the great canal from Ostend, and Lambert stood on the deck +recognising old landmarks, and pointing them out with the joy of +homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps felt less delight, since the joys of +her life had only begun when she turned her back on her unkind kinsfolk. + +Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to Grisell the +beauteous belfry, rising on high above the many-peaked gables, though she +did smile when a long-billed, long-legged stork flapped his wings +overhead, and her husband signed that it was in greeting. The greeting +that delighted him she could not hear, the sweet chimes from that same +tower, which floated down the stream, when he doffed his cap, crossed +himself, and clasped his hands in devout thanksgiving. + +It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kinds thronged +together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tall painted ships of +Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the stoutly-built Netherlanders and +the English traders. Shouts in all languages were heard, and Grisell +looked round in wonder and bewilderment as to how the helpless and +precious charge on the deck was ever to be safely landed. + +Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the occasion. He +secured some of the men who came round the vessel in barges clamouring +for employment, and—Grisell scarce knew how—Leonard on his bed was lifted +down, and laid in the bottom of the barge. The big bundles and cases +were committed to the care of another barge, to follow close after +theirs, and on they went under, one after another, the numerous +high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, while tall +sharp-gabled houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green gardens, bounded +the margins, with a narrow foot-way between. The houses had often +pavement leading by stone steps to the river, and stone steps up to the +door, which was under the deep projecting eaves running along the front +of the house—a stoop, as the Low Countries called it. At one of +these—not one of the largest or handsomest, but far superior to the old +home at Sunderland—hung the large handsome painted and gilded sign of the +same serpent which Grisell had learnt to know so well, and here the barge +hove to, while two servants, the man in a brown belted jerkin, the old +woman in a narrow, tight, white hood, came out on the steps with +outstretched hands. + +“Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! Greet thee well. Thanks +to our Lady that I have lived to see this day,” was the old woman’s cry. + +“Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet thee, trusty Anton. You +had my message? Have you a bed and chamber ready for this gentleman?” + +Such was Lambert’s hasty though still cordial greeting, as he gave his +hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old nurse, who was mother to +Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb show shared the welcome, and directed +as Leonard was carried up an outside stone stair to a guest-chamber, and +deposited in a stately bed with fresh, cool, lace-bordered, +lavender-scented sheets, and Grisell put between his lips a spoonful of +the cordial with which Lambert had supplied her. + +More distinctly than before he murmured, “Thanks, sweet Eleanor.” + +The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made him +feverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks to Eleanor +for tending her “wounded knight,” little knowing whom he wounded by his +thanks. + +On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at Lambert, and when he +used her title of “Lady,” in begging her to leave old Mother Abra in +charge and to come down to supper, she made a gesture of silence, and as +she came down the broad stair—a refinement scarce known in England—she +entreated him to let her be Grisell still. + +“Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his name,” she said. + +“Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by right.” + +“By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known as mine own self +without cumbering him with my claims. No, let me alone to be Grisell as +ever before, an English orphan, bower-woman to Vrow Clemence if she will +have me.” + +Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it was agreed +that she should remain as one of the many orphans made by the civil war +in England, without precise definition of her rank, and be only called by +her Christian name. She was astonished at the status of Master Groot, +the size and furniture of the house, and the servants who awaited him; +all so unlike his little English establishment, for the refinements and +even luxuries were not only far beyond those of Whitburn, but almost +beyond all that she had seen even in the households of the Earls of +Salisbury and Warwick. He had indeed been bred to all this, for the +burghers of Bruges were some of the most prosperous of all the rich +citizens of Flanders in the golden days of the Dukes of Burgundy; and he +had left it all for the sake of his Clemence, but without forfeiting his +place in his Guild, or his right to his inheritance. + +He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with the great +merchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not unprosperous trade in +spices, drugs, condiments and other delicacies. + +He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard Copeland, but +there was no great difference in the young man’s condition for many days. +Grisell nursed him indefatigably, sitting by him so as to hear the sweet +bells chime again and again, and the storks clatter on the roofs at +sunrise. + +Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held drink to +his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and more and more did +the sense sink down upon her like lead that she must give him up to +Eleanor. + +Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the pillow her +love went out to him. It might have done so even had he been disfigured +like herself; but his was a beautiful countenance of noble outlines, and +she felt a certain pride in it as hers, while she longed to see it light +up with reason, and glow once more with health. Then she thought she +could rejoice, even if there were no look of love for her. + +The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out of them, +and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for comfort and relief. +He thanked her courteously, so that she felt a thrill of pleasure every +time. He even learnt her name of Grisell, and once he asked whether she +were not English, to which she replied simply that she was, and on a +further question she said that she had been at Sunderland with Master +Groot, and that she had lost her home in the course of the wars. + +There for some time it rested—rested at least with the knight. But with +the lady there was far from rest, for every hour she was watching for +some favourable token which might draw them nearer, and give opportunity +for making herself known. Nearer they certainly drew, for he often +smiled at her. He liked her to wait on him, and to beguile the weariness +of his recovery by singing to him, telling some of her store of tales, or +reading to him, for books were more plentiful at Bruges than at +Sunderland, and there were even whispers of a wonderful mode of +multiplying them far more quickly than by the scrivener’s hand. + +How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or heard his +voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly see, just as he +would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have heard him, and he +evidently thought her likewise of burgher quality, and much of the same +age as the Vrow Groot. Indeed, the long toil and wear of the past months +had made her thin and haggard, and the traces of her disaster were all +the more apparent, so that no one would have guessed her years to be +eighteen. + +She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on a chain, +within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But many a night, ere she +lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed it, as she asked herself +whether her knight would ever bid her wear it. Until he did so her +finger should never again be encircled by it. + +Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and the garden, +which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had left at +Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of this one as +Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller means. Here was +a fountain trellised over by a framework rich in roses and our lady’s +bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, pansies, lavender, and the new +snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, and a little bush shown +with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose grown in King Réne’s +garden of Provence. + +These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds of useful +vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots had long been +in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimenting on. Much did +Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiar plants he had often +needed and could not procure in England, and for some of which he had a +real individual love. The big improved distillery and all the jars and +bottles of his youth were a joy to him, almost as much as the old friends +who accepted him again after a long “wander year.” + +Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she could not +share, and while most of the burghers’ wives spent the summer evening +sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop, conversing with +their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff or needle among the +roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguiling Grisell to come and +take the air in company with her, for they understood one another’s mute +language; and when Lambert Groot was with his old friends they sufficed +for one another—so far as Grisell’s anxious heart could find solace, and +perhaps in none so much as the gentle matron who could caress but could +not talk. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII +THE CANKERED OAK GALL + + + That Walter was no fool, though that him list + To change his wif, for it was for the best; + For she is fairer, so they demen all, + Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age. + + CHAUCER, _The Clerke’s Tale_. + +IT was on an early autumn evening when the belfry stood out beautiful +against the sunset sky, and the storks with their young fledglings were +wheeling homewards to their nest on the roof, that Leonard was lying on +the deep oriel window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell sat opposite to +him with a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after the pattern of Wilton +for a Church vestment. + +“The storks fly home,” he said. “I marvel whether we have still a home +in England, or ever shall have one!” + +“I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to the Queen and +her son,” said Grisell. + +“He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with this old Duke who +sheltered him so long. Still, when he is firm fixed on his throne he may +yet bring home our brave young Prince and set the blessed King on his +throne once more.” + +“Ah! You love the King.” + +“I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my sword in a holy +cause when I fight for him,” said Leonard, raising himself with +glittering eyes. + +“And the Queen?” + +“Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who makes swords fly out +of their scabbards by her brave stirring words and her noble mien. Her +bright eyes and undaunted courage fire each man’s heart in her cause till +there is nothing he would not do or dare, ay, or give up for her, and +those she loves better than herself, her husband, and her son.” + +“You have done so,” faltered Grisell. + +“Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore any other name. You +mind me of the bane and grief of my life.” + +“Verily?” uttered Grisell with some difficulty. + +“Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains were astray, +uttered any name?” + +“By times, even so!” she confessed. + +“I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! I have never told +you of the deed that marred my life.” + +“Nay,” she said, letting her bobbins fall though she drooped her head, +not daring to look him in the face. + +“I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of Salisbury’s house. A good man +was he, but the jealousies and hatreds of the nobles had begun long ago, +and the good King hoped, as he ever hoped, to compose them. So he +brought about a compact between my father and the Dacre of Whitburn for a +marriage between their children, and caused us both to be bred up in the +Lady of Salisbury’s household, meaning, I trow, that we should enter into +solemn contract when we were of less tender age; but there never was +betrothal; and before any fit time for it had come, I had the mishap to +have the maid close to me—she was ever besetting and running after +me—when by some prank, unhappily of mine, a barrel of gunpowder blew up +and wellnigh tore her to pieces. My father came, and her mother, an +unnurtured, uncouth woman, who would have forced me to wed her on the +spot, but my father would not hear of it, more especially as there were +then two male heirs, so that I should not have gained her grim old Tower +and bare moorlands. All held that I was not bound to her; the Queen +herself owned it, and that whatever the damsel might be, the mother was a +mere northern she-bear, whose child none would wish to wed, and of the +White Rose besides. So the King had me to his school at Eton, and then I +was a squire of my Lord of Somerset, and there I saw my fairest Eleanor +Audley. The Queen and the Duke of Somerset—rest his soul—would have had +us wedded. On the love day, when all walked together to St. Paul’s, and +the King hoped all was peace, we spoke our vows to one another in the +garden of Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gave her the jewel of my +cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like our limpid northern brooks. +Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star in the sunset, but her father, +the Lord Audley, was absent, and we could go no farther; and therewith +came the Queen’s summons to her liegemen to come and arrest Salisbury at +Bloreheath. There never was rest again, as you know. My father was +slain at Northampton, I yielded me to young Falconberg; but I found the +Yorkists had set headsmen to work as though we had been traitors, and I +was begging for a priest to hear my shrift, when who should come into the +foul, wretched barn where we lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of +Whitburn. He had craved me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained +my life on what condition he did not tell me, but he bound my feet +beneath my horse, and thus bore me out of the camp for all the first day. +Then, I own he let me ride as became a knight, on my word of honour not +to escape; but much did I marvel whether it were revenge or ransom that +he wanted; and as to ransom, all our gold had all been riding on +horseback with my poor father. What he had devised I knew not nor +guessed till late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, where I +looked for a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choice that +the old robber—” + +Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of indignation. + +“Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better of him. But any +way the choice he left me was the halter that dangled from the roof and +his grisly daughter!” + +“Did you see her?” Grisell contrived to ask. + +“I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was enow. They say she has a +face like a cankered oak gall or a rotten apple lying cracked on the +ground among the wasps. Mayhap though you have seen her.” + +Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, “Never since she was a +child,” for no mirror had come in her way since she was at Warwick House. +She was upborne by the thought that it would be a relief to him not to +see anything like a rotten apple. He went on— + +“My first answer and first thought was rather death—and of my word to my +Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to see me here now. I felt as though nothing +would make me a recreant to her. Her sweet smile and shining eyes rose +up before me, and half the night I dreamt of them, and knew that I would +rather die than be given to another and be false to them. Ah! but you +will deem me a recreant. With the waking hours I thought of my King and +Queen. My elder brother died with Lord Shrewsbury in Gascony, and after +me the next heir is a devoted Yorkist who would turn my castle, the key +of Cleveland, against the Queen. I knew the defeat would make faithful +swords more than ever needful to her, and that it was my bounden duty, if +it were possible, to save my life, my sword, and my lands for her. +Mistress, you are a good woman. Did I act as a coward?” + +“You offered up yourself,” said Grisell, looking up. + +“So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I should be free at +once. We were wedded in the gloom—ere sunrise—a thunderstorm coming up, +which so darkened the church that if she had been a peerless beauty, fair +as Cressid herself, I could not have seen her, and even had she been +beauty itself, nought can to me be such as my Eleanor. So I was free to +gallop off through the storm for Wearmouth when the rite was over, and +none pursued me, for old Whitburn was a man of his word. Mine uncle held +the marriage as nought, but next I made for the Queen at Durham, and, if +aught could comfort my spirit, it was her thanks, and assurances that it +would cost nothing but the dispensation of the Pope to set me free. So +said Dr. Morton, her chaplain, one of the most learned men in England. I +told him all, and he declared that no wedlock was valid without the +heartfelt consent of each party.” + +“Said he so?” Poor Grisell could not repress the inquiry. + +“Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between me and Lord +Audley’s daughter, yet that the vows we had of our own free will +exchanged would be quite enough to annul my forced marriage.” + +“You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had defaced that +countenance. I thought of that! I would have endowed her with all I had +if she would set me free. I trusted yet so to do, when, for my +misfortune as well as hers, the day of Wakefield cut off her father and +brother, and a groom was taken who was on his way to Sendal with tidings +of the other brother’s death. Then, what do the Queen and Sir Pierre de +Brezé but command me to ride off instantly to claim Whitburn Tower! In +vain did I refuse; in vain did I plead that if I were about to renounce +the lady it were unknightly to seize on her inheritance. They would not +hear me. They said it would serve as a door to England, and that it must +be secured for the King, or the Dacres would hold it for York. They bade +me on my allegiance, and commanded me to take it in King Henry’s name, as +though it were a mere stranger’s castle, and gave me a crew of hired +men-at-arms, as I verily believe to watch over what I did. But ere I +started I made a vow in Dr. Morton’s hands, to take it only for the King, +and so soon as the troubles be ended to restore it to the lady, when our +marriage is dissolved. As it fell out, I never saw the lady. Her mother +lay a-dying, and there was no summoning her. I bade them show her all +due honour, hoisted my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, and +thence to mine own lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way to London. +As you well know, all was over with our cause at Towton Moor; and it was +on my way northward after the deadly fight that half a dozen of the +men-at-arms brought me tidings, not only that the Gilsland Dacres had, as +had been feared, claimed the castle, but that this same so-called lady of +mine had been shown to deal in sorcery and magic. They sent for a wise +man from Shields, but she found by her arts what they were doing, fled, +and was slain by an arquebuss in the form of a hare! + +“Do you believe it was herself in sooth?” asked Grisell. + +“Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, hath little +faith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change into hares. All have +known them.” + +“She was scarce old,” Grisell trusted herself to say. + +“That skills not. They said she made strange cures by no rules of art. +Ay, and said her prayers backward, and had unknown books.” + +“Did your squire tell this, or was it only the men?” + +“My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He was made captive by a +White Rose party, so far as I could hear, and St. Peter knows where he +may be. But look you, the lady, for all her foul looks, had cast her +spell over him, and held him as bound and entranced as by a true love, so +that he was ready to defend her beauty—her beauty! look you!—against all +the world in the lists. He was neither to have nor to hold if any man +durst utter a word against her! And it was the same with her tirewoman +and her own old squire.” + +“Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the arquebusier rid you of +your witch wife?” There was a little bitterness, even scorn, in the +tone. + +“I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too well to credit all they +say, and I was on my way to inquire into the matter and learn the truth +when these same Dacres fell on me; and that I lie here is due to you and +good Master Lambert. Many a woman whose face is ill favoured has learnt +to keep up her power by unhallowed arts, and if it be so with her whom in +my boyish prank I have marred, Heaven forgive her and me. If I can ever +return I shall strive to trace her life or death, without which mayhap I +could scarce win my true bride.” + +Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her hopes. She crept away +murmuring something about the vesper bell at the convent chapel near, for +it was there that she could best kneel, while thoughts and strength and +resolution came to her. + +The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, or +rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag, mayhap +a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that his love to +Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever. + +Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then what would +become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted as that of a +nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on the means supplied +by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had soon been +exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting from Ridley’s +bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her as the fishermen’s +dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement this, or replace it by her +own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in his concoctions, and likewise +by her lace-work, which was of a device learnt at Wilton and not known at +Bruges. There was something strangely delightful to her in thus +supporting Leonard even though he knew it not, and she determined to +persist in her present course till there was some change. Suppose he +heard of Eleanor’s marriage to some one else! Then? But, ah, the +cracked apple face. She must find a glass, or even a pail of water, and +judge! Or the Lancastrian fortunes might revive, he might go home in +triumph, and then would she give him her ring and her renunciation, and +either earn enough to obtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted +for the sake of her handiwork! + +Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew upon her as +Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To reveal herself would only be +misery to him, and in his present state of mind would deprive him of all +he needed, since he would never be base enough to let her toil for him +and then cast her off. + +She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for counsel, that at +night, over the fire in the stove, she told what Leonard had said, to +which her host listened with the fatherly sympathy that had grown up +towards her. He was quite determined against her making herself known. +The accusation of sorcery really alarmed him. He said that to be known +as the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched the young squire +and many more might bring both her and himself into imminent danger; and +there were Lancastrian exiles who might take up the report. Her only +safety was in being known, to the few who did meet her, as the +convent-bred maiden whose home had been destroyed, and who was content to +gain a livelihood as the assistant whom his wife’s infirmity made +needful. As to Sir Leonard, the knight’s own grace and gratitude had +endeared him, as well as the professional pleasure of curing him, and for +the lady’s sake he should still be made welcome. + +So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell’s story except Master Lambert +and her Father Confessor, and whether he really knew it, through the +medium of her imperfect French, might be doubted. Even Clemence, though +of course aware of her identity, did not know all the details, since no +one who could communicate with her had thought it well to distress her +with the witchcraft story. + +Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, though sometimes +there would be admitted to walk in the garden and converse with Master +Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his counsel on giving permanence and +clearness to the ink he was using in that new art of printing which he +was trying to perfect, but which there were some who averred to be a work +of the Evil One, imparted to the magician Dr. Faustus. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV +GRISELL’S PATIENCE + + + When silent were both voice and chords, + The strain seemed doubly dear, + Yet sad as sweet,—for English words + Had fallen upon the ear. + + WORDSWORTH, _Incident at Bruges_. + +MEANWHILE Leonard was recovering and vexing himself as to his future +course, inclining chiefly to making his way back to Wearmouth to +ascertain how matters were going in England. + +One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, while Grisell +sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, attracted by the +English words and voice, was turned up to him. He exclaimed, “By St. +Mary, Philip Scrope,” and starting up, began to feel for the stick which +he still needed. + +A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer shop inquiring +in halting French, “Did I see the face of the Beau Sire Leonard +Copeland?” + +By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a tall +perfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the Burgundian +Cross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and handsome sword belt, had +advanced, and the two embraced as old friends did embrace in the middle +ages, especially when each had believed the other dead. + +“I deemed thee dead at Towton!” + +“Methought you were slain in the north! You have not come off +scot-free.” + +“Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows took me to my uncle +at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the good folk here, and cares +for my maintenance. How didst thou ’scape?” + +“Half a dozen of us—Will Percy and a few more—made off from the woful +field under cover of night, and got to the sea-shore, to a village—I know +not the name—and laid hands on a fisher’s smack, which Jock of Hull was +seaman enough to steer with the aid of the lad on board, as far as +Friesland, and thence we made our way as best we could to Utrecht, where +we had the luck to fall in with one of the Duke’s captains, who was glad +enough to meet with a few stout fellows to make up his company of +men-at-arms.” + +“Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. How art thou so well +attired, Phil?” + +“We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the King of France’s +sacring at Rheims. I promise thee the jewels and gold blazed as we never +saw the like—and as to the rascaille Scots archers, every one of them was +arrayed so as the sight was enough to drive an honest Borderer crazy. +Half their own kingdom’s worth was on their beggarly backs. But do what +they might, our Duke surpassed them all with his largesses and +splendour.” + +“Your Duke!” grumbled Leonard. + +“Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord is he. Better be +under him than under the shrivelled skinflint of France, who wore his +fine robes as though they galled him. Come and take service here when +thou art whole of thine hurt, Leonard.” + +“I thought thy Duke was disinclined to Lancaster.” + +“He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the Saints guard, but he +likes English hearts and thews in his pay well enough.” + +“Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck.” + +“Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter and my Lord of Oxford +have put their honours in their pouch and are serving him. Thy lame leg +is a worse hindrance than the gold spur on it, but I trow that will +pass.” + +The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and homes, and +the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed in this, and in many +subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon as Leonard should have shaken +off his lameness he should begin service under one of the Duke’s +captains. A man-at-arms in the splendid suite of the Burgundian Dukes +was generally of good birth, and was attended by two grooms and a page +when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, and his accoutrements +and arms were required to be such as to do honour to his employer. It +was the refuge sooner or later of many a Lancastrian, and Leonard, who +doubted of the regularity of his uncle’s supplies, decided that he could +do no better for himself while waiting for better times for his Queen, +though Master Lambert told him that he need not distress himself, there +were ample means for him still. + +Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad pleasure in +working for him, and she was absolutely proud of him when he stood before +her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of health on his cheek and a +light in his eye, his length of limb arrayed in his own armour, furbished +and mended, his bright helmet alone new and of her own providing (out of +her mother’s pearl necklace), his surcoat and silken scarf all her own +embroidering. As he truly said, he made a much finer appearance than he +had done on the morn of his melancholy knighthood, in the +poverty-stricken army of King Henry at Northampton. + +“Thanks,” he said, with a courteous bow, “to his good friends and hosts, +who had a wonderful power over the purse.” He added special thanks to +“Mistress Grisell for her deft stitchery,” and she responded with +downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her heart throbbed high. + +Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to take leave of +his host, and announced that he had been sent off with his friend to +garrison Neufchâtel, where the castle, being a border one, was always +carefully watched over. + +His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it prevented his +knowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen Margaret and her son at +Sluys, with only seven attendants, denuded of almost everything, having +lost her last castles, and sometimes having had to exist on a single +herring a day. + +Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet if he had +known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, and before they ever +reached Neufchâtel the Duke had bestowed on her wherewithal to continue +her journey to her father’s Court at Bar. + +However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the Queen’s journey +to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had been again lost at Hedgeley +Moor and Hexham. He was so good and efficient a man-at-arms that he rose +in promotion, and attracted the notice of the Count of Charolais, the +eldest son of the Duke, who made him one of his own bodyguard. His time +was chiefly spent in escorting the Count from one castle or city to +another, but whenever Charles the Bold was at Bruges, Leonard came to the +sign of the Green Serpent not only for lodging, nor only to take up the +money that Lambert had in charge for him, but as to a home where he was +sure of a welcome, and of kindly woman’s care of his wardrobe, and where +he grew more and more to look to the sympathy and understanding of his +English and Burgundian interests alike, which he found in the maiden who +sat by the hearth. + +From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was clad in a pilgrim’s +gown and broad hat, and looked much older. He had had free quarters at +Willimoteswick, but the wild young Borderers had not suited his old age +well, except one clerkly youth, who reminded him of little Bernard, and +who, later, was the patron of his nephew, the famous Nicolas. He had +thus set out on pilgrimage, as the best means of visiting his dear lady. +The first time he came, under his robe he carried a girdle, where was +sewn up a small supply from Father Copeland for his nephew, and another +sum, very meagre, but collected from the faithful retainers of Whitburn +for their lady. He meant to visit the Three Kings at Cologne, and then +to go on to St. Gall, and to the various nearer shrines in France, but to +return again to see Grisell; and from time to time he showed his honest +face, more and more weather-beaten, though a pilgrim was never in want; +but Grisell delighted in preparing new gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats +for him. + +Public events passed while she still lived and worked in the Apothecary’s +house at Bruges. There were wars in which Sir Leonard Copeland had his +share, not very perilous to a knight in full armour, but falling very +heavily on poor citizens. Bruges, however, was at peace and exceedingly +prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds of citizens, and wonderful trade +and wealth. The bells seemed to be always chiming from its many +beautiful steeples, and there was one convent lately founded which began +to have a special interest for Grisell. + +It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if not actually +founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, the wife of the +Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the Good, from his genial +manners, and bounteous liberality, was a man of violent temper and +terrible severity when offended. He had a fierce quarrel with his only +son, who was equally hot tempered. The Duchess took part with her son, +and fell under such furious displeasure from her husband that she retired +into the house of Grey Sisters. She was first cousin once removed to +Henry VI.—her mother, the admirable Philippa, having been a daughter of +John of Gaunt—and she was the sister of the noble Princes, King Edward of +Portugal, Henry the great voyager, and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and +she had never been thoroughly at home or happy in Flanders, where her +husband was of a far coarser nature than her own family; and, in her own +words, after many years, she always felt herself a stranger. + +Some of Grisell’s lace had found its way to the convent, and was at once +recognised by her as English, such as her mother had always prized. She +wished to give the Chaplain a set of robes adorned with lace after a +pattern of her own devising, bringing in the five crosses of Portugal, +with appropriate wreaths of flowers and emblems. Being told that the +English maiden in Master Groot’s house could devise her own patterns, she +desired to see her and explain the design in person. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV +THE OLD DUCHESS + + + Temples that rear their stately heads on high, + Canals that intersect the fertile plain, + Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall, + Spacious and undefined, but ancient all. + + SOUTHEY, _Pilgrimage to Waterloo_. + +THE kind couple of Groots were exceedingly solicitous about Grisell’s +appearance before the Duchess, and much concerned that she could not be +induced to wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veils +depending from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. Her +black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the external or third +Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her dress, and under it might be +seen a face, with something peculiar on one side, but still full of +sweetness and intelligence; and the years of comfort and quiet had, in +spite of anxiety, done much to obliterate the likeness to a cankered oak +gall. Lambert wanted to drench her with perfumes, but she only submitted +to have a little essence in the pouncet box given her long ago by Lady +Margaret at their parting at Amesbury. Master Groot himself chose to +conduct her on this first great occasion, and they made their way to the +old gateway, sculptured above with figures that still remain, into the +great cloistered court, with its chapel, chapter-house, and splendid +great airy hall, in which the Hospital Sisters received their patients. + +They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of gray, whence +they were known as Sœurs Grises, though, in fact, their dress was white, +with a black hood and mantle. The Duchess, however, lived in a set of +chambers on one side of the court, which she had built and fitted for +herself. + +A lay sister became Grisell’s guide, and just then, coming down from the +Duchess’s apartments, with a board with a chalk sketch in his hand, +appeared a young man, whom Groot greeted as Master Hans Memling, and who +had been receiving orders, and showing designs to the Duchess for the +ornamentation of the convent, which in later years he so splendidly +carried out. With him Lambert remained. + +There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment hung with +stamped Spanish leather, representing the history of King David, and with +a window, glazed as usual below with circles and lozenges, but the upper +part glowing with coloured glass. At the farther end was a dais with a +sort of throne, like the tester and canopy of a four-post bed, with +curtains looped up at each side. Here the Duchess sat, surrounded by her +ladies, all in the sober dress suitable with monastic life. + +Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when admitted. A +dark-complexioned lady came to lead her forward, and directed her to +kneel twice on her way to the Duchess. She obeyed, and in that +indescribable manner which betrayed something of her breeding, so that +after her second obeisance, the manner of the lady altered visibly from +what it had been at first as to a burgher maiden. The wealth and luxury +of the citizen world of the Low Countries caused the proud and jealous +nobility to treat them with the greater distance of manner. And, as +Grisell afterwards learnt, this was Isabel de Souza, Countess of +Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had come over with her Infanta; and whose +daughter produced _Les Honneurs de la Cour_, the most wonderful of all +descriptions of the formalities of the Court. + +Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the Duchess +addressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she could by this time +speak herself. + +“You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak French?” + +“_Oui_, _si madame_, _son Altese le veut_,” replied Grisell, for her +tongue had likewise become accustomed to French in this city of many +tongues. + +“This is English make,” said the Duchess, not with a very good French +accent either, looking at the specimens handed by her lady. “Are you +English?” + +“So please your Highness, I am.” + +“An exile?” the Princess added kindly. + +“Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, and I owe shelter to +the good Apothecary, Master Lambert.” + +“Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have heard of him;” and she +then proceeded with her orders, desiring to see the first piece Grisell +should produce in the pattern she wished, which was to be of roses in +honour of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the Peninsular Isabels reckoned +as their namesake and patroness. + +It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and much skill; +but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took her leave, kissing +the Duchess’s hand—a great favour to be granted to her—curtseying three +times, and walking backwards, after the old training that seemed to come +back to her with the atmosphere. + +Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. “Now you will find your +way back to your proper station and rank,” he said. + +“It may do more than that,” said Grisell. “If I could plead his cause.” + +Lambert only sighed. “I would fain your way was not won by a base, +mechanical art,” he said. + +“Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin are unworthy of none; +and as to the honour of the matter, what did Sir Leonard tell us but that +the Countess of Oxford, as now she is, was maintaining her husband by her +needle?” and Grisell ended with a sigh at thought of the happy woman +whose husband knew of, and was grateful for, her toils. + +The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memling himself, +who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the cushion. In after +times it might have been held a greater honour to work from his pattern +than for the Duchess, who sent to inquire after it more than once, and +finally desired that Mistress Grisell should bring her cushion and show +her progress. + +She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and even the +small fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, who begged to +see her at work. As it could not well be done kneeling, a footstool, +covered in tapestry with the many Burgundian quarterings, was brought, +and here Grisell was seated, the Duchess bending over her, and asking +questions as her fingers flew, at first about the work, but afterwards, +“Where did you learn this art, maiden?” + +“At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery of St. Edith, near to +Salisbury.” + +“St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints rest, spoke of her; but I +have not heard of her in Portugal nor here. Where did she suffer?” + +“She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair legend.” + +And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith and the +christening. + +“You speak well, maiden,” said the Duchess. “It is easy to perceive that +you are convent trained. Have the wars in England hindered your being +professed?” + +“Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian Abbess.” + +Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all Grisell’s early +story, with the exception of her name and whose was the iron that caused +the explosion, and likewise of her marriage, and the accusation of +sorcery. That male heirs of the opposite party should have expelled the +orphan heiress was only too natural an occurrence. Nor did Grisell +conceal her home; but Whitburn was an impossible word to Portuguese lips, +and Dacre they pronounced after its crusading derivation De Acor. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE DUKE’S DEATH + + + Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish; + If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. + + SHAKESPEARE, _King Henry VI._, Part III. + +SO time went on, and the rule of the House of York in England seemed +established, while the exiles had settled down in Burgundy, Grisell to +her lace pillow, Leonard to the suite of the Count de Charolais. Indeed +there was reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in the change of +dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel to bring on another +desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Rose party were making +their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the Duchess Isabel became +extremely fond of Grisell, and often summoned her to come and work by her +side, and talk to her; and thus came on the summer of 1467, when Duke +Philip returned from the sack of unhappy Dinant in a weakened state, and +soon after was taken fatally ill. All the city of Bruges watched in +anxiety for tidings, for the kindly Duke was really loved where his hand +did not press. One evening during the suspense when Master Lambert was +gone out to gather tidings, there was the step with clank of spurs which +had grown familiar, and Leonard Copeland strode in hot and dusty, +greeting Vrow Clemence as usual with a touch of the hand and inclination +of the head, and Grisell with hand and courteous voice, as he threw +himself on the settle, heated and weary, and began with tired fingers to +unfasten his heavy steel cap. + +Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of cooling Rhine +wine. “There, thanks, mistress. We have ridden all day from Ghent, in +the heat and dust, and after all the Count got before us.” + +“To the Duke?” + +“Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his father’s sickness. Say +what they will of hot words and fierce passages between them, that father +and son have hearts loving one another truly.” + +“It is well they should agree at the last,” said Grisell, “or the Count +will carry with him the sorest of memories.” + +And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of his +speechless father in an agony of grief. + +Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their warning that a +soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell made signs to Clemence, +while Leonard lifted himself upright, and all breathed the same for the +mighty Prince as for the poorest beggar, the intercession for the dying. +Then the solemn note became a knell, and their prayer changed to the De +Profundis, “Out of the depths.” + +Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with the +intelligence that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with his wife +and son on either side of him, and his little granddaughter kneeling +beside the Duchess. + +There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over Flanders and +the other domains united under the Dukedom of Burgundy, for though Philip +had often deeply erred, he had been a fair ruler, balancing discordant +interests justly, and maintaining peace, while all that was splendid or +luxurious prospered and throve under him. There was a certain dread of +the future under his successor. + +“A better man at heart,” said Leonard, who had learnt to love the Count +de Charolais. “He loathes the vices and revelry that have stained the +Court.” + +“That is true,” said Lambert. “Yet he is a man of violence, and with +none of the skill and dexterity with which Duke Philip steered his +course.” + +“A plague on such skill,” muttered Leonard. “Caring solely for his own +gain, not for the right!” + +“Yet your Count has a heavy hand,” said Lambert. “Witness Dinant! +unhappy Dinant.” + +“The rogues insulted his mother,” said Leonard. “He offered them terms +which they would not have in their stubborn pride! But speak not of +that! I never saw the like in England. There we strike at the great, +not at the small. Ah well, with all our wars and troubles England was +the better place to live in. Shall we ever see it more?” + +There was something delightful to Grisell in that “we,” but she made +answer, “So far as I hear, there has been quiet there for the last two +years under King Edward.” + +“Ay, and after all he has the right of blood,” said Leonard. “Our King +Henry is a saint, and Queen Margaret a peerless dame of romance, but +since I have come to years of understanding I have seen that they neither +had true claim of inheritance nor power to rule a realm.” + +“Then would you make your peace with the White Rose?” + +“The _rose en soleil_ that wrought us so much evil at Mortimer’s Cross? +Methinks I would. I never swore allegiance to King Henry. My father was +still living when last I saw that sweet and gracious countenance which I +must defend for love and reverence’ sake.” + +“And he knighted you,” said Grisell. + +“True,” with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how she was aware of the +fact; “but only as my father’s heir. My poor old house and tenants! I +would I knew how they fare; but mine uncle sends me no letters, though he +does supply me.” + +“Then you do not feel bound in honour to Lancaster?” said Grisell. + +“Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when last she called up +the Scots—the Scots indeed!—to aid her. I could not join them in a foray +on England. I fear me she will move heaven and earth again when her son +is of age to bear arms; but my spirit rises against allies among Scots or +French, and I cannot think it well to bring back bloodshed and +slaughter.” + +“I shall pray for peace,” said Grisell. All this was happiness to her, +as she felt that he was treating her with confidence. Would she ever be +nearer to him? + +He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than he had been +at the time of his hurried marriage, and had conversed with men of real +understanding of the welfare of their country. Such talks as these made +Grisell feel that she could look up to him as most truly her lord and +guide. But how was it with the fair Eleanor, and whither did his heart +incline? An English merchant, who came for spices, had said that the +Lord Audley had changed sides, and it was thus probable that the damsel +was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist; but there was no knowing, nor did +Grisell dare to feel her way to discovering whether Leonard knew, or felt +himself still bound to constancy, outwardly and in heart. + +Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke Philip; he +was to be finally interred with his father and grandfather in the grand +tombs at Dijon, but for the present the body was to be placed in the +Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at night. + +Sir Leonard rode at a foot’s pace in the troop of men-at-arms, all in +full armour, which glanced in the light of the sixteen hundred torches +which were borne before, behind, and in the midst of the procession, +which escorted the bier. Outside the coffin, arrayed in ducal coronet +and robes, with the Golden Fleece collar round the neck, lay the exact +likeness of the aged Duke, and on shields around the pall, as well as on +banners borne waving aloft, were the armorial bearings of all his +honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, lordships innumerable, +besides the banners of all the guilds carried to do him honour. + +More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the mass, which +began in the morning hour, and in the requiem. The heralds of all the +domains broke their white staves and threw them on the bier, proclaiming +that Philip, lord of all these lands, was deceased. Then, as in the case +of royalty, Charles his son was proclaimed; and the organ led an +acclamation of jubilee from all the assembly which filled the church, and +a shout as of thunder arose, “Vivat Carolus.” + +Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, silent, +immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the whirlwinds of passion that +had raged between him and the father whom he had loved all the time? or +was there on him the weight of a foreboding that he, though free from the +grosser faults of his father, would never win and keep hearts in the same +manner, and that a sad, tumultuous, troubled career and piteous, untimely +end lay before him? + +His mother, Grisell’s Duchess, according to the rule of the Court, lay in +bed for six weeks—at least she was bound to lie there whenever she was +not in entire privacy. The room and bed were hung with black, but a +white covering was over her, and she was fully dressed in the black and +white weeds of royal widowhood. The light of day was excluded, and hosts +of wax candles burnt around. + +Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately mourning, but +she heard that the good lady had spent her time in weeping and praying +for her husband, all the more earnestly that she had little cause +personally to mourn him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII +FORGET ME NOT + + + And added, of her wit, + A border fantasy of branch and flower, + And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. + + TENNYSON, _Elaine_. + +THE Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquette +permitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lace +hangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval. She +was in the palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved her with +devoted affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hung halls +and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, all filled +with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black dresses. Next pages +and squires, knights of the lady, and lastly ladies in black velvet, who +sat at their work, with a chaplain reading to them. One of these, the +Countess of Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at the Grey Sisters’ +convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, and conducted her into +the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, with black hangings worked +and edged, however, with white, and the window was permitted to let in +the light of day. The bed was raised on steps in an alcove, and was +splendidly draped and covered with black embroidered with white, but the +Duchess did not occupy it. A curtain was lifted, and she came forward in +her deepest robes of widowhood, leading her little granddaughter Mary, a +child of eight or nine years old. Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of +each, and the Duchess said— + +“Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. Have you finished the +border?” + +“Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the corporal.” + +The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the little Mary, +the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the dainty web was woven, +while she signed the maker to seat herself on a step of the alcove. + +When the child’s questions and interest were exhausted, and she began to +be somewhat perilously curious about the carved weights of the bobbins, +her grandmother sent her to play with the ladies in the ante-room, +desiring Grisell to continue the work. After a few kindly words the +Duchess said, “The poor child is to have a stepdame so soon as the year +of mourning is passed. May she be good to her! Hath the rumour thereof +reached you in the city, Maid Griselda, that my son is in treaty with +your English King, though he loves not the house of York? But princely +alliances must be looked for in marriage.” + +“Madge!” exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, “I should say the Lady +Margaret of York.” + +“You knew her?” + +“Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in the Lord of Salisbury’s +house! There never was a maid whom I knew or loved like her!” + +“In the Count of Salisbury’s house,” repeated the Duchess. “Were you +there as the Lady Margaret’s fellow-pupil?” she said, as though +perceiving that her lace maker must be of higher quality than she had +supposed. + +“It was while my father was alive, madame, and before her father had +fixed his eyes on the throne, your Highness.” + +“And your father was, you said, the knight De—De—D’Acor.” + +“So please you, madame,” said Grisell kneeling, “not to mention my poor +name to the lady.” + +“We are a good way from speech of her,” said the Duchess smiling. “Our +year of doole must pass, and mayhap the treaty will not hold in the +meantime. The King of France would fain hinder it. But if the +Demoiselle loved you of old would she not give you preferment in her +train if she knew?” + +“Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be here! There is much that +hangs on it, more than I can tell at present, without doing harm; but I +have a petition to prefer to her.” + +“An affair of true love,” said the Duchess smiling. + +“I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!” + +When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in which in +spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the pure frostwork-like +web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, and moreover, combined +therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the three scallops of Dacre, and each +connected with ramifications of the forget-me-not flower shaped like the +turquoises of her pouncet box, and with the letter G to be traced by +ingenious eyes, though the uninitiated might observe nothing. + +She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much of a +certainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till July came +round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever of preparation to +receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, carvers were desperately at work +at the Duke’s palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, embroiderers, +sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers and jewellers had no +rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering on the canals, graceful +skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out in full detail the glories +of the architecture above, the tapestry-hung windows in the midst, the +gaily-clad Vrows beneath, while the bells rang out their merriest +carillons from every steeple, whence fluttered the banners of the guilds. + +The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at Sluys, and +Duchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive her. + +“Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a tirewoman perchance?” +asked the Duchess kindly. + +Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permitted to +remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. And +indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As she freshly +trimmed and broidered Leonard’s surcoat and sword-belt, she heard one of +the many gossips who delighted to recount the members of the English +suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds and pursuivants +who had to marshal the procession and order the banquet. “Fair ladies +too,” he said, “from England. There is the Lord Audley’s daughter with +her father. They say she is the very pearl of beauties. We shall see +whether our fair dames do not surpass her.” + +“The Lord Audley’s daughter did you say?” asked Grisell. + +“His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, per pale +with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, for Heringham. She is +one of the Duchess Margaret’s dames-of-honour.” + +To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her +self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness on the other. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII +THE PAGEANT + + + When I may read of tilts in days of old, + And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown, + Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold— + If fancy would pourtray some stately town, + Which for such pomp fit theatre would be, + Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee. + + SOUTHEY, _Pilgrimage to Waterloo_. + +LEONARD COPELAND was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not give +a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that there was no +knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. Duke +Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, and here +the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony took place, after +which he rode back alone to the Cour des Princes, leaving to the bride +all the splendour of the entrance. + +The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. The Grey +Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the presenting a +crown of white roses at the gates, and with great pleasure Grisell +contributed the best of Master Lambert’s lovely white Provence roses to +complete the garland, which was carried by the youngest novice, a fair +white rosebud herself. + +Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from +window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and silver +thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners and +pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of bright +flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had been in a +frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the final touches began +with the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. To Grisell’s +great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the hospitable door of the +Green Serpent the night before. “Ah! my ladybird,” said he, “in good +health as ever.” + +“All the better for seeing you, mine old friend,” she cried. “I thought +you were far away at Compostella.” + +“So verily I was. Here’s St. James’s cockle to wit—Santiago as they call +him there, and show the stone coffin he steered across the sea. No small +miracle that! And I’ve crossed France, and looked at many a field of +battle of the good old times, and thought and said a prayer for the brave +knights who broke lances there. But as I was making for St. Martha’s +cave in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of the goodly gathering +there was like to be here; and I would fain see whether I could hap upon +old friends, or at any rate hear a smack of our kindly English tongue, so +I made the best of my way hither.” + +“In good time,” said Lambert. “You will take the lady and the housewife +to the stoop at Master Caxton’s house, where he has promised them seats +whence they may view the entrance. I myself am bound to walk with my +fellows of the Apothecaries’ Society, and it will be well for them to +have another guard in the throng, besides old Anton.” + +“Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show,” said Ridley, looking at +his russet gown. + +“We will see to that anon,” said Lambert; and ere supper was over, old +Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from the neighbouring merchants, +with gold lace seams and girdle, peaked boots, and the hideous brimless +hat which was then highly fashionable. Ridley’s trusty sword he had +always worn under his pilgrim’s gown, and with the dagger always used as +a knife, he made his appearance once more as a squire of degree, still +putting the scallop into his hat, in honour of Dacre as well as of St. +James. + +The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly gliding +along several streets in a barge, watching the motley crowds thronging +banks and bridges—a far more brilliant crowd than in these later +centuries, since both sexes were alike gay in plumage. From every house, +even those out of the line of the procession, hung tapestry, or coloured +cloths, and the garlands of flowers, of all bright lines, with their +fresh greenery, were still unfaded by the clear morning sun, while joyous +carillons echoed and re-echoed from the belfry and all the steeples. +Ridley owned that he had never seen the like since King Harry rode home +from Agincourt—perhaps hardly even then, for Bruges was at the height of +its splendour, as were the Burgundian Dukes at the very climax of their +magnificence. + +After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, and Anton +with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd before they +gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps had been railed in, +and seats arranged under the shelter of the projecting roof. + +Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made Kentishman, who +had lived long abroad, and was always ready to make an Englishman +welcome. He listened politely to Grisell’s introduction of Master +Ridley, exchanged silent greetings with Vrow Clemence, and insisted on +their coming into the chamber within, where a repast of cold pasty, +marchpane, strawberries, and wine, awaited them—to be eaten while as yet +there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes. + +Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the few who cared +for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the history of Troy town, and +likewise the strange machine on which he was experimenting for +multiplying copies of the translation he had in hand, with blocks for the +woodcuts which Grisell could not in conscience say would be as beautiful +as the gorgeous illuminations of his books. + +Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to see only +scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the bride at the gate +of St. Croix. + +By and by, however, came the “gang,” as Ridley called it, in earnest. +Every body of ecclesiastics was there: monks and friars, black, white, +and gray; nuns, black, white, and blue; the clergy in their richest +robes, with costly crucifixes of gold, silver, and ivory held aloft, and +reliquaries of the most exquisite workmanship, sparkling with precious +jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire flashing in the sun; the +fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by their Master and their banner, +gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, such as stockings, saw and +compasses, weavers’ shuttles, and the like. Master Lambert looked up and +nodded a smile from beneath a banner with Apollo and the Python, which +Ridley might be excused for taking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The +Mayor in scarlet, white fur and with gold collar, surrounded by his +burgomasters in almost equally radiant garments, marched on. + +Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts of instruments +before them, making the most festive din, through which came bursts of +the joy bells. Violet and black arrayed the inferiors, setting off the +crimson satin pourpoints of the higher officers, on whose brimless hats +each waved with a single ostrich plume in a shining brooch. + +Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; next heralds +and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke’s domains, glittering back and +front in the tabard of his county’s armorial bearings, and with its +banner borne beside him. Then a division of the Duke’s bodyguard, all +like himself in burnished armour with scarves across them. The nobles of +Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, Holland, and Alsace, the most splendid body +then existing, came in endless numbers, their horses, feather-crested as +well as themselves, with every bridle tinkling with silver bells, and the +animals invisible all but their heads and tails under their magnificent +housings, while the knights seemed to be pillars of radiance. Yet even +more gorgeous were the knights of the Golden Fleece, who left between +them a lane in which moved six white horses, caparisoned in cloth of +gold, drawing an open litter in which sat, as on a throne, herself +dazzling in cloth of silver, the brown-eyed Margaret of old, her dark +hair bride fashion flowing on her shoulders, and around it a +marvellously-glancing diamond coronet, above it, however, the wreath of +white roses, which her own hands had placed there when presented by the +novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell’s hand with delight as she recognised +her own white rose, the finest of the garland. + +Immediately after the car came Margaret’s English attendants, the +stately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest to her, and then a bevy +of dames and damsels on horseback, but moving so slowly that Grisell had +full time to discover the silver herrings on the caparisons of one of the +palfreys, and then to raise her eyes to the face of the tall stately lady +whose long veil, flowing down from her towered head-gear, by no means +concealed a beautiful complexion and fair perfect features, such as her +own could never have rivalled even if they had never been defaced. Her +heart sank within her, everything swam before her eyes, she scarcely saw +the white doves let loose from the triumphant arch beyond to greet the +royal lady, and was first roused by Ridley’s exclamation as the knights +with their attendants began to pass. + +“Ha! the lad kens me! ’Tis Harry Featherstone as I live.” + +Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, there +rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendid knight, Harry +Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge of Wakefield. He was +lowering his lance in greeting, but there was no knowing whether it was +to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether he recognised her, as she wore her +veil far over her face. + +This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the figure which was +more to her than all the rest, for he was among the knights and guards +waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive the bride when the final +ceremonies of the marriage were to be performed. + +Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young Featherstone, but +Grisell impressed on him that she wished to remain unknown for the +present, above all to Sir Leonard Copeland, and he had been quite +sufficiently alarmed by the accusations of sorcery to believe in the +danger of her becoming known among the English. + +“More by token,” said he, “that the house of this Master Caxton as you +call him seems to me no canny haunt. Tell me what you will of making +manifold good books or bad, I’ll never believe but that Dr. Faustus and +the Devil hatched the notion between them for the bewilderment of men’s +brains and the slackening of their hands.” + +Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young lady to come +forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to which he rushed, through +crowds and jostling, to behold, with the ardour of an old warrior, the +various tilts and tourneys, though he grumbled that they were nothing but +child’s play and vain show, no earnest in them fit for a man. + +Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of the +wonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion thereof in the +lists of the Hôtel de Ville, and again, some days later, of the banquet, +when the table decorations were mosaic gardens with silver trees, laden +with enamelled fruit, and where, as an interlude, a whale sixty feet long +made its entrance and emitted from its jaws a troop of Moorish youths and +maidens, who danced a saraband to the sound of tambourines and cymbals! +Such scenes were bliss to the deaf housewife, and would enliven the +silent world of her memory all the rest of her life. + +The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such scenes being +inappropriate to her mourning, and besides her apartments being needed +for the influx of guests. There, in early morning, before the revels +began, Grisell ventured to ask for an audience, and was permitted to +follow the Duchess when she returned from mass to her own apartments. + +“Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in the revels and +pageantries?” + +“I saw the procession, so please your Grace.” + +“And your old playmate in her glory?” + +“Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of Heaven!” + +“Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not unfit us for the +veritable everlasting glories, when all these things shall be no more.” + +The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the day when her +son’s corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and stripped, beside the +marsh. + +But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any petition. + +“Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put into the hands +of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without naming me.” + +She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons of blue +and silver in an outer case, worked with the White Rose. + +The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, “Nay, but this is more beauteous than all +you have wrought before. Ah! here is your own device! I see there is +purpose in these patterns of your web. And am I not to name you?” + +“I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess should divine the +worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought that she will.” + +“Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called +‘Forget-me-not.’ Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?” + +“Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in your prayers to +ask that I may do the right,” said Grisell, with clasped hands and +weeping eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX +DUCHESS MARGARET + + + I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old; + Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of + Gold. + + LONGFELLOW, _The Belfry of Bruges_. + +IN another week the festivities were over, and she waited anxiously, +dreading each day more and more that her gift had been forgotten or +misunderstood, or that her old companion disdained or refused to take +notice of her; then trying to console herself by remembering the manifold +engagements and distractions of the bride. + +Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard Copeland came +one evening to supper. He was lodged among the guards of the Duke in the +palace, and had much less time at his disposal than formerly, for Duke +Charles insisted on the most strict order and discipline among all his +attendants. Moreover, there were tokens of enmity on the part of the +French on the border of the Somme, and Leonard expected to be despatched +to the camp which was being formed there. He was out of spirits. The +sight and speech of so many of his countrymen had increased the longing +for home. + +“I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish tongues,” he owned, when +Master Lambert was out of hearing. “I should feel at home if I could but +hear an honest carter shout ‘Woa’ to his horses.” + +“Did you have any speech with the ladies?” asked Grisell. + +“I? No! What reck they of a poor knight adventurer?” + +“Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a belted knight was a +comrade for a king,” said Grisell. + +“Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and Counts, and great +Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a trout stream, what chance +is there that a poor, landless exile will have a word or a glance?” + +Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? Grisell longed to +know, but for that very reason she faltered when about to ask, and turned +her query into one whether he had heard any news of his English +relations. + +“My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years—so far as I +can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. I must account +with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing clearly. I fancy +the truth is that George Copeland, who holds it, is little better than a +reiver on either side, and that King Edward might grant it back to me if +I paid my homage, save that he is sworn never to pardon any who had a +share in the death of his brother of Rutland.” + +“You had not! I know you had not!” + +“Hurt Ned? I’d as soon have hurt my own brother! Nay, I got this blow +from Clifford for coming between,” said he, pushing back his hair so as +to show a mark near his temple. “But how did you know?” + +“Harry Featherstone told me.” She had all but said, “My father’s +squire.” + +“You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. He is here now; +a good man of his hands,” muttered Leonard. “Anyway the King believes I +had a hand in that cruel business of Wakefield Bridge, and nought but his +witness would save my neck if once I ventured into England—if that would. +So I may resign myself to be the Duke’s captain of archers for the rest +of my days. Heigh ho! And a lonely man; I fear me in debt to good +Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress Grisell, to whom I owe more than +coin will pay. Ha! was that—” interrupting himself, for a trumpet blast +was ringing out at intervals, the signal of summons to the men-at-arms. +Leonard started up, waved farewell, and rushed off. + +The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the Duke +early the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses in +Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned from mass, +they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash in the sun as +the troop passed along the main street, and became visible at the opening +of that up which they walked. + +The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters that +Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel. + +She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. Indeed, she +shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. She hurried on +so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was quite out of breath, +and panted after her within gasps of “Stay! stay, mistress! No bear is +after us! She runs as though a mad ox had got loose!” + +Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear from her +kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed. + +Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additional +chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies as +usual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, even +as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in a pair of +soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and there was a tender +cry in her own tongue of “My Grisell! my dear old Grisell! I have found +you at last! Oh! that was good in you. I knew the forget-me-nots, and +all your little devices. Ah!” as Grisell, unable to speak for tears of +joy, held up the pouncet box, the childish gift. + +The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds was pressed +to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round her, the white satin +broidered skirt swept about her feet, the pearl-edged matronly cap on the +youthful head leant fondly against her, as Margaret led her up, still in +her embrace, and cried, “It is she, it is she! Dear belle mère, thanks +indeed for bringing us together!” + +The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at English impulsiveness, +and the elder Duchess herself looked for a moment stiff, as her +lace-maker slipped to her knees to kiss her hand and murmur her thanks. + +“Let me look at you,” cried Margaret. “Ah! have you recovered that +terrible mishap? By my troth, ’tis nearly gone. I should never have +found it out had I not known!” + +This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal of +difference in Grisell’s face, and the Duchess Margaret was one of the +most eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent alike in love and in +hate, ready both to act on slight evidence for those whose cause she took +up, and to nourish bitter hatred against the enemies of her house. + +“Now, tell me all,” she continued in English. “I heard that you had been +driven out of Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick had sped you northward. +How is it that you are here, weaving lace like any mechanical sempstress? +Nay, nay! I cannot listen to you on your knees. We have hugged one +another too often for that.” + +Grisell, with the elder Duchess’s permission, seated herself on the +cushion at Margaret’s feet. “Speak English,” continued the bride. “I am +wearying already of French! Ma belle mère, you will not find fault. You +know a little of our own honest tongue.” + +Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions of +Margaret, told her story. When she came to the mention of her marriage +to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive exclamation, “Bound to that +blood-thirsty traitor! Never! After the way he treated you, no marvel +that he fell on my sweet Edmund!” + +“Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save him.” + +“He! A follower of King Henry! Never!” + +“Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord Edmund. He strove to stay Lord +Clifford’s hand, and threw himself between, but Clifford dashed him +aside, and he bears still the scar where he fell against the parapet of +the bridge. Harry Featherstone told me, when he fled from the piteous +field, where died my father and brother Robin.” + +“Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. I would have made him good +cheer for your sake, but my mother was ever strict, and rapped our +fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, if we ever spake to any of my +father’s meiné. Tell on, Grisell,” as her hand found its way under the +hood, and stroked the fair hair. “Poor lonely one!” + +Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland’s love, and still +more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, truly enough, that he +should have taken both lady and Tower, or given both up, and lending a +most unwilling ear to the plea that he had never thought his relations to +Grisell binding. She had never loved Lady Heringham, and it was plainly +with good cause. + +Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared that Grisell +had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close inquiries elicited +that she had been maintaining him all this while, actually for seven +years, all unknown to him, the young Duchess could not contain herself. +“Grisell! Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mère, belle mère, do you +understand?” and in rapid French she recounted all. + +“He is my husband,” said Grisell simply, as the two Duchesses showed +their wonder and admiration. + +“Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly wife,” cried Margaret. +“And now what would you have me do for you, my most patient of Grisells? +Write to my brother the King to restore your lands, and—and I suppose you +would have this recreant fellow’s given back since you say he has seen +the error of following that make-bate Queen. But can you prove him free +of Edmund’s blood? Aught but that might be forgiven.” + +“Master Featherstone is gone back to England,” said Grisell, “but he can +bear witness; but my father’s old squire, Cuthbert Ridley, is here, who +heard his story when he came to us from Wakefield. Moreover, I have seen +the mark on Sir Leonard’s brow.” + +“Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. He has been more prone to +Lancaster folk since he was caught by the wiles of Lady Grey; but I would +that I could hear what would clear this knight of yours by other +testimony than such as your loving heart may frame. But you must come +and be one of mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never go back to your +Poticary—Faugh!” + +This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret really reverenced +her too much to press her. + +However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and returned with a +letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a mission to find +Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock. + +“’Tis working for that rogue Copeland,” he growled. “I would it were for +you, my sweet lady.” + +“It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, good Cuthbert.” + +“Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you are, wed or +unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live nameless, like +the Poticary’s serving-woman,” concluded Ridley as his parting grumble. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX +THE WEDDING CHIMES + + + Low at times and loud at times, + Changing like a poet’s rhymes, + Rang the beautiful wild chimes, + From the belfry in the market + Of the ancient town of Bruges. + + LONGFELLOW, _The Carillon_. + +NO more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was absent with +the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune and Liège, +the romantic version of which may be read in _Quentin Durward_, and with +which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it seemed to blast the +life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing. + +The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for +effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was +suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. There +she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back and the +square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her Grisell at a +glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert Ridley and Harry +Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette to exchange any +greetings. + +She knelt to kiss the Duchess’s hand, and as she did so Margaret raised +her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, “I greet you, +Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letter from my brother, +King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count Palatine, to put you +in possession of thy castle and lands, whoever may gainsay it.” + +That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisell was +conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave the letter; but +there was more to come, and Margaret continued— + +“Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give this parchment, +sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing his full and free +pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, and his restoration to +all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady of Whitburn. It was you, +his true wife, who won it for him. It is you who should give it to him. +Stand forth, Sir Leonard.” + +He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had been to +kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at the Duchess’s +feet in thanks. + +“To her, to her,” said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he turned, spoke, +trying to clear her voice from a rising sob. + +“Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken all. I am well +advised that the wedlock into which you were forced against your will was +of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will were contracted to the +Lady Eleanor Audley.” + +Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. “True, I know +that she was likewise constrained to wed; but she is a widow, and free to +choose for herself. Therefore, either by the bishop, or it may be +through our Holy Father the Pope, by mutual consent, shall the marriage +at Whitburn be annulled and declared void, and I pray you to accept +seisin thereof, while my lady, her Highness the Duchess Isabel, with the +Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister.” + +There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have sprung forward +and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with her. + +“Never! never!” he cried, throwing himself on his knees and mastering his +wife’s hand. “Grisell, Grisell, dost think I could turn to the +feather-pated, dull-souled, fickle-hearted thing I know now Eleanor of +Audley to be, instead of you?” + +There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess herself, but +Grisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in low broken tones, +“Nay, nay; she is fair, I am loathly.” + +“What is her fair skin to me?” he cried; “to me, who have learnt to know, +and love, and trust to you with a very different love from the boy’s +passion I felt for Eleanor in youth, and the cure whereof was the sight +and words of the Lady Heringham! Grisell, Grisell, I was about to lay my +very heart at your feet when the Duke’s trumpet called me away, ere I +guessed, fool that I was, that mine was the hand that left the scar that +now I love, but which once I treated with a brute’s or a boy’s lightness. +Oh! pardon me! Still less did I know that it was my own forsaken wife +who saved my life, who tended my sickness, nay, as I verily believed, +toiled for me and my bread through these long seven years, all in secret. +Yea, and won my entire soul and deep devotion or ever I knew that it was +to you alone that they were due. Grisell, Grisell,” as she could not +speak for tears. “Oh forgive! Pardon me! Turn not away to be a Grey +Sister. I cannot do without you! Take me! Let me strive throughout my +life to merit a little better all that you have done and suffered for one +so unworthy!” + +Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and regardless of +all spectators, she was for the first time clasped in her husband’s arms, +and the joyful tears of her friends high and low. + +What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be narrated how this +wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the lovely bells of Bruges +rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot and Clemence rejoiced though +they lost their guest, how Caxton gave them a choice specimen of his +printing, how Ridley doffed his pilgrim’s garb and came out as a squire +of dames, how the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged with the Duchess, +and how the Duke growled that from whichever party he took his stout +English he was sure to lose them? + +Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, and a +progress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and haggard, came and +entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had little guessed what her +talk was doing, and that Ralph made her believe whatever he chose! She +had a hard life, treated like a slave by the burgesses, who despised the +fisher maid. Oh that she could go back to serve her dear good lady! + +There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the late reign +of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern their estates that for +long years the time of ‘Grisly Grisell’ was remembered as Whitburn’s +golden age. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRISLY GRISELL*** + + +******* This file should be named 7387-0.txt or 7387-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/3/8/7387 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Yonge</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Grisly Grisell, by Charlotte M. Yonge + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Grisly Grisell + or, the Laidly Lady of Whitburn + A Tale of the Wars of the Roses + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: November 10, 2014 [eBook #7387] +[This file was first posted on April 24, 2003] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRISLY GRISELL*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1906 Macmillan and Co. edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>GRISLY GRISELL<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OR</span><br /> +THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN</h1> +<p style="text-align: center">A TALE OF THE WARS OF THE ROSES</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLOTTE M. YONGE<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AUTHOR OF ‘THE HEIR OF +REDCLYFFE’, ETC. ETC.</span></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><b>London</b><br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO., <span class="smcap">Limited</span><br /> +<span class="GutSmall">NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY</span><br +/> +1906</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center">Copyright, 1893,<br /> +<span class="smcap">By</span> MACMILLAN & CO.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<blockquote><p>Men speak of Job, and for his humblesse,<br /> +And clerkes when hem list can well endite,<br /> +Namely of men, but as in stedfastnese<br /> +Though clerkes preisin women but a lite,<br /> +There can no man in humblesse him acquite<br /> +As women can, nor can be half so trewe<br /> +As women ben.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>, +<i>The Clerke’s Tale</i>.</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>First Edition</i> (2 <i>Vols. +Crown</i> 8<i>vo</i>) 1893<br /> +<i>Second Edition</i> (1 <i>Vol. Crown</i> 8<i>vo</i>) 1894, +1906.</p> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p><span class="GutSmall">CHAPTER</span></p> +</td> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">I.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">An Explosion</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">II.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Broken Match</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page12">12</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">III.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Mirror</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Parting</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page36">36</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">V.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Sister Avice</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page46">46</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Proctor</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page57">57</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Pilgrim of Salisbury</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page68">68</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">VIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Old Playfellows</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page80">80</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">IX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The King-maker</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">X.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Cold Welcome</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Bernard</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page112">112</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Word from the Wars</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page127">127</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Knot</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Lonely Bride</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page150">150</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Wakefield Bridge</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page159">159</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A New Master</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page169">169</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Strange Guests</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page177">177</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Witchery</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page185">185</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A March Hare</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page195">195</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">A Blight on the White Rose</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page205">205</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Wounded Knight</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page213">213</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The City of Bridges</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page222">222</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Cankered Oak Gall</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page231">231</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Grisell’s Patience</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page244">244</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXV.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Old Duchess</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page253">253</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVI.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Duke’s Death</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page260">260</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Forget Me Not</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page268">268</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXVIII.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Pageant</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page274">274</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXIX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">Duchess Margaret</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page285">285</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p style="text-align: right">XXX.</p> +</td> +<td><p><span class="smcap">The Wedding Chimes</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right"><span class="indexpageno"><a +href="#page295">295</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>CHAPTER +I<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">AN EXPLOSION</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous +saltpetre should be digg’d out of the bowels of the +harmless earth.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, <i>King Henry IV.</i>, Part +I.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>A <span class="smcap">terrible</span> shriek rang through the +great Manor-house of Amesbury. It was preceded by a loud +explosion, and there was agony as well as terror in the +cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some of pain, +some of fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every +one in the house ran together to the spot whence the cries +proceeded, namely, the lower court, where the armourer and +blacksmith had their workshops.</p> +<p>There was a group of children, the young people who were +confided to the great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of +Salisbury for education and training. Boys and girls were +alike there, some of the latter crying and sobbing, others +mingling with the lads in the hot dispute as to “who did +it.”</p> +<p>By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the +place, all the grown-up persons of the +establishment—knights, squires, grooms, scullions, and +females of every degree—had thronged round them, but parted +at her approach, though one of the knights said, “Nay, Lady +Countess, ’tis no sight for you. The poor little maid +is dead, or nigh upon it.”</p> +<p>“But who is it? What is it?” asked the +Countess, still advancing.</p> +<p>A confused medley of voices replied, “The Lord of +Whitburn’s little wench—Leonard +Copeland—gunpowder.”</p> +<p>“And no marvel,” said a sturdy, begrimed figure, +“if the malapert young gentles be let to run all over the +courts, and handle that with which they have no concern, lads and +wenches alike.”</p> +<p>“Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the +maidens kept ever at their distaffs and needles in seemly +fashion,” cried a small but stout and self-assertive dame, +known as “Mother of the Maidens,” then starting, +“Oh! my lady, I crave your pardon, I knew not you were in +this coil! And if the men-at-arms be let to have their +perilous goods strewn all over the place, no wonder at any +mishap.”</p> +<p>“Do not wrangle about the cause,” said the +Countess. “Who is hurt? How much?”</p> +<p>The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of +about ten was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a +woman’s lap.</p> +<p>“Poor maid,” was the cry, “poor maid! +’Tis all over with her. It will go ill with young +Leonard Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his +irons.”</p> +<p>“Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning +gunpowder—a device of Satan—in this yard? A +mercy we are not all blown to the winds.”</p> +<p>The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose +moans showed that she was still alive, and between the +barber-surgeon and the porter’s wife she was lifted up, and +carried to a bed, the Countess Alice keeping close to her, though +the “Mother of the Maidens,” who was a somewhat +helpless personage, hung back, declaring that the sight of the +wounds made her swoon. There were terrible wounds upon the +face and neck, which seemed to be almost bared of skin. The +lady, who had been bred to some knowledge of surgical skill, +together with the barber-surgeon, did their best to allay the +agony with applications of sweet oil. Perhaps if they had +had more of what was then considered skill, it might have been +worse for her.</p> +<p>The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay +the suffering of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept +moaning for “nurse.” She was Grisell Dacre, the +daughter of the Baron of Whitburn, and had been placed, young as +she was, in the household of the Countess of Salisbury on her +mother being made one of the ladies attending on the young Queen +Margaret of Anjou, lately married to King Henry VI.</p> +<p>Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from +hearing the history of the accident, but presently the clatter of +horses’ feet showed that her lord was returning, and, +committing the girl to her old nurse, she went down to the hall +to receive him.</p> +<p>The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his +cross-legged, round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years +old stood before him, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the +other, and his shoulder held fast by a squire, while the motley +crowd of retainers stood behind.</p> +<p>There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband +rose, came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of +greeting, demanded, “What is all this coil? Is the +little wench dead?”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I fear me she cannot live,” was the +answer.</p> +<p>“Will Dacre of Whitburn’s maid? That’s +ill, poor child! How fell it out?”</p> +<p>“That I know as little as you,” was the +answer. “I have been seeing to the poor little +maid’s hurts.”</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In +point of fact, she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard +Nevil, had been created Earl of Salisbury in her right on the +death of her father, the staunch warrior of Henry V. in the siege +of Orleans.</p> +<p>“Speak out, Leonard Copeland,” said the +Earl. “What hast thou done?”</p> +<p>The boy only growled, “I never meant to hurt the +maid.”</p> +<p>“Speak to the point, sir,” said Lord Salisbury +sternly; “give yourself at least the grace of +truth.”</p> +<p>Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and +only hung his head at the repeated calls to him to speak. +The Earl turned to those who were only too eager to accuse +him.</p> +<p>“He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my +lord, and put it to the barrel of powder.”</p> +<p>“Is this true, Leonard?” demanded the Earl again, +amazed at the frantic proceeding, and Leonard muttered +“Aye,” vouchsafing no more, and looking black as +thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed to his side and said, +“Uncle,” doffing his cap, “so please you, my +lord, the barrels had just been brought in upon Hob +Carter’s wain, and Leonard said they ought to have the Lord +Earl’s arms on them. So he took a bar of hot iron +from the forge to mark the saltire on them, and thereupon there +was this burst of smoke and flame, and the maid, who was leaning +over, prying into his doings, had the brunt thereof.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to the saints that no further harm was +done,” ejaculated the lady shuddering, while her lord +proceeded—“It was not malice, but malapert meddling, +then. Master Leonard Copeland, thou must be scourged to +make thee keep thine hands off where they be not needed. +For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn may +require. Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and +keep him in ward till we see the issue.”</p> +<p>Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not +uttering a word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the +squire’s grasp, but only thereby causing himself to be +gripped the faster.</p> +<p>Next, Lord Salisbury’s severity fell upon Hob the carter +and Hodge the smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in +the court-yard. Servants were not dismissed for +carelessness in those days, but soundly flogged, a punishment +considered suitable to the “blackguard” at any age, +even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat +higher in position, and not in charge at the moment, was not +called to account, but the next question was, how the +“Mother of the Maids”—the gouvernante in charge +of the numerous damsels who formed the train of the Lady of +Salisbury, and were under education and training—could have +permitted her maidens to stray into the regions appropriated to +the yeomen and archers, and others of the meiné, where +they certainly had no business.</p> +<p>It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the +girls in the gardens “a playing at the ball” with +some of the pages, and that there, on a sunny garden seat, +slumber had prevented her from discovering the absence of the +younger part of the bevy. The demure elder damsels deposed +that, at the sound of wains coming into the court, the boys had +rushed off, and the younger girls had followed them, whether with +or without warning was not made clear. Poor little +Grisell’s condition might have been considered a sufficient +warning, nevertheless the two companions in her misdemeanour were +condemned to a whipping, to enforce on them a lesson of +maidenliness; and though the Mother of the Maids could not +partake of the flagellation, she remained under her lord’s +and lady’s grave displeasure, and probably would have to +submit to a severe penance from the priest for her +carelessness. Yet, as she observed, Mistress Grisell was a +North Country maid, never couthly or conformable, but like a boy, +who would moreover always be after Leonard Copeland, whether he +would or no.</p> +<p>It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his +wife, because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; +and the King had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, +and to bring about a contract of marriage between these two +unfortunate children, but he feared that whatever he could do, +there would only be additional feud and bitterness, though it was +clear that the mishap was accidental. The Lord of Whitburn +himself was in Ireland with the Duke of York, while his lady was +in attendance on the young Queen, and it was judged right and +seemly to despatch to her a courier with the tidings of her +daughter’s disaster, although in point of fact, where a +house could number sons, damsels were not thought of great value, +except as the means of being allied with other houses. A +message was also sent to Sir William Copeland that his son had +been the death of the daughter of Whitburn; for poor little +Grisell lay moaning in a state of much fever and great suffering, +so that the Lady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear her +sighs and sobs without tears, and the barber-surgeon, +unaccustomed to the effects of gunpowder, had little or no hope +of her life.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland’s mood was sullen, not to say +surly. He submitted to the chastisement without a word or +cry, for blows were the lot of boys of all ranks, and were dealt +out without much respect to justice; and he also had to endure a +sort of captivity, in a dismal little circular room in a turret +of the manorial house, with merely a narrow loophole to look out +from, and this was only accessible by climbing up a steep broken +slope of brick-work in the thickness of the wall.</p> +<p>Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, +Edmund Plantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, +building up fragments of stone and mortar into the plan of a +castle.</p> +<p>“How dost thou, Leonard?” he asked. +“Did old Hal strike very hard?”</p> +<p>“I reck not,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“How long will my uncle keep thee here?” asked +Edmund sympathisingly.</p> +<p>“Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should +go and die. She brought it on me, the peevish girl. +She is always after me when I want her least.”</p> +<p>“Yea, is not she contracted to thee?”</p> +<p>“So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being +plagued with her—do what they may to me. +There’s an end to it, if I hang for it.”</p> +<p>“They would never hang thee.”</p> +<p>“None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a +loyal house,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Traitor, saidst thou,” cried Edmund, clenching +his fists. “’Tis thy base Somerset crew that be +the traitors.”</p> +<p>“I’ll brook no such word from thee,” burst +forth Leonard, flying at him.</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” laughed Edmund even as they +grappled. “Who is the traitor forsooth? Why, +’tis my father who should be King. ’Tis +white-faced Harry and his Beauforts—”</p> +<p>The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the +warder presently found the two boys rolling on the floor together +in hot contest.</p> +<p>And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn +and flayed cheeks and lips, “O lady, lady, visit it not on +him! Let not Leonard be punished. It was my fault for +getting into his way when I should have been in the garden. +Dear Madge, canst thou speak for him?”</p> +<p>Madge was Edmund’s sister, Margaret of York, who stood +trembling and crying by Grisell’s bed.</p> +<h2><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>CHAPTER II<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE BROKEN MATCH</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><i>Contemporary Poem</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Little</span> Grisell Dacre did not die, +though day after day she lay in a suffering condition, tenderly +watched over by the Countess Alice. Her mother had been +summoned from attendance on the Queen, but at first there only +was returned a message that if the maid was dead she should be +embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, when +her father would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boy +should be called to account for his crime, his father being, as +the Lady of Whitburn caused to be written, an evil-minded minion +and fosterer of the house of Somerset, the very bane of the King +and the enemies of the noble Duke of York and Earl of +Warwick.</p> +<p>The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl of +Salisbury was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of +Raby Castle in Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by +marriage with Alice Montagu, heiress of that earldom. His +youngest sister had married Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, +who being descended from Lionel, Duke of Clarence, was considered +to have a better right to the throne than the house of Lancaster, +though this had never been put forward since the earlier years of +Henry V.</p> +<p>Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne +Beauchamp, and was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates +larger even than those of his father. He had not, however, +as yet come forward, and the disputes at Court were running high +between the friends of the Duke of Somerset and those of the Duke +of York.</p> +<p>The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of +Somerset, who were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more +inclined to uphold royalty, while York was considered as the +champion of the people. The gentle King and the Beauforts +wished for peace with France; the nation, and with them York, +thought this was giving up honour, land, and plunder, and +suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, of truckling to the +enemy. Jack Cade’s rising and the murder of the Duke +of Suffolk had been the outcome of this feeling. Indeed, +Lord Salisbury’s messenger reported the Country about +London to be in so disturbed a state that it was no wonder that +the Lady of Whitburn did not make the journey. She was not, +as the Countess suspected, a very tender mother. +Grisell’s moans were far more frequently for her nurse than +for her, but after some space they ceased. The child became +capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and both barber +and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any vital +part, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently with +hopelessly injured features.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, and +allowed to resume his usual place among the Earl’s pages; +when the warder announced that he saw two parties approaching +from opposite sides of the down, one as if from Salisbury, the +other from the north; and presently he reported that the former +wore the family badge, a white rosette, the latter none at all, +whence it was perceived that the latter were adherents of the +Beauforts of Somerset, for though the “Rose of Snow” +had been already adopted by York, Somerset had in point of fact +not plucked the Red Rose in the Temple gardens, nor was it as yet +the badge of Lancaster.</p> +<p>Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn +was in the fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury +hastened to receive her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put +into some order.</p> +<p>She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very +smooth of speech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough +courtesy, demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, +“Lives my wench still?”</p> +<p>“Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she +will yet be healed.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught +further had befallen her. Be that as it may, no doubt you +have given the malapert boy his deserts.”</p> +<p>“I hope I have, madam,” began the Earl. +“I kept him in close ward while she was in peril of death, +but—” A fresh bugle blast interrupted him, as +there clattered through the resounding gate the other troop, at +sight of whom the Lady of Whitburn drew herself up, redoubling +her grim dignity, and turning it into indignation as a young page +rushed forward to meet the newcomers, with a cry of +“Father! Lord Father, come at last;” then +composing himself, doffed his cap and held the stirrup, then bent +a knee for his father’s blessing.</p> +<p>“You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous +fellow was in safe hold,” said the lady, bending her dark +brows.</p> +<p>“While the maid was in peril,” hastily answered +Salisbury. “Pardon me, madam, my Countess will attend +you.”</p> +<p>The Countess’s high rank and great power were impressive +to the Baroness of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost +her first words were, “Madam, you at least will not let the +murderous traitors of Somerset and the Queen prevail over the +loyal friends of York and the nation.”</p> +<p>“There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be +to the saints,” said Countess Alice, “your little +maid—”</p> +<p>“Aye, that’s what they said as to the poor good +Duke Humfrey,” returned the irate lady; “but that +you, madam, the good-sister of the noble York, should stand up +for the enemies of him, and the friends of France, is more than a +plain North Country woman like me can understand. And +there—there, turning round upon the steep steps, there is +my Lord Earl hand and glove with that minion fellow of Somerset, +who was no doubt at the bottom of the plot! None would +believe it at Raby.”</p> +<p>“None at Raby would believe that my lord could be +lacking in courtesy to a guest,” returned Lady Salisbury +with dignity, “nor that a North Country dame could expect +it of him. Those who are under his roof must respect it by +fitting demeanour towards one another.”</p> +<p>The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the +Countess asked whether she did not wish to see her daughter, +leading the way to a chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great +curtained bed nearly filling it up, for the patient had been +installed in one of the best guest-chambers of the Castle. +Lady Whitburn was surprised, but was too proud to show herself +gratified by what she thought was the due of the dignity of the +Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat by the bed, where there +was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired little girl stood by the +window, whence she had been describing the arrivals in the Castle +court.</p> +<p>“Here is your mother, my poor child,” began the +Lady of Salisbury, but there was no token of joy. Grisell +gave a little gasp, and tried to say “Lady Mother, +pardon—” but the Lady of Whitburn, at sight of the +reddened half of the face which alone was as yet visible, gave a +cry, “She will be a fright! You evil little baggage, +thus to get yourself scarred and made hideous! Running +where you ought not, I warrant!” and she put out her hand +as if to shake the patient, but the Countess interposed, and her +niece Margaret gave a little cry. “Grisell is still +very weak and feeble! She cannot bear much; we have only +just by Heaven’s grace brought her round.”</p> +<p>“As well she were dead as like this,” cried this +untender parent. “Who is to find her a husband now? +and as to a nunnery, where is one to take her without a dower +such as is hard to find, with two sons to be fitly +provided? I looked that in a household like this, better +rule should be kept.”</p> +<p>“None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl,” +said the gentle Countess; “but young folks can scarce be +watched hour by hour.”</p> +<p>“The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to +you to give it them, madam,” said Lady Whitburn. +“Now, the least that can be done is to force yonder +malapert lad and his father into keeping his contract to her, +since he has spoilt the market for any other.”</p> +<p>“Is he contracted to her?” asked the Countess.</p> +<p>“Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, +and the King, and all the rest, thought to heal the breach +between the houses by planning a contract between their son and +my daughter. He shall keep it now, at his peril.”</p> +<p>Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how +much she heard or understood. The Countess was glad to get +Lady Whitburn out of the room, but both she and her Earl had a +very trying evening, in trying to keep the peace between the two +parents. Sir William Copeland was devoted to the Somerset +family, of whom he held his manor; and had had a furious quarrel +with the Baron of Whitburn, when both were serving in France.</p> +<p>The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and +had induced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the +future marriage of Leonard, Copeland’s second son, to +Grisell Dacre, then the only child of the Lord of Whitburn. +He had also obtained that the two children should be bred up in +the household of the Earl of Salisbury, by way of letting them +grow up together. On the same principle the Lady of +Whitburn had been made one of the attendants of Queen +Margaret—but neither arrangement had been more successful +than most of those of poor King Henry.</p> +<p>Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of +hers, but she beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent +from younger girls, and when he was thirteen, and she ten years +old, there was very little affection on his side. Moreover, +the birth of two brothers had rendered Grisell’s hand a far +less desirable prize in the eyes of the Copelands.</p> +<p>To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, +used to a hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute +rule, and no hand over her save her husband’s; while the +young and outspoken Queen, bred up in the graceful, poetical +Court of Aix or Nancy, looked on her as no better than a +barbarian, and if she did not show this openly, reporters were +not wanting to tell her that the Queen called her the great +northern hag, or that her rugged unwilling curtsey was said to +look as if she were stooping to draw water at a well. Her +husband had kept her in some restraint, but when be had gone to +Ireland with the Duke of York, offences seemed to multiply upon +her. The last had been that when she had tripped on her +train, dropped the salver wherewith she was serving the Queen, +and broken out with a loud “Lawk a daisy!” all the +ladies, and Margaret herself, had gone into fits of +uncontrollable laughter, and the Queen had begged her to render +her exclamation into good French for her benefit.</p> +<p>“Madam,” she had exclaimed, “if a plain +woman’s plain English be not good enough for you, she can +have no call here!” And without further ceremony she +had flown out of the royal presence.</p> +<p>Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had +sent her a message, that her attendance was no longer +required. So here she was going out of her way to make a +casual inquiry, from the Court at Winchester, whether that very +unimportant article, her only daughter, were dead or alive.</p> +<p>The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in +debate during the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite +as much state as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than +was to be found at Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All +the high born sat on the dais, raised on two steps with gorgeous +tapestry behind, and a canopy overhead; the Earl and Countess on +chairs in the centre of the long narrow table. Lady +Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William Copeland by the +Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his son ran about +among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and the +cups. He entered on a conversation with the Countess, +telling her of the King’s interest and delight in his +beautiful freshly-founded Colleges at Eton and Cambridge, how the +King rode down whenever he could to see the boys, listen to them +at their tasks in the cloisters, watch them at their sports in +the playing fields, and join in their devotions in the +Chapel—a most holy example for them.</p> +<p>“Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings,” +broke in the North Country voice sarcastically.</p> +<p>“There are others—sons of gentlemen and +esquires—lodged in houses around,” said Sir William, +“who are not meant for cowl or for mass-priests.”</p> +<p>“Yea, forsooth,” called Lady Whitburn across the +Earl and the Countess, “what for but to make them as +feckless as the priests, unfit to handle lance or +sword!”</p> +<p>“So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen +and lance,” said the Earl.</p> +<p>“I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border +foray,” laughed the Dame of Dacre. “’Tis +all a device of the Frenchwoman!”</p> +<p>“Verily?” said the Earl, in an interrogative +tone.</p> +<p>“Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen +with this clerkly lore, so that her folk may have the better of +them in France; and the poor, witless King gives in to her. +And so while the Beauforts rule the roast—”</p> +<p>Salisbury caught her up. “Ay, the roast. +Will you partake of these roast partridges, madam?”</p> +<p>They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a +page for the guest to help herself. Whether by her +awkwardness or that of the boy, it so chanced that the bird made +a sudden leap from the impalement, and deposited itself in the +lap of Lady Whitburn’s scarlet kirtle! The fact was +proclaimed by her loud rude cry, “A murrain on thee, thou +ne’er-do-weel lad,” together with a sounding box on +the ear.</p> +<p>“’Tis thine own greed, who dost +not—”</p> +<p>“Leonard, be still—know thy manners,” cried +both at once the Earl and Sir William, for, unfortunately, the +offender was no other than Leonard Copeland, and, contrary to all +the laws of pagedom, he was too angry not to argue the +point. “’Twas no doing of mine! She knew +not how to cut the bird.”</p> +<p>Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and +his father only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered +off under the squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the +more sharply for his continuing to mutter, “It was her +fault.”</p> +<p>And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to +exclaim, when his friend Edmund of York came to condole with him +as usual in all his scrapes, “’Tis she that should +have been scourged for clumsiness! A foul, uncouth Border +dame! Well, one blessing at least is that now I shall never +be wedded to her daughter—let the wench live or die as she +lists!”</p> +<p>That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, +and no sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, +the debate began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir +William Copeland was bound to affiance his son instantly to her +poor daughter, all the more since the injuries he had inflicted +to her face could never be done away with. On the other +hand, Sir William Copeland was naturally far less likely to +accept such a daughter-in-law, since her chances of being an +heiress had ceased, and he contended that he had never absolutely +accepted the contract, and that there had been no betrothal of +the children.</p> +<p>The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly +honourable man would have felt poor Grisell’s disaster +inflicted by his son’s hands all the more reason for +holding to the former understanding; but the loud clamours and +rude language of Lady Whitburn were enough to set any one in +opposition to her, and moreover, the words he said in favour of +her side of the question appeared to Copeland merely spoken out +of the general enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts and all +their following.</p> +<p>Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the +Earl, whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while +Copeland stood sullen and silent, but determined.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, “were you a true friend +to York and Raby, you would deal with this scowling fellow as we +should on the Border.”</p> +<p>“We are not on the Border, madam,” quietly said +Salisbury.</p> +<p>“But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to +keep faith. No contract, forsooth! I hate your +mincing South Country forms of law.” Then perhaps +irritated by a little ironical smile which Salisbury could not +suppress. “Is this your castle, or is it not? +Then bring him and his lad to my poor wench’s side, and see +their troth plighted, or lay him by the heels in the lowest cell +in your dungeon. Then will you do good service to the King +and the Duke of York, whom you talk of loving in your +shilly-shally fashion.”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said the Earl, his grave tones coming in +contrast to the shrill notes of the angry woman, “I counsel +you, in the south at least, to have some respect to these same +forms of law. I bid you a fair good-night. The +chamberlain will marshal you.”</p> +<h2><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +26</span>CHAPTER III<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE MIRROR</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>“Of all the maids, the foulest maid<br /> + From Teviot unto Dee.<br /> +Ah!” sighing said that lady then,<br /> + “Can ne’er young Harden’s +be.”</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>, +<i>The Reiver’s Wedding</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">They</span> are gone,” said +Margaret of York, standing half dressed at the deep-set window of +the chamber where Grisell lay in state in her big bed.</p> +<p>“Who are gone?” asked Grisell, turning as well as +she could under the great heraldically-embroidered covering.</p> +<p>“Leonard Copeland and his father. Did’st not +hear the horses’ tramp in the court?”</p> +<p>“I thought it was only my lord’s horses going to +the water.”</p> +<p>“It was the Copelands going off without breaking their +fast or taking a stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they +be,” said Margaret, in no measured language.</p> +<p>“And are they gone? And wherefore?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury +should hold them to their contract. Sir William sat as +surly as a bear just about to be baited, while thy mother rated +and raved at him like a very sleuth-hound on the chase. And +Leonard—what think’st thou he saith? +“That he would as soon wed the loathly lady as thee,” +the cruel Somerset villain as he is; and yet my brother Edmund is +fain to love him. So off they are gone, like recreant curs +as they are, lest my uncle should make them hear +reason.”</p> +<p>“But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very +loathly?” asked poor Grisell.</p> +<p>“Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell +thee,” responded Margaret, in some confusion.</p> +<p>“Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My +mother, she shrieked at sight of me!”</p> +<p>“I would not have your mother,” said the outspoken +daughter of “proud Cis.” “My Lady Duchess +mother is stern enough if we do not bridle our heads, and if we +make ourselves too friendly with the meiné, but she never +frets nor rates us, and does not heed so long as we do not demean +ourselves unlike our royal blood. She is no termagant like +yours.”</p> +<p>It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her +mother to be very sensitive on her account. In fact, she +was chiefly occupied with what she had heard about her own +appearance—a matter which had not occurred to her before in +all her suffering. She returned again to entreat Margaret +to tell her whether she was so foully ill-favoured that no one +could look at her, and the damsel of York, adhering to the letter +rather young than the spirit of the cautions which she had +received, pursed up her lips and reiterated that she had been +commanded not to mention the subject.</p> +<p>“Then,” entreated Grisell, “do—do, +dear Madge—only bring me the little hand mirror out of my +Lady Countess’s chamber.”</p> +<p>“I know not that I can or may.”</p> +<p>“Only for the space of one Ave,” reiterated +Grisell.</p> +<p>“My lady aunt would never—”</p> +<p>“There—hark—there’s the bell for +mass. Thou canst run into her chamber when she and the +tirewomen are gone down.”</p> +<p>“But I must be there.”</p> +<p>“Thou canst catch them up after. They will only +think thee a slug-a-bed. Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I +cannot rest without. Weeping will be worse for +me.”</p> +<p>She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she +gained her point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her +sobs being heard, and inquired into, and therefore promised to +make the attempt, keeping a watch out of sight till she had seen +the Lady of Salisbury in her padded head-gear of gold net, and +long purple train, sweep down the stair, followed by her +tirewomen and maidens of every degree. Then darting into +the chamber, she bore away from a stage where lay the articles of +the toilette, a little silver-backed and handled Venetian mirror, +with beautiful tracery in silvered glass diminishing the very +small oval left for personal reflection and inspection. +That, however, was quite enough and too much for poor Grisell +when Lady Margaret had thrown it to her on her bed, and rushed +down the stair so as to come in the rear of the household just in +time.</p> +<p>A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set +in light yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in +a bucket of water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous +sight. One half, as she expected, was hidden by bandages, +but the other was fiery red, except that from the corner of the +eye to the ear there was a purple scar; the upper lip was +distorted, the hair, eyebrows, and lashes were all gone! +The poor child was found in an agony of sobbing when, after the +service, the old woman who acted as her nurse came stumping up in +her wooden clogs to set the chamber and bed in order for Lady +Whitburn’s visit.</p> +<p>The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife +as to Scottish invasions, and her tower was not too far south not +to need to be on its guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on +a small litter slung to a sumpter mule, and she snorted a kind of +defiant contempt when the Countess, backed by the household +barber-surgeon, declared the proceeding barbarous and +impossible. Indeed she had probably forgotten that Grisell +was far too tall to be made up into the bundle she intended; but +she then declared that the wench might ride pillion behind old +Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was taken up to +the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them +was a choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood +over the bed, exclaiming, “Aye, no wonder; it serves thee +right, thou evil wench, filching my Lady Countess’s mirror +from her very chamber, when it might have been broken for all +thanks to thee. The Venice glass that the merchant gave +her! Thou art not so fair a sight, I trow, as to be in +haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all the scathe in +the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee.”</p> +<p>So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not +hear the approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of +the Countess, “Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be +thus rated! Silence!”</p> +<p>“See, my lady, what she has done to your +ladyship’s Venice glass, which she never should have +touched. She must have run to your chamber while you were +at mass. All false her feigning to be so sick and +feeble.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” replied Lady Whitburn, “she must +up—don her clothes, and away with me.”</p> +<p>“Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my +poor child. Call Master Miles, Maudlin! Give me that +water.” The Countess was raising the poor child in +her arms, and against her bosom, for the shock of that glance in +the mirror, followed by the maid’s harsh reproaches, and +fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had brought on a +choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girl +writhed and gasped on Lady Salisbury’s breast, while her +mother exclaimed, “Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to +hinder me from taking her home. If she could go stealing to +your room—”</p> +<p>“No, no,” broke out a weeping, frightened +voice. “It was I, Lady Aunt. You bade me never +tell her how her poor face looked, and when she begged and prayed +me, I did not say, but I fetched the mirror. Oh! oh! +It has not been the death of her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, by God’s blessing! Take away the +glass, Margaret. Go and tell thy beads, child; thou hast +done much scathe unwittingly! Ah, Master Miles, come to the +poor maid’s aid. Canst do aught for her?”</p> +<p>“These humours must be drawn off, my lady,” said +the barber-surgeon, who advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse +of the poor little patient. “I must let her +blood.”</p> +<p>Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess +Alice still held her up, while, after the practice of those days, +he bled the already almost unconscious child, till she fainted +and was laid down again on her pillows, under the keeping of +Maudlin, while the clanging of the great bell called the family +down to the meal which broke fast, whether to be called breakfast +or dinner.</p> +<p>It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a +journey, and her mother went grumbling down the stair at the +unchancy bairn always doing scathe.</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though +perhaps hardly willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter +was ready to move.</p> +<p>“Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do +that. I be sorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The +knaves go all agee when both my lord and myself have our backs +turned, and my lad bairns—worth a dozen of yon whining +maid—should no longer be left to old Cuthbert Ridley and +Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way ’tis +all misrule, and who knows what the Scots may do?”</p> +<p>“There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and +the Border,” observed the Earl gravely. However, the +visitor was not such an agreeable one as to make him anxious to +press her stay beyond what hospitality demanded, and his wife +could not bear to think of giving over her poor little patient to +such usage as she would have met with on the journey.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled +the maid might mend her, if they could; and accordingly she +acquiesced, not too graciously, when the Countess promised to +tend the child like her own, and send her by and by to Whitburn +under a safe escort; and as Middleham Castle lay on the way to +Whitburn, it was likely that means would be found of bringing or +sending her.</p> +<p>This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to +reach a hostel before night.</p> +<p>She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in +upon Grisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been +made to swallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads +formed a great part, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a +deep sleep, moaning now and then. Her mother did not +scruple to try to rouse her with calls of “Grizzy! +Look up, wench!” but could elicit nothing but a half turn +on the pillow, and a little louder moan, and Master Miles, who +was still watching, absolutely refused to let his patient be +touched or shaken.</p> +<p>“Well a day!” said Lady Whitburn, softened for a +moment, “what the Saints will must be, I trow; but it is +hard, and I shall let St. Cuthbert of Durham know it, that after +all the candles I have given him, he should have let my poor maid +be so mauled and marred, and then forsaken by the rascal who did +it, so that she will never be aught but a dead weight on my two +fair sons! The least he can do for me now is to give me my +revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight and his son. But +he hath no care for lassies. Mayhap St. Hilda may serve me +better.”</p> +<p>Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It +may be feared that in the ignorance in which northern valleys +were left she was very little more enlightened in her ideas of +what would please the Saints, or what they could do for her, than +were the old heathen of some unknown antiquity who used to +worship in the mysterious circles of stones which lay on the +downs of Amesbury.</p> +<h2><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +36</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">PARTING</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>There in the holy house at Almesbury<br /> +Weeping, none with her save a little maid.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>, +<i>Idylls of the King</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> agitations of that day had made +Grisell so much worse that her mind hardly awoke again to +anything but present suffering from fever, and in consequence the +aggravation of the wounds on her neck and cheek. She used +to moan now and then “Don’t take me away!” or +cower in terror, “She is coming!” being her cry, or +sometimes “So foul and loathly.” She hung again +between life and death, and most of those around thought death +would be far better for the poor child, but the Countess and the +Chaplain still held to the faith that she must be reserved for +some great purpose if she survived so much.</p> +<p>Great families with all their train used to move from one +castle or manor to another so soon as they had eaten up all the +produce of one place, and the time had come when the Nevils must +perforce quit Amesbury. Grisell was in no state for a long +journey; she was exceedingly weak, and as fast as one wound in +her face and neck healed another began to break out, so that +often she could hardly eat, and whether she would ever have the +use of her left eye was doubtful.</p> +<p>Master Miles was at his wits’ end, Maudlin was weary of +waiting on her, and so in truth was every one except the good +Countess, and she could not always be with the sufferer, nor +could she carry such a patient to London, whither her lord was +summoned to support his brother-in-law, the Duke of York, against +the Duke of Somerset.</p> +<p>The only delay was caused by the having to receive the +newly-appointed Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been +translated from his former see at Hereford on the murder of his +predecessor, William Ayscough, by some of Jack Cade’s +party.</p> +<p>In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and +cross-bearers, and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to +meet him, and to arrange with him for his reception and +installation. It was then that the Countess heard that +there was a nun at Wilton Abbey so skilled in the treatment of +wounds and sores that she was thought to work miracles, being +likewise a very holy woman.</p> +<p>The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be +present at his enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady +made this an opportunity of riding to the convent on her way +back, consulting the Abbess, whom she had long known, and +likewise seeing Sister Avice, and requesting that her poor little +guest might be received and treated there.</p> +<p>There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles were +sovereigns in their own domains; the Countess owned half +Wiltshire, and was much loved and honoured in all the religious +houses for her devotion and beneficence.</p> +<p>The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the +demoiselle Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady +Countess would entrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that +Sister Avice could effect a cure.</p> +<p>Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all night +crying, so she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage +of those days was called, was actually being prepared, and then +she went to the chamber where the poor child had spent five +months, and where she was now sitting dressed, but propped up on +a sort of settle, and with half her face still bandaged.</p> +<p>“My little maid, this is well,” said the +Countess. “Come with me. I am going to take +thee to a kind and holy dame who will, I trust, with the blessing +of Heaven, be able to heal thee better than we have +done.”</p> +<p>“Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!” cried +Grisell; “not from you and Madge.”</p> +<p>“My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my +lord, and Madge is to go back with her brother to her father the +Duke. Thou couldst not brook the journey, and I will take +thee myself to the good Sister Avice.”</p> +<p>“A nun, a nunnery,” sighed Grisell. +“Oh! I shall be mewed up there and never come forth +again! Do not, I pray, do not, good my lady, send me +thither!”</p> +<p>Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent +might be the fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted +girl, but she only told her that there was no reason she should +not leave Wilton, as she was not put there to take the vows, but +only to be cured.</p> +<p>Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as +much as she dared over the order; but no child ventured to make +much resistance to elders in those days, and especially not to +the Countess, so Grisell, a very poor little wasted being, was +carried down, and only delayed in the hall for an affectionate +kiss from Margaret of York.</p> +<p>“And here is a keepsake, Grisell,” she said. +“Mine own beauteous pouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in +turquoises round each little hole.”</p> +<p>“I will keep it for ever,” said Grisell, and they +parted, but not as girls part who hope to meet again, and can +write letters constantly, but with tearful eyes and clinging +hands, as little like to meet again, or even to hear more of one +another.</p> +<p>The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, +and Lady Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best +to lessen the force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was +dragged over the chalk road over the downs, passing the wonderful +stones of Amesbury—a wider circle than even Stonehenge, +though without the triliths, <i>i.e.</i> the stones laid one over +the tops of the other two like a doorway. Grisell heard +some thing murmured about Merlin and Arthur and Guinevere, but +she did not heed, and she was quite worn out with fatigue by the +time they reached the descent into the long smooth valley where +Wilton Abbey stood, and the spire of the Cathedral could be seen +rising tall and beautiful.</p> +<p>The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm +trees, and the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven +home, their bells tinkling. There was an outer court, +within an arched gate kept by a stout porter, and thus far came +the whirlicote and the Countess’s attendants; but a lay +porteress, in a cap and veil and black dress, came out to receive +her as the door of the carriage was opened, and held out her arms +to receive the muffled figure of the little visitor. +“Ah, poor maid,” she said, “but Sister Avice +will soon heal her.”</p> +<p>At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to +the cloistered court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all +her sisters, drawn up in double line to receive the Countess, +whom they took to their refectory and to their chapel.</p> +<p>Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken +into the arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she +shuddered and would have screamed if she had been a little +stronger and less tired, for illness and weakness had brought +back the babyish horror of anything black; but she felt soothed +by the sweet voice and tender words, “Poor little one! she +is fore spent. She shall lie down on a soft bed, and have +some sweet milk anon.”</p> +<p>Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she +had been carried to the little bed which had been made ready for +her. When she opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to +her lips, the first thing she saw was the sweetest, calmest, most +motherly of faces bent over her, one arm round her, the other +giving her the spoon of some cordial. She looked up and +even smiled, though it was a sad contorted smile, which brought a +tear into the good sister’s eyes; but then she fell asleep, +and only half awoke when the Countess came up to see her for the +last time, and bade her farewell with a kiss on her forehead, and +a charge to Sister Avice to watch her well, and be tender with +her. Indeed no one could look at Sister Avice’s +gentle face and think there was much need of the charge.</p> +<p>Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially +born for the gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have +been an excellent wife and mother, but from the very hour of her +birth she had been vowed to be a nun in gratitude on her +mother’s part for her father’s safety at +Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost a +baby, and had never gone farther from it than on very rare +occasions to the Cathedral at Salisbury; but she had grown up +with a wonderful instinct for nursing and healing, and had a +curious insight into the properties of herbs, as well as a soft +deft hand and touch, so that for some years she had been sister +infirmarer, and moreover the sick were often brought to the gates +for her counsel, treatment, or, as some believed, even her +healing touch.</p> +<p>When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, +which was really built over the Norman cloister. The walls +were of pale creamy stone, but at the end where she lay there +were hangings of faded tapestry. At one end there was a +window, through the thick glass of which could be dimly seen, as +Grisell raised herself a little, beautiful trees, and the +splendid spire of the Cathedral rising, as she dreamily thought, +like a finger pointing upwards. Nearer were several more +narrow windows along the side of the room, and that beside her +bed had the lattice open, so that she saw a sloping green bank, +with a river at the foot; and there was a trim garden +between. Opposite to her there seemed to be another window +with a curtain drawn across it, through which came what perhaps +had wakened her, a low, clear murmuring tone, pausing and broken +by the full, sweet, if rather shrill response in women’s +voices. Beneath that window was a little altar, with a +crucifix and two candlesticks, a holy-water stoup by the side, +and there was above the little deep window a carving of the +Blessed Virgin with the Holy Child, on either side a niche, one +with a figure of a nun holding a taper, the other of a bishop +with a book.</p> +<p>Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself +alone, but the sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her +pillows, half dozing but quite content, except that the wound on +her neck felt stiff and dry; and by and by when the chanting +ceased, the kind nun, with a lay sister, came back again carrying +water and other appliances, at sight of which Grisell shuddered, +for Master Miles never touched her without putting her to +pain.</p> +<p>“<i>Benedicite</i>, my little maid, thou art +awake,” said Sister Avice. “I thought thou +wouldst sleep till the vespers were ended. Now let us dress +these sad wounds of thine, and thou shalt sleep again.”</p> +<p>Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise +Sister Avice’s touch was as soft and soothing as were her +words, and the ointment she applied was fragrant and delicious +and did not burn or hurt her.</p> +<p>She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then +the evening meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it +on the seat of the window looking out on the Cathedral +spire. It was a milk posset far more nicely flavoured than +what she had been used to at Amesbury, where, in spite of the +Countess’s kindness, the master cook had grown tired of any +special service for the Dacre wench; and unless Margaret of York +secured fruit for her, she was apt to be regaled with only the +scraps that Maudlin managed to cater for her after the meals were +over.</p> +<p>After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that +she said her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, +herself telling her that she should sleep beside her, and that +she would hear the voices of the sisters singing in the chapel +their matins and lauds. Grisell did hear them, as in a +dream, but she had not slept so well since her disaster as she +slept on that night.</p> +<h2><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>CHAPTER V<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">SISTER AVICE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Love, to her ear, was but a name<br /> +Combined with vanity and shame;<br /> +Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all<br /> +Bounded within the cloister wall.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>, +<i>Marmion</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Sister Avice</span> sat in the infirmary, +diligently picking the leaves off a large mass of wood-sorrel +which had been brought to her by the children around, to make +therewith a conserve.</p> +<p>Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had +knelt at the window, where the curtain was drawn back while mass +was said by the Chaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and +making their responses. It was a low-browed chapel of +Norman or even older days, with circular arches and heavy round +piers, and so dark that the gleam of the candles was needed to +light it.</p> +<p>Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her +couch, slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice +still compounding her simples.</p> +<p>She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell +her all the news of Amesbury—who was riding at the ring, or +who had shot the best bolt, or who had had her work picked out as +not neat or well shaded enough.</p> +<p>Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a +dried plum and a little milk, and began to talk to her.</p> +<p>“You will soon be better,” she said, “and +then you will be able to play in the garden.”</p> +<p>“Is there any playfellow for me?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily +to learn her hornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay +and play with you.”</p> +<p>“I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as +Madge! See what she gave me.”</p> +<p>Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and +then she asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in +the convent.</p> +<p>“Oh no, not of need,” said the sister. +“Many a maiden who has been here for a time has gone out +into the world, but some love this home the best, as I have +done.”</p> +<p>“Did yonder nun on the wall?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, +though she was a King’s daughter. Edith was her name, +and two days after Holy Cross day we shall keep her feast. +Shall I tell you her story?”</p> +<p>“Prithee, prithee!” exclaimed Grisell. +“I love a tale dearly.”</p> +<p>Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love and +tenderness at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and the +flowers in the garden, and how all loved her, her young playmates +especially. She promised one who went away to be wedded +that she would be godmother to her first little daughter, but ere +the daughter was born the saintly Edith had died. The babe +was carried to be christened in the font at Winchester Cathedral, +and by a great and holy man, no other than Alphegius, who was +then Bishop of Winchester, but was made Archbishop of Canterbury, +and died a holy martyr.</p> +<p>“Then,” said Sister Avice, “there was a +great marvel, for among the sponsors around the square black font +there stood another figure in the dress of our Mother Abbess, and +as the Bishop spake and said, “Bear this taper, in token +that thy lamp shall be alight when the Bridegroom cometh,” +the form held the torch, shining bright, clear, and like no +candle or light on earth ever shone, and the face was the face of +the holy Edith. It is even said that she held the babe, but +that I know not, being a spirit without a body, but she spake the +name, her own name Edith. And when the holy rite was over, +she had vanished away.”</p> +<p>“And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I +should have been afraid!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Not of the holy soul?” said the sister.</p> +<p>“Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the +little window into the church,” cried Grisell +trembling.</p> +<p>Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, +Grisell could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from +St. Edith, who, as she was told, slept her long sleep in the +church below. It may be feared that one chief reliance was +on the fact that she could not be holy enough for a vision of the +Saint, but this was not so valuable to her as the touch of Sister +Avice’s kind hand, or the very knowing her present.</p> +<p>That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted +to hear it over again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, +and who were the Virgins in memory of whom the lamps were +carried. Both these, and many another history, parable, or +legend were told her by Sister Avice, training her soul, +throughout the long recovery, which was still very slow, but was +becoming more confirmed every day. Grisell could use her +eye, turn her head, and the wounds closed healthily under the +sister’s treatment without showing symptoms of breaking out +afresh; and she grew in strength likewise, first taking a walk in +the trim garden and orchard, and by and by being pronounced able +to join the other girl scholars of the convent. Only here +was the first demur. Her looks did not recover with her +health. She remained with a much-seamed neck, and a +terrible scar across each cheek, on one side purple, and her +eyebrows were entirely gone.</p> +<p>She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely +in the infirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and +occasionally a lay sister, who came to help; but the first time +she went down the turret stair into the cloister—a +beautiful succession of arches round a green court—she met +a novice and a girl about her own age; the elder gave a little +scream at the sight and ran away.</p> +<p>The other hung back. “Mary, come hither,” +said Sister Avice. “This is Grisell Dacre, who hath +suffered so much. Wilt thou not come and kiss and welcome +her?”</p> +<p>Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her +head within, “Oh, if you had liefer not!” and turned +her back on the girl.</p> +<p>Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her +weakness allowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third +step on the stairs.</p> +<p>“Oh, no—go away—don’t bring her. +Every one will hate me,” sobbed the poor child.</p> +<p>Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces +were against the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and +coax her to believe that by one at least she was not hated.</p> +<p>“I had forgotten,” said Grisell. “I +saw myself once at Amesbury! but my face was not well then. +Let me see again, sister! Where’s a +mirror?”</p> +<p>“Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of +worldly things like mirrors; I never saw one in my +life.”</p> +<p>“But oh, for pity’s sake, tell me what like am +I. Am I so loathly?”</p> +<p>“Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of +aught save that thou art mine own little one, given back to us by +the will of Heaven. Aye, and so will others think of thee, +if thou art good and loving to them.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate +and flee from me, as from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the +Loathly Worm of Spindlesheugh,” sobbed Grisell.</p> +<p>“Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet +words and kind deeds. They are better than looks. And +here too they shall soon think only of what thou art, not of what +thou look’st.”</p> +<p>“But know you, sister, how—how I should have been +married to Leonard Copeland, the very youth that did me this +despite, and he is fair and beauteous as a very angel, and I did +love him so, and now he and his father rid away from Amesbury, +and left me because I am so foul to see,” cried Grisell, +between her sobs.</p> +<p>“If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would +surely not have made thee a good husband,” reasoned the +sister.</p> +<p>“But I shall never have a husband now,” wailed +Grisell.</p> +<p>“Belike not,” said Sister Avice; “but, my +sweetheart, there is better peace and rest and cheer in such a +home as this holy house, than in the toils and labours of the +world. When my sisters at Dunbridge and Dinton come to see +me they look old and careworn, and are full of tales of the +turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, and dues, and +tenants’ fees, and villeins, and I know not what, that I +often think that even in this world’s sense I am the best +off. And far above and beyond that,” she added, in a +low voice, “the virgin hath a hope, a Spouse beyond all +human thought.”</p> +<p>Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept +bitterly. “Must she be a nun all her life?” was +all she thought of, and the shady cloister seemed to her like a +sort of prison. Sister Avice had to soothe and comfort her, +till her tears were all spent, as so often before, and she had +cried herself so ill that she had to be taken back to her bed and +lie down again. It was some days before she could be coaxed +out again to encounter any companions.</p> +<p>However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and +life, came back to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became +accustomed to being with the other inmates of the fine old +convent, as they grew too much used to her appearance to be +startled or even to think about it. The absence of mirrors +prevented it from ever being brought before her, and Sister Avice +set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, and kindness +could endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw for herself +how much more loved was the old and very plain Mother Anne than +the very beautiful young Sister Isabel, who had been forced into +the convent by her tyrannical brother, and wore out her life in +fretting and rudeness to all who came in her way. She +declared that the sight of Grisell made her ill, and insisted +that the veiled hood which all the girls wore should be pulled +forward whenever they came near one another, and that +Grisell’s place should be out of her sight in chapel or +refectory.</p> +<p>Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, +Sister Avice especially so, and Grisell soon forgot her +disfigurement when she ceased to suffer from it. She had +begun to learn reading, writing, and a little Latin, besides +spinning, stitchery, and a few housewifely arts, in the Countess +of Salisbury’s household, for every lady was supposed to be +educated in these arts, and great establishments were schools for +the damsels there bred up. It was the same with convent +life, and each nunnery had traditional works of its own, either +in embroidery, cookery, or medicine. Some secrets there +were not imparted beyond the professed nuns, and only to the more +trustworthy of them, so that each sisterhood might have its own +especial glory in confections, whether in portrait-worked +vestments, in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in salves and +unguents; but the pensioners were instructed in all those common +arts of bakery, needlework, notability, and surgery which made +the lady of a castle or manor so important, and within the last +century in the more fashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French +“of the school of Stratford le Bowe,” and the like, +were added. Thus Grisell learnt as an apt scholar these +arts, and took especial delight in helping Sister Avice to +compound her simples, and acquired a tender hand with which to +apply them.</p> +<p>Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, +but to know the signification in English. There were +translations of the Lord’s Prayer and Creed in the hands of +all careful and thoughtful people, even among the poor, if they +had a good parish priest, or had come under the influence of the +better sort of friars. In convents where discipline was +kept up the meaning was carefully taught, and there were English +primers in the hands of all the devout, so that the services +could be intelligently followed even by those who did not learn +Latin, as did Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, +generally clothed in rhyme, and versified lives of the Saints, +were read aloud at meal-times in the refectory, and Grisell +became so good a reader that she was often chosen to chant out +the sacred story, and her sweet northern voice was much valued in +the singing in the church. She was quite at home there, and +though too young to be admitted as a novice, she wore a black +dress and white hood like theirs, and the annual gifts to the +nunnery from the Countess of Salisbury were held to entitle her +to the residence there as a pensioner. She had fully +accepted the idea of spending her life there, sheltered from the +world, among the kind women whom she loved, and who had learnt to +love her, and in devotion to God, and works of mercy to the +sick.</p> +<h2><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PROCTOR</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>But if a mannes soul were in his purse,<br /> +For in his purse he should yfurnished be.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>, +<i>Canterbury Pilgrims</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Five</span> years had passed since Grisell +had been received at Wilton, when the Abbess died. She had +been infirm and confined to her lodging for many months, and +Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death was to change the +whole tenor of the maiden’s life.</p> +<p>The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The +Bishop himself came to attend them, and likewise all the +neighbouring clergy, and the monks, friars, and nuns, overflowing +the chapel, while peasants and beggars for whom there was no room +in the courts encamped outside the walls, to receive the dole and +pray for the soul of the right reverend Mother Abbess.</p> +<p>For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem +mass was daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed +on the crowd, who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, +but beguiled the time by watching <i>jongleurs</i> and +mountebanks performing beyond the walls.</p> +<p>There was the “Month’s Mind” still to come, +and then the chapter of nuns intended to proceed to the election +of their new Abbess, unanimously agreeing that she should be +their present Prioress, who had held kindly rule over them +through the slow to-decay of the late Abbess. Before, +however, this could be done a messenger arrived on a mule bearing +an inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election.</p> +<p>His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the next +appointment to this as well as to certain other wealthy +abbeys.</p> +<p>The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could +do nothing for them. Such reservations had been constant in +the subservient days that followed King John’s homage, and +though the great Edwards had struggled against them, and the yoke +had been shaken off during the Great Schism, no sooner had this +been healed than the former claims were revived, nay, redoubled, +and the pious Henry VI. was not the man to resist them. The +sisters therefore waited in suspense, daring only meekly to +recommend their Prioress in a humble letter, written by the +Chaplain, and backed by a recommendation from Bishop +Beauchamp. Both alike were disregarded, as all had +expected.</p> +<p>The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, +a relation of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as +the Commissioner assured the nuns; but they had never heard of +her before, and were not at all gratified. They had always +elected their Abbess before, and had quite made up their minds as +to the choice of the present Mother Prioress as Abbess, and of +Sister Avice as Prioress.</p> +<p>However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King +or to their Bishop would have been quite useless; they could only +do as the Pope commanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling +themselves with the reflection that she was not likely to trouble +herself about them, and their old Prioress would govern +them. And so she did so far as regarded the discipline of +the house, but what they had not so entirely understood was the +Mother de Borgia’s desire to squeeze all she could out of +the revenues of the house.</p> +<p>Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and +square cap, and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her +steward, and to overlook the income and expenditure of the +convent; to know who had duly paid her dowry to the nunnery, what +were the rents, and the like. The sisters had already +raised a considerable gift in silver merks to be sent through +Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, and this requisition was a +fresh blow.</p> +<p>Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on +what terms she was at the convent. It was explained that +she had been brought thither for her cure by the Lady of +Salisbury, and had stayed on, without fee or payment from her own +home in the north, but the ample donations of the Earl of +Salisbury had been held as full compensation, and it had been +contemplated to send to the maiden’s family to obtain +permission to enrol her as a sister after her +novitiate—which might soon begin, as she was fifteen years +old.</p> +<p>The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had +no right to receive a pensioner without payment, far less to +admit a novice as a sister without a dowry.</p> +<p>Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands +either of her own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and +certainly not readmitted unless her dowry were paid. He +scarcely consented to give time for communication with the +Countess, to consider how to dispose of the poor child.</p> +<p>The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, +but the Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where +they were likely to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to +in the time allowed by the Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing +from her home all the time she had been at Wilton. The only +thing that the Prioress could devise, was to request the Chaplain +to seek her out at Salisbury a trustworthy escort, pilgrim, +merchant or other, with whom Grisell might safely travel to +London, and if the Earl and Countess were not there, some +responsible person of theirs, or of their son’s, was sure +to be found, who would send the maiden on.</p> +<p>The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, +whence he returned, bringing with him news of a merchant’s +wife who was about to go on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at +Walsingham, and would feel herself honoured by acting as the +convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre as far at least as London.</p> +<p>There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor +Grisell must be cast out on the world—the Proctor even +spoke of calling the Countess, or her steward, to account for her +maintenance during these five years.</p> +<p>There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, +and Grisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, +holy life.</p> +<p>“Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy +life.”</p> +<p>“If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder +me.”</p> +<p>“That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to +take such a vow on herself without consent of her father, nor is +it binding otherwise. No! but no one can take away from a +Christian maid the power of holiness. Bear that for ever in +mind, sweetheart. Naught that can be done by man or by +devil to the body can hurt the soul that is fixed on Christ and +does not consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“The Saints forefend that ever—ever I should +consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, +my child. Will and soul not consenting nor being led astray +thou art safe. Nay, the lack of a fair-favoured face may be +thy guard.”</p> +<p>“All will hate me. Alack! alack!”</p> +<p>“Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. +Wherefore shouldst not thou in like manner win love among thine +own people?”</p> +<p>“My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me +not.”</p> +<p>“Love them, child! Do them good offices! +None can hinder thee from that.”</p> +<p>“Can I love those who love not me?”</p> +<p>“Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings +the heart to love. Even as thou seest a poor dog love the +master who beats him, so it is with us, only with the higher +Christian love. Service and prayer open the heart to love, +hoping for nothing again, and full oft that which was not hoped +for is vouchsafed.”</p> +<p>That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her +home of peace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, +who would herself give her into the hands of the good Mistress +Hall.</p> +<p>Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along +the bank of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other +side, and the grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they +came nearer; while the sound of the bells grew upon them, for +there was then a second tower beyond to hold the bells, whose +reverberation would have been dangerous to the spire, and most +sweet was their chime, the sound of which had indeed often +reached Wilton in favourable winds; but it sounded like a sad +farewell to Grisell.</p> +<p>The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by +kneeling in the Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and +entered by the west door with the long vista of clustered columns +and pointed arches before them.</p> +<p>Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their +ears, for it was still early in the day. The Prioress +passed the length of nave, and went beyond the choir to the lady +chapel, with its slender supporting columns and exquisite arches, +and there she, with Grisell by her side, joined in earnest +supplications for the child.</p> +<p>The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that +the dame arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark +riding-dress was Mistress Hall.</p> +<p>Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially +in the naves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no +sooner was the mass finished and “<i>Ite missa +est</i>” pronounced than the scarlet cloak rose, and +hastened into the south transept, where she waited for the +Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction seemed +needed. “The Holy Mother Prioress,” she began, +bending her knee and kissing the lady’s hand. +“Much honoured am I by the charge of this noble little +lady.” Grisell by the by was far taller than the +plump little goodwoman Hall, but that was no matter, and the +Prioress had barely space to get in a word of thanks before she +went on: “I will keep her and tend her as the apple of mine +eye. She shall pray with me at all the holy shrines for the +good of her soul and mine. She shall be my bedfellow +wherever we halt, and sit next me, and be cherished as though she +were mine own daughter—ladybird as she is—till I can +give her into the hands of the good Lady Countess. Oh +yes—you may trust Joan Hall, dame reverend mother. +She is no new traveller. I have been in my time to all our +shrines—to St. Thomas of Canterbury, to St. +Winifred’s Well, aye, and, moreover, to St. James of +Compostella, and St. Martha of Provence, not to speak of lesser +chantries and Saints. Aye, and I crossed the sea to see the +holy coat of Trèves, and St. Ursula’s eleven +thousand skulls—and a gruesome sight they were. Nay, +if the Lady Countess be not in London it would cost me little to +go on to the north with her. There’s St. Andrew of +Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them at +Lincoln, and there’s St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of +Beverly, not to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda +of Whitby, who might take it ill if I pray at none of their +altars, when I have been to so many of their brethren. Oh, +you may trust me, reverend mother; I’ll never have the +young lady, bless her sweet face, out of my sight till I have +safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our good customer for +all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin.”</p> +<p>The good woman’s stream of conversation lasted almost +without drawing breath all the way down the nave. It was a +most good-humoured hearty voice, and her plump figure and rosy +face beamed with good nature, while her bright black eyes had a +lively glance.</p> +<p>The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was +one of the good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual +dissipation, consecrated and meritorious as they fondly believed, +and gratifying their desire for change and variety. She was +a kindly person of good reputation, trustworthy, and kind to the +poor, and stout John Hall, her husband, could manage the business +alone, and was thought not to regret a little reprieve from her +continual tongue.</p> +<p>She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her +fast with her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after +having once seen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, +while Grisell, blessed by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears +under her veil, was led away to the substantial smith’s +abode, where she was to take a first meal before starting on her +journey on the strong forest pony which the Chaplain’s care +had provided for her.</p> +<h2><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>She hadde passed many a strange shrine,<br /> +At Rome she had been and at Boleine,<br /> +At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine,<br /> +She could moche of wandering by the way.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>, +<i>Canterbury Pilgrims</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Grisell</span> found herself brought into +a hall where a stout oak table occupied the centre, covered with +home-spun napery, on which stood trenchers, wooden bowls, pewter +and a few silver cups, and several large pitchers of ale, small +beer, or milk. A pie and a large piece of bacon, also a +loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, were there.</p> +<p>Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper +dishes, cups, kettles, and vessels and implements of all +household varieties, and ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, +axes, and mattocks, all polished up. The ring of hammers on +the anvil was heard in the court in the rear. The front of +the hall was open for the most part, without windows, but it +could be closed at night.</p> +<p>Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had +partaken of it, so that there was no one in the hall excepting +Master Hall, a stout, brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured +face, and his son, more slim, but growing into his likeness, also +a young notable-looking daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby +tucked under her arm.</p> +<p>They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to +eat. The wheaten bread and the fowl were, it seemed, +provided in her honour, and she could not but take her little +knife from the sheath in her girdle, turn back her nun-like veil, +and prepare to try to drive back her sobs, and swallow the milk +of almonds pressed on her.</p> +<p>“Eh!” cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. +“She’s only scarred after all.”</p> +<p>“Well, what else should she be, bless her poor +heart?” said Mrs. Hall the elder.</p> +<p>“Why, wasn’t it thou thyself, good mother, that +brought home word that they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton +there?”</p> +<p>“Bless thee, Agnes, thou should’st know better +than to lend an ear to all the idle tales thy poor old mother may +hear at market or fair.”</p> +<p>“Then should we have enough to do,” muttered her +husband.</p> +<p>“And as thou seest, ’tis a sweet little face, only +cruelly marred by the evil hap.”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal +she had never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled +forward her veil.</p> +<p>“Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words +in ill part,” pleaded the good hostess. “We all +know how to love thee, and what is a smooth skin to a true +heart? Take a bit more of the pasty, ladybird; we’ll +have far to ride ere we get to Wherwell, where the good sisters +will give us a meal for young St. Edward’s sake and thy +Prioress’s. Aye—I turn out of my way for that; +I never yet paid my devotion to poor young King Edward, and he +might take it in dudgeon, being a king, and his shrine so near at +hand.”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed the smith; “trust my dame +for being on the right side of the account with the Saints. +Well for me and Jack that we have little Agnes here to mind the +things on earth meanwhile. Nay, nay, dame, I say nought to +hinder thee; I know too well what it means when spring comes, and +thou beginn’st to moan and tell up the tale of the shrines +where thou hast not told thy beads.”</p> +<p>It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the +city gate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he +might call her, on her way, apparently quite content to let her +go on her pilgrimages for the summer quarter.</p> +<p>She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy +varlets—quite sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not +supposed to carry any valuables. Grisell sadly rode her +pony, keeping her veil well over her face, yearning over the last +view of the beloved spire, thinking of Sister Avice ministering +to her poor, and with a very definite fear of her own reception +in the world and dread of her welcome at home. Yet there +was a joy in being on horseback once more, for her who had ridden +moorland ponies as soon as she could walk.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that +they passed, and these were not very many. At each church +they dismounted and said their prayers, and if there were a +hostel near, they let their animals feed the while, and obtained +some refreshment themselves. England was not a very safe +place for travellers just then, but the cockle-shells sewn to the +pilgrim’s hat of the dame, and to that of one of her +attendants, and the tall staff and wallet each carried, were +passports of security. Nothing could be kinder than +Mistress Hall was to her charge, of whom she was really proud, +and when they halted for the night at the nunnery of Queen +Elfrida at Wherwell, she took care to explain that this was no +burgess’s daughter but the Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, +trusted to <i>her</i> convoy, and thus obtained for her quarters +in the guest-chamber of the refectory instead of in the general +hospitium; but on the whole Grisell had rather not have been +exposed to the shock of being shown to strangers, even kindly +ones, for even if they did not exclaim, some one was sure to +start and whisper.</p> +<p>After another halt for the night the travellers reached +London, and learned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess +of Salisbury were absent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of +Warwick, was keeping court at Warwick House.</p> +<p>Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct +Grisell. The way lay through narrow streets with houses +overhanging the roadway, but the house itself was like a separate +castle, walled round, enclosing a huge space, and with a great +arched porter’s lodge, where various men-at-arms lounged, +all adorned on the arm of their red jackets with the bear and +ragged staff.</p> +<p>They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwick +insisted on civility to all comers, and they respected the +scallop-shell on the dame’s hat. They greeted her +good-humouredly.</p> +<p>“Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for +St. Paul’s? Here’s supper to the fore for all +comers!”</p> +<p>“Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; +she is the Lady Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my +lady.”</p> +<p>“Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the +Abbess. Come this way, dame, and we will find the steward +to marshal her.”</p> +<p>Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her +kind old friend, but she was obliged to follow. They +dismounted in a fine court with cloister-like buildings round it, +and full of people of all kinds, for no less than six hundred +stout yeomen wore red coats and the bear and ragged staff. +Grisell would fain have clung to her guide, but she was not +allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stone steps into a +great hall, where tables were being laid, covered with white +napery and glittering with silver and pewter.</p> +<p>The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to +where there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer +though it was, and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved +screens sat a half circle of ladies, with a young-looking lady in +a velvet fur-trimmed surcoat in their midst. A tall man +with a keen, resolute face, in long robes and gold belt and +chain, stood by her leaning on her chair.</p> +<p>The seneschal announced, “Place, place for the Lady +Grisell Dacre of Whitburn,” and Grisell bent low, putting +back as much of her veil as she felt courtesy absolutely to +require. The lady rose, the knight held out his hand to +raise the bending figure. He had that power of recollection +and recognition which is so great an element in popularity. +“The Lady Grisell Dacre,” he said. “She +who met with so sad a disaster when she was one of my lady +mother’s household?”</p> +<p>Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, +“Welcome to my poor house, lady. Let me present you +to my wife.”</p> +<p>The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. +She was the heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in +consequence of the recent death of her brother, “the King +of the Isle of Wight”—and through her inheritance her +husband had risen to his great power. She was delicate and +feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her husband’s +lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; and Grisell +ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spent those +years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess’s Proctor would +not consent to her remaining there any longer, not even long +enough to send to her parents or to the Countess of +Salisbury.</p> +<p>“Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness +where the King is not man enough to stand in his way,” said +Warwick. “So, fair maiden, if you will honour my +house for a few days, as my lady’s guest, I will send you +north in more fitting guise than with this white-smith +dame.”</p> +<p>“She hath been very good to me,” Grisell ventured +to add to her thanks.</p> +<p>“She shall have good entertainment here,” said the +Earl smiling. “No doubt she hath already, as Sarum +born. See that Goodwife Hall, the white smith’s wife, +and her following have the best of harbouring,” he added to +his silver-chained steward.</p> +<p>“You are a Dacre of Whitburn,” he added to +Grisell. “Your father has not taken sides with Dacre +of Gilsland and the Percies.” Then seeing that +Grisell knew nothing of all this, he laughed and said, +“Little convent birds, you know nought of our worldly +strifes.”</p> +<p>In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last +five years, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor +her mother could write if they had cared to do so. Nor did +the convent know much of the state of England, though prayers had +been constantly said for the King’s recovery, and of late +there had been thanksgivings for the birth of the Prince of +Wales; but it was as much as she did know that just now the Duke +of York was governing, for the poor King seemed as senseless as a +stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his Chancellor. +Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, and there was a +quarrel going on between the Nevils and the Percies which Warwick +was going to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisell so +far in his company.</p> +<p>The great household was larger than even what she remembered +at the houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, +and, fresh from the stillness of the convent as she was, the +noises were amazing to her when all sat down to supper. +Tables were laid all along the vast hall. She was placed at +the upper one to her relief, beside an old lady, Dame Gresford, +whom she remembered to have seen at Montacute Castle in her +childhood, as one of the attendants on the Countess. She +was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some of the young +knights and squires staring at her, then nudging one another and +laughing.</p> +<p>“Never mind them, sweetheart,” said Dame Gresford +kindly; “they are but unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord +Earl would make them know what is befitting if his eye fell on +them.”</p> +<p>The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for +she kept Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was +like a city in itself. There was a knight who acted as +steward, with innumerable knights, squires, and pages under him, +besides the six hundred red jacketed yoemen, and servants of all +degrees, in the immense court of the buttery and kitchen, as +indeed there had need to be, for six oxen were daily cooked, with +sheep and other meats in proportion, and any friend or +acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might come in, +and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much meat +as he could on the point of his dagger.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free +quarters, while she made the round of all the shrines in London, +and she was intensely gratified by the great Earl recollecting, +or appearing to recollect, her and inquiring after her husband, +that hearty burgess, whose pewter was so lasting, and he was sure +was still in use among his black guard.</p> +<p>When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she +was carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of +“my Lord Earl’s grace to her.” She hoped +that her sweet Lady Grisell would remain here, as the best hap +she could have in the most noble, excellent, and open-handed +house in the world! Grisell’s own wishes were not the +same, for the great household was very bewildering—a +strange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess +was quiet enough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by +her ailments. She seemed to be always thinking about +leeches, wise friars, wonderful nuns, or even wizards and cunning +women, and was much concerned that her husband absolutely forbade +her consulting the witch of Spitalfields.</p> +<p>“Nay, dame,” said he, “an thou didst, the +next thing we should hear would be that thou hadst been sticking +pins into King Harry’s waxen image and roasting him before +the fire, and that nothing but roasting thee in life and limb +within a fire would bring him to life and reason.”</p> +<p>“They would never dare,” cried the lady.</p> +<p>“Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her +will!” demanded the Earl. “Wouldst like to do +penance with sheet and candle, like Gloucester’s +wife?”</p> +<p>Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick +on the score of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell +was to ask her about Sister Avice and her cures. She set +herself to persuade her husband to let her go down to one of his +mother’s Wiltshire houses to consult the nun, but Warwick +had business in the north, nor would he allow her to be separated +from him, lest she might be detained as a hostage.</p> +<p>Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell’s protector, and +let the girl sit and spin or embroider beside her, while the +other ladies of the house played at ball in the court, or watched +the exercises of the pages and squires. The dame’s +presence and authority prevented Grisell’s being beset with +uncivil remarks, but she knew she was like a toad among the +butterflies, as she overheard some saucy youth calling her, while +a laugh answered him, and she longed for her convent.</p> +<h2><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">OLD PLAYFELLOWS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> Alone thou +goest forth,<br /> + Thy face unto the north,<br /> +Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. <span class="smcap">Barrett +Browning</span>, <i>A Valediction</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">One</span> great pleasure fell to +Grisell’s share, but only too brief. The family of +the Duke of York on their way to Baynard’s Castle halted at +Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, +sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while +Warwick, her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with +his wife to meet and receive her.</p> +<p>In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal +greetings a cry of joy was heard, “My Grisell! yes, it is +my Grisell!” and springing from the midst of her +mother’s suite, Margaret Plantagenet, a tall, lovely, +dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin slight maiden +with the scarred face, which excited the scorn and surprise of +her two sisters.</p> +<p>“Margaret! What means this?” demanded the +Duchess severely.</p> +<p>“It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion +at my aunt of Salisbury’s manor,” said Margaret, +trying to lead forward her shrinking friend. “She who +was so cruelly scathed.”</p> +<p>Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick +briefly explained. “Daughter to Will Dacre of +Whitburn, a staunch baron of the north. My mother bestowed +her at Wilton, whence the creature of the Pope’s intruding +Abbess has taken upon him to expel her. So I am about to +take her to Middleham, where my mother may see to her further +bestowal.”</p> +<p>“We have even now come from Middleham,” said the +Duchess. “My Lord Duke sent for me, but he looks to +you, my lord, to compose the strife between your father and the +insolent Percies.”</p> +<p>The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the +Earl and the Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news +of the northern counties and of the Court. The elder +daughters were languidly entertained by the Countess, but no one +disturbed the interview of Margaret and Grisell, who, hand in +hand, had withdrawn into the embrasure of a window, and there +fondled each other, and exchanged tidings of their young lives, +and Margaret told of friends in the Nevil household.</p> +<p>All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, +after partaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to +Baynard’s Castle, and the Lady Margaret was called +for. Again, in spite of surprised, not to say displeased +looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. +“Don’t go into a convent, Grisell,” she +entreated. “When I am wedded to some great earl, you +must come and be my lady, mine own, own dear friend. +Promise me! Your pledge, Grisell.”</p> +<p>There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was +peremptorily summoned. They would not meet again. The +Duchess’s intelligence had quickened Warwick’s +departure, and the next day the first start northwards was to be +made.</p> +<p>It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the +kitchen ménage, with all their pots and pans, kettles and +spits, were sent on a day’s march beforehand, then came the +yeomen, the knights and squires, followed by the more immediate +attendants of the Earl and Countess and their court. She +travelled in a whirlicote, and there were others provided for her +elder ladies, the rest riding singly or on pillions according to +age or taste. Grisell did not like to part with her pony, +and Dame Gresford preferred a pillion to the bumps and jolts of +the waggon-like conveyances called chariots, so Grisell rode by +her side, the fresh spring breezes bringing back the sense of +being really a northern maid, and she threw back her veil +whenever she was alone with the attendants, who were used to her, +though she drew it closely round when she encountered town or +village. There were resting-places on the way. In +great monasteries all were accommodated, being used to close +quarters; in castles there was room for the +“Gentles,” who, if they fared well, heeded little how +they slept, and their attendants found lairs in the kitchens or +stables. In towns there was generally harbour for the noble +portion; indeed in some, Warwick had dwellings of his own, or his +father’s, but these, at first, were at long distances +apart, such as would be ridden by horsemen alone, not encumbered +with ladies, and there were intermediate stages, where some of +the party had to be dispersed in hostels.</p> +<p>It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had +taken Grisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the +escort. A minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of +the chimney, and began to sound his harp and sing long ballads in +recitative to the company. Whether he did it in all +innocence and ignorance, or one of the young squires had +mischievously prompted him, there was no knowing; Dame Gresford +suspected the latter, when he began the ballad of “Sir +Gawaine’s Wedding.” She would have silenced it, +but feared to draw more attention on her charge, who had never +heard the song, and did not know what was coming, but listened +with increasing eagerness as she heard of King Arthur, and of the +giant, and the secret that the King could not guess, till as he +rode—</p> +<blockquote><p>He came to the green forest,<br /> + Underneath a green hollen tree,<br /> +There sat that lady in red scarlet<br /> + That unseemly was to see.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she +hardly saw them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor +had her eyes and mouth changed places, as in the case of the +“Loathly Lady.” She heard of the condition on +which the lady revealed the secret, and how King Arthur bound +himself to bring a fair young knight to wed the hideous +being. Then when he revealed to his assembled +knights—</p> +<blockquote><p>Then some took up their hawks,<br /> + And some took up their hounds,<br /> +And some sware they would not marry her<br /> + For cities nor for towns.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell was +heedless of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur’s +nephew, felt that his uncle’s oath must be kept, and +offered himself as the bridegroom.</p> +<p>Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead +of the loathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told +by her that he might choose whether she should be foul at night +and fair by day, or fair each evening and frightful in the +daylight hours. His choice at first was that her beauty +should be for him alone, in his home, but when she objected that +this would be hard on her, since she could thus never show her +face when other dames ride with their lords—</p> +<blockquote><p>Then buke him gentle Gawayne,<br /> + Said, “Lady, that’s but a shill;<br /> +Because thou art mine own lady<br /> + Thou shalt have all thy will.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady +related—</p> +<blockquote><p>“She witched me, being a fair young lady,<br +/> + To the green forest to dwell,<br /> +And there must I walk in woman’s likeness,<br /> + Most like a fiend in hell.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir +Gawaine’s bride was fair to see.</p> +<p>Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so +losing personal thought and feeling that it was startling to her +to perceive that Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, +and one of the young squires was saying, “Hush, hush! for +very shame.”</p> +<p>Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the +blood rushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was +trying to turn away attention by calling on the harper for +“The Beggar of Bethnal Green,” or “Lord Thomas +and Fair Annet,” or any merry ballad. So it was borne +in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen she was the lady +unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, +indignant and sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth +revived. “Sister Avice had told her how to be not +loathly in the sight of those whom she could teach to love +her.”</p> +<p>There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never +fulfil it. If he should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose +within her that though she could not be transformed, he should +not see her loathly in his sight, and in that hope she slept.</p> +<h2><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE KING-MAKER</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>O where is faith? O where is loyalty?</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, <i>Henry VI.</i>, <i>Part +II</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Grisell</span> was disappointed in her +hopes of seeing her Countess of Salisbury again, for as she rode +into the Castle of York she heard the Earl’s hearty voice +of greeting. “Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, well +met! What, from the north?”</p> +<p>The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and +strong, brown and weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff +leather stained to all sorts of colours, in which rust +predominated, and a face all brown and red except for the +grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. She had not +seen her father since she was five years old, and she would not +have known him.</p> +<p>“I am from the south now, my lord,” she heard his +gruff voice say. “I have been taking my lad to be +bred up in the Duke of York’s house, for better nurture +than can be had in my sea-side tower.”</p> +<p>“Quite right. Well done in you,” responded +Warwick. “The Duke of York is the man to hold +by. We have an exchange for you, a daughter for a +son,” and he was leading the way towards Grisell, who had +just dismounted from her pony, and stood by it, trembling a +little, and bending for her father’s blessing. It was +not more than a crossing of her, and he was talking all the +time.</p> +<p>“Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had +bestowed her in the Abbey—how call you it?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” returned Warwick; “but since we have +not had King or Parliament with spirit to stand up to the Pope, +he thrusts his claw in everywhere, puts a strange Abbess into +Wilton, and what must she do but send down her Proctor to treat +the poor nunnery as it were a sponge, and spite of all my Lady +Mother’s bounties to the place, what lists he do but turn +out the poor maid for lack of a dowry, not so much as giving time +for a notice to be sent.”</p> +<p>“If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should +know how to serve him,” observed Sir William, and Warwick +laughed as befitted a Westmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to +more civilised ways.</p> +<p>“Scurvy usage,” he said, “but the Prioress +had no choice save to put her in such keeping as she could, and +send her away to my Lady Mother, or failing her to her +home.”</p> +<p>“Soh! She must e’en jog off with me, though +how it is to be with her my lady may tell, not I, since every +groat those villain yeomen and fisher folk would raise, went to +fit out young Rob, and there has not been so much as a Border +raid these four years and more. There are the nuns at +Gateshead, as hard as nails, will not hear of a maid without a +dower, and yonder mansworn fellow Copeland casts her off like an +old glove! Let us look at you, wench! Ha! Face +is unsightly enough, but thou wilt not be a badly-made +woman. Take heart, what’s thy +name—Grisell? May be there’s luck for thee +still, though it be hard of coming to Whitburn,” he added, +turning to Warwick. “There’s this wench +scorched to a cinder, enough to fright one, and my other lad +racked from head to foot with pain and sores, so as it is a +misery to hear the poor child cry out, and even if he be reared, +he will be good for nought save a convent.”</p> +<p>Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little +brother, but the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to +follow them. She saw no more of her father except from the +far end of the table, but orders were issued that she should be +ready to accompany him on his homeward way the next morning at +six o’clock. Her brother Robert had been sent in +charge of some of the Duke of York’s retainers, to join his +household as a page, though they had missed him on the route, and +the Lord of Whitburn was anxious to get home again, never being +quite sure what the Scots, or the Percies, or his kinsmen of +Gilsland, might attempt in his absence. +“Though,” as he said, “my lady was as good as a +dozen men-at-arms, but somehow she had not been the same woman +since little Bernard had fallen sick.”</p> +<p>There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very +sorry to part, for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it +had been merely the attending to the needs of a charge, not +showing her any affection, and she had shrunk from the eyes of so +large a party.</p> +<p>When she came down early into the hall, her father’s +half-dozen retainers were taking their morning meal at one end of +a big board, while a manchet of bread and a silver cup of ale was +ready for each of them at the other, and her father while +swallowing his was in deep conversation over northern politics +with the courteous Earl, who had come down to speed his +guests. As she passed the retainers she heard, “Here +comes our Grisly Grisell,” and a smothered laugh, and in +fact “Grisly Grisell” continued to be her name among +the free-spoken people of the north. The Earl broke off, +bowed to her, and saw that she was provided, breaking into his +conversation with the Baron, evidently much to the impatience of +the latter; and again the polite noble came down to the door with +her, and placed her on her palfrey, bidding her a kind farewell +ere she rode away with her father. It would be long before +she met with such courtesy again. Her father called to his +side his old, rugged-looking esquire Cuthbert Ridley, and began +discussing with him what Lord Warwick had said, both wholly +absorbed in the subject, and paying no attention to the girl who +rode by the Baron’s side, so that it was well that her old +infantine training in horsemanship had come back to her.</p> +<p>She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and +petted her long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than +he had done in those days when he had seemed to her infinitely +aged. Indeed it was to him, far more than to her father, +that she owed any attention or care taken of her on the +journey. Her father was not unkind, but never seemed to +recollect that she needed any more care than his rough followers, +and once or twice he and all his people rode off headlong over +the fell at sight of a stag roused by one of their great +deer-hounds. Then Cuthbert Ridley kept beside her, and when +the ground became too rough for a New Forest pony and a hand +unaccustomed to northern ground, he drew up. She would +probably—if not thrown and injured—have been left +behind to feel herself lost on the moors. She minded the +less his somewhat rude ejaculation, “Ho! Ho! +South! South! Forgot how to back a horse on rough +ground. Eh? And what a poor soft-paced beast! +Only fit to ride on my lady’s pilgrimage or in a State +procession.”</p> +<p>(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern +dialect could be understood by the writer or the reader, and must +be taken for granted.)</p> +<p>“They are all gone!” responded Grisell, rather +frightened.</p> +<p>“Never guessed you were not among them,” replied +Ridley. “Why, my lady would be among the foremost, in +at the death belike, if she did not cut the throat of the +quarry.”</p> +<p>Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she +shuddered a little as she asked what they were to do next.</p> +<p>“Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord +comes up with us,” answered Ridley. “Or you +might be fain to rest under a rock for a while.”</p> +<p>The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a +mossy stone while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and +presently even brought her a branch or two of +whortle-berries. She felt that she had a friend, and was +pleased when he began to talk of how he remembered her long +ago.</p> +<p>“Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, +when you were fetched home from Herring Dick’s house, how +you used to run after the dogs like a kitten after her tail, and +used to crave to be put up on old Black Durham’s +back.”</p> +<p>“I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star +on his forehead?”</p> +<p>“A white blaze sure enough.”</p> +<p>“Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in +the plump of spears.”</p> +<p>“No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years +ago come Martinmas, in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid +that we made, and I tarried to cut his throat with my +dagger—though it went to my heart, for his good old eyes +looked at me like Christians, and my lord told me I was a fool +for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, but I could not +leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the rest in +time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad.”</p> +<p>Certainly “home” would be very unlike the +experience of Grisell’s education.</p> +<p>Ridley gave her a piece of advice. “Do not be +daunted at my lady; her bark is ever worse than her bite, and +what she will not bear with is the seeming cowed before +her. She is all the sharper with her tongue now that her +heart is sore for Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“What ails my brother Bernard?” then asked Grisell +anxiously.</p> +<p>“The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was +that Crooked Nan of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child,” +returned the esquire. “Ever since he fell into the +red beck he hath done nought but peak and pine, and be twisted +with cramps and aches, with sores breaking out on him; though +there’s a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed. My +lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, but +she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath +that he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and +when we got there she was not to be seen or heard of. We +have heard of her in the Gilsland ground, where they would all +the sooner see a the young lad of Whitburn crippled and a mere +misery to see or hear.”</p> +<p>Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the +old squire, and to tremble at their capacities for +mischief. She asked what nunneries were near, and was +disappointed to find nothing within easy reach. St. +Cuthbert’s diocese had not greatly favoured womankind, and +Whitby was far away.</p> +<p>By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the +horses being heard in time enough for her to spring up and be +mounted again before he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the +antlers and best portions of the deer.</p> +<p>“Left out, my wench,” he shouted. “We +must mount you better. Ho! Cuthbert, thou a squire of +dames? Ha! Ha!”</p> +<p>“The maid could not be left to lose herself on the +fells,” muttered the squire, rather ashamed of his +courtesy.</p> +<p>“She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no +trim and dainty lassies here,” growled her father. +“Look you, Ridley, that horse of Hob’s—” +and the rest was lost in a discussion on horseflesh.</p> +<p>Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in +exceedingly uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain +tolerable seclusion, brought her at last within reach of +home. There was a tall church tower and some wretched +hovels round it. The Lord of Whitburn halted, and blew his +bugle with the peculiar note that signified his own return, then +all rode down to the old peel, the outline of which Grisell saw +with a sense of remembrance, against the gray sea-line, with the +little breaking, glancing waves, which she now knew herself to +have unconsciously wanted and missed for years past.</p> +<p>Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff +overlooking the sea. The peel tower itself looked high and +strong, but to Grisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of +the great castles and abbeys of the south, the circuit of +outbuildings seemed very narrow and cramped, for truly there was +need to have no more walls than could be helped for the few +defenders to guard.</p> +<p>All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the +portcullis over her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, +gaunt figure of the lady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when +Grisell had last seen her, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a +white-faced boy, small and stunted for six years old.</p> +<p>“Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?” +shouted the Baron in his gruff, hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot +hold your stirrup,” said the mother. “You are +soon returned. Is all well with Rob?”</p> +<p>“O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears +on the way to the Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will +need all his following if the Beauforts put it about that the +King has recovered as much wit as ever he had. So I +e’en sent Rob on with him, and came back so as to be ready +in case there’s a call for me. Soh! Berney; on +thy feet again? That’s well, my lad; but we’ll +have thee up the steps.”</p> +<p>He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and +it was Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just +then little Bernard in his father’s arms +exclaimed—</p> +<p>“Black nun woman!”</p> +<p>“By St. Cuthbert!” cried the Baron, “I mind +me! Here, wench! I have brought back the maid in her +brother’s stead.”</p> +<p>And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, +Bernard screamed, “Ugsome wench, send her away!” +threw his arms round his father’s neck and hid his face +with a babyish gesture.</p> +<p>“Saints have mercy!” cried the mother, “thou +hast not mended much since I saw thee last. They that +marred thee had best have kept thee. Whatever shall we do +with the maid?”</p> +<p>“Send her away, the loathly thing,” reiterated the +boy, lifting up his head from his father’s shoulder for +another glimpse, which produced a puckering of the face in +readiness for crying.</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, Bernard,” said Ridley, feeling for the +poor girl and speaking up for her when no one else would. +“She is your sister, and you must be a fond brother to her, +for an ill-nurtured lad spoilt her poor face when it was as fair +as your own. Kiss your sister like a good lad, +and—</p> +<p>“No! no!” shouted Bernard. “Take her +away. I hate her.” He began to cry and +kick.</p> +<p>“Get out of his sight as fast as may be,” +commanded the mother, alarmed by her sickly darling’s +paroxysm of passion.</p> +<p>Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself +to be led away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort +her in his rough way. “’Tis the petted +bairn’s way, you see, mistress—and my lady has no +thought save for him. He will get over it soon enough when +he learns your gentle convent-bred conditions.”</p> +<p>Still the cry of “Grisly Grisell,” picked up as if +by instinct or by some echo from the rear of the escort, rang in +her ears in the angry fretful voice of the poor little creature +towards whom her heart was yearning. Even the two +women-servants there were, no more looked at her askance, as they +took her to a seat in the hall, and consulted where my lady would +have her bestowed. She was wiping away bitter tears as she +heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. +“The chamber within the solar is the place for the noble +damsels.”</p> +<p>“That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and +stockfish.”</p> +<p>“Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my +lord’s daughter.”</p> +<p>There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell +sprang up. “Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a +cloak; I have done so for many nights. Only let me be no +burthen. Show me where I can go to be an anchoress, since +they will not have me in a convent or anywhere,” and +bitterly she wept.</p> +<p>“Peace, peace, lady,” said the squire +kindly. “I will deal with these ill-tongued +lasses. Shame on them! Go off, and make the chamber +ready, or I’ll find a scourge for you. And as to my +lady—she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, but she has only +to get used to you to be friendly enough.”</p> +<p>“O what a hope in a mother,” thought poor +Grisell. “O that I were at Wilton or some nunnery, +where my looks would be pardoned! Mother Avice, dear +mother, what wouldst thou say to me now!”</p> +<p>The peel tower had been the original building, and was still +as it were the citadel, but below had been built the very strong +but narrow castle court, containing the stables and the well, and +likewise the hall and kitchen—which were the dwelling and +sleeping places of the men of the household, excepting Cuthbert +Ridley, who being of gentle blood, would sit above the salt, and +had his quarters with Rob when at home in the tower. The +solar was a room above the hall, where was the great box-bed of +the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard.</p> +<p>Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed +for the daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by +Ridley to the Lady Grisell. The two +women-servants—Bell and Madge—were wives to the cook +and the castle smith, so the place had been disused and made a +receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus the +sudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle +voices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only +wishing she could efface herself.</p> +<p>And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it +seemed to her dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary.</p> +<h2><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>CHAPTER X<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">COLD WELCOME</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Seek not for others to love you,<br /> + But seek yourself to love them best,<br /> +And you shall find the secret true,<br /> + Of love and joy and rest.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">I. <span +class="smcap">Williams</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">To</span> lack beauty was a much more +serious misfortune in the Middle Ages than at present. Of +course it was probable that there might be a contract of marriage +made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, long before the +development of either of the principal parties concerned; but +even then the rude, open-spoken husband would consider himself +absolved from any attention to an ill-favoured wife, and the free +tongues of her surroundings would not be slack to make her aware +of her defects. The cloister was the refuge of the +unmarried woman, if of gentle birth as a nun, if of a lower grade +as a lay-sister; but the fifteenth century was an age neither of +religion nor of chivalry. Dowers were more thought of than +devotion in convents as elsewhere. Whitby being one of the +oldest and grandest foundations was sure to be inaccessible to a +high-born but unportioned girl, and Grisell in her sense of +loneliness saw nothing before her but to become an anchoress, +that is to say, a female hermit, such as generally lived in +strict seclusion under shelter of the Church.</p> +<p>“There at least,” thought poor Grisell, +“there would be none to sting me to the heart with those +jeering eyes of theirs. And I might feel in time that God +and His Saints loved me, and not long for my father and mother, +and oh! my poor little brother—yes, and Leonard Copeland, +and Sister Avice, and the rest. But would Sister Avice call +this devotion? Nay, would she not say that these cruel eyes +and words are a cross upon me, and I must bear them and love in +spite—at least till I be old enough to choose for +myself?”</p> +<p>She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense of +dreariness, for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not +come near him, or he would not eat, and she had to take her meal +of dried fish and barley bread in the wide chimney corner, where +there always was a fire at every season of the year.</p> +<p>Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley’s exertions had +compelled the women to prepare for her, was—as seen in the +light of the long evening—a desolate place, within a +turret, opening from the solar, or chamber of her parents and +Bernard, the loophole window devoid of glass, though a shutter +could be closed in bad weather, the walls circular and of rough, +untouched, unconcealed stone, a pallet bed—the only attempt +at furniture, except one chest—and Grisell’s own +mails tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an ancient and +fishy smell. She felt too downhearted even to creep out and +ask for a pitcher of water. She took a long look over the +gray, heaving sea, and tired as she was, it was long before she +could pray and cry herself to sleep, and accustomed as she was to +convent beds, this one appeared to be stuffed with raw apples, +and she awoke with aching bones.</p> +<p>Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as +southland finery, for those who washed at all used the horse +trough, but fortunately for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the +request. He had been enough in the south in attendance on +his master to know how young damsels lived, and what treatment +they met with, and he was soon rating the women in no measured +terms for the disrespect they had presumed to show to the Lady +Grisell, encouraged by the neglect of her parents</p> +<p>The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, +backed up his retainer, and made it plain that he intended his +daughter to be respected and obeyed, and the grumbling women had +to submit. Nor did he refuse to acknowledge, on +Ridley’s representation, that Grisell ought to have an +attendant of her own, and the lady of the castle, coming down +with Bernard clinging to her skirt with one hand, and leaning on +his crutch, consented. “If the maid was to be here, +she must be treated fitly, and Bell and Madge had enough to do +without convent-bred fancies.”</p> +<p>So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt +the fisher folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, +bareheaded, with long, streaming, lint-white locks, and the +scantiest of garments, crying bitterly with fright, and almost +struggling to go back. She was the orphan remnant of a +family drowned in the bay, and was a burthen on her fisher +kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose of her.</p> +<p>She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost +screamed when Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the +hand. Ridley fairly drove her upstairs, step by step, and +then shut her in with his young lady, when she sank on the floor +and hid her face under all her bleached hair.</p> +<p>“Poor little thing,” thought Grisell; “it is +like having a fresh-caught sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I +am, and more afraid!”</p> +<p>So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl +to look up, and assuring her that she would not be hurt. +Grisell had a very soft and persuasive voice. Her chief +misfortune as regarded her appearance was that the muscles of one +cheek had been so drawn that though she smiled sweetly with one +side of her face, the other was contracted and went awry, so that +when the kind tones had made the girl look up for a moment, the +next she cried, “O don’t—don’t! +Holy Mary, forbid the spell!”</p> +<p>“I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor +girl, a stranger here in my own home. Come, and do not fear +me.”</p> +<p>“Madge said you had witches’ marks on your +face,” sobbed the child.</p> +<p>“Only the marks of gunpowder,” said Grisell. +“Listen, I will tell thee what befell me.”</p> +<p>Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn +nature, but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and +the girl’s terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her +name, which was Thora, and learning, too, that she had led a hard +life since her granny died, and her uncle’s wife beat her, +and made her carry heavy loads of seaweed when it froze her +hands, besides a hundred other troubles. As to knowing any +kind of feminine art, she was as ignorant as if the rough and +extremely dirty woollen garment she wore, belted round with a +strip of leather, had grown upon her, and though Grisell’s +own stock of garments was not extensive, she was obliged, for +very shame, to dress this strange attendant in what she could +best spare, as well as, in spite of sobs and screams, to wash her +face, hands, and feet, and it was wonderful how great a +difference this made in the wild creature by the time the clang +of the castle bell summoned all to the midday meal, when as +before, Bernard professed not to be able to look at his sister, +but when she had retreated he was seen spying at her through his +fingers, with great curiosity.</p> +<p>Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few +necessaries for herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some +spinning. She was not very graciously answered; but she was +allowed an old frayed horse-cloth on which Thora might sleep, and +for the rest she might see what she could find under the stairs +in the turret, or in the chest in the hall window.</p> +<p>The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mere +rubbish were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them she +picked enough to render her dreary chamber a very few degrees +more habitable. Thora would sleep there, and certainly +their relations were reversed, for carrying water was almost the +only office she performed at first, since Grisell had to dress +her, and teach her to keep herself in a tolerable state of +neatness, and likewise how to spin, luring her with the hope of +spinning yarn for a new dress for herself. As to prayers, +her mind was a mere blank, though she said something that sounded +like a spell except that it began with “Pater.” +She did not know who made her, and entirely believed in Niord and +Rana, the storm-gods of Norseland. Yet she had always been +to mass every Sunday morning. So went all the family at the +castle as a matter of course, but except when the sacring-bell +hushed them, the Baron freely discussed crops or fish with the +tenants, and the lady wrangled about dues of lambs, eggs, and +fish. Grisell’s attention was a new thing, and the +priest’s pronunciation was so defective to her ear that she +could hardly follow.</p> +<p>That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling +her room and training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more +apt scholar than she had expected, and became devoted to her like +a little faithful dog.</p> +<p>No one else took much notice of either, except that at times +Cuthbert Ridley showed himself to be willing to stand up for +her. Her father was out a great deal, hunting or hawking or +holding consultations with neighbouring knights or the men of +Sunderland. Her mother, with the loudest and most +peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, ordered the men on +their guards and at the stables, and the cook, scullions, and +other servants, but without much good effect as household affairs +were concerned, for the meals were as far removed from the +delicate, dainty serving of the simplest fast-day meal at Wilton +as from the sumptuous plenty and variety of Warwick house, and +Bernard often cried and could not eat. She longed to make +up for him one of the many appetising possets well known at +Wilton, but her mother and Ralf the cook both scouted her first +proposal. They wanted no south-bred meddlers over their +fire.</p> +<p>However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in +pain, the Baron had growled out that the child was cockered +beyond all bearing, and the mother had flown out at the unnatural +father, and on his half laughing at her doting ways, had actually +rushed across with clenched fist to box his ears; he had muttered +that the pining brat and shrewish dame made the house no place +for him, and wandered out to the society of his horses. +Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath in abuse of him and all +around, carried the child up to his bed. There he was +moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darkness having put +a stop to Grisell’s spinning, she went to her chamber with +Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she +even thought her mother was crying. She ventured to +approach and ask, “Fares he no better? If I might rub +that poor leg.”</p> +<p>But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, “Go away, +Grisly,” and her mother exclaimed, “Away with you, I +have enough to vex me here without you.”</p> +<p>She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran +down her face as in the long summer twilight she recited the +evening offices, the same in which Sister Avice was joining in +Wilton chapel. Before they were over she heard her father +come up to bed, and in a harsh and angered voice bid Bernard to +be still. There was stillness for some little time, but by +and by the moaning and sobbing began again, and there was a +jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, now thinner +and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, and crept +out. “If I might rub him a little while, and you +rest, Lady Mother. He cannot see me now.”</p> +<p>She prevailed, or rather the poor mother’s utter +weariness and dejection did, together with the father’s +growl, “Let her bring us peace if she can.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her +hand to the aching thigh.</p> +<p>“Soft! Soft! Good! Good!” +muttered Bernard presently. “Go on!”</p> +<p>Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical +touch of Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her +hand. Her mother, who was quite worn out, moved to her own +bed, and fell asleep, while the snores of the Baron proclaimed +him to have been long appeased. The boy, too, presently was +breathing softly, and Grisell’s attitude relaxed, as her +prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by and by, what she +thought was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light of St. +Edith’s taper, proved to be the musical rush of the +incoming tide, and the golden sunrise over the sea, while all lay +sound asleep around her, and she ventured gently to withdraw into +her own room.</p> +<p>That night was Grisell’s victory, though Bernard still +held aloof from her all the ensuing day, when he was really the +better and fresher for his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as +usual the pain came on, he wailed for her to rub him, and as it +was still daylight, and her father had gone out in one of the +boats to fish, she ventured on singing to him, as she rubbed, to +his great delight and still greater boon to her yearning +heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, the little fellow +limped up to her, and said, “Grisly, sing that +again,” staring hard in her face as she did so.</p> +<h2><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>CHAPTER XI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BERNARD</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>I do remember an apothecary,—<br /> +And hereabouts he dwells.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Bernard’s</span> affection was as +strong as his aversion had been. Poor little boy, no one +had been accustomed enough to sickly children, or indeed to +children at all, to know how to make him happy or even +comfortable, and his life had been sad and suffering ever since +the blight that had fallen on him, through either the evil eye of +Nan the witch, or through his fall into a freezing stream. +His brother, a great strong lad, had teased and bullied him; his +father, though not actually unkind except when wearied by his +fretfulness, held him as a miserable failure, scarcely worth +rearing; his mother, though her pride was in her elder son, and +the only softness in her heart for the little one, had been so +rugged and violent a woman all the years of her life, and had so +despised all gentler habits of civilisation, that she really did +not know how to be tender to the child who was really her +darling. Her infants had been nursed in the cottages, and +not returned to the castle till they were old enough to rough +it—indeed they were soon sent off to be bred up +elsewhere. Some failure in health, too, made it harder for +her to be patient with an ailing child, and her love was apt to +take the form of anger with his petulance or even with his +suffering, or else of fierce battles with her husband in his +defence.</p> +<p>The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that +beldame had disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady +Whitburn still cherished the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres +or the Percies to yield the woman up. Failing this, the boy +had been shown to a travelling friar, who had promised cure +through the relics he carried about; but Bernard had only +screamed at him, and had been none the better.</p> +<p>And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he +found that “Grisly,” as he still called her, but only +as an affectionate abbreviation, was the only person who could +relieve his pain, or amuse him, in the whole castle; and he was +incessantly hanging on her. She must put him to bed and +sing lullabies to him, she must rub his limbs when they ached +with rheumatic pains; hers was the only hand which might touch +the sores that continually broke out, and he would sit for long +spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down the scar and pitying +it with “Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throw down my +glove, and fight with that lad, and kill him.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me +evil. He is a fair, brave, good boy.”</p> +<p>“He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn +and recreant,” persisted Bernard. “Rob and I +will make him say that you are the fairest of ladies.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay. That he could not.”</p> +<p>“But you are, you are—on this side—mine own +Grisly,” cried Bernard, whose experiences of fair ladies +had not been extensive, and who curled himself on her lap, giving +unspeakable rest and joy to her weary, yearning spirit, as she +pressed him to her breast. “Now, a story, a +story,” he entreated, and she was rich in tales from +Scripture history and legends of the Saints, or she would sing +her sweet monastic hymns and chants, as he nestled in her +lap.</p> +<p>The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, +and now and then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn +and keeping him a helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his +mother for this ill-favoured, useless sister, and would even +snatch away the boy, and declare that she wanted no one to deal +with him save herself; but Bernard had a will of his own, and +screamed for his Grisly, throwing himself about in such a manner +that Lady Whitburn was forced to submit, and quite to the alarm +of her daughter, on one of these occasions she actually burst +into a flood of tears, sobbing loud and without restraint. +Indeed, though she hotly declared that she ailed nothing, there +was a lassitude about her that made it a relief to have the care +of Bernard taken off her hands; and the Baron’s grumbling +at disturbed nights made the removal of Bernard’s bed to +his sister’s room generally acceptable.</p> +<p>Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora +the English version of the Lord’s Prayer and Creed, and +moreover to be telling him the story of the Gospel, there came, +no one knew from where, an accusation which made her father tramp +up and say, “Mark you, wench, I’ll have no Lollards +here.”</p> +<p>“Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!” said +Grisell trembling.</p> +<p>“Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things +common?”</p> +<p>“We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend +mothers and the holy father.”</p> +<p>The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn +was fit only for a shaveling, it might be all right.</p> +<p>Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation of +manhood? However, Grisell had won permission to compound +broths, cakes, and possets for him, over the hall fire, for the +cook and his wife would not endure her approach to their domain, +and with great reluctance allowed her the materials. +Bernard watched her operations with intense delight and +amusement, and tasted with a sense of triumph and appetite, +calling on his mother to taste likewise; and she, on whose palate +semi-raw or over-roasted joints had begun to pall, allowed that +the nuns had taught Grisell something.</p> +<p>And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. +Every one around was used to her scars, and took no notice of +them, and there was nothing to bring the thought before her, +except now and then when a fishwife’s baby, brought to her +for cure, would scream at her. She never went beyond the +castle except to mass, now and then to visit a sick person, and +to seek some of the herbs of which she had learnt the use, and +then she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, who made a +great favour of going.</p> +<p>Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she +soothed his pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the +knowledge she brought from the convent. Her affections were +with him, and though her mother could scarcely be said to love +her, she tolerated and depended more and more on the daughter who +alone could give her more help or solace.</p> +<p>That was Grisell’s second victory, when she was actually +asked to compound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when +be was caught in a storm and came in drenched and weary.</p> +<p>She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of +Sister Avice’s ointments, which she thought more likely to +be efficacious than melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, +scrapings from the church bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of +her ingredients were out of reach, unless they were attainable at +Sunderland, and she obtained permission to ride thither under the +escort of Cuthbert Ridley, and was provided with a small +purse—the proceeds of the Baron’s dues out of the +fishermen’s sales of herrings.</p> +<p>She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her +mother, and enough of cloth to afford winter garments for +Bernard; and a steady old pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn +to be exchanged for these commodities, since the Whitburn +household possessed no member dexterous with the old disused +loom, and the itinerant weavers did not come that way—it +was whispered because they were afraid of the fisher folk, and +got but sorry cheer from the lady.</p> +<p>The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two +miles’ ride along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at +the curious caverns in the rock, and seeking for the very +strangely-formed stones supposed to have magic power, which fell +from the rock. In the distance beyond the river to the +southward, Ridley pointed to the tall square tower of Monks +Wearmouth Church dominating the great monastery around it, which +had once held the venerable Bede, though to both Ridley and +Grisell he was only a name of a patron saint.</p> +<p>The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel +to Grisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and +gaily-coloured vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very +new sights to one best acquainted with Noah’s ark or St. +Peter’s ship in illuminations.</p> +<p>“Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding,” +said Ridley. “Moreover, these come for wool, +salt-fish, and our earth coal, and they bring us fine cloth, +linen, and stout armour. I am glad to see yonder Flemish +ensign. If luck goes well with us, I shall get a fresh pair +of gauntlets for my lord, straight from Gaunt, the place of +gloves.”</p> +<p>“<i>Gant</i> for glove,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“How? You speak French. Then you may aid me +in chaffering, and I will straight to the Fleming, with whom I +may do better than with Hodge of the Lamb. How now, +here’s a shower coming up fast!”</p> +<p>It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was +already bursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a +thoroughfare across salt marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was +not enough to prevent their being drenched by a torrent of rain +and hail before they reached the tall-timbered houses of +Wearmouth.</p> +<p>“In good time!” cried Ridley; “here’s +the Poticary’s sign! You had best halt here at +once.”</p> +<p>In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, +hung a sign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a +stall, open to the street, which the owner was sheltering with a +deep canvas awning.</p> +<p>“Hola, Master Lambert Groats,” called +Ridley. “Here’s the young demoiselle of +Whitburn would have some dealings with you.”</p> +<p>Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a +small, keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing +his green velvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take +shelter in his poor house.</p> +<p>Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundry +marvellous curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, +the shells of tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her +eyes most strange and weird; but Master Lambert was begging her +to hasten in at once to his dwelling-room beyond, and let his +wife dry her clothes, and at once there came forward a plump, +smooth, pleasant-looking personage, greatly his junior, dressed +in a tight gold-edged cap over her fair hair, a dark skirt, black +bodice, bright apron, and white sleeves, curtseying low, but +making signs to invite the newcomers to the fire on the +hearth. “My housewife is stone deaf,” explained +their host, “and she knows no tongue save her own, and the +unspoken language of courtesy, but she is rejoiced to welcome the +demoiselle. Ah, she is drenched! Ah, if she will +honour my poor house!”</p> +<p>The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the +demoiselle to come to the fire, and take off her wet +mantle. It was a very comfortable room, with a wide +chimney, and deep windows glazed with thick circles of glass, the +spaces between leaded around in diamond panes, through which vine +branches could dimly be seen flapping and beating in the +storm. A table stood under one with various glasses and +vessels of curious shapes, and a big book, and at the other was a +distaff, a work-basket, and other feminine gear. Shelves +with pewter dishes, and red, yellow, and striped crocks, +surrounded the walls; there was a savoury cauldron on the open +fire. It was evidently sitting-room and kitchen in one, +with offices beyond, and Grisell was at once installed in a fine +carved chair by the fire—a more comfortable seat than had +ever fallen to her share.</p> +<p>“Look you here, mistress,” said Ridley; “you +are in safe quarters here, and I will leave you awhile, take the +horses to the hostel, and do mine errands across the +river—’tis not fit for you—and come back to you +when the shower is over, and you can come and chaffer for your +woman’s gear.”</p> +<p>From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell +was glad to have time for consultation. An Apothecary of +those days did not rise to the dignity of a leech, but was more +like the present owner of a chemist’s shop, though a +chemist then meant something much more abstruse, who studied +occult sciences, such as alchemy and astrology.</p> +<p>In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though +English lips had made it Groats, belonged to one of the +prosperous guilds of the great merchant city of Bruges, but he +had offended his family by his determination to marry the deaf, +and almost dumb, portionless orphan daughter of an old friend and +contemporary, and to save her from the scorn and slights of his +relatives—though she was quite as well-born as +themselves—he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth and +Sunderland had a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These +cities enjoyed the cultivation of the period, and this room, +daintily clean and fresh, seemed to Grisell more luxurious than +any she had seen since the Countess of Warwick’s. A +silver bowl of warm soup, extracted from the <i>pot au feu</i>, +was served to her by the Hausfrau, on a little table, spread with +a fine white cloth edged with embroidery, with an earnest gesture +begging her to partake, and a slender Venice glass of wine was +brought to her with a cake of wheaten bread. Much did +Grisell wish she could have transferred such refreshing fare to +Bernard. She ventured to ask “Master Poticary” +whether he sold “Balsam of Egypt.” He was +interested at once, and asked whether it were for her own +use.</p> +<p>“Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that +was a burn long ago healed. It is for my poor little +brother.”</p> +<p>Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions +of symptoms, drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she +learnt a good deal and perhaps disclosed more of Sister +Avice’s methods than Wilton might have approved. In +the midst the sun broke out gaily after the shower, and +disclosed, beyond the window, a garden where every leaf and spray +were glittering and glorious with their own diamond drops in the +sunshine. A garden of herbs was a needful part of an +apothecary’s business, as he manufactured for himself all +of the medicaments which he did not import from foreign parts, +but this had been laid out between its high walls with all the +care, taste, and precision of the Netherlander, and Grisell +exclaimed in perfect ecstasy: “Oh, the garden, the +garden! I have seen nothing so fair and sweet since I left +Wilton.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is +no describing how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the +bare, dry walls of the castle, and the tossing sea which the +maiden had not yet learnt to love. Nor was the garden dull, +though meant for use. There was a well in the centre with +roses trained over it, roses of the dark old damask kind and the +dainty musk, used to be distilled for the eyes, some flowers +lingering still; there was the brown dittany or fraxinella, whose +dried blossoms are phosphoric at night; delicate pink centaury, +good for ague; purple mallows, good for wounds; leopard’s +bane with yellow blossoms; many and many more old and dear +friends of Grisell, redolent of Wilton cloister and Sister Avice; +and she ran from one to the other quite transported, and +forgetful of all the dignities of the young Lady of Whitburn, +while Lambert was delighted, and hoped she would come again when +his lilies were in bloom.</p> +<p>So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was +asked of the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert +answered that the value was fully balanced by what he had learnt +from the lady. This, however, did not suit the honour of +the Dacres, and Grisell, as well as her squire, who looked +offended, insisted on leaving two gold crowns in payment. +The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it the last sprays of +roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom.</p> +<p>She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where +she obtained the warm winter garments that she needed for her +mother and brother, and likewise some linen, for the Lady of +Whitburn had never been housewife enough to keep up a sufficient +supply for Bernard, and Grisell was convinced that the +cleanliness which the nuns had taught her would mitigate his +troubles. With Thora to wash for her she hoped to institute +a new order of things.</p> +<p>Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She +was met there by more grumbling than satisfaction. Her +father had expected more coin to send to Robert, who, like other +absent youths, called for supplies.</p> +<p>The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of +paper with the words:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Mine honoured Lord and +Father</span>—I pray you to send me Black Lightning and xvj +crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have you in their +keeping.—Your dutiful sonne,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Robert +Dacre</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn +vowed that he had never so called on his father except when he +was knighted, but those were the good old days when spoil was to +be won in France. What could Rob want of such a sum?</p> +<p>“Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no +place to stint in. The two young Earls of March and of +Rutland, as they call them, walk in red and blue and gold +bravery, and chains of jewels, even like king’s sons, and +none of the squires and pages can be behind them.”</p> +<p>“Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the +lad fitted out for years to come. I never sent home the +like message to my father under the last good King Henry, but +purveyed myself of a horse on the battlefield more than +once. But those good old days are over, and lads think more +of velvet and broidery than of lances and swords. Forsooth, +their coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk robes instead of +helm and shield; and as to our maids, give them their rein, and +they spend more than all the rest on women’s tawdry +gear!”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and +nothing for herself except a few needles.</p> +<p>However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and +sent away with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell +became more and more a needful person. Bernard was +stronger, and even rode out on a pony, and the fame of his +improvement brought other patients to the Lady Grisell from the +vassals, with whom she dealt as best she might, successfully or +the reverse, while her mother, as her health failed, let fall +more and more the reins of household rule.</p> +<h2><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>CHAPTER XII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WORD FROM THE WARS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Above, below, the Rose of Snow,<br /> +Twined with her blushing face we spread.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Gray’s</span> <i>Bard</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">News</span> did not travel very fast to +Whitburn, but one summer’s day a tall, gallant, fair-faced +esquire, in full armour of the cumbrous plate fashion, rode up to +the gate, and blew the family note on his bugle.</p> +<p>“My son! my son Rob,” cried the lady, starting up +from the cushions with which Grisell had furnished her +settle.</p> +<p>Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the +gate, by his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in +the rear, while Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung +back.</p> +<p>The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not +conceal a good deal of contempt for the rude northern +habits. “How small and dark the hall is! My +lady, how old you have grown! What, Bernard, still fit only +for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, eh? Ha! is that +Grisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland has made a hag +of her!”</p> +<p>“’Tis a good maid none the less,” replied +her father; the first direct praise that she had ever had from +him, and which made her heart glow.</p> +<p>“She will ne’er get a husband, with such a visage +as that,” observed Robert, who did not seem to have learnt +courtesy or forbearance yet on his travels; but he was soon +telling his father what concerned them far more than the +maiden’s fate.</p> +<p>“Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to +summon you. What, you have not heard? He needs, as +speedily as may be, the arms of every honest man. How many +can you get together?”</p> +<p>“But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled +the roast last time I heard of him.”</p> +<p>“You know as little as my horse here in the +north!” cried Rob.</p> +<p>“This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, +that the Queen, that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands +on our Lord of Salisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had +soundly beaten her and the men of Cheshire.”</p> +<p>“Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on +the Copeland banner, but even as I was making my way to it and +the recreant that bore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and +dazed.”</p> +<p>“I’ll warrant it,” muttered his father.</p> +<p>“When I could look up again all was changed, the banner +nowhere in sight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen +rascaille after that.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” half incredulously, for it was a mere boy +who boasted. “That’s my brave lad! And +what then? More hopes of the spurs, eh?”</p> +<p>“Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one +would willingly stir a lance against an old witless saint like +King Harry, she gets a host together, dragging the poor man +hither and thither with her, at Ludlow. Nay, we even heard +the King was dead, and a mass was said for the repose of his +soul, but with the morning what should we see on the other side +of the river Teme but the royal standard, and who should be under +it but King Harry himself with his meek face and fair locks, +twirling his fingers after his wont. So the men would have +it that they had been gulled, and they fell away one after +another, till there was nothing for it but for the Duke and his +sons, and my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick and a few score more +of us, to ride off as best we might, with Sir Andrew Trollope and +his men after us, as hard as might be, so that we had to break +up, and keep few together. I went with the Duke of York and +young Lord Edmund into Wales, and thence in a bit of a +fishing-boat across to Ireland. Ask me to fight in full +field with twice the numbers, but never ask me to put to sea +again! There’s nothing like it for taking heart and +soul out of a man!”</p> +<p>“I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, +and known nothing worse than a qualm or two.”</p> +<p>“That was to France,” said his son. +“This Irish Sea is far wider and far more tossing, I know +for my own part. I’d have given a knight’s fee +to any one who would have thrown me overboard. I felt like +an empty bag! But once there, they could not make enough of +us. The Duke had got their hearts before, and odd sort of +hearts they are. I was deaf with the wild kernes shouting +round about in their gibberish—such figures, too, as they +are, with their blue cloaks, streaming hair, and long glibbes +(moustaches), and the Lords of the Pale, as they call the English +sort, are nigh about as wild and savage as the mere Irish. +It was as much as my Lord Duke could do to hinder two of them +from coming to blows in his presence; and you should have heard +them howl at one another. However, they are all with him, +and a mighty force of them mean to go back with him to +England. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais to hold +counsel with him, and they have sworn to one another to meet with +all their forces, and require the removal of the King’s +evil councillors; and my Lord Duke, with his own mouth, bade me +go and summon his trusty Will Dacre of Whitburn—so he +spake, sir—to be with him with all the spears and bowmen +you can raise or call for among the neighbours. And it is +my belief, sir, that he means not to stop at the councillors, but +to put forth his rights. Hurrah for King Richard of the +White Rose!” ended Robert, throwing up his cap.</p> +<p>“Nay, now,” said his father. +“I’d be loth to put down our gallant King +Harry’s only son.”</p> +<p>“No one breathes a word against King Harry,” +returned Robert, “no more than against a carven saint in a +church, and he is about as much of a king as old stone King +Edmund, or King Oswald, or whoever he is, over the porch. +He is welcome to reign as long as he likes or lives, provided he +lets our Duke govern for him, and rids the country of the foreign +woman and her brat, who is no more hers than I am, but a mere +babe of Westminster town carried into the palace when the poor +King Harry was beside himself.”</p> +<p>“Nay, now, Rob!” cried his mother.</p> +<p>“So ’tis said!” sturdily persisted +Rob. “’Tis well known that the King never +looked at him the first time he was shown the little imp, and +next time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted up his hands +and said he wotted nought of the matter. Hap what hap, King +Harry may roam from Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, so +long as he lists, but none of us will brook to be ruled or +misruled by the foreign woman and the Beauforts in his name, nor +reigned over by the French dame or the beggar’s brat, and +the traitor coward Beaufort, but be under our own noble Duke and +the White Rose, the only badge that makes the Frenchman +flee.”</p> +<p>The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of +one who knew the world, made his father laugh and say, +“Hark to the cockerel crowing loud. Spurs +forsooth!”</p> +<p>“The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted,” +grunted Rob, “and there’s but few years betwixt +us.”</p> +<p>“But a good many earldoms and lands,” said the +Baron. “Hadst spoken of being out of pagedom, +’twere another thing.”</p> +<p>“You are coming, sir,” cried Rob, willing to put +by the subject. “You are coming to see how I can win +honours.”</p> +<p>“Aye, aye,” said his father. “When +Nevil calls, then must Dacre come, though his old bones might +well be at rest now. Salisbury and Warwick taking to flight +like attainted traitors to please the foreign woman, saidst +thou? Then it is the time men were in the +saddle.”</p> +<p>“Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my +lord,” exclaimed Robert.</p> +<p>“Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was +greatly reassured by thy testimony,” said his father drily, +while the mother, full of pride and exultation in her goodly +firstborn son, could not but exclaim, “Daunt him not, my +lord; he has done well thus to be sent home in charge.”</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> daunt him?” returned Lord Whitburn, in +his teasing mood. “By his own showing not a troop of +Somerset’s best horsemen could do that!”</p> +<p>Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations +of resources, which they kept up all through supper-time, and all +the evening, till the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like +rang like a repeating echo in Grisell’s ears. All +through those long days of summer the father and son were out +incessantly, riding from one tenant or neighbour to another, +trying to raise men-at-arms and means to equip them if +raised. All the dues on the herring-boats and the two +whalers, on which Grisell had reckoned for the winter needs, were +pledged to Sunderland merchants for armour and weapons; the colts +running wild on the moors were hastily caught, and reduced to a +kind of order by rough breaking in. The women of the castle +and others requisitioned from the village toiled under the +superintendence of the lady and Grisell at preparing such +provision and equipments as were portable, such as dried fish, +salted meat, and barley cakes, as well as linen, and there was a +good deal of tailoring of a rough sort at jerkins, buff coats, +and sword belts, not by any means the gentle work of embroidering +pennons or scarves notable in romance.</p> +<p>“Besides,” scoffed Robert, “who would wear +Grisly Grisell’s scarf!”</p> +<p>“I would,” manfully shouted Bernard; “I +would cram it down the throat of that recreant +Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Oh! hush, hush, Bernard,” exclaimed Grisell, who +was toiling with aching fingers at the repairs of her +father’s greasy old buff coat. “Such things +are, as Robin well says, for noble demoiselles with fair faces +and leisure times like the Lady Margaret. And oh, Robin, +you have never told me of the Lady Margaret, my dear mate at +Amesbury.”</p> +<p>“What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such +gear,” growled Robin, whose chivalry had not reached the +point of caring for ladies.</p> +<p>“The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret +of York,” Grisell explained.</p> +<p>“Oh! That’s what you mean is it? +There’s a whole troop of wenches at the high table in +hall. They came after us with the Duchess as soon as we +were settled in Trim Castle, but they are kept as demure and mim +as may be in my lady’s bower; and there’s a pretty +sharp eye kept on them. Some of the young squires who are +fools enough to hanker after a few maids or look at the fairer +ones get their noses wellnigh pinched off by Proud Cis’s +Mother of the Maids.”</p> +<p>“Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell’s +greetings by you.”</p> +<p>“I should like to see myself delivering them! +Besides, we shall meet my lord in camp, with no cumbrance of +woman gear.”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn’s own castle was somewhat of a perplexity +to him, for though his lady had once been quite sufficient +captain for his scanty garrison, she was in too uncertain health, +and what was worse, too much broken in spirit and courage, to be +fit for the charge. He therefore decided on leaving +Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter at least, was scarcely as capable +of roughing it as of old, to protect the castle, with a few old +or partly disabled men, who could man the walls to some degree, +therefore it was unlikely that there would be any attack.</p> +<p>So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with +its three crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, +and round it mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been +raised by the baron, some being his own vassals, and others hired +at Sunderland. The rest were volunteers—gentlemen, +their younger sons, and their attendants—placing themselves +under his leadership, either from goodwill to York and Nevil, or +from love of enterprise and hope of plunder.</p> +<h2><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A KNOT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>I would mine heart had caught that wound<br /> + And slept beside him rather!<br /> +I think it were a better thing<br /> +Than murdered friend and marriage-ring<br /> + Forced on my life together.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. B. <span +class="smcap">Browning</span>, <i>The Romaunt of the +Page</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies</span> were accustomed to live for +weeks, months, nay, years, without news of those whom they had +sent to the wars, and to live their life without them. The +Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husband or son again +till the summer campaign was over, and she was not at all uneasy +about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrived at +such a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult to +kill him, and such was the weight, that his danger in being +overthrown was of never being able to get up, but lying there to +be smothered, made prisoner, or killed, by breaking into his +armour. The knights could not have moved at all under the +weight if they had not been trained from infancy, and had nearly +reduced themselves to the condition of great tortoises.</p> +<p>It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, +when, though twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were +in bed, and he was asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the +master’s note, at first in the usual tones, then more +loudly and impatiently. Hastening out of bed to her +loophole window, Grisell saw a party beneath the walls, her +father’s scallop-shells dimly seen above them, and a little +in the rear, one who was evidently a prisoner.</p> +<p>The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were +beginning to be astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer +room, she found her mother afoot and hastily dressing.</p> +<p>“My lord! my lord! it is his note,” she cried.</p> +<p>“Father come home!” shouted Bernard, just +awake. “Grisly! Grisly! help me don my +clothes.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could +not help her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling +rather than calling for help all the time; and before she, still +less Grisell, was fit for the public, her father’s heavy +step was on the stairs, and she heard fragments of his words.</p> +<p>“All abed! We must have supper—ridden from +Ayton since last baiting. Aye, got a prisoner—young +Copeland—old one slain—great +victory—Northampton. King taken—Buckingham and +Egremont killed—Rob well—proud as a pyet. Ho, +Grisell,” as she appeared, “bestir thyself. We +be ready to eat a horse behind the saddle. Serve up as fast +as may be.”</p> +<p>Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word +Copeland aright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just +crossing the hall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, +with hands over his face and elbows on his knees, but she could +not pause, and went on to the kitchen, where the peat fire was +never allowed to expire, and it was easy to stir it into +heat. Whatever was cold she handed over to the servants to +appease the hunger of the arrivals, while she broiled steaks, and +heated the great perennial cauldron of broth with all the +expedition in her power, with the help of Thora and the grumbling +cook, when he appeared, angry at being disturbed.</p> +<p>Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were +over for the dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and +when she again crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the +straw-bestrewn floor fast asleep. One she specially +noticed, his long limbs stretched out as he lay on his side, his +head on his arm, as if he had fallen asleep from extreme fatigue +in spite of himself.</p> +<p>His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and +ruddy, and all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been +those long years ago before her accident. Save for that, +she would have been long ago his wife, she with her marred face +the mate of that nobly fair countenance. How strange to +remember. How she would have loved him, frank and often +kind as she remembered him, though rough and impatient of +restraint. What was that which his fingers had held till +sleep had unclasped them? An ivory chessrook! Such +was a favourite token of ladies to their true loves. What +did it mean? Might she pause to pray a prayer over him as +once hers—that all might be well with him, for she knew +that in this unhappy war important captives were not treated as +Frenchmen would have been as prisoners of war, but executed as +traitors to their King.</p> +<p>She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of +one of the dogs warned her that all might in another moment be +awake, and she fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents +were both fast asleep, and across to her own room, where she +threw herself on her bed, dressed as she was, but could not sleep +for the multitude of strange thoughts that crowded over her in +the increasing daylight.</p> +<p>By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer +room, and then her mother came in.</p> +<p>“Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy +wedding-morning instantly. Copeland is to keep his troth to +thee at once. The Earl of Warwick hath granted his life to +thy father on that condition only.”</p> +<p>“Oh, mother, is he willing?” cried Grisell +trembling.</p> +<p>“What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, +and he must fulfil his promise now that we have him.”</p> +<p>“Was it troth? I cannot remember it,” said +Grisell.</p> +<p>“That matters not. Your father’s plight is +the same thing. His father was slain in the battle, so +’tis between him and us. Put on thy best clothes as +fast as may be. Thou shalt have my wedding-veil and miniver +mantle. Speed, I say. My lord has to hasten away to +join the Earl on the way to London. He will see the knot +tied beyond loosing at once.”</p> +<p>To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her +bewilderment. Remonstrance was vain. The actual +marriage without choice was not so repugnant to all her feelings +as to a modern maiden; it was the ordinary destiny of womanhood, +and she had been used in her childhood to look on Leonard +Copeland as her property; but to be forced on the poor youth +instantly on his father’s death, and as an alternative to +execution, set all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard +was sitting up in bed, crying out that he could not lose his +Grisly. Her mother was running backwards and forwards, +bringing portions of her own bridal gear, and directing Thora, +who was combing out her young lady’s hair, which was long, +of a beautiful brown, and was to be worn loose and flowing, in +the bridal fashion. Grisell longed to kneel and pray, but +her mother hurried her. “My lord must not be kept +waiting, there would be time enough for prayer in the +church.” Then Bernard, clamouring loudly, threw his +arms round the thick old heavy silken gown that had been put on +her, and declared that he would not part with his Grisly, and his +mother tore him away by force, declaring that he need not fear, +Copeland would be in no hurry to take her away, and again when +she bent to kiss him he clung tight round her neck almost +strangling her, and rumpling her tresses.</p> +<p>Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the +young lady, and it was he who took the boy off and held him in +his arms, as the mother, who seemed endued with new strength by +the excitement, threw a large white muffling veil over +Grisell’s head and shoulders, and led or rather dragged her +down to the hall.</p> +<p>The first sounds she there heard were, “Sir, I have +given my faith to the Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I +love.”</p> +<p>“What is that to me? ’Twas a precontract to +my daughter.”</p> +<p>“Not made by me nor her.”</p> +<p>“By your parents, with myself. You went near to +being her death outright, marred her face for life, so that none +other will wed her. What say you? Not hurt by your +own will? Who said it was? What matters +that?”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Leonard, “it is true that by +mishap, nay, if you will have it so, by a child’s +inadvertence, I caused this evil chance to befall your daughter, +but I deny, and my father denies likewise, that there was any +troth plight between the maid and me. She will own the same +if you ask her. As I spake before, there was talk of the +like kind between you, sir, and my father, and it was the desire +of the good King that thus the families might be reconciled; but +the contract went no farther, as the holy King himself owned when +I gave my faith to the Lord Audley’s daughter, and with it +my heart.”</p> +<p>“Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor +fool of a King believe and avouch anything she choose! This +is not the point. No more words, young man. Here +stands my daughter; there is the rope. Choose—wed or +hang.”</p> +<p>Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity +over his face. Then he said, “If I consent, am I at +liberty, free at once to depart?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Whitburn. “So you fulfil +your contract, the rest is nought to me.”</p> +<p>“I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to +my Queen and King?”</p> +<p>“Free.”</p> +<p>“You swear it, on the holy cross?”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, +and made oath on it that when once married to his daughter, +Leonard Copeland was no longer his prisoner.</p> +<p>Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of +grief and renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs +of King and country, and his words chimed in with her +conviction.</p> +<p>“Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would +die rather than be false to my love, but my Queen needs good +swords and faithful hearts, and I may not fail her. I am +ready!”</p> +<p>“It is well!” said Lord Whitburn. “Ho, +you there! Bring the horses to the door.”</p> +<p>Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had +been thinking of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but +that look of grief roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had +no other love to sacrifice.</p> +<p>“Sir! sir!” she cried, as her father turned to bid +her mount the pillion behind Ridley. “Can you not let +him go free without? I always looked to a +cloister.”</p> +<p>“That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me +now, or it will be the worse for him and you.”</p> +<p>“One word I would say,” added the mother. +“How far hath this matter with the Audley maid gone? +There is no troth plight, I trow?”</p> +<p>“No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not +have pleaded it if there had been? No more +dilly-dallying. Up on the horse, Grisly, and have done with +it. We will show the young recreant how promises are kept +in Durham County.”</p> +<p>He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and +lifted her passively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert +Ridley. A fine horse, Copeland’s own, was waiting for +him. He was allowed to ride freely, but old Whitburn kept +close beside him, so that escape would have been +impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, +dimmed and dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, +which glittered on the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, +purple in the sun, was rising in front of this strange bridal +cavalcade.</p> +<p>It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the +heavy rain that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole +party come within for the part of the ceremony usually performed +outside the west door.</p> +<p>It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, +and filled with dusky glass, and the arches were low +browed. Grisell’s mufflings were thrown aside, and +she stood as became a maiden bride, with all her hair flowing +over her shoulders and long tresses over her face, but even +without this, her features would hardly have been visible, as the +dense cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall and straight was +her figure that no one would have supposed her other than a fair +young spouse. She trembled a good deal, but was too much +terrified and, as it were, stunned for tears, and she durst not +raise her drooping head even to look at her bridegroom, though +such light as came in shone upon his fair hair and was reflected +on his armour, and on one golden spur that still he wore, the +other no doubt lost in the fight.</p> +<p>All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was +determined that no ceremony that could make the wedlock valid +should be omitted. The priest, a kind old man, but of +peasant birth, and entirely subservient to the Dacres, proceeded +to ask each of the pair when they had been assoiled, namely, +absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, had been shriven only +last Friday; Leonard muttered, “Three days since, when I +was dubbed knight, ere the battle.”</p> +<p>“That suffices,” put in the Baron +impatiently. “On with you, Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, +and Grisell could not but look up anxiously when the solemn +charge was given to mention whether there was any lawful +“letting” to their marriage. Her heart bounded +as it were to her throat when Leonard made no answer.</p> +<p>But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise!</p> +<p>It went on—those betrothal vows, dictated while the two +cold hands were linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, +hers, quaking, especially as, in the old use of York, he took her +“for laither for fairer”—laith being equivalent +to loathly—“till death us do part.” And +with failing heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered out +her vow to cleave to him “for better for worse, for richer +for poorer, in sickness or health, and to be bonner (debonair or +cheerful) and boughsome (obedient) till that final +parting.”</p> +<p>The troth was plighted, and the silver mark—poor +Leonard’s sole available property at the moment—laid +on the priest’s book, as the words were said, “with +worldly cathel I thee endow,” and the ring, an old one of +her mother’s, was held on Grisell’s finger. It +was done, though, alas! the bridegroom could hardly say with +truth, “with my body I thee worship.”</p> +<p>Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands +barely touching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when +Latin did not come home to the pair like English, though both +fairly understood it. Grisell’s feeling was by this +time concentrated in the one hope that she should be dutiful to +the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more to be pitied than +herself, and that she should be guarded by God whatever +befell.</p> +<p>It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, +but there was some delay, for the darkness was more dense than +ever, the rush of furious hail was heard without, a great blue +flash of intense light filled every corner of the church, the +thunder pealed so sharply and vehemently overhead that the small +company looked at one another and at the church, to ascertain +that no stroke had fallen. Then the Lord of Whitburn, first +recovering himself, cried, “Come, sir knight, kiss your +bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard—here. +Who hath seen him? Not vanished in yon flash! +Eh?”</p> +<p>No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that +Sir Leonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he had +fulfilled the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, and +galloped away through the storm.</p> +<h2><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +150</span>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE LONELY BRIDE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> Grace for the callant<br /> +If he marries our muckle-mouth Meg.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Browning</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">The</span> recreant! Shall we +follow him?” was the cry of Lord Whitburn’s younger +squire, Harry Featherstone, with his hand on his horse’s +neck, in spite of the torrents of rain and the fresh flash that +set the horses quivering.</p> +<p>“No! no!” roared the Baron. “I tell +you no! He has fulfilled his promise; I fulfil mine. +He has his freedom. Let him go! For the rest, we will +find the way to make him good husband to you, my wench,” +and as Harry murmured something, “There’s work enow +in hand without spending our horses’ breath and our own in +chasing after a runaway groom. A brief space we will wait +till the storm be over.”</p> +<p>Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling +her beads, and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all +the time giving thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her +mother, whose needs had been pressing strongly on her, yet that +she might do right by this newly-espoused husband, whose +downcast, dejected look had filled her, not with indignation at +the slight to her—she was far past that—but with +yearning compassion for one thus severed from his true love.</p> +<p>When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy +northlanders to ride home, and Grisell was again perched behind +old Cuthbert Ridley, he asked, “Well, my Dame of Copeland, +dost peak and pine for thy runaway bridegroom?”</p> +<p>“Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little +Bernard than be away with yonder stranger I ken not +whither.”</p> +<p>“Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can +break the marriage by pleading precontract, you may lay your +reckoning on it that so he will.”</p> +<p>When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which +Lady Whitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her +opinion.</p> +<p>“He will get the knot untied,” she said. +“So thick as the King and his crew are with the Pope, it +will cost him nothing, but we may, for very shame, force a dowry +out of his young knighthood to get the wench into Whitby +withal!”</p> +<p>“So he even proffered on his way,” said the +Baron. “He is a fair and knightly youth. +’Tis pity of him that he holds with the Frenchwoman. +Ha, Bernard, ’tis for thy good.”</p> +<p>For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring +that his Grisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile +runaway husbands.</p> +<p>Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no +difference in her position, excepting that she was scrupulously +called Dame Grisell Copeland. Her father was soon called +away by the summons to Parliament, sent forth in the name of King +Henry, who was then in the hands of the Earl of Warwick in +London. The Sheriff’s messenger who brought him the +summons plainly said that all the friends of York, Salisbury, and +Warwick were needed for a great change that would dash the hopes +of the Frenchwoman and her son.</p> +<p>He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle +to Ridley and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not +be downhearted. He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir +Leonard, to his marrow bones before her.</p> +<p>Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the +summer waned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low +fever. In the lady’s case it was intermittent, and +she spent only the third day in her bed, the others in crouching +over the fire or hanging over the child’s bed, where he lay +constantly tossing and fevered all night, sometimes craving to be +on his sister’s lap, but too restless long to lie +there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of all +Grisell’s simple treatment, and at last she wrung from the +lady permission to send Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was +possible to bring out Master Lambert Groot to give his advice, or +if not, to obtain medicaments and counsel from him.</p> +<p>The good little man actually came, riding a mule. +“Ay, ay,” quoth Ridley, “I brought him, though +he vowed at first it might never be, but when he heard it +concerned you, mistress—I mean Dame Grisell—he was +ready to come to your aid.”</p> +<p>Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher’s +dress and little frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in +the dark old hall.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though +inferior enough to be under her orders. “Ha! Is +that your Poticary?” she demanded, when Grisell brought him +up to the solar. “Look at my bairn, Master Dutchman; +see to healing him,” she continued imperiously.</p> +<p>Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed +her manner, though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more +civilised than this North Country dame. He looked anxiously +at Bernard, who moaned a little and turned his head away. +“Nay, now, Bernard,” entreated his sister; +“look up at the good man, he that sent you the +sugar-balls. He is come to try to make you well.”</p> +<p>Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand +to the leech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the +stranger, who felt his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for +better examination. There was at first a dismal little +whine at being touched and moved, but when a pleasantly acid drop +was put into his little parched mouth, he smiled with brief +content. His mother evidently expected that both he and she +herself would be relieved on the spot, but the Apothecary durst +not be hopeful, though he gave the child a draught which he +called a febrifuge, and which put him to sleep, and bade the lady +take another of the like if she wished for a good night’s +rest.</p> +<p>He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage +to Lindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from +the foul, close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil +odours of the court. To the lady he thought it would really +be healing, but he doubted whether the poor little boy was not +too far gone for such revival; indeed, he made no secret that he +believed the child was stricken for death.</p> +<p>“Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!” +cried the mother passionately. “You outlandish cheat! +you! What did you come here for? You have not even +let him blood!”</p> +<p>“Let him blood! good madame,” exclaimed Master +Lambert. “In his state, to take away his blood would +be to kill him outright!”</p> +<p>“False fool and pretender,” cried Lady Whitburn; +“as if all did not ken that the first duty of a leech is to +take away the infected humours of the blood! Demented as I +was to send for you. Had you been worth but a pinch of +salt, you would have shown me how to lay hands on Nan the +witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my poor +bairn.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the +skill of a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as +having come on false pretences, and at her daughter for having +brought him, and finally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, +during which Grisell was thankful to convey her guest out of the +chamber, and place him under the care of Ridley, who would take +care he had food and rest, and safe convoy back to Wearmouth when +his mule had been rested and baited.</p> +<p>“Oh, Master Lambert,” she said, “it grieves +me that you should have been thus treated.”</p> +<p>“Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our +share to brook the like, and I fear me that yours is a weary +lot.”</p> +<p>“But my brother! my little brother!” she +asked. “It is all out of my mother’s love for +him.”</p> +<p>“Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, +and little enough is there of peace or joy in this world for +such, be he high or low born. Were it not better that the +Saints should take him to their keeping, while yet a sackless +babe?”</p> +<p>Grisell wrung her hands together. “Ah! he hath +been all my joy or bliss through these years; but I will strive +to say it is well, and yield my will.”</p> +<p>The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called +her back before she could say or hear more. Her mother lay +still utterly exhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but +all that evening, and all the ensuing night, Grisell held the +boy, sometimes on her lap, sometimes on the bed, while all the +time his moans grew more and more feeble, his words more +indistinct. By and by, as she sat on the bed, holding him +on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, outwearied as she +was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, till she was +roused by a cry from Thora, “Holy St. Hilda! the bairn has +passed!”</p> +<p>And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that +had been clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a +strange cold at her breast.</p> +<p>Her mother woke with a loud wail. “My bairn! +My bairn!” snatching him to her arms. “This is +none other than your Dutchman’s doings, girl. Have +him to the dungeon! Where are the stocks? Oh, my +pretty boy! He breathed, he is living. Give me the +wine!” Then as there was no opening of the pale lips, +she fell into another tempest of tears, during which Grisell +rushed to the stair, where on the lowest step she met Lambert and +Ridley.</p> +<p>“Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert,” +she cried. “Out of the castle instantly. My +mother is distraught with grief; I know not what she may do to +him. O go! Not a word!”</p> +<p>They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and +leaving the castle to its sorrow.</p> +<p>So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault +in the church, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her +mother, after her burst of passion subsided, lay still and +listless, hardly noticing anything, as if there had fallen on her +some stroke that affected her brain. Tidings of the Baron +were slow to come, and though Grisell sent a letter by a +wandering friar to York, with information of the child’s +death and the mother’s illness, it was very doubtful when +or whether they would ever reach him.</p> +<h2><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>CHAPTER XV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WAKEFIELD BRIDGE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>I come to tell you things since then befallen.<br +/> +After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,<br /> +Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, <i>King Henry VI.</i>, Part +III.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Christmas</span> went by sadly in Whitburn +Tower, but the succeeding weeks were to be sadder still. It +was on a long dark evening that a commotion was heard at the +gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had been sitting by the smouldering +fire in her chamber, seemed suddenly startled into life.</p> +<p>“Tidings,” she cried. “News of my lord +and son. Bring them, Grisell, bring them up.”</p> +<p>Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the +household, men and maids, were gathered round some one freshly +come in, and the first sound she heard was, “Alack! +Alack, my lady!”</p> +<p>“How—what—how—” she asked +breathlessly, just recognising Harry Featherstone, pale, dusty, +blood-stained.</p> +<p>“It is evil news, dear lady,” said old Ridley, +turning towards her with outstretched hands, and tears flowing +down his cheeks. “My knight. Oh! my +knight! And I was not by!”</p> +<p>“Slain?” almost under her breath, asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“Even so! At Wakefield Bridge,” began +Featherstone, but at that instant, walking stiff, upright, and +rigid, like a figure moved by mechanism, Lady Whitburn was among +them.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, still as if her voice +belonged to some one else. “Slain? And thou, +recreant, here to tell the tale!”</p> +<p>“Madam, he fell before I had time to +strike.” She seemed to hear no word, but again +demanded, “My son.”</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated.</p> +<p>“My son! Speak out, thou coward loon.”</p> +<p>“Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside +the Earl of Rutland. ’Tis a lost field! I +barely ’scaped with a dozen men. I came but to bear +the tidings, and see whether you needed an arm to hold out the +castle for young Bernard. Or I would be on my way to my own +folk on the Border, for the Queen’s men will anon be +everywhere, since the Duke is slain!”</p> +<p>“The Duke! The Duke of York!” was the cry, +as if a tower were down.</p> +<p>“What would you. We were caught by Somerset like +deer in a buck-stall. Here! Give me a cup of ale, I +can scarce speak for chill.”</p> +<p>He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale +was brought by some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a +sign from Ridley, one of the serving-men began to draw off his +heavy boots and greaves, covered with frosted mud, snow, and +blood, all melting together, but all the time he talked, and the +hearers remained stunned and listening to what had hardly yet +penetrated their understanding. Lady Whitburn had collapsed +into her own chair, and was as still as the rest.</p> +<p>He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a +question, but his fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded.</p> +<p>All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry +was in the power of the White Rose, and had actually consented +that Richard of York should be his next heir, but in the meantime +Queen Margaret had been striving her utmost to raise the Welsh +and the Border lords on behalf of her son. She had obtained +aid from Scotland, and the Percies, the Dacres of Gilsland, and +many more, had followed her standard. The Duke of York and +Earl of Salisbury set forth to repress what they called a riot, +probably unaware of the numbers who were daily joining the +Queen. With them went Lord Whitburn, hoping thence to +return home, and his son Robert, still a squire of the +Duke’s household.</p> +<p>They reached York’s castle of Sendal, and there merrily +kept Christmas, but on St. Thomas of Canterbury’s Day they +heard that the foe were close at hand, many thousands strong, and +on the morrow Queen Margaret, with her boy beside her, and the +Duke of Somerset, came before the gate and called on the Duke to +surrender the castle, and his own vaunting claims with it, or +else come out and fight.</p> +<p>Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till +his son Edward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from +Wales, but York held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on +account of a scolding woman, and the prudence of the Earl of +Salisbury was at fault, since both presumed on the easy victories +they had hitherto gained. Therefore they sallied out +towards Wakefield Bridge, to confront the main body of +Margaret’s army, ignorant or careless that she had two +wings in reserve. These closed in on them, and their fate +was certain.</p> +<p>“My lord fell in the melée among the +first,” said Featherstone. “I was down beside +him, trying to lift him up, when a big Scot came with his bill +and struck at my head, and I knew no more till I found my master +lying stark dead and stripped of all his armour. My sword +was gone, but I got off save for this cut” (and he pushed +back his hair) “and a horse’s kick or two, for the +whole battle had gone over me, and I heard the shouting far +away. As my lord lay past help, methought I had best shift +myself ere more rascaille came to strip the slain. And as +luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbled among the +corpses I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown +Weardale, running masterless. Glad enough was he, poor +brute, to have my hand on his rein.</p> +<p>“The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about +to put him to the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but +young Master Robin, and with him young Lord Edmund of +Rutland. There, on the other side, holding parley with +them, was the knight Mistress Grisell wedded, and though he wore +the White Rose, he gave his hand to them, and was letting them go +by in safety. I was calling to Master Rob to let me pass as +one of his own, when thundering on came the grim Lord Clifford, +roaring like the wind in Roker caves. I heard him howl at +young Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed spoilers of +York. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed him +aside against the wall, and, ah! woe’s me, lady, when +Master Robin threw himself between, the fellow—a murrain on +his name—ran the fair youth through the neck with his +sword, and swept him off into the river. Then he caught +hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, “Thy father slew mine, and +so do I thee,” and dashed out his brains with his +mace. For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over the +river in the twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead +horses and poor slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, +and what was even worse, some not yet dead, borne along and +crying out. A woful day it was to all who loved the kindly +Duke of York, or this same poor house! As luck would have +it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale and a few more honest +fellows, who had ’scaped. We found none but friends +when we were well past the river. They succoured us at the +first abbey we came to. The rest have sped to their homes, +and here am I.”</p> +<p>Such was the tenor of Featherstone’s doleful history of +that blood-thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in +dire suspense on his words, and not till they were ended did +Grisell become conscious that her mother was sitting like a +stone, with fixed, glassy eyes and dropped lip, in the +high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathing strangely.</p> +<p>They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had +received her death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on +the slopes between Sendal and Wakefield.</p> +<p>Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, +and they watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as +they tried their simple, ineffective remedies one after another, +with no thought or possibility of sending for further help, since +the roads would be impassable in the long January night, and +besides, the Lancastrians might make them doubly perilous. +Moreover, this dumb paralysis was accepted as past cure, and +needing not the doctor but the priest. Before the first +streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, Ridley’s +ponderous step came up the stair, into the feeble light of the +rush candle which the watchers tried to shelter from the +draughts.</p> +<p>The sad question and answer of “No change” passed, +and then Ridley, his gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, +“Featherstone would speak with you, lady. He would +know whether it be your pleasure to keep him in your service to +hold out the Tower, or whether he is free to depart.”</p> +<p>“Mine!” said Grisell bewildered.</p> +<p>“Yea!” exclaimed Ridley. “You are Lady +of Whitburn!”</p> +<p>“Ah! It is true,” exclaimed Grisell, +clasping her hands. “Woe is me that it should be +so! And oh! Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, is a +Queen’s man! What can I do?”</p> +<p>“If it were of any boot I would say hold out the +Tower. He deserves no better after the scurvy way he +treated you,” said Cuthbert grimly. “He may be +dead, too, though Harry fears he was but stunned.”</p> +<p>“But oh!” cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam +of light, “did not I hear something of his trying to save +my brother and Lord Edmund?”</p> +<p>“You had best come down and hear,” said +Ridley. “Featherstone cannot go till he has spoken +with you, and he ought to depart betimes, lest the Gilsland folk +and all the rest of them be ravening on their way +back.”</p> +<p>Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, +entirely past her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had +seemed to have no affection to bestow on her daughter, had been +entirely broken down and crushed by the loss of her sons and +husband.</p> +<p>Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on young +Copeland they might be giving their Tower to their enemy.</p> +<p>She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose +night had done him more good than hers had, came to meet her, +looking much freshened, and with a bandage over his +forehead. He bent low before her, and offered her his +services, but, as he told her, he and Ridley had been talking it +over, and they thought it vain to try to hold out the Tower, even +if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, for the +country round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would be scarcely +possible to get provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, +the Gilsland branch of the family, who would be the male heirs, +were on the side of the King and Queen, and might drive her out +if she resisted. Thus there seemed no occasion for the +squire to remain, and he hoped to reach his own family, and save +himself from the risk of being captured.</p> +<p>“No, sir, we do not need you,” said Grisell. +“If Sir Leonard Copeland lives and claims this Tower, there +is no choice save to yield it to him. I would not delay you +in seeking your own safety, but only thank you for your true +service to my lord and father.”</p> +<p>She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his +knee.</p> +<p>His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his +way more safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in +this war, the poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were +chiefly made on nobles and gentlemen. So he prepared to set +forth, but Grisell obtained from him what she had scarcely +understood the night before, the entire history of the fall of +her father and brother, and how gallantly Leonard Copeland had +tried to withstand Clifford’s rage.</p> +<p>“He did his best for them,” she said, as if it +were her one drop of hope and comfort.</p> +<p>Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford’s blow had +freed her from her reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage +would give her claims on the Copeland property. But Grisell +somehow could not join in the wish. She could only remember +the merry boy at Amesbury and the fair face she had seen sleeping +in the hall, and she dwelt on Featherstone’s assurance that +no wound had pierced the knight, and that he would probably be +little the worse for his fall against the parapet of the +bridge. Use her as he might, she could not wish him dead, +though it was a worthy death in defence of his old playfellow and +of her own brother.</p> +<h2><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A NEW MASTER</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>In the dark chambère, if the bride was +fair,<br /> + Ye wis, I could not see.<br /> + . . . .<br /> + And the bride rose from her knee<br /> +And kissed the smile of her mother dead.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">E. B. <span +class="smcap">Browning</span>, <i>The Romaunt of the +Page</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Lady of Whitburn lingered from +day to day, sometimes showing signs of consciousness, and of +knowing her daughter, but never really reviving. At the end +of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhat better, but that +night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidently dying that the +priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the last +Sacrament. The passing bell rang out from the church, and +the old man, with his little server before him, came up the +stair, and was received by Grisell, Thora, and one or two other +servants on their knees.</p> +<p>Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest +was crossing the hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight +at their head, rode to the gate and demanded entrance.</p> +<p>The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, +instead of escorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, +had to go to the gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, +far from dead, in very different guise from that in which he had +been brought to the castle before. He looked, however, +awed, as he said, bending his head—</p> +<p>“Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand +with me?”</p> +<p>“My old lady is <i>in extremis</i>, sir,” replied +Ridley. “Poor soul, she hath never spoken since she +heard of my lord’s death and his son’s.”</p> +<p>“The younger lad? Lives here?” demanded +Copeland. “Is it as I have heard?”</p> +<p>“Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. +Luke. I have my lady’s orders,” he added +reluctantly, “to open the castle to you, as of +right.”</p> +<p>“It is well,” returned Sir Leonard. Then, +turning round to the twenty men who followed him, he said, +“Men-at-arms, as you saw and heard, there is death +here. Draw up here in silence. This good esquire will +see that you have food and fodder for the horses. Kemp, +Hardcastle,” to his squires, “see that all is done +with honour and respect as to the lady of the castle and +mine. Aught unseemly shall be punished.”</p> +<p>Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, +looking about him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but +speaking with low, grave tones.</p> +<p>“I may not tarry,” he said to Ridley, “but +this place, since it falls to me and mine, must be held for the +King and Queen.”</p> +<p>“My lady bows to your will, sir,” returned +Ridley.</p> +<p>Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated +defences, observing that there could have been few alarms +there. This lasted till the rites in the sick-room were +ended, and the priest came forth.</p> +<p>“Sir,” he said to Copeland, “you will pardon +the young lady. Her mother is <i>in articulo mortis</i>, +and she cannot leave her.”</p> +<p>“I would not disturb her,” said Leonard. +“The Saints forbid that I should vex her. I come but +as in duty bound to damn this Tower on behalf of King Harry, +Queen Margaret, and the Prince of Wales against all +traitors. I will not tarry here longer than to put it into +hands who will hold it for them and for me. How say you, +Sir Squire?” he added, turning to Ridley, not +discourteously.</p> +<p>“We ever did hold for King Harry, sir,” returned +the old esquire.</p> +<p>“Yea, but against his true friends, York and +Warwick. One is cut off, ay, and his aider and defender, +Salisbury, who should rather have stood by his King, has suffered +a traitor’s end at Pomfret.”</p> +<p>“My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my +poor young lady,” sighed Ridley.</p> +<p>“He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the +King,” said Leonard. “We of his household long +ago were happy enough, though strangely divided now. For +the rest, till that young wolf cub, Edward of March, and his +mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be put down, this place must +be held against them and theirs—whosoever bears the White +Rose. Wilt do so, Master Seneschal?”</p> +<p>“I hold for my lady. That is all I know,” +said Ridley, “and she holds herself bound to you, +sir.”</p> +<p>“Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I +see; but I must leave half a score of fellows for the defence, +and will charge them that they show all respect and honour to the +lady, and leave to you, as seneschal, all the household, and of +all save the wardship of the Tower, calling on you first to make +oath of faith to me, and to do nought to the prejudice of King +Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor to favour the friends of York or +Warwick.”</p> +<p>“I am willing, sir,” returned Ridley, who cared a +great deal more for the house of Whitburn than for either party, +whose cause he by no means understood, perhaps no more than they +had hitherto done themselves. As long as he was left to +protect his lady it was all he asked, and more than he expected, +and the courtesy, not to say delicacy, of the young knight +greatly impressed both him and the priest, though he suspected +that it was a relief to Sir Leonard not to be obliged to see his +bride of a few months.</p> +<p>The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would +rather have seen them more of the North Country yeoman type than +of the regular weather-beaten men-at-arms whom wars always bred +up; but their officer was a slender, dainty-looking, pale young +squire, with his arm in a sling, named Pierce Hardcastle, +selected apparently because his wound rendered rest +desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his charge that all +honour and respect was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, and +that she was free to come and go as she chose, and to be obeyed +in every respect, save in what regarded the defence of the +Tower. He himself was going on to Monks Wearmouth, where he +had a kinsman among the monks.</p> +<p>With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to +Ridley, “Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am +grieved for her sorrow and to be compelled to trouble her at such +a time; but ’tis for my Queen’s service, and when +this troublous times be ended, she shall hear more from +me.” Turning to the priest he added, “I have no +coin to spare, but let all be done that is needed for the souls +of the departed lord and lady, and I will be +answerable.”</p> +<p>Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and +squire looked at one another, and Ridley said, “He will +untie your knot, Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>“He takes kindly to castle and lands,” was the +answer, with a smile; “they may make the lady to be +swallowed.”</p> +<p>“I trow ’tis for his cause’s sake,” +replied Ridley. “Mark you, he never once said +‘My lady,’ nor ‘My wife.’”</p> +<p>“May the sweet lady come safely out of it any +way,” sighed the priest. “She would fain give +herself and her lands to the Church.”</p> +<p>“May be ’tis the best that is like to befall +her,” said Ridley; “but if that young featherpate +only had the wit to guess it, he would find that he might seek +Christendom over for a better wife.”</p> +<p>They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to +say that my lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to +the bedside.</p> +<p>All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, and +Grisell was left alone in her desolation. The only real, +deep, mutual love had been between her and poor little Bernard; +her elder brother she had barely seen; her father had been +indifferent, chiefly regarding her as a damaged piece of +property, a burthen to the estate; her mother had been a hard, +masculine, untender woman, only softened in her latter days by +the dependence of ill health and her passion for her sickly +youngest; but on her Grisell had experienced Sister Avice’s +lesson that ministry to others begets and fosters love.</p> +<p>And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her +work for her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except +so far as that the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home +by a hostile garrison. Her spirit sank within her, and she +bitterly felt the impoverishment of the always scanty means, +which deprived her of the power of laying out sums of money on +those rites which were universally deemed needful for the repose +of souls snatched away in battle. It was a mercenary age +among the clergy, and besides, it was the depth of a northern +winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady of Whitburn would have +been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band of black Benedictine +monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying they had been +despatched at special request and charge of Sir Leonard +Copeland.</p> +<h2><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">STRANGE GUESTS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>The needle, having nought to do,<br /> + Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle,<br /> +Till closer still the tempter drew,<br /> + And off at length eloped the needle.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">T. <span +class="smcap">Moore</span>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> nine days of mourning were +spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, who went through every +round of devotions prescribed or recommended by the Church, and +felt relief and rest in them. She shrank when Ridley on the +tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in the solar, +but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of the +Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct of +Copeland’s men.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle desires it too,” he said. +“He is a good lad enough, but I doubt me whether his hand +is strong enough over those fellows! You need not look for +aught save courtesy from him! Come down, lady, or you will +never have your rights.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?”</p> +<p>“To be mistress of your own castle,” returned +Ridley, “and that you will never be unless you take the +upper hand. Here are all our household eating with these +rogues of Copeland’s, and who is to keep rule if the lady +comes not?”</p> +<p>“Alack, and how am I to do so?”</p> +<p>However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very +early dinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the +return from mass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He +was a tall slender stripling, looking weak and ill, and he bowed +very low as he said, “Greet you well, lady,” and +looked up for a moment as if in fear of what he might +encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with long watching +and grief, and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance all her +scars and distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than her +wont. She saw him shudder a little, but his lame arm and +wan looks interested her kind heart. “I fear me you +are still feeling your wound, sir,” she said, in the sweet +voice which was evidently a surprise to him.</p> +<p>“It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this +morning,” he answered.</p> +<p>They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and +Hardcastle, the servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge +and broth and very small ale were the fare, and salted meat would +be for supper, and as Grisell knew but too well already, her own +retainers were grumbling at the voracious appetites of the +men-at-arms as much as did their unwilling guests at the +plainness and niggardliness of the supply.</p> +<p>Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or +even to broach a cask of wine. “For,” said she, +“they are none such fiends as we thought, if one knows how +to take them courteously.”</p> +<p>“There is no need that you should have any dealings with +them, Thora,” said her lady, with some displeasure; +“Master Ridley sees to their provision.”</p> +<p>Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about +not being mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And +when she attended her lady to the hall there certainly were +glances between her and a slim young archer.</p> +<p>The lady’s presence was certainly a restraint on the +rude men-at-arms, though two or three of them seemed to her +rough, reckless-looking men. After the meal all her kindly +instincts were aroused to ask what she could do for the young +squire, and he willingly put himself into her hands, for his hurt +had become much more painful within the last day or two, as +indeed it proved to be festering, and in great need of +treatment.</p> +<p>Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell +had found him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence +of the Queen had snatched from his studies into the +battlefield. He told her a great deal about the good King, +and his encouragement of his beloved scholars at Eton, and he +spoke of Queen Margaret with an enthusiasm new to Grisell, who +had only heard her reviled as the Frenchwoman. Pierce could +speak with the greatest admiration, too, of his own knight, Sir +Leonard, whom he viewed as the pink of chivalry, assuring Lady +Copeland, as he called her, that she need never doubt for a +moment of his true honour and courtesy. Grisell longed to +know, but modest pride forbade her to ask, whether he knew how +matters stood with her rival, Lady Eleanor Audley. Ridley, +however, had no such feeling, and he reported to Grisell what he +had discovered.</p> +<p>Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought +her very beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry +was riding to his Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a +squire, was standing beside her, and it had been currently +reported that he was to be her bridegroom.</p> +<p>He had returned from his captivity after the battle of +Northampton exceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the +cause of Lancaster, and Hardcastle had heard that the question +had been discussed whether the forced marriage had been valid, or +could be dissolved; but since the bodies of Lord Whitburn and his +son had been found on the ground at Wakefield, this had ceased, +and it was believed that Queen Margaret had commanded Sir +Leonard, on his allegiance, to go and take possession of Whitburn +and its vassals in her cause.</p> +<p>But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley’s opinion, that +did his knight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a +mate as man could wish both in word and deed.</p> +<p>“I would fain,” said he, “have the Lady +Eleanor to look at, but this lady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk +with me. Never met I woman who was so good company! +She might almost be a scholar at Oxford for her wit.”</p> +<p>However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of +Master Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her +hand-maiden Thora exchanged glances with the young men-at-arms; +and in a few days Ridley spoke to Grisell, and assured her that +mischief would ensue if the silly wench were not checked in her +habit of loitering and chattering whenever she could escape from +her lady’s presence in the solar, which Grisell used as her +bower, only descending to the hall at meal-times.</p> +<p>Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed +unreasonably over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered +something about young Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy +pitcher up the stair.</p> +<p>“It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from +strange soldiers,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding +converse with their captain,” retorted the North Country +hand-maiden, free of speech and with a toss of the head.</p> +<p>“Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet,” said +Grisell, clenching a fist unused to striking, and trying to +regard chastisement as a duty. “You know full well +that my only speech with Master Hardcastle is as his +hostess.”</p> +<p>Thora laughed. “Ay, lady; I ken well what the men +say. How that poor youth is spell-bound, and that you are +casting your glamour over him as of old over my poor old lady and +little Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!” and +Grisell’s hand actually descended on her maiden’s +face, but so slight was the force that it only caused a +contemptuous laugh, which so angered the young mistress as to +give her energy to strike again with all her might.</p> +<p>“And you’d beat me,” observed her victim, +roused to anger. “You are so ill favoured yourself +that you cannot bear a man to look on a fair maid!”</p> +<p>“What insolence is this?” cried Grisell, utterly +amazed. “Go into the turret room, spin out this hank, +and stay there till I call you to supper. Say your Ave, and +recollect what beseems a modest maiden.”</p> +<p>She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and +withdrew still pouting and grumbling.</p> +<p>Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew +not that her wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, +while sympathy might have evoked wholesome confidence.</p> +<p>For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, was +attractive enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison +with nothing to do, and on her side their notice, their rough +compliments, and even their jests, were delightful compared with +the dulness of her mistress’s mourning chamber, and court +enough was paid to her completely to turn her head. If +there were love and gratitude lurking in the bottom of her heart +towards the lady who had made a fair and skilful maiden out of +the wild fisher girl, all was smothered in the first strong +impulse of love for this young Ralph Hart, the first to awaken +the woman out of the child.</p> +<p>The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in +all times, placed in the course of this true love, did but serve +to alienate the girl and place her in opposition. The +creature had grown up as wild and untamed as one of the seals on +the shore, and though she had had a little training and teaching +of late years, it was entirely powerless when once the passion +was evoked in her by the new intercourse and rough compliments of +the young archer, and she was for the time at his beck and call, +regarding her lady as her tyrant and enemy. It was the old +story of many a household.</p> +<h2><a name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +185</span>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">WITCHERY</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>The lady has gone to her secret bower,<br /> +The bower that was guarded by word and by spell.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>, +<i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Master Squire</span>,” said +the principal man-at-arms of the garrison to Pierce Hardcastle, +“is it known to you what this laidly dame’s practices +be?”</p> +<p>“I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and +esteem,” returned the esquire, turning hastily round in +wrath. He much disliked this man, a regular mercenary of +the free lance description, a fellow of French or Alsatian birth, +of middle age, much strength, and on account of a great gash and +sideways twist of his snub nose always known as Tordu, and +strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort of spy or +check on Sir Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man +replied with a growl:</p> +<p>“Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem +dainty cakes to those under her art.”</p> +<p>In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the Lady +Castellane’s society, the great improvement in his wound +under her treatment, and the manner in which the serfs around +came to ask her aid in their maladies, had excited the suspicion +of the men-at-arms. They were older men, hardened and +roughened, inclined to despise his youth, and to resent the +orderly discipline of the household, which under Ridley went on +as before, and the murmurs of Thora led to inquiries, answered +after the exaggerated fashion of gossip.</p> +<p>There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and +shouts demanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not +have the lady insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He +was about to order Tordu as ringleader into custody, but Ridley +said to him aside, “Best not, sir; his fellows will not lay +a finger on him, and if we did so, there would be a brawl, and we +might come by the worst.”</p> +<p>So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, +“Bear in mind that Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and +all miscourtesy to his lady is an offence to himself, which will +be visited with his wrath.”</p> +<p>The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, +“Ay, ay, sir; she has bewitched you, and we’ll soon +have him and you free.”</p> +<p>Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but +the other men came between, and Ridley held him back.</p> +<p>“You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled +would be worse than to let it pass.”</p> +<p>“There, fellow, I’ll spare you, so you ask pardon +of me and the lady.”</p> +<p>Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a +sulky growl that might pass for an apology, and Ridley’s +counsel was decided that Pierce had better not pursue the +matter.</p> +<p>What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the +watch, and the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along +the cliffs beyond the castle, the lad who acted as his page came +to him, with round, wondering eyes, “Sir,” said he, +after a little hesitation, “is it sooth that the lady spake +a spell over your arm?”</p> +<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said Pierce smiling.</p> +<p>“It might be without your knowledge,” said the +boy. “They say it healed as no chirurgeon could have +healed it, and by magic arts.”</p> +<p>“Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to +believe them, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but ’tis her bower-woman and Madge, the +cook’s wife. Both aver that the lady hath bewitched +whoever comes in her way ever since she crossed the door. +She hath wrought strange things with her father, mother, and +brothers. They say she bound them to her; that the little +one could not brook to have her out of sight; yet she worked on +him so that he was crooked and shrivelled. Yet he wept and +cried to have her ever with him, while he peaked and pined and +dwindled away. And her mother, who was once a fine, +stately, masterful dame, pined to mere skin and bone, and lay in +lethargy; and now she is winding her charms on you, +sir!”</p> +<p>Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. +Dick lowered his voice to a whisper of awe.</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose +to ride over to Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her +when he has found the witch’s mark.”</p> +<p>“The lady!” cried Hardcastle in horror. +“You see her what she is! A holy woman if ever there +was one! At mass each morning.”</p> +<p>“Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that ’tis +prayers backward she says there. Thora has oft heard her at +night, and ’twas no Ave nor Credo as they say them +here.”</p> +<p>Pierce burst out laughing. “I should think +not. They speak gibberish, and she, for I have heard her in +Church, speaks words with a meaning, as her priest and nuns +taught her.”</p> +<p>“But her face, sir. There’s the Evil +One’s mark. One side says nay to the +other.”</p> +<p>“The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than +Sir Leonard himself. ’Twas he that all unwittingly, +when a boy, fired a barrel of powder close to her and marred her +countenance. You are not fool and ass enough to give +credence to these tales.”</p> +<p>“I said not that I did, sir,” replied the page; +“but it is what the men-at-arms swear to, having drawn it +from the serving-maid.”</p> +<p>“The adder,” muttered Pierce.</p> +<p>“Moreover,” continued the boy, “they have +found out that there is a wise man witch-finder at Shields. +They mean to be revenged for the scanty fare and mean providings; +and they deem it will be a merry jest in this weary hold, and +that Sir Leonard will be too glad to be quit of his gruesome dame +to call them to account.”</p> +<p>It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence +to restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know +where his knight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was +only too likely that these terrible intentions might be carried +out before any messenger could reach him. Indeed, the +belief in sorcery was universal, and no rank was exempt from the +danger of the accusation. Thora’s treachery was +specially perilous. All that the young man could do was to +seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he was obliged +to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. +Ridley too had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed +too preposterous for him to attend to it. “You are +young, Hardcastle,” he said, with a smile, “or you +would know that there is nothing a grumbler will not say, nor how +far men’s tongues lie from their hands.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but if their hands <i>did</i> begin to act, how +should we save the lady? There’s nothing Tordu would +not do. Could we get her away to some nunnery?”</p> +<p>“There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and +there the Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She +might give her up, on such a charge, for holy Church is no +guardian in them. My poor bairn! That ingrate Thora +too! I would fain wring her neck! Yet here are our +fisher folk, who love her for her bounty.”</p> +<p>“Would they hide her?” asked Pierce.</p> +<p>“That serving-wench—would I had drowned her ere +bringing her here—might turn them, and, were she tracked, I +ken not who might not be scared or tortured into giving her +up!”</p> +<p>Here Dick looked in. “Tordu is crossing the +yard,” he said.</p> +<p>They both became immediately absorbed in studying the +condition of Featherstone’s horse, which had never wholly +recovered the flight from Wakefield.</p> +<p>After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell +in her apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, +incredulous alarm, in her face. She put her hands in +his. “Is it sooth?” she said, in a strange, +awe-stricken voice.</p> +<p>“You have heard, then, my wench?”</p> +<p>“Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were +brewing against me. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir +Lucas, and the rest would never let them touch me?”</p> +<p>“They should only do so through my heart’s blood, +dear child; but mine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a +weakly lad, whom those fellows believe to be bewitched. We +must find some other way!”</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the +good Earl of Salisbury is dead.”</p> +<p>“’Tis true. If we could hide you till we be +rid of these men. But where?” and he made a +despairing gesture.</p> +<p>Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose +before her of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the +savage hands of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by +fire, or at best by water. She pressed her hands together, +feeling utterly desolate, and prayed her prayer to the God of the +fatherless to save her or brace her to endure.</p> +<p>Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, “Would Master Groats, the +Poticary, shelter you till this is over-past? His wife is +deaf and must perforce keep counsel.”</p> +<p>“He would! I verily believe he would,” +exclaimed Grisell; “and no suspicion would light on +him. How soon can I go to him, and how?”</p> +<p>“If it may be, this very night,” said +Ridley. “I missed two of the rogues, and who knows +whither they may have gone?”</p> +<p>“Will there be time?” said the poor girl, looking +round in terror.</p> +<p>“Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, +and they cannot get there and back under two days. Have you +jewels, lady? And hark you, trust not to Thora. She +is the worst traitor of all. Ask me no more, but be ready +to come down when you hear a whistle.”</p> +<p>That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her—the +girl whom she had taught, trained, and civilised—was too +much to believe. She would almost, in spite of cautions, +have asked her if it were possible, and tried to explain the true +character of the services that were so cruelly misinterpreted; +but as she descended the dark winding stair to supper, she heard +the following colloquy:</p> +<p>“You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear +Ralph?”</p> +<p>“That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a +word to her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no +evil.”</p> +<p>“What! Going back on what thou saidst of her +brother and her mother. Take thou heed, or they will take +order with thee.”</p> +<p>“Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! +I have done it for thee.”</p> +<p>“Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little +mouth;” and there was a sound of kissing.</p> +<p>“What will they do to her?” in a lower voice.</p> +<p>“Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. +Ha! ha! She will have enough of the draught that is so free +to us.”</p> +<p>Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean +against the wall hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud +enough to betray her, till a call from the hall put an end to the +terrible whispers.</p> +<p>She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how +near she had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, +trying to converse with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror +the absence of the two soldiers.</p> +<p>How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The +castle keys were never delivered to her, but always to +Hardcastle, and she saw him take them; but she received from +Ridley a look and sign which meant that she was to be ready, and +when she left the hall she made up a bundle of needments, and in +it her precious books and all the jewels she had inherited. +That Thora did not follow her was a boon.</p> +<h2><a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +195</span>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A MARCH HARE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Yonder is a man in sight—<br /> +Yonder is a house—but where?<br /> +No, she must not enter there.<br /> +To the caves, and to the brooks,<br /> +To the clouds of heaven she looks.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>, <i>Feast of Brougham +Castle</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Long</span>, long did Grisell kneel in an +agony of prayer and terror, as she seemed already to feel savage +hands putting her to the ordeal.</p> +<p>The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, +when there was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang +to the door and held Ridley’s hand.</p> +<p>“Now is the time,” he said, under his breath; +“the squire waits. That treacherous little baggage is +safe locked into the cellar, whither I lured her to find some +malvoisie for the rascaille crew. Come.”</p> +<p>He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the +narrow passage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle +with the keys. He let them out and crossed the court with +them to the little door leading to a steep descent of the cliffs +by a narrow path. Not till the sands were reached did any +of the three dare to speak, and then Grisell held out her hands +in thanks and farewell.</p> +<p>“May I not guard you on your way, lady?” said +Pierce.</p> +<p>“Best not, sir,” returned Ridley; “best not +know whither she is gone. I shall be back again before I am +missed or your rogues are stirring.”</p> +<p>“When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady,” +said Pierce, “then will Ridley tell him where to find you +and bring you back in all honour.”</p> +<p>Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the +young man, who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley +as the waning moon lighted them over the glistening sands, till +they sought the friendly shadows of the cliffs. And thus +Grisell Dacre parted from the home of her fathers.</p> +<p>“Cuthbert,” she said, “should you see Sir +Leonard, let him know that if—if he would be free from any +bond to me I will aid in breaking it, and ask only dowry enough +to obtain entrance to a convent, while he weds the lady he +loves.”</p> +<p>Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, and +exhortations to her to hold her own, and not abandon her +rights. “If he keep the lands, he should keep the +wife,” was his cry.</p> +<p>“His word and heart—” began Grisell.</p> +<p>“Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed +on some one else. You do not want to be quit of him and be +mewed in a nunnery.”</p> +<p>“I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his +life.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get +over the first glance and you are worth the fairest dame that +ever was jousted for in the lists. Send him at least a +message as though it were not your will to cast him +off.”</p> +<p>“If you will have it so, then,” said Grisell, +“tell him that if it be his desire, I will strive to make +him a true, loyal, and loving wife.”</p> +<p>The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little +inward chuckle, as of one who suspected that the duties of the +good and loving wife would not be unwillingly undertaken.</p> +<p>Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and +though the distance was only two miles, it was a good deal for +Grisell, and she plodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of +the sea and the cries of the gulls. The caverns of the rock +looked very black and gloomy, and she clung to Ridley, almost +expecting something to spring out on her; but all was still, and +the pale eastward light began to be seen over the sea before they +turned away from it to ascend to the scattered houses of the +little rising town.</p> +<p>The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it +was only twilight when they reached the wall of Lambert’s +garden of herbs, where there was a little door that yielded to +Ridley’s push. The house was still closed, and hoar +frost lay on the leaves, but Grisell proposed to hide herself in +the little shed which served the purpose of tool-house and +summer-house till she could make her entrance. She felt +sure of a welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave her, +so as to return to the Tower early enough to avert +suspicion—an easier matter as the men-at-arms were given to +sleeping as late as they could. He would make an errand to +the Apothecary’s as soon as he could, so as to bring +intelligence.</p> +<p>There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while +the blackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet +odours rising from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, +and a morning bell rang from the great monastery church. +With that she saw the house door open, and Master Lambert in a +fur cap and gown turned up with lambs’-wool come out into +the garden, basket in hand, and chirp to the birds to come down +and be fed.</p> +<p>It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, +chaffinch, robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited a +moment to watch them before she stepped forth and said, +“Ah! Master Groot, here is another poor bird to +implore your bounty.”</p> +<p>“Lady Grisell,” he cried, with a start.</p> +<p>“Ah! not that name,” she said; “not a +word. O Master Lambert, I came by night; none have seen me, +none but good Cuthbert Ridley ken where I am. There can be +no peril to you or yours if you will give shelter for a little +while to a poor maid.”</p> +<p>“Dear lady, we will do all we can,” returned +Lambert. “Fear not. How pale you are. You +have walked all night! Come and rest. None will +follow. You are sore spent! Clemence shall bring you +a warm drink! Condescend, dear lady,” and he made her +lean on his arm, and brought her into his large living room, and +placed her in the comfortable cross-legged chair with straps and +cushions as a back, while he went into some back settlement to +inform his wife of her visitor; and presently they brought her +warm water, with some refreshing perfume, in a brass basin, and +he knelt on one knee to hold it to her, while she bathed her face +and hands with a sponge—a rare luxury. She started at +every sound, but Lambert assured her that she was safe, as no one +ever came beyond the booth. His Clemence had no gossips, +and the garden could not be overlooked. While some broth +was heated for her she began to explain her peril, but he +exclaimed, “Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent +that a great strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to +ask me for a charm against gramarie, with hints that ’twas +in high places. ’Twas enough to make one laugh to see +the big lubber try to whisper hints, and shiver and shake, as he +showed me a knot in his matted locks and asked if it were not the +enemy’s tying. I told him ’twas tied by the +enemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, and that a stout Dutchman +ought to be ashamed of himself for carrying such a head within or +without. But I scarce bethought me the impudent Schelm +could have thought of you, lady.”</p> +<p>“Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone +to Shields in search of the witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe +me, and drown me, or burn me,” cried Grisell, clasping her +hands. “Oh! take me somewhere if you cannot safely +hide me; I would not bring trouble on you!”</p> +<p>“You need not fear,” he answered. +“None will enter here but by my goodwill, and I will bar +the garden door lest any idle lad should pry in; but they come +not here. The tortoise who crawls about in the summer fills +them with too much terror for them to venture, and is better than +any watch-dog. Now, let me touch your pulse. +Ah! I would prescribe lying down on the bed and resting for +the day.”</p> +<p>She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where +it was the pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a +guest-chamber, absolutely neat, though very little furnished, and +indeed seldom or never used; but she solicitously stroked the big +bed, and signed to Grisell to lie down in the midst of pillows of +down, above and below, taking off her hood, mantle, and shoes, +and smoothing her down with nods and sweet smiles, so that she +fell sound asleep.</p> +<p>When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down +to the noontide meal. Master Groot was looking much +entertained.</p> +<p>Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch +Whitburn man-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful +story. Not only had the grisly lady vanished, but a +cross-bow man had shot an enormous hare on the moor, a creature +with one ear torn off, and a seam on its face, and Masters +Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured the belief that it was +the sorceress herself without time to change her shape. Did +Mynheer Groot hold with them?</p> +<p>For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at +home, yet in a strange country they held together, and remembered +that they were both Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know +what thought the wise man.</p> +<p>“Depend on it, there was no time for a change,” +gravely said Groot. “Have not Nostradamus, Albertus +Magnus, and Rogerus Bacon” (he was heaping names together +as he saw Hannekin’s big gray eyes grow rounder and +rounder) “all averred that the great Diabolus can give his +minions power to change themselves at will into hares, cats, or +toads to transport themselves to the Sabbath on Walpurgs’ +night?”</p> +<p>“You deem it in sooth,” said the Dutchman, +“for know you that the parish priest swears, and so do the +more part of the villein fisher folk, that there’s no +sorcery in the matter, but that she is a true and holy maid, with +no powers save what the Saints had given her, and that her cures +were by skill. Yet such was scarce like to a mere +Jungvrow.”</p> +<p>It went sorely against Master Lambert’s feelings, as +well as somewhat against his conscience, to encourage the notion +of the death of his guest as a hare, though it ensured her safety +and prevented a search. He replied that her skill certainly +was uncommon in a Jungvrow, beyond nature, no doubt, and if they +were unholy, it was well that the arblaster had made a riddance +of her.</p> +<p>“By the same token,” added Hannekin, “the +elf lock came out of my hair this very morn, I having, as you +bade me, combed it each morn with the horse’s +currycomb.”</p> +<p>Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to +believe. And the next day all Sunderland and the two +Wearmouths believed that the dead hare had shrieked in a human +voice on being thrown on a fire, and had actually shown the hands +and feet of a woman before it was consumed.</p> +<p>It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not +recognised, and of this there was little danger. She was +scarcely known in Wearmouth, and could go to mass at the Abbey +Church in a deep black hood and veil. Master Lambert +sometimes received pilgrims from his own country on their way to +English shrines, and she could easily pass for one of these if +her presence were perceived, but except to mass in very early +morning, she never went beyond the garden, where the spring +beauty was enjoyment to her in the midst of her loneliness and +entire doubt as to her future.</p> +<p>It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, +reminding her of the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty +though undecorated square tower, entered by an archway adorned +with curious twisted snakes with long beaks, stretching over and +under one another.</p> +<p>The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small +windows, casting a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense +of being in the atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton +Abbey. She longed after Sister Avice’s wisdom and +tenderness, and wondered whether her lands would purchase from +her knight, power to return thither with dower enough to satisfy +the demands of the Proctor. It was a hope that seemed like +an inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one was faithful +save Cuthbert Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart above all by +Thora’s defection and cruel accusations, not knowing that +half was owning to the intoxication of love, and the other half +to a gossiping tongue.</p> +<h2><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>CHAPTER XX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Witness Aire’s unhappy water<br /> + Where the ruthless Clifford fell,<br /> +And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter<br /> + On the day of Towton’s field.<br /> +Gathering in its guilty flood<br /> +The carnage and the ill spilt blood<br /> + That forty thousand lives could yield.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Southey</span>, +<i>Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Grisell</span> from the first took her +part in the Apothecary’s household. Occupation was a +boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace with Clemence, +but showed her new patterns learned in old days at Wilton; and +still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the house in +making his compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and +imparting others to him, showing a delicacy of finger which the +old Fleming could not emulate. In the fabrication of +perfumes for the pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared with honey +and sugar, she proved to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, who +would not touch her jewels, declared that she was fully earning +her maintenance by the assistance that she gave to him.</p> +<p>They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war +of battles, not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings +than were wont to reach Whitburn Tower. They knew of the +advance of Edward to London; and the terrible battle of Towton +begun, was fought out while the snow fell far from bloodless, on +Palm Sunday; and while the choir boys had been singing their +<i>Gloria</i>, <i>laus et honor</i> in the gallery over the +church door, shivering a little at the untimely blast, there had +been grim and awful work, when for miles around the Wharfe and +Aire the snow lay mixed with blood. That the Yorkists had +gained was known, and that the Queen and Prince had fled; but +nothing was heard of the fate of individuals, and Master Lambert +was much occupied with tidings from Bruges, whence information +came, in a messenger sent by a notary that his uncle, an old +miser, whose harsh displeasure at his marriage had driven him +forth, was just dead, leaving him heir to a fairly prosperous +business and a house in the city.</p> +<p>To return thither was of course Lambert’s intention as +soon as he could dispose of his English property. He +entreated Grisell to accompany him and Clemence, assuming her +that at the chief city of so great a prince as Duke Philip of +Burgundy, she would have a better hope of hearing tidings of her +husband than in a remote town like Sunderland; and that if she +still wished to dispose of her jewels she would have a far better +chance of so doing. He was arguing the point with her, when +there was a voice in the stall outside which made Grisell start, +and Lambert, going out, brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering +under the weight of his best suit of armour, and with a bundle +and bag under his mantle.</p> +<p>Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her +hands into his he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under +her breath, “Ah! Sir Leonard—?”</p> +<p>“No tidings of the recreant,” growled Ridley, +“but ill tidings for both of you. The Dacres of +Gilsland are on us, claiming your castle and lands as male heirs +to your father.”</p> +<p>“Do they know that I live?” asked Grisell, +“or”—unable to control a little +laugh—“do they deem that I was slain in the shape of +a hare?”</p> +<p>“Or better than that,” put in Lambert; “they +have it now in the wharves that the corpse of the hare took the +shape and hands of a woman when in the hall.”</p> +<p>“I ken not, the long-tongued rogues,” said Ridley; +“but if my young lady were standing living and life-like +before them as, thank St. Hilda, I see her now, they would claim +it all the more as male heirs, and this new King Edward has +granted old Sir John seisin, being that she is the wife of one of +King Henry’s men!”</p> +<p>“Are they there? How did you escape?”</p> +<p>“I got timely notice,” said Cuthbert. +“Twenty strong halted over the night at Yeoman +Kester’s farm on Heather Gill—a fellow that would do +anything for me since we fought side by side on the day of the +Herrings. So he sends out his two grandsons to tell me what +they were after, while they were drinking his good ale to health +of their King Edward. So forewarned, forearmed. We +have left them empty walls, get in as they can or +may—unless that traitor Tordu chooses to stay and make +terms with them.”</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely +not!” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the +better sort, went off long since to join their knight’s +banner, and the Saints know how the poor young lad sped in all +the bloody work they have had. For my part, I felt not +bound to hold out the castle against my old lord’s side, +when there was no saving it for you, so I put what belonged to me +together, and took poor old Roan, and my young lady’s pony, +and made my way hither, no one letting me. I doubt me much, +lady, that there is little hope of winning back your lands, +whatever side may be uppermost, yet there be true hearts among +our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any save their +lord’s daughter.”</p> +<p>“Then I am landless and homeless,” sighed +Grisell.</p> +<p>“The greater cause that you should make your home with +us, lady,” returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay +before Ridley the state of the case, and his own plans. +House and business, possibly a seat in the city council, were +waiting for him at Bruges, and the vessel from Ostend which had +continually brought him supplies for his traffic was daily +expected. He intended, so soon as she had made up her cargo +of wool, to return in her to his native country, and he was +urgent that the Lady Grisell should go with him, representing +that all the changes of fortune in the convulsed kingdom of +England were sure to be quickly known there, and that she was as +near the centre of action in Flanders as in Durham, besides that +she would be out of reach of any enemies who might disbelieve the +hare transformation.</p> +<p>After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined +to the proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to +trust and love, and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, +since she had profitable skill in their own craft, and besides +she had her jewels. Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a +certain portion of her dues on the herring-boats and the +wool.</p> +<p>“Will not you come with the lady, sir?” asked +Lambert.</p> +<p>“Oh, come!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a +Poticar’s shop,” said Ridley, and there was an +irresistible laugh at the rugged old gentleman so terming +himself; but as Lambert and Grisell were both about to speak he +went on, “I can serve her better elsewhere. I am +going first to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen +it these forty year, and whether my brother or my nephew make me +welcome or no, I shall have seen the old moors and mosses. +Then methought I would come hither, or to some of the towns +about, and see how it fares with the old Tower and the folk; and +if they be as good as their word, and keep their dues for my +lady, I could gather them, and take or bring them to her, with +any other matter which might concern her nearly.”</p> +<p>This was thoroughly approved by Grisell’s little +council, and Lambert undertook to make known to the good esquire +the best means of communication, whether in person, or by the +transmission of payments, since all the eastern ports of England +had connections with Dutch and Flemish traffic, which made the +payment of monies possible.</p> +<p>Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley +said, had come up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her +for her foul practices. He had dragged her home, and when +Ralph Hart had come after her, had threatened him with a +quarter-staff, called out a mob of fishermen, and finally had +brought him to Sir Lucas, who married them willy-nilly. He +was the runaway son of a currier in York, and had taken her <i>en +croupe</i>, and ridden off to his parents at the sign of the +Hart, to bespeak their favour.</p> +<p>Grisell grieved deeply over Thora’s ingratitude to her, +and the two elder men foreboded no favourable reception for the +pair, and hoped that Thora would sup sorrow.</p> +<p>Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and +before he set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot +a bag containing a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, +mostly French. They were, he said, spoils of his wars under +King Harry the Fifth and the two Lord Salisburys, which he had +never had occasion to spend, and he desired that they might be +laid out on the Lady Grisell in case of need, leaving her to +think they were the dues from her faithful tenantry. To the +Hausvrow Clemence it was a great grief to leave the peaceful home +of her married life, and go among kindred who had shown their +scorn in neglect and cold looks; but she kept a cheerful face for +her husband, and only shed tears over the budding roses and other +plants she had to leave; and she made her guest understand how +great a comfort and solace was her company.</p> +<h2><a name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +213</span>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE WOUNDED KNIGHT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Belted Will Howard is marching here,<br /> +And hot Lord Dacre with many a spear</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Scott</span>, +<i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Master Groot</span>, a word with +you.” A lay brother in the coarse, dark robe of St. +Benedict was standing in the booth of the Green Serpent.</p> +<p>Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, and +touched his brow in recognition.</p> +<p>“Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an +arquebuss, the like of which our poor peaceful house never looked +to harbour?”</p> +<p>“For whom is it needed, good brother?”</p> +<p>“Best not ask,” said Brother Christopher, who was, +however, an inveterate gossip, and went on in reply to +Lambert’s question as to the place of the wound. +“In the shoulder is the worst, the bullet wound where the +Brother Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. St. Bede! +How the poor knight howled, though he tried to stop it, and +brought it down to moaning. His leg is broken beside, but +we could deal with that. His horse went down with him, you +see, when he was overtaken and shot down by the Gilsland +folk.”</p> +<p>“The Gilsland folk!”</p> +<p>“Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see +after his own, or his wife’s, since all the Whitburn sons +are at an end, and the Tower gone to the spindle side. They +say, too, that the damsel he wedded perforce was given to magic, +and fled in form of a hare. But be that as it will, young +Copeland—St. Bede, pardon me! What have I let +out?”</p> +<p>“Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over +the town. How of Copeland?”</p> +<p>“As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, +when the Dacres—Will and Harry—fell on him, and left +him for dead; but by the Saints’ good providence, his +squire and groom put him on a horse, and brought him to our Abbey +at night, knowing that he is kin to our Sub-Prior. And +there he lies, whether for life or death only Heaven knows, but +for death it will be if only King Edward gets a scent of him; so +hold your peace, Master Groats, as to who it be, as you live, or +as you would not have his blood on you.”</p> +<p>Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions +as to the application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took +his leave, reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard’s life +depended on his secrecy.</p> +<p>Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the +inner room. Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and +the little shutter of the wooden partition was open. Thus +Lambert found Grisell standing with clasped hands, and a face of +intense attention and suspense.</p> +<p>“You have heard, lady,” he said.</p> +<p>“Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!” she +cried.</p> +<p>“The Saints grant him recovery.”</p> +<p>“Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be +free from such a yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a +Yorkist house, might win back your lands, above all, since, as +you once told me, you were a playmate of the King’s +sister.”</p> +<p>“Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! +treacherously wounded, and lying moaning. That gruesome +oil! Oh! my poor Leonard!” and she burst into +tears. “So fair, and comely, and young, thus stricken +down!”</p> +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed Lambert. “Such are +women! One would think she loved him, who flouted +her!”</p> +<p>“I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore +pain and dolour, he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his +true love.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity +of womankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed +that had the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, +ever at her feet, the lady could not have been so sore +troubled.</p> +<p>The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request +from the Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that “Master +Groats” would come to the monastery, and give them the +benefit of his advice on the wounds and the fever which was +setting in, since gun-shot wounds were beyond the scope of the +monastic surgery.</p> +<p>To refuse would not have been possible, even without the +earnest entreaty of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical +instinct which no training can supply, went on his way with the +lay brother.</p> +<p>He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request +that had been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed +sick nigh unto death, grievously hurt, and distraught by the +fever, or it might be by the blow on his head in the fall with +his horse, which seemed to have kicked him; but there was no +reason that with good guidance and rest he should not +recover. But, on the other hand, King Edward was known to +be on his progress to Durham, and he was understood to be +especially virulent against Sir Leonard Copeland, under the +impression that the young knight had assisted in Clifford’s +slaughter of his brother Edmund of Rutland. It was true +that a monastery was a sanctuary, but if all that was reported of +Edward Plantagenet were true, he might, if he tracked Copeland to +the Abbey, insist on his being yielded up, or might make Abbot +and monks suffer severely for the protection given to his enemy; +and there was much fear that the Dacres might be on the +scent. The Abbot and Father Copeland were anxious to be +able to answer that Sir Leonard was not within their precincts, +and, having heard that Master Groats was about to sail for +Flanders, the Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his nephew might +thus be conveyed to the Low Countries, where the fugitives of +each party in turn found a refuge. Father Copeland promised +to be at charges, and, in truth, the scheme was the best hope for +Leonard’s chances of life. Master Groot had +hesitated, seeing various difficulties in the way of such a +charge, and being by no means disposed towards Lady +Grisell’s unwilling husband, as such, though in a +professional capacity he was interested in his treatment of his +patient, and was likewise touched by the good mien of the fine, +handsome, straight-limbed young man, who was lying unconscious on +his pallet in a narrow cell.</p> +<p>He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he had +consulted his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was +needful; and there was of course another, whom he did not +mention.</p> +<p>As he told all the colour rose in Grisell’s face, rosy +on one side, purple, alas, on the other. “O master, +good master, you will, you will!”</p> +<p>“Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should +have held that the kindness to you would be to rid you of +him.”</p> +<p>“No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know +too well what I think! Is not this my best hope of making +him know me, and becoming his true +and—and—”</p> +<p>A sob cut her short, but she cried, “I will be at all +the pains and all the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master +Lambert, good Master Groot.”</p> +<p>“Ah, would I knew what is well for her!” said +Lambert, turning to his wife, and making rapid signs with face +and fingers in their mutual language, but Grisell burst +in—</p> +<p>“Good for her,” cried she. “Can it be +good for a wife to leave her husband to be slain by the cruel men +of York and Warwick, him who strove to save the young Lord +Edmund? Master, you will suffer no such foul wrong. O +master, if you did, I would stay behind, in some poor hovel on +the shore, where none would track him, and tend him there. +I will! I vow it to St. Mary.”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange +passion. You could not be more moved if he were the +tenderest spouse who ever breathed.”</p> +<p>“But you will have pity, sir. You will aid +us. You will save us. Give him the chance for +life.”</p> +<p>“What say you, housewife?” said Groot, turning to +the silent Clemence, whom his signs and their looks had made to +perceive the point at issue. Her reply was to seize +Grisell’s two hands, kiss them fervently, clasp both +together, and utter in her deaf voice two Flemish words, +“<i>Goot Vrow</i>.” Grisell eagerly embraced +her in tears.</p> +<p>“We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He +may not choose to meddle with English outlaws.”</p> +<p>“If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not +take me,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>There was no more to be said except something about the +waywardness of the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot +was not ill-pleased at the bottom that both the females of the +household took part against him, and they had a merry supper that +night, amid the chests in which their domestic apparatus and +stock-in-trade were packed, with the dried lizard, who passed for +a crocodile, sitting on the settle as if he were one of the +company. Grisell’s spirits rose with an undefined +hope that, like Sir Gawaine’s bride, or her own namesake, +Griselda the patient, she should at last win her lord’s +love; and, deprived as she was of all her own relatives, there +arose strongly within her the affection that ten long years ago +had made her haunt the footsteps of the boy at Amesbury +Manor.</p> +<p>Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in +his family. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard +at her <i>démenagement</i>, and only with scruples +accepted the assistance of her guest, who was glad to work away +her anxiety in the folding of curtains and stuffing of mails.</p> +<p>At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards +many times between the <i>Vrow Gudule</i> and the Abbey, for +Skipper Vrowst drove a hard bargain, and made the most of the +inconvenience and danger of getting into ill odour with the +authorities; and, however anxious Father Copeland might be to +save his nephew, Abbot and bursar demurred at gratifying +extortion, above all when the King might at any time be squeezing +them for contributions hard to come by.</p> +<p>However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in +to the Abbey steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing +of the home grange, and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the +wounded knight should be brought on board the <i>Vrow Gudule</i>, +where Groot and the women would await him, their freight being +already embarked, and all ready to weigh anchor.</p> +<p>The chief danger was in a King’s officer coming on board +to weigh the fleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But +Sunderland either had no King, or had two just at that time, and +Father Copeland handed Master Groot a sum which might bribe one +or both; while it was to the interest of the captain to make off +without being overhauled by either.</p> +<h2><a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +222</span>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CITY OF BRIDGES</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,<br /> +There in the naked hall, propping his head,<br /> +And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.<br /> +And at the last he waken’d from his swoon.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>, +<i>Enid</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> transit was happily effected, +and closely hidden in wool, Leonard Copeland was lifted out the +boat, more than half unconscious, and afterwards transferred to +the vessel, and placed in wrappings as softly and securely as +Grisell and Clemence could arrange before King Edward’s men +came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happily did not +concern themselves about the sick man.</p> +<p>He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, +for though he suffered, he would not retain the recollection of +his suffering, and the voyage was very miserable to every one, +though the weather was far from unfavourable, as the captain +declared. Grisell indeed was so entirely taken up with +ministering to her knight that she seemed impervious to sickness +or discomfort. It was a great relief to enter on the smooth +waters of the great canal from Ostend, and Lambert stood on the +deck recognising old landmarks, and pointing them out with the +joy of homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps felt less delight, +since the joys of her life had only begun when she turned her +back on her unkind kinsfolk.</p> +<p>Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to +Grisell the beauteous belfry, rising on high above the +many-peaked gables, though she did smile when a long-billed, +long-legged stork flapped his wings overhead, and her husband +signed that it was in greeting. The greeting that delighted +him she could not hear, the sweet chimes from that same tower, +which floated down the stream, when he doffed his cap, crossed +himself, and clasped his hands in devout thanksgiving.</p> +<p>It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kinds +thronged together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tall +painted ships of Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the +stoutly-built Netherlanders and the English traders. Shouts +in all languages were heard, and Grisell looked round in wonder +and bewilderment as to how the helpless and precious charge on +the deck was ever to be safely landed.</p> +<p>Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the +occasion. He secured some of the men who came round the +vessel in barges clamouring for employment, and—Grisell +scarce knew how—Leonard on his bed was lifted down, and +laid in the bottom of the barge. The big bundles and cases +were committed to the care of another barge, to follow close +after theirs, and on they went under, one after another, the +numerous high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, while +tall sharp-gabled houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green +gardens, bounded the margins, with a narrow foot-way +between. The houses had often pavement leading by stone +steps to the river, and stone steps up to the door, which was +under the deep projecting eaves running along the front of the +house—a stoop, as the Low Countries called it. At one +of these—not one of the largest or handsomest, but far +superior to the old home at Sunderland—hung the large +handsome painted and gilded sign of the same serpent which +Grisell had learnt to know so well, and here the barge hove to, +while two servants, the man in a brown belted jerkin, the old +woman in a narrow, tight, white hood, came out on the steps with +outstretched hands.</p> +<p>“Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! +Greet thee well. Thanks to our Lady that I have lived to +see this day,” was the old woman’s cry.</p> +<p>“Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet +thee, trusty Anton. You had my message? Have you a +bed and chamber ready for this gentleman?”</p> +<p>Such was Lambert’s hasty though still cordial greeting, +as he gave his hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old +nurse, who was mother to Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb +show shared the welcome, and directed as Leonard was carried up +an outside stone stair to a guest-chamber, and deposited in a +stately bed with fresh, cool, lace-bordered, lavender-scented +sheets, and Grisell put between his lips a spoonful of the +cordial with which Lambert had supplied her.</p> +<p>More distinctly than before he murmured, “Thanks, sweet +Eleanor.”</p> +<p>The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made +him feverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks +to Eleanor for tending her “wounded knight,” little +knowing whom he wounded by his thanks.</p> +<p>On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at +Lambert, and when he used her title of “Lady,” in +begging her to leave old Mother Abra in charge and to come down +to supper, she made a gesture of silence, and as she came down +the broad stair—a refinement scarce known in +England—she entreated him to let her be Grisell still.</p> +<p>“Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his +name,” she said.</p> +<p>“Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by +right.”</p> +<p>“By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known +as mine own self without cumbering him with my claims. No, +let me alone to be Grisell as ever before, an English orphan, +bower-woman to Vrow Clemence if she will have me.”</p> +<p>Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it +was agreed that she should remain as one of the many orphans made +by the civil war in England, without precise definition of her +rank, and be only called by her Christian name. She was +astonished at the status of Master Groot, the size and furniture +of the house, and the servants who awaited him; all so unlike his +little English establishment, for the refinements and even +luxuries were not only far beyond those of Whitburn, but almost +beyond all that she had seen even in the households of the Earls +of Salisbury and Warwick. He had indeed been bred to all +this, for the burghers of Bruges were some of the most prosperous +of all the rich citizens of Flanders in the golden days of the +Dukes of Burgundy; and he had left it all for the sake of his +Clemence, but without forfeiting his place in his Guild, or his +right to his inheritance.</p> +<p>He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with +the great merchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not +unprosperous trade in spices, drugs, condiments and other +delicacies.</p> +<p>He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard +Copeland, but there was no great difference in the young +man’s condition for many days. Grisell nursed him +indefatigably, sitting by him so as to hear the sweet bells chime +again and again, and the storks clatter on the roofs at +sunrise.</p> +<p>Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held +drink to his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and +more and more did the sense sink down upon her like lead that she +must give him up to Eleanor.</p> +<p>Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the +pillow her love went out to him. It might have done so even +had he been disfigured like herself; but his was a beautiful +countenance of noble outlines, and she felt a certain pride in it +as hers, while she longed to see it light up with reason, and +glow once more with health. Then she thought she could +rejoice, even if there were no look of love for her.</p> +<p>The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out +of them, and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for +comfort and relief. He thanked her courteously, so that she +felt a thrill of pleasure every time. He even learnt her +name of Grisell, and once he asked whether she were not English, +to which she replied simply that she was, and on a further +question she said that she had been at Sunderland with Master +Groot, and that she had lost her home in the course of the +wars.</p> +<p>There for some time it rested—rested at least with the +knight. But with the lady there was far from rest, for +every hour she was watching for some favourable token which might +draw them nearer, and give opportunity for making herself +known. Nearer they certainly drew, for he often smiled at +her. He liked her to wait on him, and to beguile the +weariness of his recovery by singing to him, telling some of her +store of tales, or reading to him, for books were more plentiful +at Bruges than at Sunderland, and there were even whispers of a +wonderful mode of multiplying them far more quickly than by the +scrivener’s hand.</p> +<p>How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or +heard his voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly +see, just as he would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have +heard him, and he evidently thought her likewise of burgher +quality, and much of the same age as the Vrow Groot. +Indeed, the long toil and wear of the past months had made her +thin and haggard, and the traces of her disaster were all the +more apparent, so that no one would have guessed her years to be +eighteen.</p> +<p>She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on +a chain, within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But +many a night, ere she lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed +it, as she asked herself whether her knight would ever bid her +wear it. Until he did so her finger should never again be +encircled by it.</p> +<p>Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and +the garden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she +had left at Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an +imitation of this one as Lambert could contrive in a colder +climate with smaller means. Here was a fountain trellised +over by a framework rich in roses and our lady’s bower; +here were pinks, gilly-flowers, pansies, lavender, and the new +snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, and a little bush +shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose grown in +King Réne’s garden of Provence.</p> +<p>These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds +of useful vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the +Groots had long been in the habit of collecting from all parts +and experimenting on. Much did Lambert rejoice to find +himself among the familiar plants he had often needed and could +not procure in England, and for some of which he had a real +individual love. The big improved distillery and all the +jars and bottles of his youth were a joy to him, almost as much +as the old friends who accepted him again after a long +“wander year.”</p> +<p>Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society +she could not share, and while most of the burghers’ wives +spent the summer evening sitting spinning or knitting on the +steps of the stoop, conversing with their gossips, she preferred +to take her distaff or needle among the roses, sometimes tending +them, sometimes beguiling Grisell to come and take the air in +company with her, for they understood one another’s mute +language; and when Lambert Groot was with his old friends they +sufficed for one another—so far as Grisell’s anxious +heart could find solace, and perhaps in none so much as the +gentle matron who could caress but could not talk.</p> +<h2><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE CANKERED OAK GALL</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>That Walter was no fool, though that him list<br +/> +To change his wif, for it was for the best;<br /> +For she is fairer, so they demen all,<br /> +Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Chaucer</span>, +<i>The Clerke’s Tale</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> was on an early autumn evening +when the belfry stood out beautiful against the sunset sky, and +the storks with their young fledglings were wheeling homewards to +their nest on the roof, that Leonard was lying on the deep oriel +window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell sat opposite to him with +a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after the pattern of Wilton for +a Church vestment.</p> +<p>“The storks fly home,” he said. “I +marvel whether we have still a home in England, or ever shall +have one!”</p> +<p>“I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to +the Queen and her son,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with +this old Duke who sheltered him so long. Still, when he is +firm fixed on his throne he may yet bring home our brave young +Prince and set the blessed King on his throne once +more.”</p> +<p>“Ah! You love the King.”</p> +<p>“I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my +sword in a holy cause when I fight for him,” said Leonard, +raising himself with glittering eyes.</p> +<p>“And the Queen?”</p> +<p>“Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who +makes swords fly out of their scabbards by her brave stirring +words and her noble mien. Her bright eyes and undaunted +courage fire each man’s heart in her cause till there is +nothing he would not do or dare, ay, or give up for her, and +those she loves better than herself, her husband, and her +son.”</p> +<p>“You have done so,” faltered Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore +any other name. You mind me of the bane and grief of my +life.”</p> +<p>“Verily?” uttered Grisell with some +difficulty.</p> +<p>“Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my +brains were astray, uttered any name?”</p> +<p>“By times, even so!” she confessed.</p> +<p>“I thought so! I deemed at times that she was +here! I have never told you of the deed that marred my +life.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” she said, letting her bobbins fall though +she drooped her head, not daring to look him in the face.</p> +<p>“I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of +Salisbury’s house. A good man was he, but the +jealousies and hatreds of the nobles had begun long ago, and the +good King hoped, as he ever hoped, to compose them. So he +brought about a compact between my father and the Dacre of +Whitburn for a marriage between their children, and caused us +both to be bred up in the Lady of Salisbury’s household, +meaning, I trow, that we should enter into solemn contract when +we were of less tender age; but there never was betrothal; and +before any fit time for it had come, I had the mishap to have the +maid close to me—she was ever besetting and running after +me—when by some prank, unhappily of mine, a barrel of +gunpowder blew up and wellnigh tore her to pieces. My +father came, and her mother, an unnurtured, uncouth woman, who +would have forced me to wed her on the spot, but my father would +not hear of it, more especially as there were then two male +heirs, so that I should not have gained her grim old Tower and +bare moorlands. All held that I was not bound to her; the +Queen herself owned it, and that whatever the damsel might be, +the mother was a mere northern she-bear, whose child none would +wish to wed, and of the White Rose besides. So the King had +me to his school at Eton, and then I was a squire of my Lord of +Somerset, and there I saw my fairest Eleanor Audley. The +Queen and the Duke of Somerset—rest his soul—would +have had us wedded. On the love day, when all walked +together to St. Paul’s, and the King hoped all was peace, +we spoke our vows to one another in the garden of +Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gave her the jewel of +my cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like our limpid +northern brooks. Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star +in the sunset, but her father, the Lord Audley, was absent, and +we could go no farther; and therewith came the Queen’s +summons to her liegemen to come and arrest Salisbury at +Bloreheath. There never was rest again, as you know. +My father was slain at Northampton, I yielded me to young +Falconberg; but I found the Yorkists had set headsmen to work as +though we had been traitors, and I was begging for a priest to +hear my shrift, when who should come into the foul, wretched barn +where we lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of Whitburn. +He had craved me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained my +life on what condition he did not tell me, but he bound my feet +beneath my horse, and thus bore me out of the camp for all the +first day. Then, I own he let me ride as became a knight, +on my word of honour not to escape; but much did I marvel whether +it were revenge or ransom that he wanted; and as to ransom, all +our gold had all been riding on horseback with my poor +father. What he had devised I knew not nor guessed till +late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, where I looked +for a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choice +that the old robber—”</p> +<p>Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of +indignation.</p> +<p>“Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better +of him. But any way the choice he left me was the halter +that dangled from the roof and his grisly daughter!”</p> +<p>“Did you see her?” Grisell contrived to ask.</p> +<p>“I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was +enow. They say she has a face like a cankered oak gall or a +rotten apple lying cracked on the ground among the wasps. +Mayhap though you have seen her.”</p> +<p>Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, “Never +since she was a child,” for no mirror had come in her way +since she was at Warwick House. She was upborne by the +thought that it would be a relief to him not to see anything like +a rotten apple. He went on—</p> +<p>“My first answer and first thought was rather +death—and of my word to my Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to +see me here now. I felt as though nothing would make me a +recreant to her. Her sweet smile and shining eyes rose up +before me, and half the night I dreamt of them, and knew that I +would rather die than be given to another and be false to +them. Ah! but you will deem me a recreant. With the +waking hours I thought of my King and Queen. My elder +brother died with Lord Shrewsbury in Gascony, and after me the +next heir is a devoted Yorkist who would turn my castle, the key +of Cleveland, against the Queen. I knew the defeat would +make faithful swords more than ever needful to her, and that it +was my bounden duty, if it were possible, to save my life, my +sword, and my lands for her. Mistress, you are a good +woman. Did I act as a coward?”</p> +<p>“You offered up yourself,” said Grisell, looking +up.</p> +<p>“So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I +should be free at once. We were wedded in the +gloom—ere sunrise—a thunderstorm coming up, which so +darkened the church that if she had been a peerless beauty, fair +as Cressid herself, I could not have seen her, and even had she +been beauty itself, nought can to me be such as my Eleanor. +So I was free to gallop off through the storm for Wearmouth when +the rite was over, and none pursued me, for old Whitburn was a +man of his word. Mine uncle held the marriage as nought, +but next I made for the Queen at Durham, and, if aught could +comfort my spirit, it was her thanks, and assurances that it +would cost nothing but the dispensation of the Pope to set me +free. So said Dr. Morton, her chaplain, one of the most +learned men in England. I told him all, and he declared +that no wedlock was valid without the heartfelt consent of each +party.”</p> +<p>“Said he so?” Poor Grisell could not repress the +inquiry.</p> +<p>“Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between +me and Lord Audley’s daughter, yet that the vows we had of +our own free will exchanged would be quite enough to annul my +forced marriage.”</p> +<p>“You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had +defaced that countenance. I thought of that! I would +have endowed her with all I had if she would set me free. I +trusted yet so to do, when, for my misfortune as well as hers, +the day of Wakefield cut off her father and brother, and a groom +was taken who was on his way to Sendal with tidings of the other +brother’s death. Then, what do the Queen and Sir +Pierre de Brezé but command me to ride off instantly to +claim Whitburn Tower! In vain did I refuse; in vain did I +plead that if I were about to renounce the lady it were +unknightly to seize on her inheritance. They would not hear +me. They said it would serve as a door to England, and that +it must be secured for the King, or the Dacres would hold it for +York. They bade me on my allegiance, and commanded me to +take it in King Henry’s name, as though it were a mere +stranger’s castle, and gave me a crew of hired men-at-arms, +as I verily believe to watch over what I did. But ere I +started I made a vow in Dr. Morton’s hands, to take it only +for the King, and so soon as the troubles be ended to restore it +to the lady, when our marriage is dissolved. As it fell +out, I never saw the lady. Her mother lay a-dying, and +there was no summoning her. I bade them show her all due +honour, hoisted my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, and +thence to mine own lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way to +London. As you well know, all was over with our cause at +Towton Moor; and it was on my way northward after the deadly +fight that half a dozen of the men-at-arms brought me tidings, +not only that the Gilsland Dacres had, as had been feared, +claimed the castle, but that this same so-called lady of mine had +been shown to deal in sorcery and magic. They sent for a +wise man from Shields, but she found by her arts what they were +doing, fled, and was slain by an arquebuss in the form of a +hare!</p> +<p>“Do you believe it was herself in sooth?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, +hath little faith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change +into hares. All have known them.”</p> +<p>“She was scarce old,” Grisell trusted herself to +say.</p> +<p>“That skills not. They said she made strange cures +by no rules of art. Ay, and said her prayers backward, and +had unknown books.”</p> +<p>“Did your squire tell this, or was it only the +men?”</p> +<p>“My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He +was made captive by a White Rose party, so far as I could hear, +and St. Peter knows where he may be. But look you, the +lady, for all her foul looks, had cast her spell over him, and +held him as bound and entranced as by a true love, so that he was +ready to defend her beauty—her beauty! look +you!—against all the world in the lists. He was +neither to have nor to hold if any man durst utter a word against +her! And it was the same with her tirewoman and her own old +squire.”</p> +<p>“Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the +arquebusier rid you of your witch wife?” There was a +little bitterness, even scorn, in the tone.</p> +<p>“I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too +well to credit all they say, and I was on my way to inquire into +the matter and learn the truth when these same Dacres fell on me; +and that I lie here is due to you and good Master Lambert. +Many a woman whose face is ill favoured has learnt to keep up her +power by unhallowed arts, and if it be so with her whom in my +boyish prank I have marred, Heaven forgive her and me. If I +can ever return I shall strive to trace her life or death, +without which mayhap I could scarce win my true bride.”</p> +<p>Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her +hopes. She crept away murmuring something about the vesper +bell at the convent chapel near, for it was there that she could +best kneel, while thoughts and strength and resolution came to +her.</p> +<p>The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view +her, or rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but +as a hag, mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, +and that his love to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever.</p> +<p>Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but +then what would become of him? He still needed her care, +which he accepted as that of a nurse, and while he believed +himself to be living on the means supplied by his uncle at +Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had soon been exhausted, and +Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting from Ridley’s +bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her as the +fishermen’s dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement +this, or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to +Lambert in his concoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which +was of a device learnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. +There was something strangely delightful to her in thus +supporting Leonard even though he knew it not, and she determined +to persist in her present course till there was some +change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor’s marriage to +some one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple +face. She must find a glass, or even a pail of water, and +judge! Or the Lancastrian fortunes might revive, he might +go home in triumph, and then would she give him her ring and her +renunciation, and either earn enough to obtain entrance to a +convent or perhaps be accepted for the sake of her handiwork!</p> +<p>Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew +upon her as Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To +reveal herself would only be misery to him, and in his present +state of mind would deprive him of all he needed, since he would +never be base enough to let her toil for him and then cast her +off.</p> +<p>She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for +counsel, that at night, over the fire in the stove, she told what +Leonard had said, to which her host listened with the fatherly +sympathy that had grown up towards her. He was quite +determined against her making herself known. The accusation +of sorcery really alarmed him. He said that to be known as +the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched the young +squire and many more might bring both her and himself into +imminent danger; and there were Lancastrian exiles who might take +up the report. Her only safety was in being known, to the +few who did meet her, as the convent-bred maiden whose home had +been destroyed, and who was content to gain a livelihood as the +assistant whom his wife’s infirmity made needful. As +to Sir Leonard, the knight’s own grace and gratitude had +endeared him, as well as the professional pleasure of curing him, +and for the lady’s sake he should still be made +welcome.</p> +<p>So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell’s story +except Master Lambert and her Father Confessor, and whether he +really knew it, through the medium of her imperfect French, might +be doubted. Even Clemence, though of course aware of her +identity, did not know all the details, since no one who could +communicate with her had thought it well to distress her with the +witchcraft story.</p> +<p>Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, though +sometimes there would be admitted to walk in the garden and +converse with Master Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his +counsel on giving permanence and clearness to the ink he was +using in that new art of printing which he was trying to perfect, +but which there were some who averred to be a work of the Evil +One, imparted to the magician Dr. Faustus.</p> +<h2><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">GRISELL’S PATIENCE</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>When silent were both voice and chords,<br /> + The strain seemed doubly dear,<br /> +Yet sad as sweet,—for English words<br /> + Had fallen upon the ear.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>, <i>Incident at Bruges</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Meanwhile</span> Leonard was recovering +and vexing himself as to his future course, inclining chiefly to +making his way back to Wearmouth to ascertain how matters were +going in England.</p> +<p>One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, while +Grisell sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, +attracted by the English words and voice, was turned up to +him. He exclaimed, “By St. Mary, Philip +Scrope,” and starting up, began to feel for the stick which +he still needed.</p> +<p>A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer +shop inquiring in halting French, “Did I see the face of +the Beau Sire Leonard Copeland?”</p> +<p>By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a +tall perfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the +Burgundian Cross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and +handsome sword belt, had advanced, and the two embraced as old +friends did embrace in the middle ages, especially when each had +believed the other dead.</p> +<p>“I deemed thee dead at Towton!”</p> +<p>“Methought you were slain in the north! You have +not come off scot-free.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows +took me to my uncle at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the +good folk here, and cares for my maintenance. How didst +thou ’scape?”</p> +<p>“Half a dozen of us—Will Percy and a few +more—made off from the woful field under cover of night, +and got to the sea-shore, to a village—I know not the +name—and laid hands on a fisher’s smack, which Jock +of Hull was seaman enough to steer with the aid of the lad on +board, as far as Friesland, and thence we made our way as best we +could to Utrecht, where we had the luck to fall in with one of +the Duke’s captains, who was glad enough to meet with a few +stout fellows to make up his company of men-at-arms.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. +How art thou so well attired, Phil?”</p> +<p>“We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the +King of France’s sacring at Rheims. I promise thee +the jewels and gold blazed as we never saw the like—and as +to the rascaille Scots archers, every one of them was arrayed so +as the sight was enough to drive an honest Borderer crazy. +Half their own kingdom’s worth was on their beggarly +backs. But do what they might, our Duke surpassed them all +with his largesses and splendour.”</p> +<p>“Your Duke!” grumbled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord +is he. Better be under him than under the shrivelled +skinflint of France, who wore his fine robes as though they +galled him. Come and take service here when thou art whole +of thine hurt, Leonard.”</p> +<p>“I thought thy Duke was disinclined to +Lancaster.”</p> +<p>“He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the +Saints guard, but he likes English hearts and thews in his pay +well enough.”</p> +<p>“Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck.”</p> +<p>“Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter +and my Lord of Oxford have put their honours in their pouch and +are serving him. Thy lame leg is a worse hindrance than the +gold spur on it, but I trow that will pass.”</p> +<p>The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and +homes, and the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed +in this, and in many subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon +as Leonard should have shaken off his lameness he should begin +service under one of the Duke’s captains. A +man-at-arms in the splendid suite of the Burgundian Dukes was +generally of good birth, and was attended by two grooms and a +page when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, and his +accoutrements and arms were required to be such as to do honour +to his employer. It was the refuge sooner or later of many +a Lancastrian, and Leonard, who doubted of the regularity of his +uncle’s supplies, decided that he could do no better for +himself while waiting for better times for his Queen, though +Master Lambert told him that he need not distress himself, there +were ample means for him still.</p> +<p>Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad +pleasure in working for him, and she was absolutely proud of him +when he stood before her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of +health on his cheek and a light in his eye, his length of limb +arrayed in his own armour, furbished and mended, his bright +helmet alone new and of her own providing (out of her +mother’s pearl necklace), his surcoat and silken scarf all +her own embroidering. As he truly said, he made a much +finer appearance than he had done on the morn of his melancholy +knighthood, in the poverty-stricken army of King Henry at +Northampton.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” he said, with a courteous bow, “to +his good friends and hosts, who had a wonderful power over the +purse.” He added special thanks to “Mistress +Grisell for her deft stitchery,” and she responded with +downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her heart throbbed +high.</p> +<p>Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to +take leave of his host, and announced that he had been sent off +with his friend to garrison Neufchâtel, where the castle, +being a border one, was always carefully watched over.</p> +<p>His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it +prevented his knowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen +Margaret and her son at Sluys, with only seven attendants, +denuded of almost everything, having lost her last castles, and +sometimes having had to exist on a single herring a day.</p> +<p>Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet +if he had known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, +and before they ever reached Neufchâtel the Duke had +bestowed on her wherewithal to continue her journey to her +father’s Court at Bar.</p> +<p>However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the +Queen’s journey to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had +been again lost at Hedgeley Moor and Hexham. He was so good +and efficient a man-at-arms that he rose in promotion, and +attracted the notice of the Count of Charolais, the eldest son of +the Duke, who made him one of his own bodyguard. His time +was chiefly spent in escorting the Count from one castle or city +to another, but whenever Charles the Bold was at Bruges, Leonard +came to the sign of the Green Serpent not only for lodging, nor +only to take up the money that Lambert had in charge for him, but +as to a home where he was sure of a welcome, and of kindly +woman’s care of his wardrobe, and where he grew more and +more to look to the sympathy and understanding of his English and +Burgundian interests alike, which he found in the maiden who sat +by the hearth.</p> +<p>From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was +clad in a pilgrim’s gown and broad hat, and looked much +older. He had had free quarters at Willimoteswick, but the +wild young Borderers had not suited his old age well, except one +clerkly youth, who reminded him of little Bernard, and who, +later, was the patron of his nephew, the famous Nicolas. He +had thus set out on pilgrimage, as the best means of visiting his +dear lady. The first time he came, under his robe he +carried a girdle, where was sewn up a small supply from Father +Copeland for his nephew, and another sum, very meagre, but +collected from the faithful retainers of Whitburn for their +lady. He meant to visit the Three Kings at Cologne, and +then to go on to St. Gall, and to the various nearer shrines in +France, but to return again to see Grisell; and from time to time +he showed his honest face, more and more weather-beaten, though a +pilgrim was never in want; but Grisell delighted in preparing new +gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats for him.</p> +<p>Public events passed while she still lived and worked in the +Apothecary’s house at Bruges. There were wars in +which Sir Leonard Copeland had his share, not very perilous to a +knight in full armour, but falling very heavily on poor +citizens. Bruges, however, was at peace and exceedingly +prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds of citizens, and wonderful +trade and wealth. The bells seemed to be always chiming +from its many beautiful steeples, and there was one convent +lately founded which began to have a special interest for +Grisell.</p> +<p>It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if not +actually founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, +the wife of the Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the +Good, from his genial manners, and bounteous liberality, was a +man of violent temper and terrible severity when offended. +He had a fierce quarrel with his only son, who was equally hot +tempered. The Duchess took part with her son, and fell +under such furious displeasure from her husband that she retired +into the house of Grey Sisters. She was first cousin once +removed to Henry VI.—her mother, the admirable Philippa, +having been a daughter of John of Gaunt—and she was the +sister of the noble Princes, King Edward of Portugal, Henry the +great voyager, and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and she had +never been thoroughly at home or happy in Flanders, where her +husband was of a far coarser nature than her own family; and, in +her own words, after many years, she always felt herself a +stranger.</p> +<p>Some of Grisell’s lace had found its way to the convent, +and was at once recognised by her as English, such as her mother +had always prized. She wished to give the Chaplain a set of +robes adorned with lace after a pattern of her own devising, +bringing in the five crosses of Portugal, with appropriate +wreaths of flowers and emblems. Being told that the English +maiden in Master Groot’s house could devise her own +patterns, she desired to see her and explain the design in +person.</p> +<h2><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE OLD DUCHESS</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Temples that rear their stately heads on high,<br +/> +Canals that intersect the fertile plain,<br /> +Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall,<br /> +Spacious and undefined, but ancient all.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Southey</span>, +<i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> kind couple of Groots were +exceedingly solicitous about Grisell’s appearance before +the Duchess, and much concerned that she could not be induced to +wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veils depending +from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. +Her black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the +external or third Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her +dress, and under it might be seen a face, with something peculiar +on one side, but still full of sweetness and intelligence; and +the years of comfort and quiet had, in spite of anxiety, done +much to obliterate the likeness to a cankered oak gall. +Lambert wanted to drench her with perfumes, but she only +submitted to have a little essence in the pouncet box given her +long ago by Lady Margaret at their parting at Amesbury. +Master Groot himself chose to conduct her on this first great +occasion, and they made their way to the old gateway, sculptured +above with figures that still remain, into the great cloistered +court, with its chapel, chapter-house, and splendid great airy +hall, in which the Hospital Sisters received their patients.</p> +<p>They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of +gray, whence they were known as Sœurs Grises, though, in +fact, their dress was white, with a black hood and mantle. +The Duchess, however, lived in a set of chambers on one side of +the court, which she had built and fitted for herself.</p> +<p>A lay sister became Grisell’s guide, and just then, +coming down from the Duchess’s apartments, with a board +with a chalk sketch in his hand, appeared a young man, whom Groot +greeted as Master Hans Memling, and who had been receiving +orders, and showing designs to the Duchess for the ornamentation +of the convent, which in later years he so splendidly carried +out. With him Lambert remained.</p> +<p>There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment +hung with stamped Spanish leather, representing the history of +King David, and with a window, glazed as usual below with circles +and lozenges, but the upper part glowing with coloured +glass. At the farther end was a dais with a sort of throne, +like the tester and canopy of a four-post bed, with curtains +looped up at each side. Here the Duchess sat, surrounded by +her ladies, all in the sober dress suitable with monastic +life.</p> +<p>Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when +admitted. A dark-complexioned lady came to lead her +forward, and directed her to kneel twice on her way to the +Duchess. She obeyed, and in that indescribable manner which +betrayed something of her breeding, so that after her second +obeisance, the manner of the lady altered visibly from what it +had been at first as to a burgher maiden. The wealth and +luxury of the citizen world of the Low Countries caused the proud +and jealous nobility to treat them with the greater distance of +manner. And, as Grisell afterwards learnt, this was Isabel +de Souza, Countess of Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had come +over with her Infanta; and whose daughter produced <i>Les +Honneurs de la Cour</i>, the most wonderful of all descriptions +of the formalities of the Court.</p> +<p>Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the +Duchess addressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she +could by this time speak herself.</p> +<p>“You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak +French?”</p> +<p>“<i>Oui</i>, <i>si madame</i>, <i>son Altese le +veut</i>,” replied Grisell, for her tongue had likewise +become accustomed to French in this city of many tongues.</p> +<p>“This is English make,” said the Duchess, not with +a very good French accent either, looking at the specimens handed +by her lady. “Are you English?”</p> +<p>“So please your Highness, I am.”</p> +<p>“An exile?” the Princess added kindly.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, +and I owe shelter to the good Apothecary, Master +Lambert.”</p> +<p>“Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have +heard of him;” and she then proceeded with her orders, +desiring to see the first piece Grisell should produce in the +pattern she wished, which was to be of roses in honour of St. +Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the Peninsular Isabels reckoned as +their namesake and patroness.</p> +<p>It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and +much skill; but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took +her leave, kissing the Duchess’s hand—a great favour +to be granted to her—curtseying three times, and walking +backwards, after the old training that seemed to come back to her +with the atmosphere.</p> +<p>Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. +“Now you will find your way back to your proper station and +rank,” he said.</p> +<p>“It may do more than that,” said Grisell. +“If I could plead his cause.”</p> +<p>Lambert only sighed. “I would fain your way was +not won by a base, mechanical art,” he said.</p> +<p>“Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin +are unworthy of none; and as to the honour of the matter, what +did Sir Leonard tell us but that the Countess of Oxford, as now +she is, was maintaining her husband by her needle?” and +Grisell ended with a sigh at thought of the happy woman whose +husband knew of, and was grateful for, her toils.</p> +<p>The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memling +himself, who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the +cushion. In after times it might have been held a greater +honour to work from his pattern than for the Duchess, who sent to +inquire after it more than once, and finally desired that +Mistress Grisell should bring her cushion and show her +progress.</p> +<p>She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and +even the small fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, +who begged to see her at work. As it could not well be done +kneeling, a footstool, covered in tapestry with the many +Burgundian quarterings, was brought, and here Grisell was seated, +the Duchess bending over her, and asking questions as her fingers +flew, at first about the work, but afterwards, “Where did +you learn this art, maiden?”</p> +<p>“At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery +of St. Edith, near to Salisbury.”</p> +<p>“St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints +rest, spoke of her; but I have not heard of her in Portugal nor +here. Where did she suffer?”</p> +<p>“She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair +legend.”</p> +<p>And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith +and the christening.</p> +<p>“You speak well, maiden,” said the Duchess. +“It is easy to perceive that you are convent trained. +Have the wars in England hindered your being +professed?”</p> +<p>“Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian +Abbess.”</p> +<p>Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all +Grisell’s early story, with the exception of her name and +whose was the iron that caused the explosion, and likewise of her +marriage, and the accusation of sorcery. That male heirs of +the opposite party should have expelled the orphan heiress was +only too natural an occurrence. Nor did Grisell conceal her +home; but Whitburn was an impossible word to Portuguese lips, and +Dacre they pronounced after its crusading derivation De Acor.</p> +<h2><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +260</span>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE DUKE’S DEATH</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish;<br /> +If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>, <i>King Henry VI.</i>, Part +III.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">So</span> time went on, and the rule of +the House of York in England seemed established, while the exiles +had settled down in Burgundy, Grisell to her lace pillow, Leonard +to the suite of the Count de Charolais. Indeed there was +reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in the change of +dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel to bring on +another desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Rose +party were making their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the +Duchess Isabel became extremely fond of Grisell, and often +summoned her to come and work by her side, and talk to her; and +thus came on the summer of 1467, when Duke Philip returned from +the sack of unhappy Dinant in a weakened state, and soon after +was taken fatally ill. All the city of Bruges watched in +anxiety for tidings, for the kindly Duke was really loved where +his hand did not press. One evening during the suspense +when Master Lambert was gone out to gather tidings, there was the +step with clank of spurs which had grown familiar, and Leonard +Copeland strode in hot and dusty, greeting Vrow Clemence as usual +with a touch of the hand and inclination of the head, and Grisell +with hand and courteous voice, as he threw himself on the settle, +heated and weary, and began with tired fingers to unfasten his +heavy steel cap.</p> +<p>Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of +cooling Rhine wine. “There, thanks, mistress. +We have ridden all day from Ghent, in the heat and dust, and +after all the Count got before us.”</p> +<p>“To the Duke?”</p> +<p>“Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his +father’s sickness. Say what they will of hot words +and fierce passages between them, that father and son have hearts +loving one another truly.”</p> +<p>“It is well they should agree at the last,” said +Grisell, “or the Count will carry with him the sorest of +memories.”</p> +<p>And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of +his speechless father in an agony of grief.</p> +<p>Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their +warning that a soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell +made signs to Clemence, while Leonard lifted himself upright, and +all breathed the same for the mighty Prince as for the poorest +beggar, the intercession for the dying. Then the solemn +note became a knell, and their prayer changed to the De +Profundis, “Out of the depths.”</p> +<p>Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with the +intelligence that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with his +wife and son on either side of him, and his little granddaughter +kneeling beside the Duchess.</p> +<p>There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over +Flanders and the other domains united under the Dukedom of +Burgundy, for though Philip had often deeply erred, he had been a +fair ruler, balancing discordant interests justly, and +maintaining peace, while all that was splendid or luxurious +prospered and throve under him. There was a certain dread +of the future under his successor.</p> +<p>“A better man at heart,” said Leonard, who had +learnt to love the Count de Charolais. “He loathes +the vices and revelry that have stained the Court.”</p> +<p>“That is true,” said Lambert. “Yet he +is a man of violence, and with none of the skill and dexterity +with which Duke Philip steered his course.”</p> +<p>“A plague on such skill,” muttered Leonard. +“Caring solely for his own gain, not for the +right!”</p> +<p>“Yet your Count has a heavy hand,” said +Lambert. “Witness Dinant! unhappy Dinant.”</p> +<p>“The rogues insulted his mother,” said +Leonard. “He offered them terms which they would not +have in their stubborn pride! But speak not of that! +I never saw the like in England. There we strike at the +great, not at the small. Ah well, with all our wars and +troubles England was the better place to live in. Shall we +ever see it more?”</p> +<p>There was something delightful to Grisell in that +“we,” but she made answer, “So far as I hear, +there has been quiet there for the last two years under King +Edward.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and after all he has the right of blood,” +said Leonard. “Our King Henry is a saint, and Queen +Margaret a peerless dame of romance, but since I have come to +years of understanding I have seen that they neither had true +claim of inheritance nor power to rule a realm.”</p> +<p>“Then would you make your peace with the White +Rose?”</p> +<p>“The <i>rose en soleil</i> that wrought us so much evil +at Mortimer’s Cross? Methinks I would. I never +swore allegiance to King Henry. My father was still living +when last I saw that sweet and gracious countenance which I must +defend for love and reverence’ sake.”</p> +<p>“And he knighted you,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“True,” with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how +she was aware of the fact; “but only as my father’s +heir. My poor old house and tenants! I would I knew +how they fare; but mine uncle sends me no letters, though he does +supply me.”</p> +<p>“Then you do not feel bound in honour to +Lancaster?” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when +last she called up the Scots—the Scots indeed!—to aid +her. I could not join them in a foray on England. I +fear me she will move heaven and earth again when her son is of +age to bear arms; but my spirit rises against allies among Scots +or French, and I cannot think it well to bring back bloodshed and +slaughter.”</p> +<p>“I shall pray for peace,” said Grisell. All +this was happiness to her, as she felt that he was treating her +with confidence. Would she ever be nearer to him?</p> +<p>He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than +he had been at the time of his hurried marriage, and had +conversed with men of real understanding of the welfare of their +country. Such talks as these made Grisell feel that she +could look up to him as most truly her lord and guide. But +how was it with the fair Eleanor, and whither did his heart +incline? An English merchant, who came for spices, had said +that the Lord Audley had changed sides, and it was thus probable +that the damsel was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist; but there +was no knowing, nor did Grisell dare to feel her way to +discovering whether Leonard knew, or felt himself still bound to +constancy, outwardly and in heart.</p> +<p>Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke +Philip; he was to be finally interred with his father and +grandfather in the grand tombs at Dijon, but for the present the +body was to be placed in the Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at +night.</p> +<p>Sir Leonard rode at a foot’s pace in the troop of +men-at-arms, all in full armour, which glanced in the light of +the sixteen hundred torches which were borne before, behind, and +in the midst of the procession, which escorted the bier. +Outside the coffin, arrayed in ducal coronet and robes, with the +Golden Fleece collar round the neck, lay the exact likeness of +the aged Duke, and on shields around the pall, as well as on +banners borne waving aloft, were the armorial bearings of all his +honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, lordships +innumerable, besides the banners of all the guilds carried to do +him honour.</p> +<p>More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the +mass, which began in the morning hour, and in the requiem. +The heralds of all the domains broke their white staves and threw +them on the bier, proclaiming that Philip, lord of all these +lands, was deceased. Then, as in the case of royalty, +Charles his son was proclaimed; and the organ led an acclamation +of jubilee from all the assembly which filled the church, and a +shout as of thunder arose, “Vivat Carolus.”</p> +<p>Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, +silent, immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the +whirlwinds of passion that had raged between him and the father +whom he had loved all the time? or was there on him the weight of +a foreboding that he, though free from the grosser faults of his +father, would never win and keep hearts in the same manner, and +that a sad, tumultuous, troubled career and piteous, untimely end +lay before him?</p> +<p>His mother, Grisell’s Duchess, according to the rule of +the Court, lay in bed for six weeks—at least she was bound +to lie there whenever she was not in entire privacy. The +room and bed were hung with black, but a white covering was over +her, and she was fully dressed in the black and white weeds of +royal widowhood. The light of day was excluded, and hosts +of wax candles burnt around.</p> +<p>Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately +mourning, but she heard that the good lady had spent her time in +weeping and praying for her husband, all the more earnestly that +she had little cause personally to mourn him.</p> +<h2><a name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +268</span>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">FORGET ME NOT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p> And added, of her wit,<br /> +A border fantasy of branch and flower,<br /> +And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>, +<i>Elaine</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell +as soon as the rules of etiquette permitted, and her own mind was +free, to attend to the suite of lace hangings, with which much +progress had been made in the interval. She was in the +palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved her with devoted +affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hung halls +and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, all +filled with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black +dresses. Next pages and squires, knights of the lady, and +lastly ladies in black velvet, who sat at their work, with a +chaplain reading to them. One of these, the Countess of +Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at the Grey Sisters’ +convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, and conducted +her into the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, with +black hangings worked and edged, however, with white, and the +window was permitted to let in the light of day. The bed +was raised on steps in an alcove, and was splendidly draped and +covered with black embroidered with white, but the Duchess did +not occupy it. A curtain was lifted, and she came forward +in her deepest robes of widowhood, leading her little +granddaughter Mary, a child of eight or nine years old. +Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of each, and the Duchess +said—</p> +<p>“Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. +Have you finished the border?”</p> +<p>“Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the +corporal.”</p> +<p>The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the +little Mary, the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the +dainty web was woven, while she signed the maker to seat herself +on a step of the alcove.</p> +<p>When the child’s questions and interest were exhausted, +and she began to be somewhat perilously curious about the carved +weights of the bobbins, her grandmother sent her to play with the +ladies in the ante-room, desiring Grisell to continue the +work. After a few kindly words the Duchess said, “The +poor child is to have a stepdame so soon as the year of mourning +is passed. May she be good to her! Hath the rumour +thereof reached you in the city, Maid Griselda, that my son is in +treaty with your English King, though he loves not the house of +York? But princely alliances must be looked for in +marriage.”</p> +<p>“Madge!” exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, +“I should say the Lady Margaret of York.”</p> +<p>“You knew her?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in +the Lord of Salisbury’s house! There never was a maid +whom I knew or loved like her!”</p> +<p>“In the Count of Salisbury’s house,” +repeated the Duchess. “Were you there as the Lady +Margaret’s fellow-pupil?” she said, as though +perceiving that her lace maker must be of higher quality than she +had supposed.</p> +<p>“It was while my father was alive, madame, and before +her father had fixed his eyes on the throne, your +Highness.”</p> +<p>“And your father was, you said, the knight +De—De—D’Acor.”</p> +<p>“So please you, madame,” said Grisell kneeling, +“not to mention my poor name to the lady.”</p> +<p>“We are a good way from speech of her,” said the +Duchess smiling. “Our year of doole must pass, and +mayhap the treaty will not hold in the meantime. The King +of France would fain hinder it. But if the Demoiselle loved +you of old would she not give you preferment in her train if she +knew?”</p> +<p>“Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be +here! There is much that hangs on it, more than I can tell +at present, without doing harm; but I have a petition to prefer +to her.”</p> +<p>“An affair of true love,” said the Duchess +smiling.</p> +<p>“I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!”</p> +<p>When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in +which in spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the +pure frostwork-like web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, +and moreover, combined therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the +three scallops of Dacre, and each connected with ramifications of +the forget-me-not flower shaped like the turquoises of her +pouncet box, and with the letter G to be traced by ingenious +eyes, though the uninitiated might observe nothing.</p> +<p>She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much +of a certainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till +July came round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever of +preparation to receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, +carvers were desperately at work at the Duke’s +palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, embroiderers, +sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers and jewellers +had no rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering on the +canals, graceful skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out in +full detail the glories of the architecture above, the +tapestry-hung windows in the midst, the gaily-clad Vrows beneath, +while the bells rang out their merriest carillons from every +steeple, whence fluttered the banners of the guilds.</p> +<p>The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at +Sluys, and Duchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive +her.</p> +<p>“Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a +tirewoman perchance?” asked the Duchess kindly.</p> +<p>Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be +permitted to remain where she was until the bride should have +some leisure. And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more +overwhelming. As she freshly trimmed and broidered +Leonard’s surcoat and sword-belt, she heard one of the many +gossips who delighted to recount the members of the English suite +as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds and pursuivants +who had to marshal the procession and order the banquet. +“Fair ladies too,” he said, “from +England. There is the Lord Audley’s daughter with her +father. They say she is the very pearl of beauties. +We shall see whether our fair dames do not surpass +her.”</p> +<p>“The Lord Audley’s daughter did you say?” +asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her +lozenge, per pale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient +argent, for Heringham. She is one of the Duchess +Margaret’s dames-of-honour.”</p> +<p>To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of +her self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness +on the other.</p> +<h2><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +274</span>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE PAGEANT</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>When I may read of tilts in days of old,<br /> + And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown,<br /> +Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold—<br /> + If fancy would pourtray some stately town,<br /> +Which for such pomp fit theatre would be,<br /> +Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Southey</span>, +<i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">Leonard Copeland</span> was in close +attendance on the Duke, and could not give a moment to visit his +friends at the Green Serpent, so that there was no knowing how +the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. Duke +Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, +and here the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony +took place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des +Princes, leaving to the bride all the splendour of the +entrance.</p> +<p>The monastic orders were to be represented in the +procession. The Grey Sisters thought they had an especial +claim, and devised the presenting a crown of white roses at the +gates, and with great pleasure Grisell contributed the best of +Master Lambert’s lovely white Provence roses to complete +the garland, which was carried by the youngest novice, a fair +white rosebud herself.</p> +<p>Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was +hanging from window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often +with gold and silver thread. The trades and guilds had +renewed their signs, banners and pennons hung from every abode +entitled to their use, garlands of bright flowers stretched here +and there and everywhere. All had been in a frenzy of +preparation for many days past, and the final touches began with +the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. To +Grisell’s great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the +hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. +“Ah! my ladybird,” said he, “in good health as +ever.”</p> +<p>“All the better for seeing you, mine old friend,” +she cried. “I thought you were far away at +Compostella.”</p> +<p>“So verily I was. Here’s St. James’s +cockle to wit—Santiago as they call him there, and show the +stone coffin he steered across the sea. No small miracle +that! And I’ve crossed France, and looked at many a +field of battle of the good old times, and thought and said a +prayer for the brave knights who broke lances there. But as +I was making for St. Martha’s cave in Provence, I met a +friar, who told me of the goodly gathering there was like to be +here; and I would fain see whether I could hap upon old friends, +or at any rate hear a smack of our kindly English tongue, so I +made the best of my way hither.”</p> +<p>“In good time,” said Lambert. “You +will take the lady and the housewife to the stoop at Master +Caxton’s house, where he has promised them seats whence +they may view the entrance. I myself am bound to walk with +my fellows of the Apothecaries’ Society, and it will be +well for them to have another guard in the throng, besides old +Anton.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show,” +said Ridley, looking at his russet gown.</p> +<p>“We will see to that anon,” said Lambert; and ere +supper was over, old Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from +the neighbouring merchants, with gold lace seams and girdle, +peaked boots, and the hideous brimless hat which was then highly +fashionable. Ridley’s trusty sword he had always worn +under his pilgrim’s gown, and with the dagger always used +as a knife, he made his appearance once more as a squire of +degree, still putting the scallop into his hat, in honour of +Dacre as well as of St. James.</p> +<p>The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly +gliding along several streets in a barge, watching the motley +crowds thronging banks and bridges—a far more brilliant +crowd than in these later centuries, since both sexes were alike +gay in plumage. From every house, even those out of the +line of the procession, hung tapestry, or coloured cloths, and +the garlands of flowers, of all bright lines, with their fresh +greenery, were still unfaded by the clear morning sun, while +joyous carillons echoed and re-echoed from the belfry and all the +steeples. Ridley owned that he had never seen the like +since King Harry rode home from Agincourt—perhaps hardly +even then, for Bruges was at the height of its splendour, as were +the Burgundian Dukes at the very climax of their +magnificence.</p> +<p>After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, +and Anton with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd +before they gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps +had been railed in, and seats arranged under the shelter of the +projecting roof.</p> +<p>Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made +Kentishman, who had lived long abroad, and was always ready to +make an Englishman welcome. He listened politely to +Grisell’s introduction of Master Ridley, exchanged silent +greetings with Vrow Clemence, and insisted on their coming into +the chamber within, where a repast of cold pasty, marchpane, +strawberries, and wine, awaited them—to be eaten while as +yet there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes.</p> +<p>Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the +few who cared for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the +history of Troy town, and likewise the strange machine on which +he was experimenting for multiplying copies of the translation he +had in hand, with blocks for the woodcuts which Grisell could not +in conscience say would be as beautiful as the gorgeous +illuminations of his books.</p> +<p>Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to +see only scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the +bride at the gate of St. Croix.</p> +<p>By and by, however, came the “gang,” as Ridley +called it, in earnest. Every body of ecclesiastics was +there: monks and friars, black, white, and gray; nuns, black, +white, and blue; the clergy in their richest robes, with costly +crucifixes of gold, silver, and ivory held aloft, and reliquaries +of the most exquisite workmanship, sparkling with precious +jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire flashing in the sun; +the fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by their Master and +their banner, gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, such as +stockings, saw and compasses, weavers’ shuttles, and the +like. Master Lambert looked up and nodded a smile from +beneath a banner with Apollo and the Python, which Ridley might +be excused for taking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The +Mayor in scarlet, white fur and with gold collar, surrounded by +his burgomasters in almost equally radiant garments, marched +on.</p> +<p>Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts of +instruments before them, making the most festive din, through +which came bursts of the joy bells. Violet and black +arrayed the inferiors, setting off the crimson satin pourpoints +of the higher officers, on whose brimless hats each waved with a +single ostrich plume in a shining brooch.</p> +<p>Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; +next heralds and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke’s +domains, glittering back and front in the tabard of his +county’s armorial bearings, and with its banner borne +beside him. Then a division of the Duke’s bodyguard, +all like himself in burnished armour with scarves across +them. The nobles of Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, Holland, +and Alsace, the most splendid body then existing, came in endless +numbers, their horses, feather-crested as well as themselves, +with every bridle tinkling with silver bells, and the animals +invisible all but their heads and tails under their magnificent +housings, while the knights seemed to be pillars of +radiance. Yet even more gorgeous were the knights of the +Golden Fleece, who left between them a lane in which moved six +white horses, caparisoned in cloth of gold, drawing an open +litter in which sat, as on a throne, herself dazzling in cloth of +silver, the brown-eyed Margaret of old, her dark hair bride +fashion flowing on her shoulders, and around it a +marvellously-glancing diamond coronet, above it, however, the +wreath of white roses, which her own hands had placed there when +presented by the novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell’s +hand with delight as she recognised her own white rose, the +finest of the garland.</p> +<p>Immediately after the car came Margaret’s English +attendants, the stately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest +to her, and then a bevy of dames and damsels on horseback, but +moving so slowly that Grisell had full time to discover the +silver herrings on the caparisons of one of the palfreys, and +then to raise her eyes to the face of the tall stately lady whose +long veil, flowing down from her towered head-gear, by no means +concealed a beautiful complexion and fair perfect features, such +as her own could never have rivalled even if they had never been +defaced. Her heart sank within her, everything swam before +her eyes, she scarcely saw the white doves let loose from the +triumphant arch beyond to greet the royal lady, and was first +roused by Ridley’s exclamation as the knights with their +attendants began to pass.</p> +<p>“Ha! the lad kens me! ’Tis Harry +Featherstone as I live.”</p> +<p>Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert +Ridley, there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a +splendid knight, Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal +Bridge of Wakefield. He was lowering his lance in greeting, +but there was no knowing whether it was to Ridley or to Grisell, +or whether he recognised her, as she wore her veil far over her +face.</p> +<p>This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the +figure which was more to her than all the rest, for he was among +the knights and guards waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive +the bride when the final ceremonies of the marriage were to be +performed.</p> +<p>Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young +Featherstone, but Grisell impressed on him that she wished to +remain unknown for the present, above all to Sir Leonard +Copeland, and he had been quite sufficiently alarmed by the +accusations of sorcery to believe in the danger of her becoming +known among the English.</p> +<p>“More by token,” said he, “that the house of +this Master Caxton as you call him seems to me no canny +haunt. Tell me what you will of making manifold good books +or bad, I’ll never believe but that Dr. Faustus and the +Devil hatched the notion between them for the bewilderment of +men’s brains and the slackening of their hands.”</p> +<p>Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young +lady to come forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to +which he rushed, through crowds and jostling, to behold, with the +ardour of an old warrior, the various tilts and tourneys, though +he grumbled that they were nothing but child’s play and +vain show, no earnest in them fit for a man.</p> +<p>Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of +the wonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion +thereof in the lists of the Hôtel de Ville, and again, some +days later, of the banquet, when the table decorations were +mosaic gardens with silver trees, laden with enamelled fruit, and +where, as an interlude, a whale sixty feet long made its entrance +and emitted from its jaws a troop of Moorish youths and maidens, +who danced a saraband to the sound of tambourines and +cymbals! Such scenes were bliss to the deaf housewife, and +would enliven the silent world of her memory all the rest of her +life.</p> +<p>The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such +scenes being inappropriate to her mourning, and besides her +apartments being needed for the influx of guests. There, in +early morning, before the revels began, Grisell ventured to ask +for an audience, and was permitted to follow the Duchess when she +returned from mass to her own apartments.</p> +<p>“Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in +the revels and pageantries?”</p> +<p>“I saw the procession, so please your Grace.”</p> +<p>“And your old playmate in her glory?”</p> +<p>“Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of +Heaven!”</p> +<p>“Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not +unfit us for the veritable everlasting glories, when all these +things shall be no more.”</p> +<p>The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the +day when her son’s corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and +stripped, beside the marsh.</p> +<p>But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any +petition.</p> +<p>“Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put +into the hands of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without +naming me.”</p> +<p>She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons +of blue and silver in an outer case, worked with the White +Rose.</p> +<p>The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, “Nay, but this is more +beauteous than all you have wrought before. Ah! here is +your own device! I see there is purpose in these patterns +of your web. And am I not to name you?”</p> +<p>“I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess +should divine the worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought +that she will.”</p> +<p>“Yet you have put the flower that my English mother +called ‘Forget-me-not.’ Ah, maiden, has it a +purpose?”</p> +<p>“Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only +remember in your prayers to ask that I may do the right,” +said Grisell, with clasped hands and weeping eyes.</p> +<h2><a name="page285"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +285</span>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">DUCHESS MARGARET</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those +days of old;<br /> +Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece +of Gold.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Longfellow</span>, <i>The Belfry of Bruges</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> another week the festivities +were over, and she waited anxiously, dreading each day more and +more that her gift had been forgotten or misunderstood, or that +her old companion disdained or refused to take notice of her; +then trying to console herself by remembering the manifold +engagements and distractions of the bride.</p> +<p>Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard +Copeland came one evening to supper. He was lodged among +the guards of the Duke in the palace, and had much less time at +his disposal than formerly, for Duke Charles insisted on the most +strict order and discipline among all his attendants. +Moreover, there were tokens of enmity on the part of the French +on the border of the Somme, and Leonard expected to be despatched +to the camp which was being formed there. He was out of +spirits. The sight and speech of so many of his countrymen +had increased the longing for home.</p> +<p>“I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish +tongues,” he owned, when Master Lambert was out of +hearing. “I should feel at home if I could but hear +an honest carter shout ‘Woa’ to his +horses.”</p> +<p>“Did you have any speech with the ladies?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“I? No! What reck they of a poor knight +adventurer?”</p> +<p>“Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a +belted knight was a comrade for a king,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and +Counts, and great Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a +trout stream, what chance is there that a poor, landless exile +will have a word or a glance?”</p> +<p>Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? +Grisell longed to know, but for that very reason she faltered +when about to ask, and turned her query into one whether he had +heard any news of his English relations.</p> +<p>“My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four +years—so far as I can gather. Amply must he have +supplied Master Groot. I must account with him. For +mine inheritance I can gather nothing clearly. I fancy the +truth is that George Copeland, who holds it, is little better +than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward might grant it +back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn never to +pardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of +Rutland.”</p> +<p>“You had not! I know you had not!”</p> +<p>“Hurt Ned? I’d as soon have hurt my own +brother! Nay, I got this blow from Clifford for coming +between,” said he, pushing back his hair so as to show a +mark near his temple. “But how did you +know?”</p> +<p>“Harry Featherstone told me.” She had all +but said, “My father’s squire.”</p> +<p>“You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at +Whitburn. He is here now; a good man of his hands,” +muttered Leonard. “Anyway the King believes I had a +hand in that cruel business of Wakefield Bridge, and nought but +his witness would save my neck if once I ventured into +England—if that would. So I may resign myself to be +the Duke’s captain of archers for the rest of my +days. Heigh ho! And a lonely man; I fear me in debt +to good Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress Grisell, to whom I +owe more than coin will pay. Ha! was that—” +interrupting himself, for a trumpet blast was ringing out at +intervals, the signal of summons to the men-at-arms. +Leonard started up, waved farewell, and rushed off.</p> +<p>The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend +the Duke early the next morning on an expedition to visit his +fortresses in Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent +returned from mass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the +armour flash in the sun as the troop passed along the main +street, and became visible at the opening of that up which they +walked.</p> +<p>The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey +Sisters that Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess +Isabel.</p> +<p>She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs +trembled. Indeed, she shook so that she could not stand +still nor walk slowly. She hurried on so that the lay +sister who had been sent for her was quite out of breath, and +panted after her within gasps of “Stay! stay, +mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though a +mad ox had got loose!”</p> +<p>Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have +to hear from her kind Duchess that all was vain and +unnoticed.</p> +<p>Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an +additional chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half +circle of ladies as usual, but before she had seen more with her +dazzled, swimming eyes, even as she rose from her first +genuflection, she found herself in a pair of soft arms, kisses +rained on her cheeks and brow, and there was a tender cry in her +own tongue of “My Grisell! my dear old Grisell! I +have found you at last! Oh! that was good in you. I +knew the forget-me-nots, and all your little devices. +Ah!” as Grisell, unable to speak for tears of joy, held up +the pouncet box, the childish gift.</p> +<p>The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds +was pressed to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round +her, the white satin broidered skirt swept about her feet, the +pearl-edged matronly cap on the youthful head leant fondly +against her, as Margaret led her up, still in her embrace, and +cried, “It is she, it is she! Dear belle mère, +thanks indeed for bringing us together!”</p> +<p>The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at English +impulsiveness, and the elder Duchess herself looked for a moment +stiff, as her lace-maker slipped to her knees to kiss her hand +and murmur her thanks.</p> +<p>“Let me look at you,” cried Margaret. +“Ah! have you recovered that terrible mishap? By my +troth, ’tis nearly gone. I should never have found it +out had I not known!”</p> +<p>This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal +of difference in Grisell’s face, and the Duchess Margaret +was one of the most eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent +alike in love and in hate, ready both to act on slight evidence +for those whose cause she took up, and to nourish bitter hatred +against the enemies of her house.</p> +<p>“Now, tell me all,” she continued in +English. “I heard that you had been driven out of +Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick had sped you northward. How +is it that you are here, weaving lace like any mechanical +sempstress? Nay, nay! I cannot listen to you on your +knees. We have hugged one another too often for +that.”</p> +<p>Grisell, with the elder Duchess’s permission, seated +herself on the cushion at Margaret’s feet. +“Speak English,” continued the bride. “I +am wearying already of French! Ma belle mère, you +will not find fault. You know a little of our own honest +tongue.”</p> +<p>Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions +of Margaret, told her story. When she came to the mention +of her marriage to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive +exclamation, “Bound to that blood-thirsty traitor! +Never! After the way he treated you, no marvel that he fell +on my sweet Edmund!”</p> +<p>“Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save +him.”</p> +<p>“He! A follower of King Henry! +Never!”</p> +<p>“Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord +Edmund. He strove to stay Lord Clifford’s hand, and +threw himself between, but Clifford dashed him aside, and he +bears still the scar where he fell against the parapet of the +bridge. Harry Featherstone told me, when he fled from the +piteous field, where died my father and brother Robin.”</p> +<p>“Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. +I would have made him good cheer for your sake, but my mother was +ever strict, and rapped our fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, +if we ever spake to any of my father’s meiné. +Tell on, Grisell,” as her hand found its way under the +hood, and stroked the fair hair. “Poor lonely +one!”</p> +<p>Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland’s +love, and still more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, +truly enough, that he should have taken both lady and Tower, or +given both up, and lending a most unwilling ear to the plea that +he had never thought his relations to Grisell binding. She +had never loved Lady Heringham, and it was plainly with good +cause.</p> +<p>Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared that +Grisell had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close +inquiries elicited that she had been maintaining him all this +while, actually for seven years, all unknown to him, the young +Duchess could not contain herself. “Grisell! +Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mère, belle +mère, do you understand?” and in rapid French she +recounted all.</p> +<p>“He is my husband,” said Grisell simply, as the +two Duchesses showed their wonder and admiration.</p> +<p>“Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly +wife,” cried Margaret. “And now what would you +have me do for you, my most patient of Grisells? Write to +my brother the King to restore your lands, and—and I +suppose you would have this recreant fellow’s given back +since you say he has seen the error of following that make-bate +Queen. But can you prove him free of Edmund’s +blood? Aught but that might be forgiven.”</p> +<p>“Master Featherstone is gone back to England,” +said Grisell, “but he can bear witness; but my +father’s old squire, Cuthbert Ridley, is here, who heard +his story when he came to us from Wakefield. Moreover, I +have seen the mark on Sir Leonard’s brow.”</p> +<p>“Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. +He has been more prone to Lancaster folk since he was caught by +the wiles of Lady Grey; but I would that I could hear what would +clear this knight of yours by other testimony than such as your +loving heart may frame. But you must come and be one of +mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never go back to your +Poticary—Faugh!”</p> +<p>This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret really +reverenced her too much to press her.</p> +<p>However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and +returned with a letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a +mission to find Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock.</p> +<p>“’Tis working for that rogue Copeland,” he +growled. “I would it were for you, my sweet +lady.”</p> +<p>“It is working for me! Think so with all your +heart, good Cuthbert.”</p> +<p>“Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what +you are, wed or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease +to live nameless, like the Poticary’s serving-woman,” +concluded Ridley as his parting grumble.</p> +<h2><a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +295</span>CHAPTER XXX<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">THE WEDDING CHIMES</span></h2> +<blockquote><p>Low at times and loud at times,<br /> +Changing like a poet’s rhymes,<br /> +Rang the beautiful wild chimes,<br /> +From the belfry in the market<br /> +Of the ancient town of Bruges.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span +class="smcap">Longfellow</span>, <i>The Carillon</i>.</p> +</blockquote> +<p><span class="smcap">No</span> more was heard of the Duchess +for some weeks. Leonard was absent with the Duke, who was +engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune and Liège, the +romantic version of which may be read in <i>Quentin Durward</i>, +and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it +seemed to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing.</p> +<p>The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong +taste for effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay +that Grisell was suddenly summoned to her presence, to be +escorted by Master Groot. There she sat, on her chair of +state, with the high tapestried back and the square canopy, and +in the throng of gentlemen around her Grisell at a glance +recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert Ridley and Harry +Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette to exchange +any greetings.</p> +<p>She knelt to kiss the Duchess’s hand, and as she did so +Margaret raised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear +full voice, “I greet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of +Whitburn. Here is a letter from my brother, King Edward, +calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count Palatine, to put you in +possession of thy castle and lands, whoever may gainsay +it.”</p> +<p>That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward +Grisell was conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that +gave the letter; but there was more to come, and Margaret +continued—</p> +<p>“Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give +this parchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, +containing his full and free pardon to the good knight, Sir +Leonard Copeland, and his restoration to all his honours and his +manors. Take it, Lady of Whitburn. It was you, his +true wife, who won it for him. It is you who should give it +to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard.”</p> +<p>He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse +had been to kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall +at the Duchess’s feet in thanks.</p> +<p>“To her, to her,” said the Duchess; but Grisell, +as he turned, spoke, trying to clear her voice from a rising +sob.</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not +spoken all. I am well advised that the wedlock into which +you were forced against your will was of no avail to bind us, as +you in mind and will were contracted to the Lady Eleanor +Audley.”</p> +<p>Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. +“True, I know that she was likewise constrained to wed; but +she is a widow, and free to choose for herself. Therefore, +either by the bishop, or it may be through our Holy Father the +Pope, by mutual consent, shall the marriage at Whitburn be +annulled and declared void, and I pray you to accept seisin +thereof, while my lady, her Highness the Duchess Isabel, with the +Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister.”</p> +<p>There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have +sprung forward and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with +her.</p> +<p>“Never! never!” he cried, throwing himself on his +knees and mastering his wife’s hand. “Grisell, +Grisell, dost think I could turn to the feather-pated, +dull-souled, fickle-hearted thing I know now Eleanor of Audley to +be, instead of you?”</p> +<p>There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess +herself, but Grisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in +low broken tones, “Nay, nay; she is fair, I am +loathly.”</p> +<p>“What is her fair skin to me?” he cried; “to +me, who have learnt to know, and love, and trust to you with a +very different love from the boy’s passion I felt for +Eleanor in youth, and the cure whereof was the sight and words of +the Lady Heringham! Grisell, Grisell, I was about to lay my +very heart at your feet when the Duke’s trumpet called me +away, ere I guessed, fool that I was, that mine was the hand that +left the scar that now I love, but which once I treated with a +brute’s or a boy’s lightness. Oh! pardon +me! Still less did I know that it was my own forsaken wife +who saved my life, who tended my sickness, nay, as I verily +believed, toiled for me and my bread through these long seven +years, all in secret. Yea, and won my entire soul and deep +devotion or ever I knew that it was to you alone that they were +due. Grisell, Grisell,” as she could not speak for +tears. “Oh forgive! Pardon me! Turn not +away to be a Grey Sister. I cannot do without you! +Take me! Let me strive throughout my life to merit a little +better all that you have done and suffered for one so +unworthy!”</p> +<p>Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and +regardless of all spectators, she was for the first time clasped +in her husband’s arms, and the joyful tears of her friends +high and low.</p> +<p>What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be +narrated how this wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the +lovely bells of Bruges rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot +and Clemence rejoiced though they lost their guest, how Caxton +gave them a choice specimen of his printing, how Ridley doffed +his pilgrim’s garb and came out as a squire of dames, how +the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged with the Duchess, and +how the Duke growled that from whichever party he took his stout +English he was sure to lose them?</p> +<p>Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, +and a progress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and +haggard, came and entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had +little guessed what her talk was doing, and that Ralph made her +believe whatever he chose! She had a hard life, treated +like a slave by the burgesses, who despised the fisher +maid. Oh that she could go back to serve her dear good +lady!</p> +<p>There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the +late reign of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern +their estates that for long years the time of ‘Grisly +Grisell’ was remembered as Whitburn’s golden age.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GRISLY GRISELL***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 7387-h.htm or 7387-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/7/3/8/7387 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Grisly Grisell + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7387] +[This file was first posted on April 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, GRISLY GRISELL *** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1906 edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + +GRISLY GRISELL, or THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN: A TALE OF THE WARS +OF THE ROSES + + + + +CHAPTER I--AN EXPLOSION + + + +It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous saltpetre should be +digg'd out of the bowels of the harmless earth. + +SHAKESPEARE King Henry IV., Part I. + +A terrible shriek rang through the great Manor-house of Amesbury. It +was preceded by a loud explosion, and there was agony as well as +terror in the cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some of +pain, some of fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every one +in the house ran together to the spot whence the cries proceeded, +namely, the lower court, where the armourer and blacksmith had their +workshops. + +There was a group of children, the young people who were confided to +the great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of Salisbury for education +and training. Boys and girls were alike there, some of the latter +crying and sobbing, others mingling with the lads in the hot dispute +as to "who did it." + +By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, +all the grown-up persons of the establishment--knights, squires, +grooms, scullions, and females of every degree--had thronged round +them, but parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, +"Nay, Lady Countess, 'tis no sight for you. The poor little maid is +dead, or nigh upon it." + +"But who is it? What is it?" asked the Countess, still advancing. + +A confused medley of voices replied, "The Lord of Whitburn's little +wench--Leonard Copeland--gunpowder." + +"And no marvel," said a sturdy, begrimed figure, "if the malapert +young gentles be let to run all over the courts, and handle that with +which they have no concern, lads and wenches alike." + +"Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the maidens kept +ever at their distaffs and needles in seemly fashion," cried a small +but stout and self-assertive dame, known as "Mother of the Maidens," +then starting, "Oh! my lady, I crave your pardon, I knew not you were +in this coil! And if the men-at-arms be let to have their perilous +goods strewn all over the place, no wonder at any mishap." + +"Do not wrangle about the cause," said the Countess. "Who is hurt? +How much?" + +The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of about +ten was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a woman's lap. + +"Poor maid," was the cry, "poor maid! 'Tis all over with her. It +will go ill with young Leonard Copeland." + +"Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his irons." + +"Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning gunpowder--a +device of Satan--in this yard? A mercy we are not all blown to the +winds." + +The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose moans +showed that she was still alive, and between the barber-surgeon and +the porter's wife she was lifted up, and carried to a bed, the +Countess Alice keeping close to her, though the "Mother of the +Maidens," who was a somewhat helpless personage, hung back, declaring +that the sight of the wounds made her swoon. There were terrible +wounds upon the face and neck, which seemed to be almost bared of +skin. The lady, who had been bred to some knowledge of surgical +skill, together with the barber-surgeon, did their best to allay the +agony with applications of sweet oil. Perhaps if they had had more +of what was then considered skill, it might have been worse for her. + +The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay the +suffering of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaning +for "nurse." She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron of +Whitburn, and had been placed, young as she was, in the household of +the Countess of Salisbury on her mother being made one of the ladies +attending on the young Queen Margaret of Anjou, lately married to +King Henry VI. + +Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing the +history of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses' feet +showed that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to her +old nurse, she went down to the hall to receive him. + +The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged, +round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood before +him, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulder +held fast by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stood +behind. + +There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose, +came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting, +demanded, "What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?" + +"Nay, but I fear me she cannot live," was the answer. + +"Will Dacre of Whitburn's maid? That's ill, poor child! How fell it +out?" + +"That I know as little as you," was the answer. "I have been seeing +to the poor little maid's hurts." + +Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point of +fact, she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had been +created Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, +the staunch warrior of Henry V. in the siege of Orleans. + +"Speak out, Leonard Copeland," said the Earl. "What hast thou done?" + +The boy only growled, "I never meant to hurt the maid." + +"Speak to the point, sir," said Lord Salisbury sternly; "give +yourself at least the grace of truth." + +Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only hung +his head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl turned to +those who were only too eager to accuse him. + +"He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, and +put it to the barrel of powder." + +"Is this true, Leonard?" demanded the Earl again, amazed at the +frantic proceeding, and Leonard muttered "Aye," vouchsafing no more, +and looking black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed to +his side and said, "Uncle," doffing his cap, "so please you, my lord, +the barrels had just been brought in upon Hob Carter's wain, and +Leonard said they ought to have the Lord Earl's arms on them. So he +took a bar of hot iron from the forge to mark the saltire on them, +and thereupon there was this burst of smoke and flame, and the maid, +who was leaning over, prying into his doings, had the brunt thereof." + +"Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done," ejaculated the +lady shuddering, while her lord proceeded--"It was not malice, but +malapert meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, thou must be +scourged to make thee keep thine hands off where they be not needed. +For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn may require. +Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and keep him in ward till +we see the issue." + +Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not uttering +a word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire's +grasp, but only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster. + +Next, Lord Salisbury's severity fell upon Hob the carter and Hodge +the smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court- +yard. Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, +but soundly flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the +"blackguard" at any age, even under the mildest rule. The gunner, +being somewhat higher in position, and not in charge at the moment, +was not called to account, but the next question was, how the "Mother +of the Maids"--the gouvernante in charge of the numerous damsels who +formed the train of the Lady of Salisbury, and were under education +and training--could have permitted her maidens to stray into the +regions appropriated to the yeomen and archers, and others of the +meine, where they certainly had no business. + +It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls in +the gardens "a playing at the ball" with some of the pages, and that +there, on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented her from +discovering the absence of the younger part of the bevy. The demure +elder damsels deposed that, at the sound of wains coming into the +court, the boys had rushed off, and the younger girls had followed +them, whether with or without warning was not made clear. Poor +little Grisell's condition might have been considered a sufficient +warning, nevertheless the two companions in her misdemeanour were +condemned to a whipping, to enforce on them a lesson of maidenliness; +and though the Mother of the Maids could not partake of the +flagellation, she remained under her lord's and lady's grave +displeasure, and probably would have to submit to a severe penance +from the priest for her carelessness. Yet, as she observed, Mistress +Grisell was a North Country maid, never couthly or conformable, but +like a boy, who would moreover always be after Leonard Copeland, +whether he would or no. + +It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his wife, +because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; and the +King had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, and to bring +about a contract of marriage between these two unfortunate children, +but he feared that whatever he could do, there would only be +additional feud and bitterness, though it was clear that the mishap +was accidental. The Lord of Whitburn himself was in Ireland with the +Duke of York, while his lady was in attendance on the young Queen, +and it was judged right and seemly to despatch to her a courier with +the tidings of her daughter's disaster, although in point of fact, +where a house could number sons, damsels were not thought of great +value, except as the means of being allied with other houses. A +message was also sent to Sir William Copeland that his son had been +the death of the daughter of Whitburn; for poor little Grisell lay +moaning in a state of much fever and great suffering, so that the +Lady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear her sighs and sobs +without tears, and the barber-surgeon, unaccustomed to the effects of +gunpowder, had little or no hope of her life. + +Leonard Copeland's mood was sullen, not to say surly. He submitted +to the chastisement without a word or cry, for blows were the lot of +boys of all ranks, and were dealt out without much respect to +justice; and he also had to endure a sort of captivity, in a dismal +little circular room in a turret of the manorial house, with merely a +narrow loophole to look out from, and this was only accessible by +climbing up a steep broken slope of brick-work in the thickness of +the wall. + +Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, Edmund +Plantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, building up +fragments of stone and mortar into the plan of a castle. + +"How dost thou, Leonard?" he asked. "Did old Hal strike very hard?" + +"I reck not," growled Leonard. + +"How long will my uncle keep thee here?" asked Edmund sympathisingly. + +"Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should go and die. +She brought it on me, the peevish girl. She is always after me when +I want her least." + +"Yea, is not she contracted to thee?" + +"So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being plagued with +her--do what they may to me. There's an end to it, if I hang for +it." + +"They would never hang thee." + +"None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a loyal +house," growled Leonard. + +"Traitor, saidst thou," cried Edmund, clenching his fists. "'Tis thy +base Somerset crew that be the traitors." + +"I'll brook no such word from thee," burst forth Leonard, flying at +him. + +"Ha! ha!" laughed Edmund even as they grappled. "Who is the traitor +forsooth? Why, 'tis my father who should be King. 'Tis white-faced +Harry and his Beauforts--" + +The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the warder +presently found the two boys rolling on the floor together in hot +contest. + +And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn and +flayed cheeks and lips, "O lady, lady, visit it not on him! Let not +Leonard be punished. It was my fault for getting into his way when I +should have been in the garden. Dear Madge, canst thou speak for +him?" + +Madge was Edmund's sister, Margaret of York, who stood trembling and +crying by Grisell's bed. + + + +CHAPTER II--THE BROKEN MATCH + + + +The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence. + +Contemporary Poem. + +Little Grisell Dacre did not die, though day after day she lay in a +suffering condition, tenderly watched over by the Countess Alice. +Her mother had been summoned from attendance on the Queen, but at +first there only was returned a message that if the maid was dead she +should be embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, +when her father would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boy +should be called to account for his crime, his father being, as the +Lady of Whitburn caused to be written, an evil-minded minion and +fosterer of the house of Somerset, the very bane of the King and the +enemies of the noble Duke of York and Earl of Warwick. + +The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl of +Salisbury was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of Raby +Castle in Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by marriage with +Alice Montagu, heiress of that earldom. His youngest sister had +married Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, who being descended from +Lionel, Duke of Clarence, was considered to have a better right to +the throne than the house of Lancaster, though this had never been +put forward since the earlier years of Henry V. + +Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne Beauchamp, +and was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates larger even +than those of his father. He had not, however, as yet come forward, +and the disputes at Court were running high between the friends of +the Duke of Somerset and those of the Duke of York. + +The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of Somerset, +who were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more inclined to +uphold royalty, while York was considered as the champion of the +people. The gentle King and the Beauforts wished for peace with +France; the nation, and with them York, thought this was giving up +honour, land, and plunder, and suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, +of truckling to the enemy. Jack Cade's rising and the murder of the +Duke of Suffolk had been the outcome of this feeling. Indeed, Lord +Salisbury's messenger reported the Country about London to be in so +disturbed a state that it was no wonder that the Lady of Whitburn did +not make the journey. She was not, as the Countess suspected, a very +tender mother. Grisell's moans were far more frequently for her +nurse than for her, but after some space they ceased. The child +became capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and both +barber and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any vital +part, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently with +hopelessly injured features. + +Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, and +allowed to resume his usual place among the Earl's pages; when the +warder announced that he saw two parties approaching from opposite +sides of the down, one as if from Salisbury, the other from the +north; and presently he reported that the former wore the family +badge, a white rosette, the latter none at all, whence it was +perceived that the latter were adherents of the Beauforts of +Somerset, for though the "Rose of Snow" had been already adopted by +York, Somerset had in point of fact not plucked the Red Rose in the +Temple gardens, nor was it as yet the badge of Lancaster. + +Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn was in +the fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury hastened to +receive her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put into some +order. + +She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very smooth of +speech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough courtesy, +demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, "Lives my +wench still?" + +"Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she will yet be +healed." + +"Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught further had +befallen her. Be that as it may, no doubt you have given the +malapert boy his deserts." + +"I hope I have, madam," began the Earl. "I kept him in close ward +while she was in peril of death, but--" A fresh bugle blast +interrupted him, as there clattered through the resounding gate the +other troop, at sight of whom the Lady of Whitburn drew herself up, +redoubling her grim dignity, and turning it into indignation as a +young page rushed forward to meet the newcomers, with a cry of +"Father! Lord Father, come at last;" then composing himself, doffed +his cap and held the stirrup, then bent a knee for his father's +blessing. + +"You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous fellow was in +safe hold," said the lady, bending her dark brows. + +"While the maid was in peril," hastily answered Salisbury. "Pardon +me, madam, my Countess will attend you." + +The Countess's high rank and great power were impressive to the +Baroness of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost her first +words were, "Madam, you at least will not let the murderous traitors +of Somerset and the Queen prevail over the loyal friends of York and +the nation." + +"There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be to the saints," +said Countess Alice, "your little maid--" + +"Aye, that's what they said as to the poor good Duke Humfrey," +returned the irate lady; "but that you, madam, the good-sister of the +noble York, should stand up for the enemies of him, and the friends +of France, is more than a plain North Country woman like me can +understand. And there--there, turning round upon the steep steps, +there is my Lord Earl hand and glove with that minion fellow of +Somerset, who was no doubt at the bottom of the plot! None would +believe it at Raby." + +"None at Raby would believe that my lord could be lacking in courtesy +to a guest," returned Lady Salisbury with dignity, "nor that a North +Country dame could expect it of him. Those who are under his roof +must respect it by fitting demeanour towards one another." + +The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the Countess +asked whether she did not wish to see her daughter, leading the way +to a chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great curtained bed +nearly filling it up, for the patient had been installed in one of +the best guest-chambers of the Castle. Lady Whitburn was surprised, +but was too proud to show herself gratified by what she thought was +the due of the dignity of the Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat by +the bed, where there was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired little +girl stood by the window, whence she had been describing the arrivals +in the Castle court. + +"Here is your mother, my poor child," began the Lady of Salisbury, +but there was no token of joy. Grisell gave a little gasp, and tried +to say "Lady Mother, pardon--" but the Lady of Whitburn, at sight of +the reddened half of the face which alone was as yet visible, gave a +cry, "She will be a fright! You evil little baggage, thus to get +yourself scarred and made hideous! Running where you ought not, I +warrant!" and she put out her hand as if to shake the patient, but +the Countess interposed, and her niece Margaret gave a little cry. +"Grisell is still very weak and feeble! She cannot bear much; we +have only just by Heaven's grace brought her round." + +"As well she were dead as like this," cried this untender parent. +"Who is to find her a husband now? and as to a nunnery, where is one +to take her without a dower such as is hard to find, with two sons to +be fitly provided? I looked that in a household like this, better +rule should be kept." + +"None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl," said the gentle +Countess; "but young folks can scarce be watched hour by hour." + +"The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to you to give +it them, madam," said Lady Whitburn. "Now, the least that can be +done is to force yonder malapert lad and his father into keeping his +contract to her, since he has spoilt the market for any other." + +"Is he contracted to her?" asked the Countess. + +"Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, and the King, +and all the rest, thought to heal the breach between the houses by +planning a contract between their son and my daughter. He shall keep +it now, at his peril." + +Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how much she +heard or understood. The Countess was glad to get Lady Whitburn out +of the room, but both she and her Earl had a very trying evening, in +trying to keep the peace between the two parents. Sir William +Copeland was devoted to the Somerset family, of whom he held his +manor; and had had a furious quarrel with the Baron of Whitburn, when +both were serving in France. + +The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and had +induced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the future +marriage of Leonard, Copeland's second son, to Grisell Dacre, then +the only child of the Lord of Whitburn. He had also obtained that +the two children should be bred up in the household of the Earl of +Salisbury, by way of letting them grow up together. On the same +principle the Lady of Whitburn had been made one of the attendants of +Queen Margaret--but neither arrangement had been more successful than +most of those of poor King Henry. + +Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of hers, but +she beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent from younger +girls, and when he was thirteen, and she ten years old, there was +very little affection on his side. Moreover, the birth of two +brothers had rendered Grisell's hand a far less desirable prize in +the eyes of the Copelands. + +To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, used to +a hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute rule, and no +hand over her save her husband's; while the young and outspoken +Queen, bred up in the graceful, poetical Court of Aix or Nancy, +looked on her as no better than a barbarian, and if she did not show +this openly, reporters were not wanting to tell her that the Queen +called her the great northern hag, or that her rugged unwilling +curtsey was said to look as if she were stooping to draw water at a +well. Her husband had kept her in some restraint, but when be had +gone to Ireland with the Duke of York, offences seemed to multiply +upon her. The last had been that when she had tripped on her train, +dropped the salver wherewith she was serving the Queen, and broken +out with a loud "Lawk a daisy!" all the ladies, and Margaret herself, +had gone into fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the Queen had +begged her to render her exclamation into good French for her +benefit. + +"Madam," she had exclaimed, "if a plain woman's plain English be not +good enough for you, she can have no call here!" And without further +ceremony she had flown out of the royal presence. + +Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had sent +her a message, that her attendance was no longer required. So here +she was going out of her way to make a casual inquiry, from the Court +at Winchester, whether that very unimportant article, her only +daughter, were dead or alive. + +The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in debate +during the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite as much +state as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than was to be +found at Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All the high born sat +on the dais, raised on two steps with gorgeous tapestry behind, and a +canopy overhead; the Earl and Countess on chairs in the centre of the +long narrow table. Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William +Copeland by the Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his son +ran about among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and the +cups. He entered on a conversation with the Countess, telling her of +the King's interest and delight in his beautiful freshly-founded +Colleges at Eton and Cambridge, how the King rode down whenever he +could to see the boys, listen to them at their tasks in the +cloisters, watch them at their sports in the playing fields, and join +in their devotions in the Chapel--a most holy example for them. + +"Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings," broke in the North +Country voice sarcastically. + +"There are others--sons of gentlemen and esquires--lodged in houses +around," said Sir William, "who are not meant for cowl or for mass- +priests." + +"Yea, forsooth," called Lady Whitburn across the Earl and the +Countess, "what for but to make them as feckless as the priests, +unfit to handle lance or sword!" + +"So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and lance," +said the Earl. + +"I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray," laughed +the Dame of Dacre. "'Tis all a device of the Frenchwoman!" + +"Verily?" said the Earl, in an interrogative tone. + +"Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with this +clerkly lore, so that her folk may have the better of them in France; +and the poor, witless King gives in to her. And so while the +Beauforts rule the roast--" + +Salisbury caught her up. "Ay, the roast. Will you partake of these +roast partridges, madam?" + +They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a page for +the guest to help herself. Whether by her awkwardness or that of the +boy, it so chanced that the bird made a sudden leap from the +impalement, and deposited itself in the lap of Lady Whitburn's +scarlet kirtle! The fact was proclaimed by her loud rude cry, "A +murrain on thee, thou ne'er-do-weel lad," together with a sounding +box on the ear. + +"'Tis thine own greed, who dost not--" + +"Leonard, be still--know thy manners," cried both at once the Earl +and Sir William, for, unfortunately, the offender was no other than +Leonard Copeland, and, contrary to all the laws of pagedom, he was +too angry not to argue the point. "'Twas no doing of mine! She knew +not how to cut the bird." + +Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and his +father only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered off +under the squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the more +sharply for his continuing to mutter, "It was her fault." + +And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to exclaim, when +his friend Edmund of York came to condole with him as usual in all +his scrapes, "'Tis she that should have been scourged for clumsiness! +A foul, uncouth Border dame! Well, one blessing at least is that now +I shall never be wedded to her daughter--let the wench live or die as +she lists!" + +That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and no +sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debate +began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland was +bound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all the +more since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never be +done away with. On the other hand, Sir William Copeland was +naturally far less likely to accept such a daughter-in-law, since her +chances of being an heiress had ceased, and he contended that he had +never absolutely accepted the contract, and that there had been no +betrothal of the children. + +The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly honourable +man would have felt poor Grisell's disaster inflicted by his son's +hands all the more reason for holding to the former understanding; +but the loud clamours and rude language of Lady Whitburn were enough +to set any one in opposition to her, and moreover, the words he said +in favour of her side of the question appeared to Copeland merely +spoken out of the general enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts and +all their following. + +Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the Earl, +whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while Copeland stood +sullen and silent, but determined. + +"My lord," she said, "were you a true friend to York and Raby, you +would deal with this scowling fellow as we should on the Border." + +"We are not on the Border, madam," quietly said Salisbury. + +"But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to keep faith. No +contract, forsooth! I hate your mincing South Country forms of law." +Then perhaps irritated by a little ironical smile which Salisbury +could not suppress. "Is this your castle, or is it not? Then bring +him and his lad to my poor wench's side, and see their troth +plighted, or lay him by the heels in the lowest cell in your dungeon. +Then will you do good service to the King and the Duke of York, whom +you talk of loving in your shilly-shally fashion." + +"Madam," said the Earl, his grave tones coming in contrast to the +shrill notes of the angry woman, "I counsel you, in the south at +least, to have some respect to these same forms of law. I bid you a +fair good-night. The chamberlain will marshal you." + + + +CHAPTER III--THE MIRROR + + + +"Of all the maids, the foulest maid + From Teviot unto Dee. +Ah!" sighing said that lady then, + "Can ne'er young Harden's be." + +SCOTT, The Reiver's Wedding. + +"They are gone," said Margaret of York, standing half dressed at the +deep-set window of the chamber where Grisell lay in state in her big +bed. + +"Who are gone?" asked Grisell, turning as well as she could under the +great heraldically-embroidered covering. + +"Leonard Copeland and his father. Did'st not hear the horses' tramp +in the court?" + +"I thought it was only my lord's horses going to the water." + +"It was the Copelands going off without breaking their fast or taking +a stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they be," said Margaret, +in no measured language. + +"And are they gone? And wherefore?" asked Grisell. + +"Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury should hold them +to their contract. Sir William sat as surly as a bear just about to +be baited, while thy mother rated and raved at him like a very +sleuth-hound on the chase. And Leonard--what think'st thou he saith? +"That he would as soon wed the loathly lady as thee," the cruel +Somerset villain as he is; and yet my brother Edmund is fain to love +him. So off they are gone, like recreant curs as they are, lest my +uncle should make them hear reason." + +"But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very loathly?" asked poor +Grisell. + +"Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell thee," responded +Margaret, in some confusion. + +"Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My mother, she shrieked at +sight of me!" + +"I would not have your mother," said the outspoken daughter of "proud +Cis." "My Lady Duchess mother is stern enough if we do not bridle +our heads, and if we make ourselves too friendly with the meine, but +she never frets nor rates us, and does not heed so long as we do not +demean ourselves unlike our royal blood. She is no termagant like +yours." + +It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her mother to +be very sensitive on her account. In fact, she was chiefly occupied +with what she had heard about her own appearance--a matter which had +not occurred to her before in all her suffering. She returned again +to entreat Margaret to tell her whether she was so foully ill- +favoured that no one could look at her, and the damsel of York, +adhering to the letter rather young than the spirit of the cautions +which she had received, pursed up her lips and reiterated that she +had been commanded not to mention the subject. + +"Then," entreated Grisell, "do--do, dear Madge--only bring me the +little hand mirror out of my Lady Countess's chamber." + +"I know not that I can or may." + +"Only for the space of one Ave," reiterated Grisell. + +"My lady aunt would never--" + +"There--hark--there's the bell for mass. Thou canst run into her +chamber when she and the tirewomen are gone down." + +"But I must be there." + +"Thou canst catch them up after. They will only think thee a slug-a- +bed. Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I cannot rest without. Weeping +will be worse for me." + +She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she gained +her point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her sobs being heard, +and inquired into, and therefore promised to make the attempt, +keeping a watch out of sight till she had seen the Lady of Salisbury +in her padded head-gear of gold net, and long purple train, sweep +down the stair, followed by her tirewomen and maidens of every +degree. Then darting into the chamber, she bore away from a stage +where lay the articles of the toilette, a little silver-backed and +handled Venetian mirror, with beautiful tracery in silvered glass +diminishing the very small oval left for personal reflection and +inspection. That, however, was quite enough and too much for poor +Grisell when Lady Margaret had thrown it to her on her bed, and +rushed down the stair so as to come in the rear of the household just +in time. + +A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set in +light yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in a +bucket of water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous sight. One +half, as she expected, was hidden by bandages, but the other was +fiery red, except that from the corner of the eye to the ear there +was a purple scar; the upper lip was distorted, the hair, eyebrows, +and lashes were all gone! The poor child was found in an agony of +sobbing when, after the service, the old woman who acted as her nurse +came stumping up in her wooden clogs to set the chamber and bed in +order for Lady Whitburn's visit. + +The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife as to +Scottish invasions, and her tower was not too far south not to need +to be on its guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on a small litter +slung to a sumpter mule, and she snorted a kind of defiant contempt +when the Countess, backed by the household barber-surgeon, declared +the proceeding barbarous and impossible. Indeed she had probably +forgotten that Grisell was far too tall to be made up into the bundle +she intended; but she then declared that the wench might ride pillion +behind old Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was taken +up to the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them was +a choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood over the +bed, exclaiming, "Aye, no wonder; it serves thee right, thou evil +wench, filching my Lady Countess's mirror from her very chamber, when +it might have been broken for all thanks to thee. The Venice glass +that the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair a sight, I trow, as +to be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all the scathe in +the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee." + +So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hear +the approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of the +Countess, "Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated! +Silence!" + +"See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship's Venice glass, +which she never should have touched. She must have run to your +chamber while you were at mass. All false her feigning to be so sick +and feeble." + +"Ay," replied Lady Whitburn, "she must up--don her clothes, and away +with me." + +"Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor child. Call +Master Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water." The Countess was +raising the poor child in her arms, and against her bosom, for the +shock of that glance in the mirror, followed by the maid's harsh +reproaches, and fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had brought +on a choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girl +writhed and gasped on Lady Salisbury's breast, while her mother +exclaimed, "Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to hinder me from +taking her home. If she could go stealing to your room--" + +"No, no," broke out a weeping, frightened voice. "It was I, Lady +Aunt. You bade me never tell her how her poor face looked, and when +she begged and prayed me, I did not say, but I fetched the mirror. +Oh! oh! It has not been the death of her." + +"Nay, nay, by God's blessing! Take away the glass, Margaret. Go and +tell thy beads, child; thou hast done much scathe unwittingly! Ah, +Master Miles, come to the poor maid's aid. Canst do aught for her?" + +"These humours must be drawn off, my lady," said the barber-surgeon, +who advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse of the poor little +patient. "I must let her blood." + +Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess Alice +still held her up, while, after the practice of those days, he bled +the already almost unconscious child, till she fainted and was laid +down again on her pillows, under the keeping of Maudlin, while the +clanging of the great bell called the family down to the meal which +broke fast, whether to be called breakfast or dinner. + +It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a journey, +and her mother went grumbling down the stair at the unchancy bairn +always doing scathe. + +Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though perhaps +hardly willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter was ready +to move. + +"Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do that. I be +sorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The knaves go all agee when both my +lord and myself have our backs turned, and my lad bairns--worth a +dozen of yon whining maid--should no longer be left to old Cuthbert +Ridley and Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way 'tis all +misrule, and who knows what the Scots may do?" + +"There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and the Border," +observed the Earl gravely. However, the visitor was not such an +agreeable one as to make him anxious to press her stay beyond what +hospitality demanded, and his wife could not bear to think of giving +over her poor little patient to such usage as she would have met with +on the journey. + +Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled the maid +might mend her, if they could; and accordingly she acquiesced, not +too graciously, when the Countess promised to tend the child like her +own, and send her by and by to Whitburn under a safe escort; and as +Middleham Castle lay on the way to Whitburn, it was likely that means +would be found of bringing or sending her. + +This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to reach a +hostel before night. + +She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in upon +Grisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been made to +swallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads formed a great +part, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep, moaning +now and then. Her mother did not scruple to try to rouse her with +calls of "Grizzy! Look up, wench!" but could elicit nothing but a +half turn on the pillow, and a little louder moan, and Master Miles, +who was still watching, absolutely refused to let his patient be +touched or shaken. + +"Well a day!" said Lady Whitburn, softened for a moment, "what the +Saints will must be, I trow; but it is hard, and I shall let St. +Cuthbert of Durham know it, that after all the candles I have given +him, he should have let my poor maid be so mauled and marred, and +then forsaken by the rascal who did it, so that she will never be +aught but a dead weight on my two fair sons! The least he can do for +me now is to give me my revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight and +his son. But he hath no care for lassies. Mayhap St. Hilda may +serve me better." + +Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It may be feared +that in the ignorance in which northern valleys were left she was +very little more enlightened in her ideas of what would please the +Saints, or what they could do for her, than were the old heathen of +some unknown antiquity who used to worship in the mysterious circles +of stones which lay on the downs of Amesbury. + + + +CHAPTER IV--PARTING + + + +There in the holy house at Almesbury +Weeping, none with her save a little maid. + +TENNYSON, Idylls of the King. + +The agitations of that day had made Grisell so much worse that her +mind hardly awoke again to anything but present suffering from fever, +and in consequence the aggravation of the wounds on her neck and +cheek. She used to moan now and then "Don't take me away!" or cower +in terror, "She is coming!" being her cry, or sometimes "So foul and +loathly." She hung again between life and death, and most of those +around thought death would be far better for the poor child, but the +Countess and the Chaplain still held to the faith that she must be +reserved for some great purpose if she survived so much. + +Great families with all their train used to move from one castle or +manor to another so soon as they had eaten up all the produce of one +place, and the time had come when the Nevils must perforce quit +Amesbury. Grisell was in no state for a long journey; she was +exceedingly weak, and as fast as one wound in her face and neck +healed another began to break out, so that often she could hardly +eat, and whether she would ever have the use of her left eye was +doubtful. + +Master Miles was at his wits' end, Maudlin was weary of waiting on +her, and so in truth was every one except the good Countess, and she +could not always be with the sufferer, nor could she carry such a +patient to London, whither her lord was summoned to support his +brother-in-law, the Duke of York, against the Duke of Somerset. + +The only delay was caused by the having to receive the newly- +appointed Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been translated from his +former see at Hereford on the murder of his predecessor, William +Ayscough, by some of Jack Cade's party. + +In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and cross- +bearers, and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to meet him, +and to arrange with him for his reception and installation. It was +then that the Countess heard that there was a nun at Wilton Abbey so +skilled in the treatment of wounds and sores that she was thought to +work miracles, being likewise a very holy woman. + +The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be present at +his enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady made this an +opportunity of riding to the convent on her way back, consulting the +Abbess, whom she had long known, and likewise seeing Sister Avice, +and requesting that her poor little guest might be received and +treated there. + +There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles were +sovereigns in their own domains; the Countess owned half Wiltshire, +and was much loved and honoured in all the religious houses for her +devotion and beneficence. + +The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the demoiselle +Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady Countess would +entrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that Sister Avice could +effect a cure. + +Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all night +crying, so she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage of +those days was called, was actually being prepared, and then she went +to the chamber where the poor child had spent five months, and where +she was now sitting dressed, but propped up on a sort of settle, and +with half her face still bandaged. + +"My little maid, this is well," said the Countess. "Come with me. I +am going to take thee to a kind and holy dame who will, I trust, with +the blessing of Heaven, be able to heal thee better than we have +done." + +"Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!" cried Grisell; "not from you +and Madge." + +"My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, and +Madge is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. Thou +couldst not brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to the +good Sister Avice." + +"A nun, a nunnery," sighed Grisell. "Oh! I shall be mewed up there +and never come forth again! Do not, I pray, do not, good my lady, +send me thither!" + +Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might be +the fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, but +she only told her that there was no reason she should not leave +Wilton, as she was not put there to take the vows, but only to be +cured. + +Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much as +she dared over the order; but no child ventured to make much +resistance to elders in those days, and especially not to the +Countess, so Grisell, a very poor little wasted being, was carried +down, and only delayed in the hall for an affectionate kiss from +Margaret of York. + +"And here is a keepsake, Grisell," she said. "Mine own beauteous +pouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round each little +hole." + +"I will keep it for ever," said Grisell, and they parted, but not as +girls part who hope to meet again, and can write letters constantly, +but with tearful eyes and clinging hands, as little like to meet +again, or even to hear more of one another. + +The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, and +Lady Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best to +lessen the force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was dragged +over the chalk road over the downs, passing the wonderful stones of +Amesbury--a wider circle than even Stonehenge, though without the +triliths, i.e. the stones laid one over the tops of the other two +like a doorway. Grisell heard some thing murmured about Merlin and +Arthur and Guinevere, but she did not heed, and she was quite worn +out with fatigue by the time they reached the descent into the long +smooth valley where Wilton Abbey stood, and the spire of the +Cathedral could be seen rising tall and beautiful. + +The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm trees, +and the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven home, their +bells tinkling. There was an outer court, within an arched gate kept +by a stout porter, and thus far came the whirlicote and the +Countess's attendants; but a lay porteress, in a cap and veil and +black dress, came out to receive her as the door of the carriage was +opened, and held out her arms to receive the muffled figure of the +little visitor. "Ah, poor maid," she said, "but Sister Avice will +soon heal her." + +At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to the +cloistered court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all her +sisters, drawn up in double line to receive the Countess, whom they +took to their refectory and to their chapel. + +Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken into +the arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she shuddered and +would have screamed if she had been a little stronger and less tired, +for illness and weakness had brought back the babyish horror of +anything black; but she felt soothed by the sweet voice and tender +words, "Poor little one! she is fore spent. She shall lie down on a +soft bed, and have some sweet milk anon." + +Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she had been +carried to the little bed which had been made ready for her. When +she opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to her lips, the first +thing she saw was the sweetest, calmest, most motherly of faces bent +over her, one arm round her, the other giving her the spoon of some +cordial. She looked up and even smiled, though it was a sad +contorted smile, which brought a tear into the good sister's eyes; +but then she fell asleep, and only half awoke when the Countess came +up to see her for the last time, and bade her farewell with a kiss on +her forehead, and a charge to Sister Avice to watch her well, and be +tender with her. Indeed no one could look at Sister Avice's gentle +face and think there was much need of the charge. + +Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially born for +the gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have been an excellent +wife and mother, but from the very hour of her birth she had been +vowed to be a nun in gratitude on her mother's part for her father's +safety at Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost a +baby, and had never gone farther from it than on very rare occasions +to the Cathedral at Salisbury; but she had grown up with a wonderful +instinct for nursing and healing, and had a curious insight into the +properties of herbs, as well as a soft deft hand and touch, so that +for some years she had been sister infirmarer, and moreover the sick +were often brought to the gates for her counsel, treatment, or, as +some believed, even her healing touch. + +When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, which +was really built over the Norman cloister. The walls were of pale +creamy stone, but at the end where she lay there were hangings of +faded tapestry. At one end there was a window, through the thick +glass of which could be dimly seen, as Grisell raised herself a +little, beautiful trees, and the splendid spire of the Cathedral +rising, as she dreamily thought, like a finger pointing upwards. +Nearer were several more narrow windows along the side of the room, +and that beside her bed had the lattice open, so that she saw a +sloping green bank, with a river at the foot; and there was a trim +garden between. Opposite to her there seemed to be another window +with a curtain drawn across it, through which came what perhaps had +wakened her, a low, clear murmuring tone, pausing and broken by the +full, sweet, if rather shrill response in women's voices. Beneath +that window was a little altar, with a crucifix and two candlesticks, +a holy-water stoup by the side, and there was above the little deep +window a carving of the Blessed Virgin with the Holy Child, on either +side a niche, one with a figure of a nun holding a taper, the other +of a bishop with a book. + +Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself alone, but +the sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her pillows, half +dozing but quite content, except that the wound on her neck felt +stiff and dry; and by and by when the chanting ceased, the kind nun, +with a lay sister, came back again carrying water and other +appliances, at sight of which Grisell shuddered, for Master Miles +never touched her without putting her to pain. + +"Benedicite, my little maid, thou art awake," said Sister Avice. "I +thought thou wouldst sleep till the vespers were ended. Now let us +dress these sad wounds of thine, and thou shalt sleep again." + +Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise Sister +Avice's touch was as soft and soothing as were her words, and the +ointment she applied was fragrant and delicious and did not burn or +hurt her. + +She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then the +evening meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it on the +seat of the window looking out on the Cathedral spire. It was a milk +posset far more nicely flavoured than what she had been used to at +Amesbury, where, in spite of the Countess's kindness, the master cook +had grown tired of any special service for the Dacre wench; and +unless Margaret of York secured fruit for her, she was apt to be +regaled with only the scraps that Maudlin managed to cater for her +after the meals were over. + +After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that she +said her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, herself +telling her that she should sleep beside her, and that she would hear +the voices of the sisters singing in the chapel their matins and +lauds. Grisell did hear them, as in a dream, but she had not slept +so well since her disaster as she slept on that night. + + + +CHAPTER V--SISTER AVICE + + + +Love, to her ear, was but a name +Combined with vanity and shame; +Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all +Bounded within the cloister wall. + +SCOTT, Marmion. + +Sister Avice sat in the infirmary, diligently picking the leaves off +a large mass of wood-sorrel which had been brought to her by the +children around, to make therewith a conserve. + +Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had knelt at the +window, where the curtain was drawn back while mass was said by the +Chaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and making their +responses. It was a low-browed chapel of Norman or even older days, +with circular arches and heavy round piers, and so dark that the +gleam of the candles was needed to light it. + +Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her couch, +slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice still +compounding her simples. + +She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell her all +the news of Amesbury--who was riding at the ring, or who had shot the +best bolt, or who had had her work picked out as not neat or well +shaded enough. + +Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a dried plum +and a little milk, and began to talk to her. + +"You will soon be better," she said, "and then you will be able to +play in the garden." + +"Is there any playfellow for me?" asked Grisell. + +"There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily to learn her +hornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay and play with you." + +"I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as Madge! See +what she gave me." + +Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and then +she asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in the +convent. + +"Oh no, not of need," said the sister. "Many a maiden who has been +here for a time has gone out into the world, but some love this home +the best, as I have done." + +"Did yonder nun on the wall?" asked Grisell. + +"Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, though she was a +King's daughter. Edith was her name, and two days after Holy Cross +day we shall keep her feast. Shall I tell you her story?" + +"Prithee, prithee!" exclaimed Grisell. "I love a tale dearly." + +Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love and +tenderness at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and the +flowers in the garden, and how all loved her, her young playmates +especially. She promised one who went away to be wedded that she +would be godmother to her first little daughter, but ere the daughter +was born the saintly Edith had died. The babe was carried to be +christened in the font at Winchester Cathedral, and by a great and +holy man, no other than Alphegius, who was then Bishop of Winchester, +but was made Archbishop of Canterbury, and died a holy martyr. + +"Then," said Sister Avice, "there was a great marvel, for among the +sponsors around the square black font there stood another figure in +the dress of our Mother Abbess, and as the Bishop spake and said, +"Bear this taper, in token that thy lamp shall be alight when the +Bridegroom cometh," the form held the torch, shining bright, clear, +and like no candle or light on earth ever shone, and the face was the +face of the holy Edith. It is even said that she held the babe, but +that I know not, being a spirit without a body, but she spake the +name, her own name Edith. And when the holy rite was over, she had +vanished away." + +"And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I should have been +afraid!" cried Grisell. + +"Not of the holy soul?" said the sister. + +"Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the little window into +the church," cried Grisell trembling. + +Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, +Grisell could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from St. +Edith, who, as she was told, slept her long sleep in the church +below. It may be feared that one chief reliance was on the fact that +she could not be holy enough for a vision of the Saint, but this was +not so valuable to her as the touch of Sister Avice's kind hand, or +the very knowing her present. + +That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted to hear it +over again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, and who were the +Virgins in memory of whom the lamps were carried. Both these, and +many another history, parable, or legend were told her by Sister +Avice, training her soul, throughout the long recovery, which was +still very slow, but was becoming more confirmed every day. Grisell +could use her eye, turn her head, and the wounds closed healthily +under the sister's treatment without showing symptoms of breaking out +afresh; and she grew in strength likewise, first taking a walk in the +trim garden and orchard, and by and by being pronounced able to join +the other girl scholars of the convent. Only here was the first +demur. Her looks did not recover with her health. She remained with +a much-seamed neck, and a terrible scar across each cheek, on one +side purple, and her eyebrows were entirely gone. + +She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely in the +infirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and occasionally a lay +sister, who came to help; but the first time she went down the turret +stair into the cloister--a beautiful succession of arches round a +green court--she met a novice and a girl about her own age; the elder +gave a little scream at the sight and ran away. + +The other hung back. "Mary, come hither," said Sister Avice. "This +is Grisell Dacre, who hath suffered so much. Wilt thou not come and +kiss and welcome her?" + +Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her head +within, "Oh, if you had liefer not!" and turned her back on the girl. + +Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her weakness +allowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third step on the +stairs. + +"Oh, no--go away--don't bring her. Every one will hate me," sobbed +the poor child. + +Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces were +against the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and coax her +to believe that by one at least she was not hated. + +"I had forgotten," said Grisell. "I saw myself once at Amesbury! but +my face was not well then. Let me see again, sister! Where's a +mirror?" + +"Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of worldly things like +mirrors; I never saw one in my life." + +"But oh, for pity's sake, tell me what like am I. Am I so loathly?" + +"Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of aught save that +thou art mine own little one, given back to us by the will of Heaven. +Aye, and so will others think of thee, if thou art good and loving to +them." + +"Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate and flee from me, +as from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the Loathly Worm of +Spindlesheugh," sobbed Grisell. + +"Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet words and kind +deeds. They are better than looks. And here too they shall soon +think only of what thou art, not of what thou look'st." + +"But know you, sister, how--how I should have been married to Leonard +Copeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he is fair and +beauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now he and his +father rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so foul to +see," cried Grisell, between her sobs. + +"If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would surely not have +made thee a good husband," reasoned the sister. + +"But I shall never have a husband now," wailed Grisell. + +"Belike not," said Sister Avice; "but, my sweetheart, there is better +peace and rest and cheer in such a home as this holy house, than in +the toils and labours of the world. When my sisters at Dunbridge and +Dinton come to see me they look old and careworn, and are full of +tales of the turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, and dues, and +tenants' fees, and villeins, and I know not what, that I often think +that even in this world's sense I am the best off. And far above and +beyond that," she added, in a low voice, "the virgin hath a hope, a +Spouse beyond all human thought." + +Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept bitterly. +"Must she be a nun all her life?" was all she thought of, and the +shady cloister seemed to her like a sort of prison. Sister Avice had +to soothe and comfort her, till her tears were all spent, as so often +before, and she had cried herself so ill that she had to be taken +back to her bed and lie down again. It was some days before she +could be coaxed out again to encounter any companions. + +However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and life, came +back to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became accustomed to being +with the other inmates of the fine old convent, as they grew too much +used to her appearance to be startled or even to think about it. The +absence of mirrors prevented it from ever being brought before her, +and Sister Avice set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, +and kindness could endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw for +herself how much more loved was the old and very plain Mother Anne +than the very beautiful young Sister Isabel, who had been forced into +the convent by her tyrannical brother, and wore out her life in +fretting and rudeness to all who came in her way. She declared that +the sight of Grisell made her ill, and insisted that the veiled hood +which all the girls wore should be pulled forward whenever they came +near one another, and that Grisell's place should be out of her sight +in chapel or refectory. + +Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, Sister Avice +especially so, and Grisell soon forgot her disfigurement when she +ceased to suffer from it. She had begun to learn reading, writing, +and a little Latin, besides spinning, stitchery, and a few +housewifely arts, in the Countess of Salisbury's household, for every +lady was supposed to be educated in these arts, and great +establishments were schools for the damsels there bred up. It was +the same with convent life, and each nunnery had traditional works of +its own, either in embroidery, cookery, or medicine. Some secrets +there were not imparted beyond the professed nuns, and only to the +more trustworthy of them, so that each sisterhood might have its own +especial glory in confections, whether in portrait-worked vestments, +in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in salves and unguents; but the +pensioners were instructed in all those common arts of bakery, +needlework, notability, and surgery which made the lady of a castle +or manor so important, and within the last century in the more +fashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French "of the school of +Stratford le Bowe," and the like, were added. Thus Grisell learnt as +an apt scholar these arts, and took especial delight in helping +Sister Avice to compound her simples, and acquired a tender hand with +which to apply them. + +Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, but to +know the signification in English. There were translations of the +Lord's Prayer and Creed in the hands of all careful and thoughtful +people, even among the poor, if they had a good parish priest, or had +come under the influence of the better sort of friars. In convents +where discipline was kept up the meaning was carefully taught, and +there were English primers in the hands of all the devout, so that +the services could be intelligently followed even by those who did +not learn Latin, as did Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, +generally clothed in rhyme, and versified lives of the Saints, were +read aloud at meal-times in the refectory, and Grisell became so good +a reader that she was often chosen to chant out the sacred story, and +her sweet northern voice was much valued in the singing in the +church. She was quite at home there, and though too young to be +admitted as a novice, she wore a black dress and white hood like +theirs, and the annual gifts to the nunnery from the Countess of +Salisbury were held to entitle her to the residence there as a +pensioner. She had fully accepted the idea of spending her life +there, sheltered from the world, among the kind women whom she loved, +and who had learnt to love her, and in devotion to God, and works of +mercy to the sick. + + + +CHAPTER VI--THE PROCTOR + + + +But if a mannes soul were in his purse, +For in his purse he should yfurnished be. + +CHAUCER, Canterbury Pilgrims. + +Five years had passed since Grisell had been received at Wilton, when +the Abbess died. She had been infirm and confined to her lodging for +many months, and Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death was to +change the whole tenor of the maiden's life. + +The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The Bishop himself +came to attend them, and likewise all the neighbouring clergy, and +the monks, friars, and nuns, overflowing the chapel, while peasants +and beggars for whom there was no room in the courts encamped outside +the walls, to receive the dole and pray for the soul of the right +reverend Mother Abbess. + +For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem mass +was daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed on the +crowd, who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, but +beguiled the time by watching jongleurs and mountebanks performing +beyond the walls. + +There was the "Month's Mind" still to come, and then the chapter of +nuns intended to proceed to the election of their new Abbess, +unanimously agreeing that she should be their present Prioress, who +had held kindly rule over them through the slow to-decay of the late +Abbess. Before, however, this could be done a messenger arrived on a +mule bearing an inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election. + +His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the next +appointment to this as well as to certain other wealthy abbeys. + +The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could do +nothing for them. Such reservations had been constant in the +subservient days that followed King John's homage, and though the +great Edwards had struggled against them, and the yoke had been +shaken off during the Great Schism, no sooner had this been healed +than the former claims were revived, nay, redoubled, and the pious +Henry VI. was not the man to resist them. The sisters therefore +waited in suspense, daring only meekly to recommend their Prioress in +a humble letter, written by the Chaplain, and backed by a +recommendation from Bishop Beauchamp. Both alike were disregarded, +as all had expected. + +The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, a +relation of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as the +Commissioner assured the nuns; but they had never heard of her +before, and were not at all gratified. They had always elected their +Abbess before, and had quite made up their minds as to the choice of +the present Mother Prioress as Abbess, and of Sister Avice as +Prioress. + +However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King or to their +Bishop would have been quite useless; they could only do as the Pope +commanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling themselves with +the reflection that she was not likely to trouble herself about them, +and their old Prioress would govern them. And so she did so far as +regarded the discipline of the house, but what they had not so +entirely understood was the Mother de Borgia's desire to squeeze all +she could out of the revenues of the house. + +Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and square +cap, and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her steward, and to +overlook the income and expenditure of the convent; to know who had +duly paid her dowry to the nunnery, what were the rents, and the +like. The sisters had already raised a considerable gift in silver +merks to be sent through Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, and +this requisition was a fresh blow. + +Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on what +terms she was at the convent. It was explained that she had been +brought thither for her cure by the Lady of Salisbury, and had stayed +on, without fee or payment from her own home in the north, but the +ample donations of the Earl of Salisbury had been held as full +compensation, and it had been contemplated to send to the maiden's +family to obtain permission to enrol her as a sister after her +novitiate--which might soon begin, as she was fifteen years old. + +The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had no right to +receive a pensioner without payment, far less to admit a novice as a +sister without a dowry. + +Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands either of +her own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and certainly not +readmitted unless her dowry were paid. He scarcely consented to give +time for communication with the Countess, to consider how to dispose +of the poor child. + +The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, but +the Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where they +were likely to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to in the time +allowed by the Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing from her home +all the time she had been at Wilton. The only thing that the +Prioress could devise, was to request the Chaplain to seek her out at +Salisbury a trustworthy escort, pilgrim, merchant or other, with whom +Grisell might safely travel to London, and if the Earl and Countess +were not there, some responsible person of theirs, or of their son's, +was sure to be found, who would send the maiden on. + +The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, whence he +returned, bringing with him news of a merchant's wife who was about +to go on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at Walsingham, and would feel +herself honoured by acting as the convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre as +far at least as London. + +There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor Grisell must be +cast out on the world--the Proctor even spoke of calling the +Countess, or her steward, to account for her maintenance during these +five years. + +There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, and +Grisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, holy life. + +"Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy life." + +"If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder me." + +"That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to take such a vow +on herself without consent of her father, nor is it binding +otherwise. No! but no one can take away from a Christian maid the +power of holiness. Bear that for ever in mind, sweetheart. Naught +that can be done by man or by devil to the body can hurt the soul +that is fixed on Christ and does not consent to evil." + +"The Saints forefend that ever--ever I should consent to evil." + +"It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, my child. +Will and soul not consenting nor being led astray thou art safe. +Nay, the lack of a fair-favoured face may be thy guard." + +"All will hate me. Alack! alack!" + +"Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. Wherefore shouldst not +thou in like manner win love among thine own people?" + +"My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me not." + +"Love them, child! Do them good offices! None can hinder thee from +that." + +"Can I love those who love not me?" + +"Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings the heart to +love. Even as thou seest a poor dog love the master who beats him, +so it is with us, only with the higher Christian love. Service and +prayer open the heart to love, hoping for nothing again, and full oft +that which was not hoped for is vouchsafed." + +That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her home of +peace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, who would +herself give her into the hands of the good Mistress Hall. + +Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along the +bank of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other side, and +the grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they came nearer; +while the sound of the bells grew upon them, for there was then a +second tower beyond to hold the bells, whose reverberation would have +been dangerous to the spire, and most sweet was their chime, the +sound of which had indeed often reached Wilton in favourable winds; +but it sounded like a sad farewell to Grisell. + +The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by kneeling in +the Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and entered by the +west door with the long vista of clustered columns and pointed arches +before them. + +Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their ears, for +it was still early in the day. The Prioress passed the length of +nave, and went beyond the choir to the lady chapel, with its slender +supporting columns and exquisite arches, and there she, with Grisell +by her side, joined in earnest supplications for the child. + +The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that the +dame arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark riding-dress was +Mistress Hall. + +Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially in the +naves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no sooner was +the mass finished and "Ite missa est" pronounced than the scarlet +cloak rose, and hastened into the south transept, where she waited +for the Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction seemed +needed. "The Holy Mother Prioress," she began, bending her knee and +kissing the lady's hand. "Much honoured am I by the charge of this +noble little lady." Grisell by the by was far taller than the plump +little goodwoman Hall, but that was no matter, and the Prioress had +barely space to get in a word of thanks before she went on: "I will +keep her and tend her as the apple of mine eye. She shall pray with +me at all the holy shrines for the good of her soul and mine. She +shall be my bedfellow wherever we halt, and sit next me, and be +cherished as though she were mine own daughter--ladybird as she is-- +till I can give her into the hands of the good Lady Countess. Oh +yes--you may trust Joan Hall, dame reverend mother. She is no new +traveller. I have been in my time to all our shrines--to St. Thomas +of Canterbury, to St. Winifred's Well, aye, and, moreover, to St. +James of Compostella, and St. Martha of Provence, not to speak of +lesser chantries and Saints. Aye, and I crossed the sea to see the +holy coat of Treves, and St. Ursula's eleven thousand skulls--and a +gruesome sight they were. Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in London +it would cost me little to go on to the north with her. There's St. +Andrew of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them +at Lincoln, and there's St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly, +not to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby, +who might take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I have +been to so many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverend +mother; I'll never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out of +my sight till I have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our +good customer for all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin." + +The good woman's stream of conversation lasted almost without drawing +breath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured hearty +voice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature, +while her bright black eyes had a lively glance. + +The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one of +the good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation, +consecrated and meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifying +their desire for change and variety. She was a kindly person of good +reputation, trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall, +her husband, could manage the business alone, and was thought not to +regret a little reprieve from her continual tongue. + +She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fast +with her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having once +seen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell, +blessed by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was led +away to the substantial smith's abode, where she was to take a first +meal before starting on her journey on the strong forest pony which +the Chaplain's care had provided for her. + + + +CHAPTER VII--THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY + + + +She hadde passed many a strange shrine, +At Rome she had been and at Boleine, +At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine, +She could moche of wandering by the way. + +CHAUCER, Canterbury Pilgrims. + +Grisell found herself brought into a hall where a stout oak table +occupied the centre, covered with home-spun napery, on which stood +trenchers, wooden bowls, pewter and a few silver cups, and several +large pitchers of ale, small beer, or milk. A pie and a large piece +of bacon, also a loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, were +there. + +Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper dishes, +cups, kettles, and vessels and implements of all household varieties, +and ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, axes, and mattocks, all +polished up. The ring of hammers on the anvil was heard in the court +in the rear. The front of the hall was open for the most part, +without windows, but it could be closed at night. + +Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had partaken of +it, so that there was no one in the hall excepting Master Hall, a +stout, brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured face, and his son, +more slim, but growing into his likeness, also a young notable- +looking daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby tucked under her arm. + +They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to eat. The +wheaten bread and the fowl were, it seemed, provided in her honour, +and she could not but take her little knife from the sheath in her +girdle, turn back her nun-like veil, and prepare to try to drive back +her sobs, and swallow the milk of almonds pressed on her. + +"Eh!" cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. "She's only scarred after +all." + +"Well, what else should she be, bless her poor heart?" said Mrs. Hall +the elder. + +"Why, wasn't it thou thyself, good mother, that brought home word +that they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton there?" + +"Bless thee, Agnes, thou should'st know better than to lend an ear to +all the idle tales thy poor old mother may hear at market or fair." + +"Then should we have enough to do," muttered her husband. + +"And as thou seest, 'tis a sweet little face, only cruelly marred by +the evil hap." + +Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal she +had never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled forward +her veil. + +"Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words in ill part," +pleaded the good hostess. "We all know how to love thee, and what is +a smooth skin to a true heart? Take a bit more of the pasty, +ladybird; we'll have far to ride ere we get to Wherwell, where the +good sisters will give us a meal for young St. Edward's sake and thy +Prioress's. Aye--I turn out of my way for that; I never yet paid my +devotion to poor young King Edward, and he might take it in dudgeon, +being a king, and his shrine so near at hand." + +"Ha, ha!" laughed the smith; "trust my dame for being on the right +side of the account with the Saints. Well for me and Jack that we +have little Agnes here to mind the things on earth meanwhile. Nay, +nay, dame, I say nought to hinder thee; I know too well what it means +when spring comes, and thou beginn'st to moan and tell up the tale of +the shrines where thou hast not told thy beads." + +It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the city +gate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might call +her, on her way, apparently quite content to let her go on her +pilgrimages for the summer quarter. + +She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets--quite +sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry any +valuables. Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well over +her face, yearning over the last view of the beloved spire, thinking +of Sister Avice ministering to her poor, and with a very definite +fear of her own reception in the world and dread of her welcome at +home. Yet there was a joy in being on horseback once more, for her +who had ridden moorland ponies as soon as she could walk. + +Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that they +passed, and these were not very many. At each church they dismounted +and said their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they let +their animals feed the while, and obtained some refreshment +themselves. England was not a very safe place for travellers just +then, but the cockle-shells sewn to the pilgrim's hat of the dame, +and to that of one of her attendants, and the tall staff and wallet +each carried, were passports of security. Nothing could be kinder +than Mistress Hall was to her charge, of whom she was really proud, +and when they halted for the night at the nunnery of Queen Elfrida at +Wherwell, she took care to explain that this was no burgess's +daughter but the Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, trusted to HER +convoy, and thus obtained for her quarters in the guest-chamber of +the refectory instead of in the general hospitium; but on the whole +Grisell had rather not have been exposed to the shock of being shown +to strangers, even kindly ones, for even if they did not exclaim, +some one was sure to start and whisper. + +After another halt for the night the travellers reached London, and +learned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess of Salisbury were +absent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of Warwick, was keeping +court at Warwick House. + +Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct Grisell. The way +lay through narrow streets with houses overhanging the roadway, but +the house itself was like a separate castle, walled round, enclosing +a huge space, and with a great arched porter's lodge, where various +men-at-arms lounged, all adorned on the arm of their red jackets with +the bear and ragged staff. + +They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwick +insisted on civility to all comers, and they respected the scallop- +shell on the dame's hat. They greeted her good-humouredly. + +"Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for St. Paul's? Here's +supper to the fore for all comers!" + +"Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is the Lady +Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady." + +"Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. Come this +way, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her." + +Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind old +friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in a fine +court with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people of +all kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats +and the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to her +guide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled up stone +steps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered with +white napery and glittering with silver and pewter. + +The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where +there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, +and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half +circle of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed +surcoat in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in +long robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her +chair. + +The seneschal announced, "Place, place for the Lady Grisell Dacre of +Whitburn," and Grisell bent low, putting back as much of her veil as +she felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady rose, the knight +held out his hand to raise the bending figure. He had that power of +recollection and recognition which is so great an element in +popularity. "The Lady Grisell Dacre," he said. "She who met with so +sad a disaster when she was one of my lady mother's household?" + +Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, +"Welcome to my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife." + +The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She was the +heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of the +recent death of her brother, "the King of the Isle of Wight"--and +through her inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. +She was delicate and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her +husband's lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; and +Grisell ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spent +those years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess's Proctor would not +consent to her remaining there any longer, not even long enough to +send to her parents or to the Countess of Salisbury. + +"Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where the King is +not man enough to stand in his way," said Warwick. "So, fair maiden, +if you will honour my house for a few days, as my lady's guest, I +will send you north in more fitting guise than with this white-smith +dame." + +"She hath been very good to me," Grisell ventured to add to her +thanks. + +"She shall have good entertainment here," said the Earl smiling. "No +doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. See that Goodwife Hall, the +white smith's wife, and her following have the best of harbouring," +he added to his silver-chained steward. + +"You are a Dacre of Whitburn," he added to Grisell. "Your father has +not taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the Percies." Then seeing +that Grisell knew nothing of all this, he laughed and said, "Little +convent birds, you know nought of our worldly strifes." + +In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last five +years, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mother +could write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent know +much of the state of England, though prayers had been constantly said +for the King's recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings for +the birth of the Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did know +that just now the Duke of York was governing, for the poor King +seemed as senseless as a stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his +Chancellor. Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, and +there was a quarrel going on between the Nevils and the Percies which +Warwick was going to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisell +so far in his company. + +The great household was larger than even what she remembered at the +houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, fresh +from the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazing +to her when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along the +vast hall. She was placed at the upper one to her relief, beside an +old lady, Dame Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen at +Montacute Castle in her childhood, as one of the attendants on the +Countess. She was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some of +the young knights and squires staring at her, then nudging one +another and laughing. + +"Never mind them, sweetheart," said Dame Gresford kindly; "they are +but unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make them know what +is befitting if his eye fell on them." + +The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she kept +Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a city +in itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with innumerable +knights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred red +jacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court of +the buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six oxen +were daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and any +friend or acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might +come in, and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much +meat as he could on the point of his dagger. + +Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free +quarters, while she made the round of all the shrines in London, and +she was intensely gratified by the great Earl recollecting, or +appearing to recollect, her and inquiring after her husband, that +hearty burgess, whose pewter was so lasting, and he was sure was +still in use among his black guard. + +When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she was +carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of "my Lord +Earl's grace to her." She hoped that her sweet Lady Grisell would +remain here, as the best hap she could have in the most noble, +excellent, and open-handed house in the world! Grisell's own wishes +were not the same, for the great household was very bewildering--a +strange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess was quiet +enough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. +She seemed to be always thinking about leeches, wise friars, +wonderful nuns, or even wizards and cunning women, and was much +concerned that her husband absolutely forbade her consulting the +witch of Spitalfields. + +"Nay, dame," said he, "an thou didst, the next thing we should hear +would be that thou hadst been sticking pins into King Harry's waxen +image and roasting him before the fire, and that nothing but roasting +thee in life and limb within a fire would bring him to life and +reason." + +"They would never dare," cried the lady. + +"Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!" +demanded the Earl. "Wouldst like to do penance with sheet and +candle, like Gloucester's wife?" + +Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on the +score of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to ask +her about Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuade +her husband to let her go down to one of his mother's Wiltshire +houses to consult the nun, but Warwick had business in the north, nor +would he allow her to be separated from him, lest she might be +detained as a hostage. + +Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell's protector, and let the girl +sit and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies of the +house played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of the +pages and squires. The dame's presence and authority prevented +Grisell's being beset with uncivil remarks, but she knew she was like +a toad among the butterflies, as she overheard some saucy youth +calling her, while a laugh answered him, and she longed for her +convent. + + + +CHAPTER VIII--OLD PLAYFELLOWS + + + + Alone thou goest forth, + Thy face unto the north, +Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath thee. + +E. BARRETT BROWNING, A Valediction. + +One great pleasure fell to Grisell's share, but only too brief. The +family of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard's Castle halted at +Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, +sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while +Warwick, her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with his +wife to meet and receive her. + +In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings a +cry of joy was heard, "My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!" and +springing from the midst of her mother's suite, Margaret Plantagenet, +a tall, lovely, dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin +slight maiden with the scarred face, which excited the scorn and +surprise of her two sisters. + +"Margaret! What means this?" demanded the Duchess severely. + +"It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at my aunt of +Salisbury's manor," said Margaret, trying to lead forward her +shrinking friend. "She who was so cruelly scathed." + +Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick briefly +explained. "Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch baron of +the north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the creature of +the Pope's intruding Abbess has taken upon him to expel her. So I am +about to take her to Middleham, where my mother may see to her +further bestowal." + +"We have even now come from Middleham," said the Duchess. "My Lord +Duke sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose the strife +between your father and the insolent Percies." + +The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl and +the Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of the +northern counties and of the Court. The elder daughters were +languidly entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed the +interview of Margaret and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawn +into the embrasure of a window, and there fondled each other, and +exchanged tidings of their young lives, and Margaret told of friends +in the Nevil household. + +All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, after +partaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard's Castle, and +the Lady Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, not +to say displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. +"Don't go into a convent, Grisell," she entreated. "When I am wedded +to some great earl, you must come and be my lady, mine own, own dear +friend. Promise me! Your pledge, Grisell." + +There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorily +summoned. They would not meet again. The Duchess's intelligence had +quickened Warwick's departure, and the next day the first start +northwards was to be made. + +It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the kitchen +menage, with all their pots and pans, kettles and spits, were sent on +a day's march beforehand, then came the yeomen, the knights and +squires, followed by the more immediate attendants of the Earl and +Countess and their court. She travelled in a whirlicote, and there +were others provided for her elder ladies, the rest riding singly or +on pillions according to age or taste. Grisell did not like to part +with her pony, and Dame Gresford preferred a pillion to the bumps and +jolts of the waggon-like conveyances called chariots, so Grisell rode +by her side, the fresh spring breezes bringing back the sense of +being really a northern maid, and she threw back her veil whenever +she was alone with the attendants, who were used to her, though she +drew it closely round when she encountered town or village. There +were resting-places on the way. In great monasteries all were +accommodated, being used to close quarters; in castles there was room +for the "Gentles," who, if they fared well, heeded little how they +slept, and their attendants found lairs in the kitchens or stables. +In towns there was generally harbour for the noble portion; indeed in +some, Warwick had dwellings of his own, or his father's, but these, +at first, were at long distances apart, such as would be ridden by +horsemen alone, not encumbered with ladies, and there were +intermediate stages, where some of the party had to be dispersed in +hostels. + +It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had taken +Grisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the escort. +A minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of the chimney, and +began to sound his harp and sing long ballads in recitative to the +company. Whether he did it in all innocence and ignorance, or one of +the young squires had mischievously prompted him, there was no +knowing; Dame Gresford suspected the latter, when he began the ballad +of "Sir Gawaine's Wedding." She would have silenced it, but feared +to draw more attention on her charge, who had never heard the song, +and did not know what was coming, but listened with increasing +eagerness as she heard of King Arthur, and of the giant, and the +secret that the King could not guess, till as he rode - + + +He came to the green forest, + Underneath a green hollen tree, +There sat that lady in red scarlet + That unseemly was to see. + + +Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she hardly +saw them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor had her eyes +and mouth changed places, as in the case of the "Loathly Lady." She +heard of the condition on which the lady revealed the secret, and how +King Arthur bound himself to bring a fair young knight to wed the +hideous being. Then when he revealed to his assembled knights - + + +Then some took up their hawks, + And some took up their hounds, +And some sware they would not marry her + For cities nor for towns. + + +Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell was +heedless of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur's nephew, +felt that his uncle's oath must be kept, and offered himself as the +bridegroom. + +Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead of the +loathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told by her that he +might choose whether she should be foul at night and fair by day, or +fair each evening and frightful in the daylight hours. His choice at +first was that her beauty should be for him alone, in his home, but +when she objected that this would be hard on her, since she could +thus never show her face when other dames ride with their lords - + + +Then buke him gentle Gawayne, + Said, "Lady, that's but a shill; +Because thou art mine own lady + Thou shalt have all thy will." + + +And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady related +- + + +"She witched me, being a fair young lady, + To the green forest to dwell, +And there must I walk in woman's likeness, + Most like a fiend in hell." + + +Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir Gawaine's bride was +fair to see. + +Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so losing +personal thought and feeling that it was startling to her to perceive +that Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, and one of the +young squires was saying, "Hush, hush! for very shame." + +Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the blood +rushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was trying to turn +away attention by calling on the harper for "The Beggar of Bethnal +Green," or "Lord Thomas and Fair Annet," or any merry ballad. So it +was borne in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen she was the +lady unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, indignant +and sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth revived. "Sister Avice +had told her how to be not loathly in the sight of those whom she +could teach to love her." + +There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never fulfil it. If +he should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose within her that though she +could not be transformed, he should not see her loathly in his sight, +and in that hope she slept. + + + +CHAPTER IX--THE KING-MAKER + + + +O where is faith? O where is loyalty? + +SHAKESPEARE, Henry VI., Part II. + +Grisell was disappointed in her hopes of seeing her Countess of +Salisbury again, for as she rode into the Castle of York she heard +the Earl's hearty voice of greeting. "Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, +well met! What, from the north?" + +The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and strong, brown +and weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff leather stained to all +sorts of colours, in which rust predominated, and a face all brown +and red except for the grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. +She had not seen her father since she was five years old, and she +would not have known him. + +"I am from the south now, my lord," she heard his gruff voice say. +"I have been taking my lad to be bred up in the Duke of York's house, +for better nurture than can be had in my sea-side tower." + +"Quite right. Well done in you," responded Warwick. "The Duke of +York is the man to hold by. We have an exchange for you, a daughter +for a son," and he was leading the way towards Grisell, who had just +dismounted from her pony, and stood by it, trembling a little, and +bending for her father's blessing. It was not more than a crossing +of her, and he was talking all the time. + +"Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had bestowed her in the +Abbey--how call you it?" + +"Aye," returned Warwick; "but since we have not had King or +Parliament with spirit to stand up to the Pope, he thrusts his claw +in everywhere, puts a strange Abbess into Wilton, and what must she +do but send down her Proctor to treat the poor nunnery as it were a +sponge, and spite of all my Lady Mother's bounties to the place, what +lists he do but turn out the poor maid for lack of a dowry, not so +much as giving time for a notice to be sent." + +"If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should know how to +serve him," observed Sir William, and Warwick laughed as befitted a +Westmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to more civilised ways. + +"Scurvy usage," he said, "but the Prioress had no choice save to put +her in such keeping as she could, and send her away to my Lady +Mother, or failing her to her home." + +"Soh! She must e'en jog off with me, though how it is to be with her +my lady may tell, not I, since every groat those villain yeomen and +fisher folk would raise, went to fit out young Rob, and there has not +been so much as a Border raid these four years and more. There are +the nuns at Gateshead, as hard as nails, will not hear of a maid +without a dower, and yonder mansworn fellow Copeland casts her off +like an old glove! Let us look at you, wench! Ha! Face is +unsightly enough, but thou wilt not be a badly-made woman. Take +heart, what's thy name--Grisell? May be there's luck for thee still, +though it be hard of coming to Whitburn," he added, turning to +Warwick. "There's this wench scorched to a cinder, enough to fright +one, and my other lad racked from head to foot with pain and sores, +so as it is a misery to hear the poor child cry out, and even if he +be reared, he will be good for nought save a convent." + +Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little brother, +but the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to follow them. +She saw no more of her father except from the far end of the table, +but orders were issued that she should be ready to accompany him on +his homeward way the next morning at six o'clock. Her brother Robert +had been sent in charge of some of the Duke of York's retainers, to +join his household as a page, though they had missed him on the +route, and the Lord of Whitburn was anxious to get home again, never +being quite sure what the Scots, or the Percies, or his kinsmen of +Gilsland, might attempt in his absence. "Though," as he said, "my +lady was as good as a dozen men-at-arms, but somehow she had not been +the same woman since little Bernard had fallen sick." + +There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very sorry to +part, for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it had been +merely the attending to the needs of a charge, not showing her any +affection, and she had shrunk from the eyes of so large a party. + +When she came down early into the hall, her father's half-dozen +retainers were taking their morning meal at one end of a big board, +while a manchet of bread and a silver cup of ale was ready for each +of them at the other, and her father while swallowing his was in deep +conversation over northern politics with the courteous Earl, who had +come down to speed his guests. As she passed the retainers she +heard, "Here comes our Grisly Grisell," and a smothered laugh, and in +fact "Grisly Grisell" continued to be her name among the free-spoken +people of the north. The Earl broke off, bowed to her, and saw that +she was provided, breaking into his conversation with the Baron, +evidently much to the impatience of the latter; and again the polite +noble came down to the door with her, and placed her on her palfrey, +bidding her a kind farewell ere she rode away with her father. It +would be long before she met with such courtesy again. Her father +called to his side his old, rugged-looking esquire Cuthbert Ridley, +and began discussing with him what Lord Warwick had said, both wholly +absorbed in the subject, and paying no attention to the girl who rode +by the Baron's side, so that it was well that her old infantine +training in horsemanship had come back to her. + +She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and petted +her long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than he had done +in those days when he had seemed to her infinitely aged. Indeed it +was to him, far more than to her father, that she owed any attention +or care taken of her on the journey. Her father was not unkind, but +never seemed to recollect that she needed any more care than his +rough followers, and once or twice he and all his people rode off +headlong over the fell at sight of a stag roused by one of their +great deer-hounds. Then Cuthbert Ridley kept beside her, and when +the ground became too rough for a New Forest pony and a hand +unaccustomed to northern ground, he drew up. She would probably--if +not thrown and injured--have been left behind to feel herself lost on +the moors. She minded the less his somewhat rude ejaculation, "Ho! +Ho! South! South! Forgot how to back a horse on rough ground. Eh? +And what a poor soft-paced beast! Only fit to ride on my lady's +pilgrimage or in a State procession." + +(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern dialect +could be understood by the writer or the reader, and must be taken +for granted.) + +"They are all gone!" responded Grisell, rather frightened. + +"Never guessed you were not among them," replied Ridley. "Why, my +lady would be among the foremost, in at the death belike, if she did +not cut the throat of the quarry." + +Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she shuddered +a little as she asked what they were to do next. + +"Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord comes up with +us," answered Ridley. "Or you might be fain to rest under a rock for +a while." + +The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a mossy +stone while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and presently +even brought her a branch or two of whortle-berries. She felt that +she had a friend, and was pleased when he began to talk of how he +remembered her long ago. + +"Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, when you were fetched +home from Herring Dick's house, how you used to run after the dogs +like a kitten after her tail, and used to crave to be put up on old +Black Durham's back." + +"I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on his forehead?" + +"A white blaze sure enough." + +"Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump of +spears." + +"No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago come Martinmas, +in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, and I +tarried to cut his throat with my dagger--though it went to my heart, +for his good old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord told +me I was a fool for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, but +I could not leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the +rest in time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad." + +Certainly "home" would be very unlike the experience of Grisell's +education. + +Ridley gave her a piece of advice. "Do not be daunted at my lady; +her bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will not bear with +is the seeming cowed before her. She is all the sharper with her +tongue now that her heart is sore for Master Bernard." + +"What ails my brother Bernard?" then asked Grisell anxiously. + +"The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked Nan +of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child," returned the esquire. +"Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but peak +and pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking +out on him; though there's a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his bed. +My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked Nan, but +she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his oath that +he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when we got +there she was not to be seen or heard of. We have heard of her in +the Gilsland ground, where they would all the sooner see a the young +lad of Whitburn crippled and a mere misery to see or hear." + +Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the old +squire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She asked +what nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing within +easy reach. St. Cuthbert's diocese had not greatly favoured +womankind, and Whitby was far away. + +By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horses +being heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted again +before he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and best +portions of the deer. + +"Left out, my wench," he shouted. "We must mount you better. Ho! +Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? Ha! Ha!" + +"The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells," muttered +the squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy. + +"She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim and dainty +lassies here," growled her father. "Look you, Ridley, that horse of +Hob's--" and the rest was lost in a discussion on horseflesh. + +Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedingly +uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerable +seclusion, brought her at last within reach of home. There was a +tall church tower and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord of +Whitburn halted, and blew his bugle with the peculiar note that +signified his own return, then all rode down to the old peel, the +outline of which Grisell saw with a sense of remembrance, against the +gray sea-line, with the little breaking, glancing waves, which she +now knew herself to have unconsciously wanted and missed for years +past. + +Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlooking +the sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but to +Grisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles and +abbeys of the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrow +and cramped, for truly there was need to have no more walls than +could be helped for the few defenders to guard. + +All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullis +over her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of the +lady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seen +her, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, small +and stunted for six years old. + +"Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?" shouted the Baron in his +gruff, hoarse voice. + +"He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold your +stirrup," said the mother. "You are soon returned. Is all well with +Rob?" + +"O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on the way to +the Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need all his following +if the Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered as much wit +as ever he had. So I e'en sent Rob on with him, and came back so as +to be ready in case there's a call for me. Soh! Berney; on thy feet +again? That's well, my lad; but we'll have thee up the steps." + +He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it was +Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then little +Bernard in his father's arms exclaimed + +"Black nun woman!" + +"By St. Cuthbert!" cried the Baron, "I mind me! Here, wench! I have +brought back the maid in her brother's stead." + +And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, +Bernard screamed, "Ugsome wench, send her away!" threw his arms round +his father's neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture. + +"Saints have mercy!" cried the mother, "thou hast not mended much +since I saw thee last. They that marred thee had best have kept +thee. Whatever shall we do with the maid?" + +"Send her away, the loathly thing," reiterated the boy, lifting up +his head from his father's shoulder for another glimpse, which +produced a puckering of the face in readiness for crying. + +"Nay, nay, Bernard," said Ridley, feeling for the poor girl and +speaking up for her when no one else would. "She is your sister, and +you must be a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured lad spoilt her +poor face when it was as fair as your own. Kiss your sister like a +good lad, and - + +"No! no!" shouted Bernard. "Take her away. I hate her." He began +to cry and kick. + +"Get out of his sight as fast as may be," commanded the mother, +alarmed by her sickly darling's paroxysm of passion. + +Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to be +led away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her in +his rough way. "'Tis the petted bairn's way, you see, mistress--and +my lady has no thought save for him. He will get over it soon enough +when he learns your gentle convent-bred conditions." + +Still the cry of "Grisly Grisell," picked up as if by instinct or by +some echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears in the angry +fretful voice of the poor little creature towards whom her heart was +yearning. Even the two women-servants there were, no more looked at +her askance, as they took her to a seat in the hall, and consulted +where my lady would have her bestowed. She was wiping away bitter +tears as she heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. "The +chamber within the solar is the place for the noble damsels." + +"That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish." + +"Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord's daughter." + +There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang up. +"Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have done so for many +nights. Only let me be no burthen. Show me where I can go to be an +anchoress, since they will not have me in a convent or anywhere," and +bitterly she wept. + +"Peace, peace, lady," said the squire kindly. "I will deal with +these ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! Go off, and make the +chamber ready, or I'll find a scourge for you. And as to my lady-- +she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, but she has only to get used to +you to be friendly enough." + +"O what a hope in a mother," thought poor Grisell. "O that I were at +Wilton or some nunnery, where my looks would be pardoned! Mother +Avice, dear mother, what wouldst thou say to me now!" + +The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as it +were the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrow +castle court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise the +hall and kitchen--which were the dwelling and sleeping places of the +men of the household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentle +blood, would sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob when +at home in the tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where was +the great box-bed of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard. + +Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for the +daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley to +the Lady Grisell. The two women-servants--Bell and Madge--were wives +to the cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused and +made a receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus the +sudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle +voices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishing +she could efface herself. + +And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed to +her dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary. + + + +CHAPTER X--COLD WELCOME + + + +Seek not for others to love you, + But seek yourself to love them best, +And you shall find the secret true, + Of love and joy and rest. + +I. WILLIAMS. + +To lack beauty was a much more serious misfortune in the Middle Ages +than at present. Of course it was probable that there might be a +contract of marriage made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, +long before the development of either of the principal parties +concerned; but even then the rude, open-spoken husband would consider +himself absolved from any attention to an ill-favoured wife, and the +free tongues of her surroundings would not be slack to make her aware +of her defects. The cloister was the refuge of the unmarried woman, +if of gentle birth as a nun, if of a lower grade as a lay-sister; but +the fifteenth century was an age neither of religion nor of chivalry. +Dowers were more thought of than devotion in convents as elsewhere. +Whitby being one of the oldest and grandest foundations was sure to +be inaccessible to a high-born but unportioned girl, and Grisell in +her sense of loneliness saw nothing before her but to become an +anchoress, that is to say, a female hermit, such as generally lived +in strict seclusion under shelter of the Church. + +"There at least," thought poor Grisell, "there would be none to sting +me to the heart with those jeering eyes of theirs. And I might feel +in time that God and His Saints loved me, and not long for my father +and mother, and oh! my poor little brother--yes, and Leonard +Copeland, and Sister Avice, and the rest. But would Sister Avice +call this devotion? Nay, would she not say that these cruel eyes and +words are a cross upon me, and I must bear them and love in spite--at +least till I be old enough to choose for myself?" + +She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense of +dreariness, for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not come +near him, or he would not eat, and she had to take her meal of dried +fish and barley bread in the wide chimney corner, where there always +was a fire at every season of the year. + +Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley's exertions had compelled the +women to prepare for her, was--as seen in the light of the long +evening--a desolate place, within a turret, opening from the solar, +or chamber of her parents and Bernard, the loophole window devoid of +glass, though a shutter could be closed in bad weather, the walls +circular and of rough, untouched, unconcealed stone, a pallet bed-- +the only attempt at furniture, except one chest--and Grisell's own +mails tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an ancient and fishy +smell. She felt too downhearted even to creep out and ask for a +pitcher of water. She took a long look over the gray, heaving sea, +and tired as she was, it was long before she could pray and cry +herself to sleep, and accustomed as she was to convent beds, this one +appeared to be stuffed with raw apples, and she awoke with aching +bones. + +Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as southland +finery, for those who washed at all used the horse trough, but +fortunately for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the request. He had been +enough in the south in attendance on his master to know how young +damsels lived, and what treatment they met with, and he was soon +rating the women in no measured terms for the disrespect they had +presumed to show to the Lady Grisell, encouraged by the neglect of +her parents + +The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, backed up +his retainer, and made it plain that he intended his daughter to be +respected and obeyed, and the grumbling women had to submit. Nor did +he refuse to acknowledge, on Ridley's representation, that Grisell +ought to have an attendant of her own, and the lady of the castle, +coming down with Bernard clinging to her skirt with one hand, and +leaning on his crutch, consented. "If the maid was to be here, she +must be treated fitly, and Bell and Madge had enough to do without +convent-bred fancies." + +So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt the +fisher folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, bareheaded, with +long, streaming, lint-white locks, and the scantiest of garments, +crying bitterly with fright, and almost struggling to go back. She +was the orphan remnant of a family drowned in the bay, and was a +burthen on her fisher kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose of +her. + +She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost screamed +when Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the hand. Ridley fairly +drove her upstairs, step by step, and then shut her in with his young +lady, when she sank on the floor and hid her face under all her +bleached hair. + +"Poor little thing," thought Grisell; "it is like having a fresh- +caught sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I am, and more afraid!" + +So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl to look +up, and assuring her that she would not be hurt. Grisell had a very +soft and persuasive voice. Her chief misfortune as regarded her +appearance was that the muscles of one cheek had been so drawn that +though she smiled sweetly with one side of her face, the other was +contracted and went awry, so that when the kind tones had made the +girl look up for a moment, the next she cried, "O don't--don't! Holy +Mary, forbid the spell!" + +"I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor girl, a +stranger here in my own home. Come, and do not fear me." + +"Madge said you had witches' marks on your face," sobbed the child. + +"Only the marks of gunpowder," said Grisell. "Listen, I will tell +thee what befell me." + +Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn +nature, but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and the +girl's terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which was +Thora, and learning, too, that she had led a hard life since her +granny died, and her uncle's wife beat her, and made her carry heavy +loads of seaweed when it froze her hands, besides a hundred other +troubles. As to knowing any kind of feminine art, she was as +ignorant as if the rough and extremely dirty woollen garment she +wore, belted round with a strip of leather, had grown upon her, and +though Grisell's own stock of garments was not extensive, she was +obliged, for very shame, to dress this strange attendant in what she +could best spare, as well as, in spite of sobs and screams, to wash +her face, hands, and feet, and it was wonderful how great a +difference this made in the wild creature by the time the clang of +the castle bell summoned all to the midday meal, when as before, +Bernard professed not to be able to look at his sister, but when she +had retreated he was seen spying at her through his fingers, with +great curiosity. + +Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries for +herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning. She was +not very graciously answered; but she was allowed an old frayed +horse-cloth on which Thora might sleep, and for the rest she might +see what she could find under the stairs in the turret, or in the +chest in the hall window. + +The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mere +rubbish were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them she +picked enough to render her dreary chamber a very few degrees more +habitable. Thora would sleep there, and certainly their relations +were reversed, for carrying water was almost the only office she +performed at first, since Grisell had to dress her, and teach her to +keep herself in a tolerable state of neatness, and likewise how to +spin, luring her with the hope of spinning yarn for a new dress for +herself. As to prayers, her mind was a mere blank, though she said +something that sounded like a spell except that it began with +"Pater." She did not know who made her, and entirely believed in +Niord and Rana, the storm-gods of Norseland. Yet she had always been +to mass every Sunday morning. So went all the family at the castle +as a matter of course, but except when the sacring-bell hushed them, +the Baron freely discussed crops or fish with the tenants, and the +lady wrangled about dues of lambs, eggs, and fish. Grisell's +attention was a new thing, and the priest's pronunciation was so +defective to her ear that she could hardly follow. + +That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling her room +and training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more apt scholar +than she had expected, and became devoted to her like a little +faithful dog. + +No one else took much notice of either, except that at times Cuthbert +Ridley showed himself to be willing to stand up for her. Her father +was out a great deal, hunting or hawking or holding consultations +with neighbouring knights or the men of Sunderland. Her mother, with +the loudest and most peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, +ordered the men on their guards and at the stables, and the cook, +scullions, and other servants, but without much good effect as +household affairs were concerned, for the meals were as far removed +from the delicate, dainty serving of the simplest fast-day meal at +Wilton as from the sumptuous plenty and variety of Warwick house, and +Bernard often cried and could not eat. She longed to make up for him +one of the many appetising possets well known at Wilton, but her +mother and Ralf the cook both scouted her first proposal. They +wanted no south-bred meddlers over their fire. + +However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in pain, the +Baron had growled out that the child was cockered beyond all bearing, +and the mother had flown out at the unnatural father, and on his half +laughing at her doting ways, had actually rushed across with clenched +fist to box his ears; he had muttered that the pining brat and +shrewish dame made the house no place for him, and wandered out to +the society of his horses. Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath +in abuse of him and all around, carried the child up to his bed. +There he was moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darkness +having put a stop to Grisell's spinning, she went to her chamber with +Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she even thought +her mother was crying. She ventured to approach and ask, "Fares he +no better? If I might rub that poor leg." + +But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, "Go away, Grisly," and +her mother exclaimed, "Away with you, I have enough to vex me here +without you." + +She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down her +face as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices, +the same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Before +they were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harsh +and angered voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness for +some little time, but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again, +and there was a jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, +now thinner and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, and +crept out. "If I might rub him a little while, and you rest, Lady +Mother. He cannot see me now." + +She prevailed, or rather the poor mother's utter weariness and +dejection did, together with the father's growl, "Let her bring us +peace if she can." + +Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand to +the aching thigh. + +"Soft! Soft! Good! Good!" muttered Bernard presently. "Go on!" + +Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical touch +of Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her hand. Her mother, +who was quite worn out, moved to her own bed, and fell asleep, while +the snores of the Baron proclaimed him to have been long appeased. +The boy, too, presently was breathing softly, and Grisell's attitude +relaxed, as her prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by and +by, what she thought was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light of +St. Edith's taper, proved to be the musical rush of the incoming +tide, and the golden sunrise over the sea, while all lay sound asleep +around her, and she ventured gently to withdraw into her own room. + +That night was Grisell's victory, though Bernard still held aloof +from her all the ensuing day, when he was really the better and +fresher for his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as usual the pain +came on, he wailed for her to rub him, and as it was still daylight, +and her father had gone out in one of the boats to fish, she ventured +on singing to him, as she rubbed, to his great delight and still +greater boon to her yearning heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, +the little fellow limped up to her, and said, "Grisly, sing that +again," staring hard in her face as she did so. + + + +CHAPTER XI--BERNARD + + + +I do remember an apothecary, - +And hereabouts he dwells. + +SHAKESPEARE, Romeo and Juliet. + +Bernard's affection was as strong as his aversion had been. Poor +little boy, no one had been accustomed enough to sickly children, or +indeed to children at all, to know how to make him happy or even +comfortable, and his life had been sad and suffering ever since the +blight that had fallen on him, through either the evil eye of Nan the +witch, or through his fall into a freezing stream. His brother, a +great strong lad, had teased and bullied him; his father, though not +actually unkind except when wearied by his fretfulness, held him as a +miserable failure, scarcely worth rearing; his mother, though her +pride was in her elder son, and the only softness in her heart for +the little one, had been so rugged and violent a woman all the years +of her life, and had so despised all gentler habits of civilisation, +that she really did not know how to be tender to the child who was +really her darling. Her infants had been nursed in the cottages, and +not returned to the castle till they were old enough to rough it-- +indeed they were soon sent off to be bred up elsewhere. Some failure +in health, too, made it harder for her to be patient with an ailing +child, and her love was apt to take the form of anger with his +petulance or even with his suffering, or else of fierce battles with +her husband in his defence. + +The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that beldame +had disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady Whitburn still +cherished the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres or the Percies to +yield the woman up. Failing this, the boy had been shown to a +travelling friar, who had promised cure through the relics he carried +about; but Bernard had only screamed at him, and had been none the +better. + +And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he found that +"Grisly," as he still called her, but only as an affectionate +abbreviation, was the only person who could relieve his pain, or +amuse him, in the whole castle; and he was incessantly hanging on +her. She must put him to bed and sing lullabies to him, she must rub +his limbs when they ached with rheumatic pains; hers was the only +hand which might touch the sores that continually broke out, and he +would sit for long spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down the +scar and pitying it with "Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throw +down my glove, and fight with that lad, and kill him." + +"O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me evil. He is a fair, +brave, good boy." + +"He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn and recreant," +persisted Bernard. "Rob and I will make him say that you are the +fairest of ladies." + +"O nay, nay. That he could not." + +"But you are, you are--on this side--mine own Grisly," cried Bernard, +whose experiences of fair ladies had not been extensive, and who +curled himself on her lap, giving unspeakable rest and joy to her +weary, yearning spirit, as she pressed him to her breast. "Now, a +story, a story," he entreated, and she was rich in tales from +Scripture history and legends of the Saints, or she would sing her +sweet monastic hymns and chants, as he nestled in her lap. + +The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, and now +and then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn and keeping +him a helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his mother for this +ill-favoured, useless sister, and would even snatch away the boy, and +declare that she wanted no one to deal with him save herself; but +Bernard had a will of his own, and screamed for his Grisly, throwing +himself about in such a manner that Lady Whitburn was forced to +submit, and quite to the alarm of her daughter, on one of these +occasions she actually burst into a flood of tears, sobbing loud and +without restraint. Indeed, though she hotly declared that she ailed +nothing, there was a lassitude about her that made it a relief to +have the care of Bernard taken off her hands; and the Baron's +grumbling at disturbed nights made the removal of Bernard's bed to +his sister's room generally acceptable. + +Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora the +English version of the Lord's Prayer and Creed, and moreover to be +telling him the story of the Gospel, there came, no one knew from +where, an accusation which made her father tramp up and say, "Mark +you, wench, I'll have no Lollards here." + +"Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!" said Grisell trembling. + +"Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things common?" + +"We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend mothers and the +holy father." + +The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn was +fit only for a shaveling, it might be all right. + +Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation of +manhood? However, Grisell had won permission to compound broths, +cakes, and possets for him, over the hall fire, for the cook and his +wife would not endure her approach to their domain, and with great +reluctance allowed her the materials. Bernard watched her operations +with intense delight and amusement, and tasted with a sense of +triumph and appetite, calling on his mother to taste likewise; and +she, on whose palate semi-raw or over-roasted joints had begun to +pall, allowed that the nuns had taught Grisell something. + +And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. Every one +around was used to her scars, and took no notice of them, and there +was nothing to bring the thought before her, except now and then when +a fishwife's baby, brought to her for cure, would scream at her. She +never went beyond the castle except to mass, now and then to visit a +sick person, and to seek some of the herbs of which she had learnt +the use, and then she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, who +made a great favour of going. + +Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she soothed +his pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the knowledge she +brought from the convent. Her affections were with him, and though +her mother could scarcely be said to love her, she tolerated and +depended more and more on the daughter who alone could give her more +help or solace. + +That was Grisell's second victory, when she was actually asked to +compound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when be was +caught in a storm and came in drenched and weary. + +She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of Sister +Avice's ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficacious +than melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from the +church bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients were +out of reach, unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and she +obtained permission to ride thither under the escort of Cuthbert +Ridley, and was provided with a small purse--the proceeds of the +Baron's dues out of the fishermen's sales of herrings. + +She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her mother, and +enough of cloth to afford winter garments for Bernard; and a steady +old pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn to be exchanged for these +commodities, since the Whitburn household possessed no member +dexterous with the old disused loom, and the itinerant weavers did +not come that way--it was whispered because they were afraid of the +fisher folk, and got but sorry cheer from the lady. + +The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two miles' +ride along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at the curious caverns +in the rock, and seeking for the very strangely-formed stones +supposed to have magic power, which fell from the rock. In the +distance beyond the river to the southward, Ridley pointed to the +tall square tower of Monks Wearmouth Church dominating the great +monastery around it, which had once held the venerable Bede, though +to both Ridley and Grisell he was only a name of a patron saint. + +The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel to +Grisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and gaily- +coloured vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very new sights +to one best acquainted with Noah's ark or St. Peter's ship in +illuminations. + +"Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding," said Ridley. +"Moreover, these come for wool, salt-fish, and our earth coal, and +they bring us fine cloth, linen, and stout armour. I am glad to see +yonder Flemish ensign. If luck goes well with us, I shall get a +fresh pair of gauntlets for my lord, straight from Gaunt, the place +of gloves." + +"GANT for glove," said Grisell. + +"How? You speak French. Then you may aid me in chaffering, and I +will straight to the Fleming, with whom I may do better than with +Hodge of the Lamb. How now, here's a shower coming up fast!" + +It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was already +bursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a thoroughfare across +salt marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was not enough to prevent +their being drenched by a torrent of rain and hail before they +reached the tall-timbered houses of Wearmouth. + +"In good time!" cried Ridley; "here's the Poticary's sign! You had +best halt here at once." + +In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, hung a +sign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a stall, open to +the street, which the owner was sheltering with a deep canvas awning. + +"Hola, Master Lambert Groats," called Ridley. "Here's the young +demoiselle of Whitburn would have some dealings with you." + +Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a small, +keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing his green +velvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take shelter in his poor +house. + +Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundry +marvellous curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, the +shells of tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her eyes most +strange and weird; but Master Lambert was begging her to hasten in at +once to his dwelling-room beyond, and let his wife dry her clothes, +and at once there came forward a plump, smooth, pleasant-looking +personage, greatly his junior, dressed in a tight gold-edged cap over +her fair hair, a dark skirt, black bodice, bright apron, and white +sleeves, curtseying low, but making signs to invite the newcomers to +the fire on the hearth. "My housewife is stone deaf," explained +their host, "and she knows no tongue save her own, and the unspoken +language of courtesy, but she is rejoiced to welcome the demoiselle. +Ah, she is drenched! Ah, if she will honour my poor house!" + +The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the demoiselle +to come to the fire, and take off her wet mantle. It was a very +comfortable room, with a wide chimney, and deep windows glazed with +thick circles of glass, the spaces between leaded around in diamond +panes, through which vine branches could dimly be seen flapping and +beating in the storm. A table stood under one with various glasses +and vessels of curious shapes, and a big book, and at the other was a +distaff, a work-basket, and other feminine gear. Shelves with pewter +dishes, and red, yellow, and striped crocks, surrounded the walls; +there was a savoury cauldron on the open fire. It was evidently +sitting-room and kitchen in one, with offices beyond, and Grisell was +at once installed in a fine carved chair by the fire--a more +comfortable seat than had ever fallen to her share. + +"Look you here, mistress," said Ridley; "you are in safe quarters +here, and I will leave you awhile, take the horses to the hostel, and +do mine errands across the river--'tis not fit for you--and come back +to you when the shower is over, and you can come and chaffer for your +woman's gear." + +From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell was glad +to have time for consultation. An Apothecary of those days did not +rise to the dignity of a leech, but was more like the present owner +of a chemist's shop, though a chemist then meant something much more +abstruse, who studied occult sciences, such as alchemy and astrology. + +In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though English lips +had made it Groats, belonged to one of the prosperous guilds of the +great merchant city of Bruges, but he had offended his family by his +determination to marry the deaf, and almost dumb, portionless orphan +daughter of an old friend and contemporary, and to save her from the +scorn and slights of his relatives--though she was quite as well-born +as themselves--he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth and +Sunderland had a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These cities +enjoyed the cultivation of the period, and this room, daintily clean +and fresh, seemed to Grisell more luxurious than any she had seen +since the Countess of Warwick's. A silver bowl of warm soup, +extracted from the pot au feu, was served to her by the Hausfrau, on +a little table, spread with a fine white cloth edged with embroidery, +with an earnest gesture begging her to partake, and a slender Venice +glass of wine was brought to her with a cake of wheaten bread. Much +did Grisell wish she could have transferred such refreshing fare to +Bernard. She ventured to ask "Master Poticary" whether he sold +"Balsam of Egypt." He was interested at once, and asked whether it +were for her own use. + +"Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that was a burn +long ago healed. It is for my poor little brother." + +Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions of +symptoms, drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she learnt a +good deal and perhaps disclosed more of Sister Avice's methods than +Wilton might have approved. In the midst the sun broke out gaily +after the shower, and disclosed, beyond the window, a garden where +every leaf and spray were glittering and glorious with their own +diamond drops in the sunshine. A garden of herbs was a needful part +of an apothecary's business, as he manufactured for himself all of +the medicaments which he did not import from foreign parts, but this +had been laid out between its high walls with all the care, taste, +and precision of the Netherlander, and Grisell exclaimed in perfect +ecstasy: "Oh, the garden, the garden! I have seen nothing so fair +and sweet since I left Wilton." + +Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is no +describing how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the bare, dry +walls of the castle, and the tossing sea which the maiden had not yet +learnt to love. Nor was the garden dull, though meant for use. +There was a well in the centre with roses trained over it, roses of +the dark old damask kind and the dainty musk, used to be distilled +for the eyes, some flowers lingering still; there was the brown +dittany or fraxinella, whose dried blossoms are phosphoric at night; +delicate pink centaury, good for ague; purple mallows, good for +wounds; leopard's bane with yellow blossoms; many and many more old +and dear friends of Grisell, redolent of Wilton cloister and Sister +Avice; and she ran from one to the other quite transported, and +forgetful of all the dignities of the young Lady of Whitburn, while +Lambert was delighted, and hoped she would come again when his lilies +were in bloom. + +So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was asked +of the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert answered that +the value was fully balanced by what he had learnt from the lady. +This, however, did not suit the honour of the Dacres, and Grisell, as +well as her squire, who looked offended, insisted on leaving two gold +crowns in payment. The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it the +last sprays of roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom. + +She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where she +obtained the warm winter garments that she needed for her mother and +brother, and likewise some linen, for the Lady of Whitburn had never +been housewife enough to keep up a sufficient supply for Bernard, and +Grisell was convinced that the cleanliness which the nuns had taught +her would mitigate his troubles. With Thora to wash for her she +hoped to institute a new order of things. + +Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She was met there +by more grumbling than satisfaction. Her father had expected more +coin to send to Robert, who, like other absent youths, called for +supplies. + +The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of paper +with the words:- + + +"MINE HONOURED LORD AND FATHER--I pray you to send me Black Lightning +and xvj crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have you in +their keeping.--Your dutiful sonne, + +"ROBERT DACRE." + + +xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn vowed +that he had never so called on his father except when he was +knighted, but those were the good old days when spoil was to be won +in France. What could Rob want of such a sum? + +"Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no place to stint +in. The two young Earls of March and of Rutland, as they call them, +walk in red and blue and gold bravery, and chains of jewels, even +like king's sons, and none of the squires and pages can be behind +them." + +"Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the lad fitted out +for years to come. I never sent home the like message to my father +under the last good King Henry, but purveyed myself of a horse on the +battlefield more than once. But those good old days are over, and +lads think more of velvet and broidery than of lances and swords. +Forsooth, their coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk robes instead +of helm and shield; and as to our maids, give them their rein, and +they spend more than all the rest on women's tawdry gear!" + +Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and nothing for +herself except a few needles. + +However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and sent +away with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell became more +and more a needful person. Bernard was stronger, and even rode out +on a pony, and the fame of his improvement brought other patients to +the Lady Grisell from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best she +might, successfully or the reverse, while her mother, as her health +failed, let fall more and more the reins of household rule. + + + +CHAPTER XII--WORD FROM THE WARS + + + +Above, below, the Rose of Snow, +Twined with her blushing face we spread. + +GRAY'S Bard. + +News did not travel very fast to Whitburn, but one summer's day a +tall, gallant, fair-faced esquire, in full armour of the cumbrous +plate fashion, rode up to the gate, and blew the family note on his +bugle. + +"My son! my son Rob," cried the lady, starting up from the cushions +with which Grisell had furnished her settle. + +Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the gate, +by his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in the rear, +while Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung back. + +The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not conceal a +good deal of contempt for the rude northern habits. "How small and +dark the hall is! My lady, how old you have grown! What, Bernard, +still fit only for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, eh? Ha! is that +Grisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland has made a hag of her!" + +"'Tis a good maid none the less," replied her father; the first +direct praise that she had ever had from him, and which made her +heart glow. + +"She will ne'er get a husband, with such a visage as that," observed +Robert, who did not seem to have learnt courtesy or forbearance yet +on his travels; but he was soon telling his father what concerned +them far more than the maiden's fate. + +"Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to summon you. +What, you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as may be, the arms +of every honest man. How many can you get together?" + +"But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the roast last time I +heard of him." + +"You know as little as my horse here in the north!" cried Rob. + +"This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the Queen, +that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord of +Salisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten her +and the men of Cheshire." + +"Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the Copeland +banner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant that +bore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed." + +"I'll warrant it," muttered his father. + +"When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere in +sight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascaille +after that." + +"Ha!" half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. "That's +my brave lad! And what then? More hopes of the spurs, eh?" + +"Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would willingly +stir a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, she gets a +host together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with her, at +Ludlow. Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass was said +for the repose of his soul, but with the morning what should we see +on the other side of the river Teme but the royal standard, and who +should be under it but King Harry himself with his meek face and fair +locks, twirling his fingers after his wont. So the men would have it +that they had been gulled, and they fell away one after another, till +there was nothing for it but for the Duke and his sons, and my Lords +of Salisbury and Warwick and a few score more of us, to ride off as +best we might, with Sir Andrew Trollope and his men after us, as hard +as might be, so that we had to break up, and keep few together. I +went with the Duke of York and young Lord Edmund into Wales, and +thence in a bit of a fishing-boat across to Ireland. Ask me to fight +in full field with twice the numbers, but never ask me to put to sea +again! There's nothing like it for taking heart and soul out of a +man!" + +"I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, and known +nothing worse than a qualm or two." + +"That was to France," said his son. "This Irish Sea is far wider and +far more tossing, I know for my own part. I'd have given a knight's +fee to any one who would have thrown me overboard. I felt like an +empty bag! But once there, they could not make enough of us. The +Duke had got their hearts before, and odd sort of hearts they are. I +was deaf with the wild kernes shouting round about in their +gibberish--such figures, too, as they are, with their blue cloaks, +streaming hair, and long glibbes (moustaches), and the Lords of the +Pale, as they call the English sort, are nigh about as wild and +savage as the mere Irish. It was as much as my Lord Duke could do to +hinder two of them from coming to blows in his presence; and you +should have heard them howl at one another. However, they are all +with him, and a mighty force of them mean to go back with him to +England. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais to hold counsel with +him, and they have sworn to one another to meet with all their +forces, and require the removal of the King's evil councillors; and +my Lord Duke, with his own mouth, bade me go and summon his trusty +Will Dacre of Whitburn--so he spake, sir--to be with him with all the +spears and bowmen you can raise or call for among the neighbours. +And it is my belief, sir, that he means not to stop at the +councillors, but to put forth his rights. Hurrah for King Richard of +the White Rose!" ended Robert, throwing up his cap. + +"Nay, now," said his father. "I'd be loth to put down our gallant +King Harry's only son." + +"No one breathes a word against King Harry," returned Robert, "no +more than against a carven saint in a church, and he is about as much +of a king as old stone King Edmund, or King Oswald, or whoever he is, +over the porch. He is welcome to reign as long as he likes or lives, +provided he lets our Duke govern for him, and rids the country of the +foreign woman and her brat, who is no more hers than I am, but a mere +babe of Westminster town carried into the palace when the poor King +Harry was beside himself." + +"Nay, now, Rob!" cried his mother. + +"So 'tis said!" sturdily persisted Rob. "'Tis well known that the +King never looked at him the first time he was shown the little imp, +and next time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted up his hands +and said he wotted nought of the matter. Hap what hap, King Harry +may roam from Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, so long as he +lists, but none of us will brook to be ruled or misruled by the +foreign woman and the Beauforts in his name, nor reigned over by the +French dame or the beggar's brat, and the traitor coward Beaufort, +but be under our own noble Duke and the White Rose, the only badge +that makes the Frenchman flee." + +The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of one who +knew the world, made his father laugh and say, "Hark to the cockerel +crowing loud. Spurs forsooth!" + +"The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted," grunted Rob, "and there's +but few years betwixt us." + +"But a good many earldoms and lands," said the Baron. "Hadst spoken +of being out of pagedom, 'twere another thing." + +"You are coming, sir," cried Rob, willing to put by the subject. +"You are coming to see how I can win honours." + +"Aye, aye," said his father. "When Nevil calls, then must Dacre +come, though his old bones might well be at rest now. Salisbury and +Warwick taking to flight like attainted traitors to please the +foreign woman, saidst thou? Then it is the time men were in the +saddle." + +"Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my lord," exclaimed +Robert. + +"Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was greatly reassured by +thy testimony," said his father drily, while the mother, full of +pride and exultation in her goodly firstborn son, could not but +exclaim, "Daunt him not, my lord; he has done well thus to be sent +home in charge." + +"_I_ daunt him?" returned Lord Whitburn, in his teasing mood. "By +his own showing not a troop of Somerset's best horsemen could do +that!" + +Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations of +resources, which they kept up all through supper-time, and all the +evening, till the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like rang like +a repeating echo in Grisell's ears. All through those long days of +summer the father and son were out incessantly, riding from one +tenant or neighbour to another, trying to raise men-at-arms and means +to equip them if raised. All the dues on the herring-boats and the +two whalers, on which Grisell had reckoned for the winter needs, were +pledged to Sunderland merchants for armour and weapons; the colts +running wild on the moors were hastily caught, and reduced to a kind +of order by rough breaking in. The women of the castle and others +requisitioned from the village toiled under the superintendence of +the lady and Grisell at preparing such provision and equipments as +were portable, such as dried fish, salted meat, and barley cakes, as +well as linen, and there was a good deal of tailoring of a rough sort +at jerkins, buff coats, and sword belts, not by any means the gentle +work of embroidering pennons or scarves notable in romance. + +"Besides," scoffed Robert, "who would wear Grisly Grisell's scarf!" + +"I would," manfully shouted Bernard; "I would cram it down the throat +of that recreant Copeland." + +"Oh! hush, hush, Bernard," exclaimed Grisell, who was toiling with +aching fingers at the repairs of her father's greasy old buff coat. +"Such things are, as Robin well says, for noble demoiselles with fair +faces and leisure times like the Lady Margaret. And oh, Robin, you +have never told me of the Lady Margaret, my dear mate at Amesbury." + +"What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such gear," growled +Robin, whose chivalry had not reached the point of caring for ladies. + +"The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret of York," +Grisell explained. + +"Oh! That's what you mean is it? There's a whole troop of wenches +at the high table in hall. They came after us with the Duchess as +soon as we were settled in Trim Castle, but they are kept as demure +and mim as may be in my lady's bower; and there's a pretty sharp eye +kept on them. Some of the young squires who are fools enough to +hanker after a few maids or look at the fairer ones get their noses +wellnigh pinched off by Proud Cis's Mother of the Maids." + +"Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell's greetings by you." + +"I should like to see myself delivering them! Besides, we shall meet +my lord in camp, with no cumbrance of woman gear." + +Lord Whitburn's own castle was somewhat of a perplexity to him, for +though his lady had once been quite sufficient captain for his scanty +garrison, she was in too uncertain health, and what was worse, too +much broken in spirit and courage, to be fit for the charge. He +therefore decided on leaving Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter at +least, was scarcely as capable of roughing it as of old, to protect +the castle, with a few old or partly disabled men, who could man the +walls to some degree, therefore it was unlikely that there would be +any attack. + +So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with its +three crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, and round +it mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been raised by the +baron, some being his own vassals, and others hired at Sunderland. +The rest were volunteers--gentlemen, their younger sons, and their +attendants--placing themselves under his leadership, either from +goodwill to York and Nevil, or from love of enterprise and hope of +plunder. + + + +CHAPTER XIII--A KNOT + + + +I would mine heart had caught that wound + And slept beside him rather! +I think it were a better thing +Than murdered friend and marriage-ring + Forced on my life together. + +E. B. BROWNING, The Romaunt of the Page. + +Ladies were accustomed to live for weeks, months, nay, years, without +news of those whom they had sent to the wars, and to live their life +without them. The Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husband +or son again till the summer campaign was over, and she was not at +all uneasy about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrived +at such a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult to +kill him, and such was the weight, that his danger in being +overthrown was of never being able to get up, but lying there to be +smothered, made prisoner, or killed, by breaking into his armour. +The knights could not have moved at all under the weight if they had +not been trained from infancy, and had nearly reduced themselves to +the condition of great tortoises. + +It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, when, +though twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were in bed, and +he was asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the master's note, +at first in the usual tones, then more loudly and impatiently. +Hastening out of bed to her loophole window, Grisell saw a party +beneath the walls, her father's scallop-shells dimly seen above them, +and a little in the rear, one who was evidently a prisoner. + +The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were beginning to +be astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer room, she found her +mother afoot and hastily dressing. + +"My lord! my lord! it is his note," she cried. + +"Father come home!" shouted Bernard, just awake. "Grisly! Grisly! +help me don my clothes." + +Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could not +help her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling rather than +calling for help all the time; and before she, still less Grisell, +was fit for the public, her father's heavy step was on the stairs, +and she heard fragments of his words. + +"All abed! We must have supper--ridden from Ayton since last +baiting. Aye, got a prisoner--young Copeland--old one slain--great +victory--Northampton. King taken--Buckingham and Egremont killed-- +Rob well--proud as a pyet. Ho, Grisell," as she appeared, "bestir +thyself. We be ready to eat a horse behind the saddle. Serve up as +fast as may be." + +Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word Copeland +aright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just crossing the +hall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, with hands over +his face and elbows on his knees, but she could not pause, and went +on to the kitchen, where the peat fire was never allowed to expire, +and it was easy to stir it into heat. Whatever was cold she handed +over to the servants to appease the hunger of the arrivals, while she +broiled steaks, and heated the great perennial cauldron of broth with +all the expedition in her power, with the help of Thora and the +grumbling cook, when he appeared, angry at being disturbed. + +Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were over for +the dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and when she +again crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the straw-bestrewn +floor fast asleep. One she specially noticed, his long limbs +stretched out as he lay on his side, his head on his arm, as if he +had fallen asleep from extreme fatigue in spite of himself. + +His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and ruddy, +and all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been those long +years ago before her accident. Save for that, she would have been +long ago his wife, she with her marred face the mate of that nobly +fair countenance. How strange to remember. How she would have loved +him, frank and often kind as she remembered him, though rough and +impatient of restraint. What was that which his fingers had held +till sleep had unclasped them? An ivory chessrook! Such was a +favourite token of ladies to their true loves. What did it mean? +Might she pause to pray a prayer over him as once hers--that all +might be well with him, for she knew that in this unhappy war +important captives were not treated as Frenchmen would have been as +prisoners of war, but executed as traitors to their King. + +She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one of +the dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, and +she fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fast +asleep, and across to her own room, where she threw herself on her +bed, dressed as she was, but could not sleep for the multitude of +strange thoughts that crowded over her in the increasing daylight. + +By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, and +then her mother came in. + +"Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning instantly. +Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. The Earl of Warwick +hath granted his life to thy father on that condition only." + +"Oh, mother, is he willing?" cried Grisell trembling. + +"What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, and he must fulfil +his promise now that we have him." + +"Was it troth? I cannot remember it," said Grisell. + +"That matters not. Your father's plight is the same thing. His +father was slain in the battle, so 'tis between him and us. Put on +thy best clothes as fast as may be. Thou shalt have my wedding-veil +and miniver mantle. Speed, I say. My lord has to hasten away to +join the Earl on the way to London. He will see the knot tied beyond +loosing at once." + +To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her bewilderment. +Remonstrance was vain. The actual marriage without choice was not so +repugnant to all her feelings as to a modern maiden; it was the +ordinary destiny of womanhood, and she had been used in her childhood +to look on Leonard Copeland as her property; but to be forced on the +poor youth instantly on his father's death, and as an alternative to +execution, set all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard was +sitting up in bed, crying out that he could not lose his Grisly. Her +mother was running backwards and forwards, bringing portions of her +own bridal gear, and directing Thora, who was combing out her young +lady's hair, which was long, of a beautiful brown, and was to be worn +loose and flowing, in the bridal fashion. Grisell longed to kneel +and pray, but her mother hurried her. "My lord must not be kept +waiting, there would be time enough for prayer in the church." Then +Bernard, clamouring loudly, threw his arms round the thick old heavy +silken gown that had been put on her, and declared that he would not +part with his Grisly, and his mother tore him away by force, +declaring that he need not fear, Copeland would be in no hurry to +take her away, and again when she bent to kiss him he clung tight +round her neck almost strangling her, and rumpling her tresses. + +Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the young +lady, and it was he who took the boy off and held him in his arms, as +the mother, who seemed endued with new strength by the excitement, +threw a large white muffling veil over Grisell's head and shoulders, +and led or rather dragged her down to the hall. + +The first sounds she there heard were, "Sir, I have given my faith to +the Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I love." + +"What is that to me? 'Twas a precontract to my daughter." + +"Not made by me nor her." + +"By your parents, with myself. You went near to being her death +outright, marred her face for life, so that none other will wed her. +What say you? Not hurt by your own will? Who said it was? What +matters that?" + +"Sir," said Leonard, "it is true that by mishap, nay, if you will +have it so, by a child's inadvertence, I caused this evil chance to +befall your daughter, but I deny, and my father denies likewise, that +there was any troth plight between the maid and me. She will own the +same if you ask her. As I spake before, there was talk of the like +kind between you, sir, and my father, and it was the desire of the +good King that thus the families might be reconciled; but the +contract went no farther, as the holy King himself owned when I gave +my faith to the Lord Audley's daughter, and with it my heart." + +"Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor fool of a King +believe and avouch anything she choose! This is not the point. No +more words, young man. Here stands my daughter; there is the rope. +Choose--wed or hang." + +Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity over his +face. Then he said, "If I consent, am I at liberty, free at once to +depart?" + +"Aye," said Whitburn. "So you fulfil your contract, the rest is +nought to me." + +"I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to my Queen and King?" + +"Free." + +"You swear it, on the holy cross?" + +Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, and +made oath on it that when once married to his daughter, Leonard +Copeland was no longer his prisoner. + +Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of grief +and renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs of King +and country, and his words chimed in with her conviction. + +"Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would die rather than +be false to my love, but my Queen needs good swords and faithful +hearts, and I may not fail her. I am ready!" + +"It is well!" said Lord Whitburn. "Ho, you there! Bring the horses +to the door." + +Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had been +thinking of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but that look +of grief roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had no other love to +sacrifice. + +"Sir! sir!" she cried, as her father turned to bid her mount the +pillion behind Ridley. "Can you not let him go free without? I +always looked to a cloister." + +"That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me now, or it will be +the worse for him and you." + +"One word I would say," added the mother. "How far hath this matter +with the Audley maid gone? There is no troth plight, I trow?" + +"No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not have pleaded it if +there had been? No more dilly-dallying. Up on the horse, Grisly, +and have done with it. We will show the young recreant how promises +are kept in Durham County." + +He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and lifted her +passively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert Ridley. A fine horse, +Copeland's own, was waiting for him. He was allowed to ride freely, +but old Whitburn kept close beside him, so that escape would have +been impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, dimmed +and dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, which +glittered on the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, purple in +the sun, was rising in front of this strange bridal cavalcade. + +It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the heavy +rain that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole party come +within for the part of the ceremony usually performed outside the +west door. + +It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, and filled +with dusky glass, and the arches were low browed. Grisell's +mufflings were thrown aside, and she stood as became a maiden bride, +with all her hair flowing over her shoulders and long tresses over +her face, but even without this, her features would hardly have been +visible, as the dense cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall and +straight was her figure that no one would have supposed her other +than a fair young spouse. She trembled a good deal, but was too much +terrified and, as it were, stunned for tears, and she durst not raise +her drooping head even to look at her bridegroom, though such light +as came in shone upon his fair hair and was reflected on his armour, +and on one golden spur that still he wore, the other no doubt lost in +the fight. + +All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was determined that no +ceremony that could make the wedlock valid should be omitted. The +priest, a kind old man, but of peasant birth, and entirely +subservient to the Dacres, proceeded to ask each of the pair when +they had been assoiled, namely, absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, +had been shriven only last Friday; Leonard muttered, "Three days +since, when I was dubbed knight, ere the battle." + +"That suffices," put in the Baron impatiently. "On with you, Sir +Lucas." + +The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, and +Grisell could not but look up anxiously when the solemn charge was +given to mention whether there was any lawful "letting" to their +marriage. Her heart bounded as it were to her throat when Leonard +made no answer. + +But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise! + +It went on--those betrothal vows, dictated while the two cold hands +were linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, hers, quaking, +especially as, in the old use of York, he took her "for laither for +fairer"--laith being equivalent to loathly--"till death us do part." +And with failing heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered out +her vow to cleave to him "for better for worse, for richer for +poorer, in sickness or health, and to be bonner (debonair or +cheerful) and boughsome (obedient) till that final parting." + +The troth was plighted, and the silver mark--poor Leonard's sole +available property at the moment--laid on the priest's book, as the +words were said, "with worldly cathel I thee endow," and the ring, an +old one of her mother's, was held on Grisell's finger. It was done, +though, alas! the bridegroom could hardly say with truth, "with my +body I thee worship." + +Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands barely +touching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when Latin did not +come home to the pair like English, though both fairly understood it. +Grisell's feeling was by this time concentrated in the one hope that +she should be dutiful to the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more to +be pitied than herself, and that she should be guarded by God +whatever befell. + +It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, but there +was some delay, for the darkness was more dense than ever, the rush +of furious hail was heard without, a great blue flash of intense +light filled every corner of the church, the thunder pealed so +sharply and vehemently overhead that the small company looked at one +another and at the church, to ascertain that no stroke had fallen. +Then the Lord of Whitburn, first recovering himself, cried, "Come, +sir knight, kiss your bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard--here. +Who hath seen him? Not vanished in yon flash! Eh?" + +No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that Sir +Leonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he had +fulfilled the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, and +galloped away through the storm. + + + +CHAPTER XIV--THE LONELY BRIDE + + + + Grace for the callant +If he marries our muckle-mouth Meg. + +BROWNING. + +"The recreant! Shall we follow him?" was the cry of Lord Whitburn's +younger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his hand on his horse's +neck, in spite of the torrents of rain and the fresh flash that set +the horses quivering. + +"No! no!" roared the Baron. "I tell you no! He has fulfilled his +promise; I fulfil mine. He has his freedom. Let him go! For the +rest, we will find the way to make him good husband to you, my +wench," and as Harry murmured something, "There's work enow in hand +without spending our horses' breath and our own in chasing after a +runaway groom. A brief space we will wait till the storm be over." + +Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling her +beads, and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all the time +giving thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her mother, +whose needs had been pressing strongly on her, yet that she might do +right by this newly-espoused husband, whose downcast, dejected look +had filled her, not with indignation at the slight to her--she was +far past that--but with yearning compassion for one thus severed from +his true love. + +When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders to +ride home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, +he asked, "Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thy +runaway bridegroom?" + +"Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than be +away with yonder stranger I ken not whither." + +"Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can break the marriage +by pleading precontract, you may lay your reckoning on it that so he +will." + +When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which Lady +Whitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her opinion. + +"He will get the knot untied," she said. "So thick as the King and +his crew are with the Pope, it will cost him nothing, but we may, for +very shame, force a dowry out of his young knighthood to get the +wench into Whitby withal!" + +"So he even proffered on his way," said the Baron. "He is a fair and +knightly youth. 'Tis pity of him that he holds with the Frenchwoman. +Ha, Bernard, 'tis for thy good." + +For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring that his +Grisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile runaway +husbands. + +Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no difference +in her position, excepting that she was scrupulously called Dame +Grisell Copeland. Her father was soon called away by the summons to +Parliament, sent forth in the name of King Henry, who was then in the +hands of the Earl of Warwick in London. The Sheriff's messenger who +brought him the summons plainly said that all the friends of York, +Salisbury, and Warwick were needed for a great change that would dash +the hopes of the Frenchwoman and her son. + +He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle to +Ridley and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not be +downhearted. He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir Leonard, to +his marrow bones before her. + +Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the summer +waned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low fever. In the +lady's case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third day in +her bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over the +child's bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all night, +sometimes craving to be on his sister's lap, but too restless long to +lie there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of all Grisell's +simple treatment, and at last she wrung from the lady permission to +send Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was possible to bring out +Master Lambert Groot to give his advice, or if not, to obtain +medicaments and counsel from him. + +The good little man actually came, riding a mule. "Ay, ay," quoth +Ridley, "I brought him, though he vowed at first it might never be, +but when he heard it concerned you, mistress--I mean Dame Grisell--he +was ready to come to your aid." + +Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher's dress and +little frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark old +hall. + +Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferior +enough to be under her orders. "Ha! Is that your Poticary?" she +demanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. "Look at my +bairn, Master Dutchman; see to healing him," she continued +imperiously. + +Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed her +manner, though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more +civilised than this North Country dame. He looked anxiously at +Bernard, who moaned a little and turned his head away. "Nay, now, +Bernard," entreated his sister; "look up at the good man, he that +sent you the sugar-balls. He is come to try to make you well." + +Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand to the +leech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the stranger, who +felt his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for better +examination. There was at first a dismal little whine at being +touched and moved, but when a pleasantly acid drop was put into his +little parched mouth, he smiled with brief content. His mother +evidently expected that both he and she herself would be relieved on +the spot, but the Apothecary durst not be hopeful, though he gave the +child a draught which he called a febrifuge, and which put him to +sleep, and bade the lady take another of the like if she wished for a +good night's rest. + +He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage to +Lindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from the +foul, close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil odours of +the court. To the lady he thought it would really be healing, but he +doubted whether the poor little boy was not too far gone for such +revival; indeed, he made no secret that he believed the child was +stricken for death. + +"Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!" cried the mother +passionately. "You outlandish cheat! you! What did you come here +for? You have not even let him blood!" + +"Let him blood! good madame," exclaimed Master Lambert. "In his +state, to take away his blood would be to kill him outright!" + +"False fool and pretender," cried Lady Whitburn; "as if all did not +ken that the first duty of a leech is to take away the infected +humours of the blood! Demented as I was to send for you. Had you +been worth but a pinch of salt, you would have shown me how to lay +hands on Nan the witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my poor +bairn." + +Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skill +of a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having come +on false pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, and +finally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisell +was thankful to convey her guest out of the chamber, and place him +under the care of Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, +and safe convoy back to Wearmouth when his mule had been rested and +baited. + +"Oh, Master Lambert," she said, "it grieves me that you should have +been thus treated." + +"Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share to brook the +like, and I fear me that yours is a weary lot." + +"But my brother! my little brother!" she asked. "It is all out of my +mother's love for him." + +"Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and little enough +is there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he high or low +born. Were it not better that the Saints should take him to their +keeping, while yet a sackless babe?" + +Grisell wrung her hands together. "Ah! he hath been all my joy or +bliss through these years; but I will strive to say it is well, and +yield my will." + +The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called her back +before she could say or hear more. Her mother lay still utterly +exhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but all that evening, +and all the ensuing night, Grisell held the boy, sometimes on her +lap, sometimes on the bed, while all the time his moans grew more and +more feeble, his words more indistinct. By and by, as she sat on the +bed, holding him on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, +outwearied as she was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, +till she was roused by a cry from Thora, "Holy St. Hilda! the bairn +has passed!" + +And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that had +been clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a strange cold +at her breast. + +Her mother woke with a loud wail. "My bairn! My bairn!" snatching +him to her arms. "This is none other than your Dutchman's doings, +girl. Have him to the dungeon! Where are the stocks? Oh, my pretty +boy! He breathed, he is living. Give me the wine!" Then as there +was no opening of the pale lips, she fell into another tempest of +tears, during which Grisell rushed to the stair, where on the lowest +step she met Lambert and Ridley. + +"Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert," she cried. "Out of the +castle instantly. My mother is distraught with grief; I know not +what she may do to him. O go! Not a word!" + +They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and leaving +the castle to its sorrow. + +So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault in the +church, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her mother, +after her burst of passion subsided, lay still and listless, hardly +noticing anything, as if there had fallen on her some stroke that +affected her brain. Tidings of the Baron were slow to come, and +though Grisell sent a letter by a wandering friar to York, with +information of the child's death and the mother's illness, it was +very doubtful when or whether they would ever reach him. + + + +CHAPTER XV--WAKEFIELD BRIDGE + + + +I come to tell you things since then befallen. +After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, +Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp. + +SHAKESPEARE, King Henry VI., Part III. + +Christmas went by sadly in Whitburn Tower, but the succeeding weeks +were to be sadder still. It was on a long dark evening that a +commotion was heard at the gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had been +sitting by the smouldering fire in her chamber, seemed suddenly +startled into life. + +"Tidings," she cried. "News of my lord and son. Bring them, +Grisell, bring them up." + +Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the household, men +and maids, were gathered round some one freshly come in, and the +first sound she heard was, "Alack! Alack, my lady!" + +"How--what--how--" she asked breathlessly, just recognising Harry +Featherstone, pale, dusty, blood-stained. + +"It is evil news, dear lady," said old Ridley, turning towards her +with outstretched hands, and tears flowing down his cheeks. "My +knight. Oh! my knight! And I was not by!" + +"Slain?" almost under her breath, asked Grisell. + +"Even so! At Wakefield Bridge," began Featherstone, but at that +instant, walking stiff, upright, and rigid, like a figure moved by +mechanism, Lady Whitburn was among them. + +"My lord," she said, still as if her voice belonged to some one else. +"Slain? And thou, recreant, here to tell the tale!" + +"Madam, he fell before I had time to strike." She seemed to hear no +word, but again demanded, "My son." + +He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated. + +"My son! Speak out, thou coward loon." + +"Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside the Earl of +Rutland. 'Tis a lost field! I barely 'scaped with a dozen men. I +came but to bear the tidings, and see whether you needed an arm to +hold out the castle for young Bernard. Or I would be on my way to my +own folk on the Border, for the Queen's men will anon be everywhere, +since the Duke is slain!" + +"The Duke! The Duke of York!" was the cry, as if a tower were down. + +"What would you. We were caught by Somerset like deer in a buck- +stall. Here! Give me a cup of ale, I can scarce speak for chill." + +He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale was brought +by some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a sign from +Ridley, one of the serving-men began to draw off his heavy boots and +greaves, covered with frosted mud, snow, and blood, all melting +together, but all the time he talked, and the hearers remained +stunned and listening to what had hardly yet penetrated their +understanding. Lady Whitburn had collapsed into her own chair, and +was as still as the rest. + +He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a question, but +his fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded. + +All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry was in the +power of the White Rose, and had actually consented that Richard of +York should be his next heir, but in the meantime Queen Margaret had +been striving her utmost to raise the Welsh and the Border lords on +behalf of her son. She had obtained aid from Scotland, and the +Percies, the Dacres of Gilsland, and many more, had followed her +standard. The Duke of York and Earl of Salisbury set forth to +repress what they called a riot, probably unaware of the numbers who +were daily joining the Queen. With them went Lord Whitburn, hoping +thence to return home, and his son Robert, still a squire of the +Duke's household. + +They reached York's castle of Sendal, and there merrily kept +Christmas, but on St. Thomas of Canterbury's Day they heard that the +foe were close at hand, many thousands strong, and on the morrow +Queen Margaret, with her boy beside her, and the Duke of Somerset, +came before the gate and called on the Duke to surrender the castle, +and his own vaunting claims with it, or else come out and fight. + +Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till his son +Edward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from Wales, but +York held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on account of a +scolding woman, and the prudence of the Earl of Salisbury was at +fault, since both presumed on the easy victories they had hitherto +gained. Therefore they sallied out towards Wakefield Bridge, to +confront the main body of Margaret's army, ignorant or careless that +she had two wings in reserve. These closed in on them, and their +fate was certain. + +"My lord fell in the melee among the first," said Featherstone. "I +was down beside him, trying to lift him up, when a big Scot came with +his bill and struck at my head, and I knew no more till I found my +master lying stark dead and stripped of all his armour. My sword was +gone, but I got off save for this cut" (and he pushed back his hair) +"and a horse's kick or two, for the whole battle had gone over me, +and I heard the shouting far away. As my lord lay past help, +methought I had best shift myself ere more rascaille came to strip +the slain. And as luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbled +among the corpses I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown +Weardale, running masterless. Glad enough was he, poor brute, to +have my hand on his rein. + +"The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to put him +to the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young Master +Robin, and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, on the +other side, holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress Grisell +wedded, and though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand to them, +and was letting them go by in safety. I was calling to Master Rob to +let me pass as one of his own, when thundering on came the grim Lord +Clifford, roaring like the wind in Roker caves. I heard him howl at +young Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed spoilers of +York. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed him aside against +the wall, and, ah! woe's me, lady, when Master Robin threw himself +between, the fellow--a murrain on his name--ran the fair youth +through the neck with his sword, and swept him off into the river. +Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, "Thy father slew +mine, and so do I thee," and dashed out his brains with his mace. +For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over the river in the +twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses and poor +slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was even +worse, some not yet dead, borne along and crying out. A woful day it +was to all who loved the kindly Duke of York, or this same poor +house! As luck would have it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale and a +few more honest fellows, who had 'scaped. We found none but friends +when we were well past the river. They succoured us at the first +abbey we came to. The rest have sped to their homes, and here am I." + +Such was the tenor of Featherstone's doleful history of that blood- +thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in dire suspense on his +words, and not till they were ended did Grisell become conscious that +her mother was sitting like a stone, with fixed, glassy eyes and +dropped lip, in the high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathing +strangely. + +They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had received +her death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on the slopes +between Sendal and Wakefield. + +Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, and +they watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as they tried +their simple, ineffective remedies one after another, with no thought +or possibility of sending for further help, since the roads would be +impassable in the long January night, and besides, the Lancastrians +might make them doubly perilous. Moreover, this dumb paralysis was +accepted as past cure, and needing not the doctor but the priest. +Before the first streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, +Ridley's ponderous step came up the stair, into the feeble light of +the rush candle which the watchers tried to shelter from the +draughts. + +The sad question and answer of "No change" passed, and then Ridley, +his gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, "Featherstone would speak +with you, lady. He would know whether it be your pleasure to keep +him in your service to hold out the Tower, or whether he is free to +depart." + +"Mine!" said Grisell bewildered. + +"Yea!" exclaimed Ridley. "You are Lady of Whitburn!" + +"Ah! It is true," exclaimed Grisell, clasping her hands. "Woe is me +that it should be so! And oh! Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, is +a Queen's man! What can I do?" + +"If it were of any boot I would say hold out the Tower. He deserves +no better after the scurvy way he treated you," said Cuthbert grimly. +"He may be dead, too, though Harry fears he was but stunned." + +"But oh!" cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam of light, "did not I +hear something of his trying to save my brother and Lord Edmund?" + +"You had best come down and hear," said Ridley. "Featherstone cannot +go till he has spoken with you, and he ought to depart betimes, lest +the Gilsland folk and all the rest of them be ravening on their way +back." + +Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, entirely +past her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had seemed to have no +affection to bestow on her daughter, had been entirely broken down +and crushed by the loss of her sons and husband. + +Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on young +Copeland they might be giving their Tower to their enemy. + +She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose night had +done him more good than hers had, came to meet her, looking much +freshened, and with a bandage over his forehead. He bent low before +her, and offered her his services, but, as he told her, he and Ridley +had been talking it over, and they thought it vain to try to hold out +the Tower, even if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, +for the country round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would be +scarcely possible to get provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, +the Gilsland branch of the family, who would be the male heirs, were +on the side of the King and Queen, and might drive her out if she +resisted. Thus there seemed no occasion for the squire to remain, +and he hoped to reach his own family, and save himself from the risk +of being captured. + +"No, sir, we do not need you," said Grisell. "If Sir Leonard +Copeland lives and claims this Tower, there is no choice save to +yield it to him. I would not delay you in seeking your own safety, +but only thank you for your true service to my lord and father." + +She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his knee. + +His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his way +more safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in this +war, the poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were chiefly +made on nobles and gentlemen. So he prepared to set forth, but +Grisell obtained from him what she had scarcely understood the night +before, the entire history of the fall of her father and brother, and +how gallantly Leonard Copeland had tried to withstand Clifford's +rage. + +"He did his best for them," she said, as if it were her one drop of +hope and comfort. + +Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford's blow had freed her from +her reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage would give her claims +on the Copeland property. But Grisell somehow could not join in the +wish. She could only remember the merry boy at Amesbury and the fair +face she had seen sleeping in the hall, and she dwelt on +Featherstone's assurance that no wound had pierced the knight, and +that he would probably be little the worse for his fall against the +parapet of the bridge. Use her as he might, she could not wish him +dead, though it was a worthy death in defence of his old playfellow +and of her own brother. + + + +CHAPTER XVI--A NEW MASTER + + + +In the dark chambere, if the bride was fair, + Ye wis, I could not see. + . . . . + And the bride rose from her knee +And kissed the smile of her mother dead. + +E. B. BROWNING, The Romaunt of the Page. + +The Lady of Whitburn lingered from day to day, sometimes showing +signs of consciousness, and of knowing her daughter, but never really +reviving. At the end of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhat +better, but that night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidently +dying that the priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the last +Sacrament. The passing bell rang out from the church, and the old +man, with his little server before him, came up the stair, and was +received by Grisell, Thora, and one or two other servants on their +knees. + +Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest was crossing +the hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight at their head, +rode to the gate and demanded entrance. + +The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, instead of +escorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, had to go to +the gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, far from dead, in +very different guise from that in which he had been brought to the +castle before. He looked, however, awed, as he said, bending his +head - + +"Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand with me?" + +"My old lady is in extremis, sir," replied Ridley. "Poor soul, she +hath never spoken since she heard of my lord's death and his son's." + +"The younger lad? Lives here?" demanded Copeland. "Is it as I have +heard?" + +"Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. Luke. I have my +lady's orders," he added reluctantly, "to open the castle to you, as +of right." + +"It is well," returned Sir Leonard. Then, turning round to the +twenty men who followed him, he said, "Men-at-arms, as you saw and +heard, there is death here. Draw up here in silence. This good +esquire will see that you have food and fodder for the horses. Kemp, +Hardcastle," to his squires, "see that all is done with honour and +respect as to the lady of the castle and mine. Aught unseemly shall +be punished." + +Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, looking +about him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but speaking with +low, grave tones. + +"I may not tarry," he said to Ridley, "but this place, since it falls +to me and mine, must be held for the King and Queen." + +"My lady bows to your will, sir," returned Ridley. + +Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, +observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lasted +till the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest came +forth. + +"Sir," he said to Copeland, "you will pardon the young lady. Her +mother is in articulo mortis, and she cannot leave her." + +"I would not disturb her," said Leonard. "The Saints forbid that I +should vex her. I come but as in duty bound to damn this Tower on +behalf of King Harry, Queen Margaret, and the Prince of Wales against +all traitors. I will not tarry here longer than to put it into hands +who will hold it for them and for me. How say you, Sir Squire?" he +added, turning to Ridley, not discourteously. + +"We ever did hold for King Harry, sir," returned the old esquire. + +"Yea, but against his true friends, York and Warwick. One is cut +off, ay, and his aider and defender, Salisbury, who should rather +have stood by his King, has suffered a traitor's end at Pomfret." + +"My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my poor young lady," +sighed Ridley. + +"He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the King," said Leonard. +"We of his household long ago were happy enough, though strangely +divided now. For the rest, till that young wolf cub, Edward of +March, and his mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be put down, this +place must be held against them and theirs--whosoever bears the White +Rose. Wilt do so, Master Seneschal?" + +"I hold for my lady. That is all I know," said Ridley, "and she +holds herself bound to you, sir." + +"Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I see; but I must leave +half a score of fellows for the defence, and will charge them that +they show all respect and honour to the lady, and leave to you, as +seneschal, all the household, and of all save the wardship of the +Tower, calling on you first to make oath of faith to me, and to do +nought to the prejudice of King Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor to +favour the friends of York or Warwick." + +"I am willing, sir," returned Ridley, who cared a great deal more for +the house of Whitburn than for either party, whose cause he by no +means understood, perhaps no more than they had hitherto done +themselves. As long as he was left to protect his lady it was all he +asked, and more than he expected, and the courtesy, not to say +delicacy, of the young knight greatly impressed both him and the +priest, though he suspected that it was a relief to Sir Leonard not +to be obliged to see his bride of a few months. + +The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would rather have seen +them more of the North Country yeoman type than of the regular +weather-beaten men-at-arms whom wars always bred up; but their +officer was a slender, dainty-looking, pale young squire, with his +arm in a sling, named Pierce Hardcastle, selected apparently because +his wound rendered rest desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his charge +that all honour and respect was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, +and that she was free to come and go as she chose, and to be obeyed +in every respect, save in what regarded the defence of the Tower. He +himself was going on to Monks Wearmouth, where he had a kinsman among +the monks. + +With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to Ridley, +"Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am grieved for her sorrow +and to be compelled to trouble her at such a time; but 'tis for my +Queen's service, and when this troublous times be ended, she shall +hear more from me." Turning to the priest he added, "I have no coin +to spare, but let all be done that is needed for the souls of the +departed lord and lady, and I will be answerable." + +Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and squire +looked at one another, and Ridley said, "He will untie your knot, Sir +Lucas." + +"He takes kindly to castle and lands," was the answer, with a smile; +"they may make the lady to be swallowed." + +"I trow 'tis for his cause's sake," replied Ridley. "Mark you, he +never once said 'My lady,' nor 'My wife.'" + +"May the sweet lady come safely out of it any way," sighed the +priest. "She would fain give herself and her lands to the Church." + +"May be 'tis the best that is like to befall her," said Ridley; "but +if that young featherpate only had the wit to guess it, he would find +that he might seek Christendom over for a better wife." + +They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to say +that my lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to the +bedside. + +All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, and +Grisell was left alone in her desolation. The only real, deep, +mutual love had been between her and poor little Bernard; her elder +brother she had barely seen; her father had been indifferent, chiefly +regarding her as a damaged piece of property, a burthen to the +estate; her mother had been a hard, masculine, untender woman, only +softened in her latter days by the dependence of ill health and her +passion for her sickly youngest; but on her Grisell had experienced +Sister Avice's lesson that ministry to others begets and fosters +love. + +And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her work +for her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except so far +as that the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home by a +hostile garrison. Her spirit sank within her, and she bitterly felt +the impoverishment of the always scanty means, which deprived her of +the power of laying out sums of money on those rites which were +universally deemed needful for the repose of souls snatched away in +battle. It was a mercenary age among the clergy, and besides, it was +the depth of a northern winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady of +Whitburn would have been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band of +black Benedictine monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying they +had been despatched at special request and charge of Sir Leonard +Copeland. + + + +CHAPTER XVII--STRANGE GUESTS + + + +The needle, having nought to do, + Was pleased to let the magnet wheedle, +Till closer still the tempter drew, + And off at length eloped the needle. + +T. MOORE. + +The nine days of mourning were spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, +who went through every round of devotions prescribed or recommended +by the Church, and felt relief and rest in them. She shrank when +Ridley on the tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in +the solar, but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of +the Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct of +Copeland's men. + +"Master Hardcastle desires it too," he said. "He is a good lad +enough, but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough over those +fellows! You need not look for aught save courtesy from him! Come +down, lady, or you will never have your rights." + +"Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?" + +"To be mistress of your own castle," returned Ridley, "and that you +will never be unless you take the upper hand. Here are all our +household eating with these rogues of Copeland's, and who is to keep +rule if the lady comes not?" + +"Alack, and how am I to do so?" + +However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very early +dinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the return from +mass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He was a tall slender +stripling, looking weak and ill, and he bowed very low as he said, +"Greet you well, lady," and looked up for a moment as if in fear of +what he might encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with long +watching and grief, and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance all +her scars and distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than her +wont. She saw him shudder a little, but his lame arm and wan looks +interested her kind heart. "I fear me you are still feeling your +wound, sir," she said, in the sweet voice which was evidently a +surprise to him. + +"It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this morning," he +answered. + +They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and Hardcastle, +the servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge and broth and very +small ale were the fare, and salted meat would be for supper, and as +Grisell knew but too well already, her own retainers were grumbling +at the voracious appetites of the men-at-arms as much as did their +unwilling guests at the plainness and niggardliness of the supply. + +Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or even to +broach a cask of wine. "For," said she, "they are none such fiends +as we thought, if one knows how to take them courteously." + +"There is no need that you should have any dealings with them, +Thora," said her lady, with some displeasure; "Master Ridley sees to +their provision." + +Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about not +being mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And when she +attended her lady to the hall there certainly were glances between +her and a slim young archer. + +The lady's presence was certainly a restraint on the rude men-at- +arms, though two or three of them seemed to her rough, reckless- +looking men. After the meal all her kindly instincts were aroused to +ask what she could do for the young squire, and he willingly put +himself into her hands, for his hurt had become much more painful +within the last day or two, as indeed it proved to be festering, and +in great need of treatment. + +Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell had +found him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence of the +Queen had snatched from his studies into the battlefield. He told +her a great deal about the good King, and his encouragement of his +beloved scholars at Eton, and he spoke of Queen Margaret with an +enthusiasm new to Grisell, who had only heard her reviled as the +Frenchwoman. Pierce could speak with the greatest admiration, too, +of his own knight, Sir Leonard, whom he viewed as the pink of +chivalry, assuring Lady Copeland, as he called her, that she need +never doubt for a moment of his true honour and courtesy. Grisell +longed to know, but modest pride forbade her to ask, whether he knew +how matters stood with her rival, Lady Eleanor Audley. Ridley, +however, had no such feeling, and he reported to Grisell what he had +discovered. + +Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought her +very beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry was +riding to his Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a squire, was +standing beside her, and it had been currently reported that he was +to be her bridegroom. + +He had returned from his captivity after the battle of Northampton +exceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the cause of +Lancaster, and Hardcastle had heard that the question had been +discussed whether the forced marriage had been valid, or could be +dissolved; but since the bodies of Lord Whitburn and his son had been +found on the ground at Wakefield, this had ceased, and it was +believed that Queen Margaret had commanded Sir Leonard, on his +allegiance, to go and take possession of Whitburn and its vassals in +her cause. + +But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley's opinion, that did his +knight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as man +could wish both in word and deed. + +"I would fain," said he, "have the Lady Eleanor to look at, but this +lady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. Never met I woman who +was so good company! She might almost be a scholar at Oxford for her +wit." + +However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of Master +Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thora +exchanged glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few days +Ridley spoke to Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue if +the silly wench were not checked in her habit of loitering and +chattering whenever she could escape from her lady's presence in the +solar, which Grisell used as her bower, only descending to the hall +at meal-times. + +Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed +unreasonably over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered +something about young Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcher +up the stair. + +"It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strange +soldiers," said Grisell. + +"No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse with +their captain," retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free of +speech and with a toss of the head. + +"Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet," said Grisell, clenching a +fist unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement as a duty. +"You know full well that my only speech with Master Hardcastle is as +his hostess." + +Thora laughed. "Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. How that +poor youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour over +him as of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard." + +"For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!" and Grisell's hand +actually descended on her maiden's face, but so slight was the force +that it only caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered the young +mistress as to give her energy to strike again with all her might. + +"And you'd beat me," observed her victim, roused to anger. "You are +so ill favoured yourself that you cannot bear a man to look on a fair +maid!" + +"What insolence is this?" cried Grisell, utterly amazed. "Go into +the turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till I call you +to supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems a modest +maiden." + +She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and withdrew +still pouting and grumbling. + +Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew not that +her wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, while sympathy +might have evoked wholesome confidence. + +For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, was +attractive enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison with +nothing to do, and on her side their notice, their rough compliments, +and even their jests, were delightful compared with the dulness of +her mistress's mourning chamber, and court enough was paid to her +completely to turn her head. If there were love and gratitude +lurking in the bottom of her heart towards the lady who had made a +fair and skilful maiden out of the wild fisher girl, all was +smothered in the first strong impulse of love for this young Ralph +Hart, the first to awaken the woman out of the child. + +The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in all +times, placed in the course of this true love, did but serve to +alienate the girl and place her in opposition. The creature had +grown up as wild and untamed as one of the seals on the shore, and +though she had had a little training and teaching of late years, it +was entirely powerless when once the passion was evoked in her by the +new intercourse and rough compliments of the young archer, and she +was for the time at his beck and call, regarding her lady as her +tyrant and enemy. It was the old story of many a household. + + + +CHAPTER XVIII--WITCHERY + + + +The lady has gone to her secret bower, +The bower that was guarded by word and by spell. + +SCOTT, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. + +"Master Squire," said the principal man-at-arms of the garrison to +Pierce Hardcastle, "is it known to you what this laidly dame's +practices be?" + +"I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and esteem," returned the +esquire, turning hastily round in wrath. He much disliked this man, +a regular mercenary of the free lance description, a fellow of French +or Alsatian birth, of middle age, much strength, and on account of a +great gash and sideways twist of his snub nose always known as Tordu, +and strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort of spy or +check on Sir Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man replied with a +growl: + +"Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem dainty cakes to +those under her art." + +In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the Lady +Castellane's society, the great improvement in his wound under her +treatment, and the manner in which the serfs around came to ask her +aid in their maladies, had excited the suspicion of the men-at-arms. +They were older men, hardened and roughened, inclined to despise his +youth, and to resent the orderly discipline of the household, which +under Ridley went on as before, and the murmurs of Thora led to +inquiries, answered after the exaggerated fashion of gossip. + +There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and shouts +demanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not have the +lady insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He was about to order +Tordu as ringleader into custody, but Ridley said to him aside, "Best +not, sir; his fellows will not lay a finger on him, and if we did so, +there would be a brawl, and we might come by the worst." + +So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, "Bear in mind +that Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and all miscourtesy to his +lady is an offence to himself, which will be visited with his wrath." + +The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, "Ay, ay, sir; +she has bewitched you, and we'll soon have him and you free." + +Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but the +other men came between, and Ridley held him back. + +"You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled would be worse than +to let it pass." + +"There, fellow, I'll spare you, so you ask pardon of me and the +lady." + +Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a sulky +growl that might pass for an apology, and Ridley's counsel was +decided that Pierce had better not pursue the matter. + +What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the watch, +and the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along the cliffs +beyond the castle, the lad who acted as his page came to him, with +round, wondering eyes, "Sir," said he, after a little hesitation, "is +it sooth that the lady spake a spell over your arm?" + +"Not to my knowledge," said Pierce smiling. + +"It might be without your knowledge," said the boy. "They say it +healed as no chirurgeon could have healed it, and by magic arts." + +"Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to believe them, Dick." + +"Nay, sir, but 'tis her bower-woman and Madge, the cook's wife. Both +aver that the lady hath bewitched whoever comes in her way ever since +she crossed the door. She hath wrought strange things with her +father, mother, and brothers. They say she bound them to her; that +the little one could not brook to have her out of sight; yet she +worked on him so that he was crooked and shrivelled. Yet he wept and +cried to have her ever with him, while he peaked and pined and +dwindled away. And her mother, who was once a fine, stately, +masterful dame, pined to mere skin and bone, and lay in lethargy; and +now she is winding her charms on you, sir!" + +Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. Dick lowered +his voice to a whisper of awe. + +"Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose to ride over +to Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her when he has found +the witch's mark." + +"The lady!" cried Hardcastle in horror. "You see her what she is! A +holy woman if ever there was one! At mass each morning." + +"Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that 'tis prayers backward she +says there. Thora has oft heard her at night, and 'twas no Ave nor +Credo as they say them here." + +Pierce burst out laughing. "I should think not. They speak +gibberish, and she, for I have heard her in Church, speaks words with +a meaning, as her priest and nuns taught her." + +"But her face, sir. There's the Evil One's mark. One side says nay +to the other." + +"The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than Sir Leonard himself. +'Twas he that all unwittingly, when a boy, fired a barrel of powder +close to her and marred her countenance. You are not fool and ass +enough to give credence to these tales." + +"I said not that I did, sir," replied the page; "but it is what the +men-at-arms swear to, having drawn it from the serving-maid." + +"The adder," muttered Pierce. + +"Moreover," continued the boy, "they have found out that there is a +wise man witch-finder at Shields. They mean to be revenged for the +scanty fare and mean providings; and they deem it will be a merry +jest in this weary hold, and that Sir Leonard will be too glad to be +quit of his gruesome dame to call them to account." + +It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence to +restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where his +knight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likely +that these terrible intentions might be carried out before any +messenger could reach him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery was +universal, and no rank was exempt from the danger of the accusation. +Thora's treachery was specially perilous. All that the young man +could do was to seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he +was obliged to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. +Ridley too had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed too +preposterous for him to attend to it. "You are young, Hardcastle," +he said, with a smile, "or you would know that there is nothing a +grumbler will not say, nor how far men's tongues lie from their +hands." + +"Nay, but if their hands DID begin to act, how should we save the +lady? There's nothing Tordu would not do. Could we get her away to +some nunnery?" + +"There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there the +Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give her up, +on such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. My poor +bairn! That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring her neck! Yet +here are our fisher folk, who love her for her bounty." + +"Would they hide her?" asked Pierce. + +"That serving-wench--would I had drowned her ere bringing her here-- +might turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might not be +scared or tortured into giving her up!" + +Here Dick looked in. "Tordu is crossing the yard," he said. + +They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition of +Featherstone's horse, which had never wholly recovered the flight +from Wakefield. + +After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in her +apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulous +alarm, in her face. She put her hands in his. "Is it sooth?" she +said, in a strange, awe-stricken voice. + +"You have heard, then, my wench?" + +"Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing against +me. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and the rest +would never let them touch me?" + +"They should only do so through my heart's blood, dear child; but +mine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, whom those +fellows believe to be bewitched. We must find some other way!" + +"Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good Earl of +Salisbury is dead." + +"'Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid of these men. But +where?" and he made a despairing gesture. + +Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose before +her of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savage +hands of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or at +best by water. She pressed her hands together, feeling utterly +desolate, and prayed her prayer to the God of the fatherless to save +her or brace her to endure. + +Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, "Would Master Groats, the Poticary, +shelter you till this is over-past? His wife is deaf and must +perforce keep counsel." + +"He would! I verily believe he would," exclaimed Grisell; "and no +suspicion would light on him. How soon can I go to him, and how?" + +"If it may be, this very night," said Ridley. "I missed two of the +rogues, and who knows whither they may have gone?" + +"Will there be time?" said the poor girl, looking round in terror. + +"Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, and they cannot get +there and back under two days. Have you jewels, lady? And hark you, +trust not to Thora. She is the worst traitor of all. Ask me no +more, but be ready to come down when you hear a whistle." + +That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her--the girl whom +she had taught, trained, and civilised--was too much to believe. She +would almost, in spite of cautions, have asked her if it were +possible, and tried to explain the true character of the services +that were so cruelly misinterpreted; but as she descended the dark +winding stair to supper, she heard the following colloquy: + +"You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear Ralph?" + +"That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a word to her." + +"Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no evil." + +"What! Going back on what thou saidst of her brother and her mother. +Take thou heed, or they will take order with thee." + +"Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! I have done it for +thee." + +"Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little mouth;" and +there was a sound of kissing. + +"What will they do to her?" in a lower voice. + +"Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. Ha! ha! She will have +enough of the draught that is so free to us." + +Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean against the +wall hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud enough to +betray her, till a call from the hall put an end to the terrible +whispers. + +She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how near +she had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, trying to +converse with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror the absence of +the two soldiers. + +How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The castle keys +were never delivered to her, but always to Hardcastle, and she saw +him take them; but she received from Ridley a look and sign which +meant that she was to be ready, and when she left the hall she made +up a bundle of needments, and in it her precious books and all the +jewels she had inherited. That Thora did not follow her was a boon. + + + +CHAPTER XIX--A MARCH HARE + + + +Yonder is a man in sight - +Yonder is a house--but where? +No. she must not enter there. +To the caves, and to the brooks, +To the clouds of heaven she looks. + +WORDSWORTH, Feast of Brougham Castle. + +Long, long did Grisell kneel in an agony of prayer and terror, as she +seemed already to feel savage hands putting her to the ordeal. + +The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, when +there was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang to the door +and held Ridley's hand. + +"Now is the time," he said, under his breath; "the squire waits. +That treacherous little baggage is safe locked into the cellar, +whither I lured her to find some malvoisie for the rascaille crew. +Come." + +He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the narrow +passage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle with the +keys. He let them out and crossed the court with them to the little +door leading to a steep descent of the cliffs by a narrow path. Not +till the sands were reached did any of the three dare to speak, and +then Grisell held out her hands in thanks and farewell. + +"May I not guard you on your way, lady?" said Pierce. + +"Best not, sir," returned Ridley; "best not know whither she is gone. +I shall be back again before I am missed or your rogues are +stirring." + +"When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady," said Pierce, "then +will Ridley tell him where to find you and bring you back in all +honour." + +Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the young +man, who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley as the +waning moon lighted them over the glistening sands, till they sought +the friendly shadows of the cliffs. And thus Grisell Dacre parted +from the home of her fathers. + +"Cuthbert," she said, "should you see Sir Leonard, let him know that +if--if he would be free from any bond to me I will aid in breaking +it, and ask only dowry enough to obtain entrance to a convent, while +he weds the lady he loves." + +Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, and +exhortations to her to hold her own, and not abandon her rights. "If +he keep the lands, he should keep the wife," was his cry. + +"His word and heart--" began Grisell. + +"Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed on some one else. +You do not want to be quit of him and be mewed in a nunnery." + +"I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his life." + +"Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get over the first glance +and you are worth the fairest dame that ever was jousted for in the +lists. Send him at least a message as though it were not your will +to cast him off." + +"If you will have it so, then," said Grisell, "tell him that if it be +his desire, I will strive to make him a true, loyal, and loving +wife." + +The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little inward +chuckle, as of one who suspected that the duties of the good and +loving wife would not be unwillingly undertaken. + +Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and though the +distance was only two miles, it was a good deal for Grisell, and she +plodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of the sea and the cries +of the gulls. The caverns of the rock looked very black and gloomy, +and she clung to Ridley, almost expecting something to spring out on +her; but all was still, and the pale eastward light began to be seen +over the sea before they turned away from it to ascend to the +scattered houses of the little rising town. + +The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it was only +twilight when they reached the wall of Lambert's garden of herbs, +where there was a little door that yielded to Ridley's push. The +house was still closed, and hoar frost lay on the leaves, but Grisell +proposed to hide herself in the little shed which served the purpose +of tool-house and summer-house till she could make her entrance. She +felt sure of a welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave her, +so as to return to the Tower early enough to avert suspicion--an +easier matter as the men-at-arms were given to sleeping as late as +they could. He would make an errand to the Apothecary's as soon as +he could, so as to bring intelligence. + +There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while the +blackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet odours +rising from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, and a +morning bell rang from the great monastery church. With that she saw +the house door open, and Master Lambert in a fur cap and gown turned +up with lambs'-wool come out into the garden, basket in hand, and +chirp to the birds to come down and be fed. + +It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, +chaffinch, robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited a +moment to watch them before she stepped forth and said, "Ah! Master +Groot, here is another poor bird to implore your bounty." + +"Lady Grisell," he cried, with a start. + +"Ah! not that name," she said; "not a word. O Master Lambert, I came +by night; none have seen me, none but good Cuthbert Ridley ken where +I am. There can be no peril to you or yours if you will give shelter +for a little while to a poor maid." + +"Dear lady, we will do all we can," returned Lambert. "Fear not. +How pale you are. You have walked all night! Come and rest. None +will follow. You are sore spent! Clemence shall bring you a warm +drink! Condescend, dear lady," and he made her lean on his arm, and +brought her into his large living room, and placed her in the +comfortable cross-legged chair with straps and cushions as a back, +while he went into some back settlement to inform his wife of her +visitor; and presently they brought her warm water, with some +refreshing perfume, in a brass basin, and he knelt on one knee to +hold it to her, while she bathed her face and hands with a sponge--a +rare luxury. She started at every sound, but Lambert assured her +that she was safe, as no one ever came beyond the booth. His +Clemence had no gossips, and the garden could not be overlooked. +While some broth was heated for her she began to explain her peril, +but he exclaimed, "Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent that a +great strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to ask me for a +charm against gramarie, with hints that 'twas in high places. 'Twas +enough to make one laugh to see the big lubber try to whisper hints, +and shiver and shake, as he showed me a knot in his matted locks and +asked if it were not the enemy's tying. I told him 'twas tied by the +enemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, and that a stout Dutchman +ought to be ashamed of himself for carrying such a head within or +without. But I scarce bethought me the impudent Schelm could have +thought of you, lady." + +"Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone to Shields in search of +the witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe me, and drown me, or burn +me," cried Grisell, clasping her hands. "Oh! take me somewhere if +you cannot safely hide me; I would not bring trouble on you!" + +"You need not fear," he answered. "None will enter here but by my +goodwill, and I will bar the garden door lest any idle lad should pry +in; but they come not here. The tortoise who crawls about in the +summer fills them with too much terror for them to venture, and is +better than any watch-dog. Now, let me touch your pulse. Ah! I +would prescribe lying down on the bed and resting for the day." + +She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where it was +the pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a guest-chamber, +absolutely neat, though very little furnished, and indeed seldom or +never used; but she solicitously stroked the big bed, and signed to +Grisell to lie down in the midst of pillows of down, above and below, +taking off her hood, mantle, and shoes, and smoothing her down with +nods and sweet smiles, so that she fell sound asleep. + +When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down to the +noontide meal. Master Groot was looking much entertained. + +Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch Whitburn +man-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful story. Not only had +the grisly lady vanished, but a cross-bow man had shot an enormous +hare on the moor, a creature with one ear torn off, and a seam on its +face, and Masters Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured the +belief that it was the sorceress herself without time to change her +shape. Did Mynheer Groot hold with them? + +For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at home, yet +in a strange country they held together, and remembered that they +were both Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know what thought +the wise man. + +"Depend on it, there was no time for a change," gravely said Groot. +"Have not Nostradamus, Albertus Magnus, and Rogerus Bacon" (he was +heaping names together as he saw Hannekin's big gray eyes grow +rounder and rounder) "all averred that the great Diabolus can give +his minions power to change themselves at will into hares, cats, or +toads to transport themselves to the Sabbath on Walpurgs' night?" + +"You deem it in sooth," said the Dutchman, "for know you that the +parish priest swears, and so do the more part of the villein fisher +folk, that there's no sorcery in the matter, but that she is a true +and holy maid, with no powers save what the Saints had given her, and +that her cures were by skill. Yet such was scarce like to a mere +Jungvrow." + +It went sorely against Master Lambert's feelings, as well as somewhat +against his conscience, to encourage the notion of the death of his +guest as a hare, though it ensured her safety and prevented a search. +He replied that her skill certainly was uncommon in a Jungvrow, +beyond nature, no doubt, and if they were unholy, it was well that +the arblaster had made a riddance of her. + +"By the same token," added Hannekin, "the elf lock came out of my +hair this very morn, I having, as you bade me, combed it each morn +with the horse's currycomb." + +Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to believe. And the +next day all Sunderland and the two Wearmouths believed that the dead +hare had shrieked in a human voice on being thrown on a fire, and had +actually shown the hands and feet of a woman before it was consumed. + +It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not recognised, +and of this there was little danger. She was scarcely known in +Wearmouth, and could go to mass at the Abbey Church in a deep black +hood and veil. Master Lambert sometimes received pilgrims from his +own country on their way to English shrines, and she could easily +pass for one of these if her presence were perceived, but except to +mass in very early morning, she never went beyond the garden, where +the spring beauty was enjoyment to her in the midst of her loneliness +and entire doubt as to her future. + +It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, reminding her +of the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty though undecorated +square tower, entered by an archway adorned with curious twisted +snakes with long beaks, stretching over and under one another. + +The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small windows, +casting a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense of being in +the atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton Abbey. She longed +after Sister Avice's wisdom and tenderness, and wondered whether her +lands would purchase from her knight, power to return thither with +dower enough to satisfy the demands of the Proctor. It was a hope +that seemed like an inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one was +faithful save Cuthbert Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart above +all by Thora's defection and cruel accusations, not knowing that half +was owning to the intoxication of love, and the other half to a +gossiping tongue. + + + +CHAPTER XX--A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE + + + +Witness Aire's unhappy water + Where the ruthless Clifford fell, +And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter + On the day of Towton's field. +Gathering in its guilty flood +The carnage and the ill spilt blood + That forty thousand lives could yield. + +SOUTHEY, Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte. + +Grisell from the first took her part in the Apothecary's household. +Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace +with Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days at +Wilton; and still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the +house in making his compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and +imparting others to him, showing a delicacy of finger which the old +Fleming could not emulate. In the fabrication of perfumes for the +pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared with honey and sugar, she proved +to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, who would not touch her +jewels, declared that she was fully earning her maintenance by the +assistance that she gave to him. + +They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war of +battles, not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than were +wont to reach Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward to +London; and the terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out while +the snow fell far from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choir +boys had been singing their Gloria, laus et honor in the gallery over +the church door, shivering a little at the untimely blast, there had +been grim and awful work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Aire +the snow lay mixed with blood. That the Yorkists had gained was +known, and that the Queen and Prince had fled; but nothing was heard +of the fate of individuals, and Master Lambert was much occupied with +tidings from Bruges, whence information came, in a messenger sent by +a notary that his uncle, an old miser, whose harsh displeasure at his +marriage had driven him forth, was just dead, leaving him heir to a +fairly prosperous business and a house in the city. + +To return thither was of course Lambert's intention as soon as he +could dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell to +accompany him and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of so +great a prince as Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a better +hope of hearing tidings of her husband than in a remote town like +Sunderland; and that if she still wished to dispose of her jewels she +would have a far better chance of so doing. He was arguing the point +with her, when there was a voice in the stall outside which made +Grisell start, and Lambert, going out, brought in Cuthbert Ridley, +staggering under the weight of his best suit of armour, and with a +bundle and bag under his mantle. + +Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands into +his he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, +"Ah! Sir Leonard--?" + +"No tidings of the recreant," growled Ridley, "but ill tidings for +both of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, claiming your castle +and lands as male heirs to your father." + +"Do they know that I live?" asked Grisell, "or"--unable to control a +little laugh--"do they deem that I was slain in the shape of a hare?" + +"Or better than that," put in Lambert; "they have it now in the +wharves that the corpse of the hare took the shape and hands of a +woman when in the hall." + +"I ken not, the long-tongued rogues," said Ridley; "but if my young +lady were standing living and life-like before them as, thank St. +Hilda, I see her now, they would claim it all the more as male heirs, +and this new King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, being that +she is the wife of one of King Henry's men!" + +"Are they there? How did you escape?" + +"I got timely notice," said Cuthbert. "Twenty strong halted over the +night at Yeoman Kester's farm on Heather Gill--a fellow that would do +anything for me since we fought side by side on the day of the +Herrings. So he sends out his two grandsons to tell me what they +were after, while they were drinking his good ale to health of their +King Edward. So forewarned, forearmed. We have left them empty +walls, get in as they can or may--unless that traitor Tordu chooses +to stay and make terms with them." + +"Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!" asked Grisell. + +"Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better sort, +went off long since to join their knight's banner, and the Saints +know how the poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they have +had. For my part, I felt not bound to hold out the castle against my +old lord's side, when there was no saving it for you, so I put what +belonged to me together, and took poor old Roan, and my young lady's +pony, and made my way hither, no one letting me. I doubt me much, +lady, that there is little hope of winning back your lands, whatever +side may be uppermost, yet there be true hearts among our villeins, +who say they will never pay dues to any save their lord's daughter." + +"Then I am landless and homeless," sighed Grisell. + +"The greater cause that you should make your home with us, lady," +returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley the state +of the case, and his own plans. House and business, possibly a seat +in the city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, and the vessel +from Ostend which had continually brought him supplies for his +traffic was daily expected. He intended, so soon as she had made up +her cargo of wool, to return in her to his native country, and he was +urgent that the Lady Grisell should go with him, representing that +all the changes of fortune in the convulsed kingdom of England were +sure to be quickly known there, and that she was as near the centre +of action in Flanders as in Durham, besides that she would be out of +reach of any enemies who might disbelieve the hare transformation. + +After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to the +proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust and +love, and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she had +profitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels. +Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues on +the herring-boats and the wool. + +"Will not you come with the lady, sir?" asked Lambert. + +"Oh, come!" cried Grisell. + +"Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar's +shop," said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the rugged +old gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell were +both about to speak he went on, "I can serve her better elsewhere. I +am going first to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen it +these forty year, and whether my brother or my nephew make me welcome +or no, I shall have seen the old moors and mosses. Then methought I +would come hither, or to some of the towns about, and see how it +fares with the old Tower and the folk; and if they be as good as +their word, and keep their dues for my lady, I could gather them, and +take or bring them to her, with any other matter which might concern +her nearly." + +This was thoroughly approved by Grisell's little council, and Lambert +undertook to make known to the good esquire the best means of +communication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments, +since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch and +Flemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible. + +Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, had +come up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foul +practices. He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had come +after her, had threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mob +of fishermen, and finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who married +them willy-nilly. He was the runaway son of a currier in York, and +had taken her en croupe, and ridden off to his parents at the sign of +the Hart, to bespeak their favour. + +Grisell grieved deeply over Thora's ingratitude to her, and the two +elder men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and hoped +that Thora would sup sorrow. + +Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and before +he set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bag +containing a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostly +French. They were, he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry the +Fifth and the two Lord Salisburys, which he had never had occasion to +spend, and he desired that they might be laid out on the Lady Grisell +in case of need, leaving her to think they were the dues from her +faithful tenantry. To the Hausvrow Clemence it was a great grief to +leave the peaceful home of her married life, and go among kindred who +had shown their scorn in neglect and cold looks; but she kept a +cheerful face for her husband, and only shed tears over the budding +roses and other plants she had to leave; and she made her guest +understand how great a comfort and solace was her company. + + + +CHAPTER XXI--THE WOUNDED KNIGHT + + + +Belted Will Howard is marching here, +And hot Lord Dacre with many a spear + +SCOTT, The Lay of the Last Minstrel. + +"Master Groot, a word with you." A lay brother in the coarse, dark +robe of St. Benedict was standing in the booth of the Green Serpent. + +Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, and +touched his brow in recognition. + +"Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an arquebuss, +the like of which our poor peaceful house never looked to harbour?" + +"For whom is it needed, good brother?" + +"Best not ask," said Brother Christopher, who was, however, an +inveterate gossip, and went on in reply to Lambert's question as to +the place of the wound. "In the shoulder is the worst, the bullet +wound where the Brother Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. St. Bede! +How the poor knight howled, though he tried to stop it, and brought +it down to moaning. His leg is broken beside, but we could deal with +that. His horse went down with him, you see, when he was overtaken +and shot down by the Gilsland folk." + +"The Gilsland folk!" + +"Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see after his own, +or his wife's, since all the Whitburn sons are at an end, and the +Tower gone to the spindle side. They say, too, that the damsel he +wedded perforce was given to magic, and fled in form of a hare. But +be that as it will, young Copeland--St. Bede, pardon me! What have I +let out?" + +"Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over the town. How of +Copeland?" + +"As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, when the Dacres- +-Will and Harry--fell on him, and left him for dead; but by the +Saints' good providence, his squire and groom put him on a horse, and +brought him to our Abbey at night, knowing that he is kin to our Sub- +Prior. And there he lies, whether for life or death only Heaven +knows, but for death it will be if only King Edward gets a scent of +him; so hold your peace, Master Groats, as to who it be, as you live, +or as you would not have his blood on you." + +Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions as to +the application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took his leave, +reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard's life depended on his +secrecy. + +Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the inner room. +Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and the little shutter of +the wooden partition was open. Thus Lambert found Grisell standing +with clasped hands, and a face of intense attention and suspense. + +"You have heard, lady," he said. + +"Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!" she cried. + +"The Saints grant him recovery." + +"Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be free from +such a yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a Yorkist house, might win +back your lands, above all, since, as you once told me, you were a +playmate of the King's sister." + +"Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! treacherously wounded, +and lying moaning. That gruesome oil! Oh! my poor Leonard!" and she +burst into tears. "So fair, and comely, and young, thus stricken +down!" + +"Bah!" exclaimed Lambert. "Such are women! One would think she +loved him, who flouted her!" + +"I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore pain and +dolour, he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his true love." + +Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity of +womankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed that +had the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, ever at her +feet, the lady could not have been so sore troubled. + +The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request from +the Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that "Master Groats" would come to +the monastery, and give them the benefit of his advice on the wounds +and the fever which was setting in, since gun-shot wounds were beyond +the scope of the monastic surgery. + +To refuse would not have been possible, even without the earnest +entreaty of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical instinct which +no training can supply, went on his way with the lay brother. + +He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request that +had been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed sick nigh +unto death, grievously hurt, and distraught by the fever, or it might +be by the blow on his head in the fall with his horse, which seemed +to have kicked him; but there was no reason that with good guidance +and rest he should not recover. But, on the other hand, King Edward +was known to be on his progress to Durham, and he was understood to +be especially virulent against Sir Leonard Copeland, under the +impression that the young knight had assisted in Clifford's slaughter +of his brother Edmund of Rutland. It was true that a monastery was a +sanctuary, but if all that was reported of Edward Plantagenet were +true, he might, if he tracked Copeland to the Abbey, insist on his +being yielded up, or might make Abbot and monks suffer severely for +the protection given to his enemy; and there was much fear that the +Dacres might be on the scent. The Abbot and Father Copeland were +anxious to be able to answer that Sir Leonard was not within their +precincts, and, having heard that Master Groats was about to sail for +Flanders, the Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his nephew might thus +be conveyed to the Low Countries, where the fugitives of each party +in turn found a refuge. Father Copeland promised to be at charges, +and, in truth, the scheme was the best hope for Leonard's chances of +life. Master Groot had hesitated, seeing various difficulties in the +way of such a charge, and being by no means disposed towards Lady +Grisell's unwilling husband, as such, though in a professional +capacity he was interested in his treatment of his patient, and was +likewise touched by the good mien of the fine, handsome, straight- +limbed young man, who was lying unconscious on his pallet in a narrow +cell. + +He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he had +consulted his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was needful; +and there was of course another, whom he did not mention. + +As he told all the colour rose in Grisell's face, rosy on one side, +purple, alas, on the other. "O master, good master, you will, you +will!" + +"Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should have held that the +kindness to you would be to rid you of him." + +"No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know too well what I think! +Is not this my best hope of making him know me, and becoming his true +and--and--" + +A sob cut her short, but she cried, "I will be at all the pains and +all the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master Lambert, good +Master Groot." + +"Ah, would I knew what is well for her!" said Lambert, turning to his +wife, and making rapid signs with face and fingers in their mutual +language, but Grisell burst in - + +"Good for her," cried she. "Can it be good for a wife to leave her +husband to be slain by the cruel men of York and Warwick, him who +strove to save the young Lord Edmund? Master, you will suffer no +such foul wrong. O master, if you did, I would stay behind, in some +poor hovel on the shore, where none would track him, and tend him +there. I will! I vow it to St. Mary." + +"Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange passion. You could not be +more moved if he were the tenderest spouse who ever breathed." + +"But you will have pity, sir. You will aid us. You will save us. +Give him the chance for life." + +"What say you, housewife?" said Groot, turning to the silent +Clemence, whom his signs and their looks had made to perceive the +point at issue. Her reply was to seize Grisell's two hands, kiss +them fervently, clasp both together, and utter in her deaf voice two +Flemish words, "Goot Vrow." Grisell eagerly embraced her in tears. + +"We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He may not choose to +meddle with English outlaws." + +"If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not take me," said +Grisell. + +There was no more to be said except something about the waywardness +of the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot was not ill- +pleased at the bottom that both the females of the household took +part against him, and they had a merry supper that night, amid the +chests in which their domestic apparatus and stock-in-trade were +packed, with the dried lizard, who passed for a crocodile, sitting on +the settle as if he were one of the company. Grisell's spirits rose +with an undefined hope that, like Sir Gawaine's bride, or her own +namesake, Griselda the patient, she should at last win her lord's +love; and, deprived as she was of all her own relatives, there arose +strongly within her the affection that ten long years ago had made +her haunt the footsteps of the boy at Amesbury Manor. + +Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in his +family. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard at her +demenagement, and only with scruples accepted the assistance of her +guest, who was glad to work away her anxiety in the folding of +curtains and stuffing of mails. + +At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards many +times between the Vrow Gudule and the Abbey, for Skipper Vrowst drove +a hard bargain, and made the most of the inconvenience and danger of +getting into ill odour with the authorities; and, however anxious +Father Copeland might be to save his nephew, Abbot and bursar +demurred at gratifying extortion, above all when the King might at +any time be squeezing them for contributions hard to come by. + +However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in to the +Abbey steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing of the home +grange, and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the wounded knight +should be brought on board the Vrow Gudule, where Groot and the women +would await him, their freight being already embarked, and all ready +to weigh anchor. + +The chief danger was in a King's officer coming on board to weigh the +fleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But Sunderland either had +no King, or had two just at that time, and Father Copeland handed +Master Groot a sum which might bribe one or both; while it was to the +interest of the captain to make off without being overhauled by +either. + + + +CHAPTER XXII--THE CITY OF BRIDGES + + + +So for long hours sat Enid by her lord, +There in the naked hall, propping his head, +And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him. +And at the last he waken'd from his swoon. + +TENNYSON, Enid. + +The transit was happily effected, and closely hidden in wool, Leonard +Copeland was lifted out the boat, more than half unconscious, and +afterwards transferred to the vessel, and placed in wrappings as +softly and securely as Grisell and Clemence could arrange before King +Edward's men came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happily +did not concern themselves about the sick man. + +He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, for +though he suffered, he would not retain the recollection of his +suffering, and the voyage was very miserable to every one, though the +weather was far from unfavourable, as the captain declared. Grisell +indeed was so entirely taken up with ministering to her knight that +she seemed impervious to sickness or discomfort. It was a great +relief to enter on the smooth waters of the great canal from Ostend, +and Lambert stood on the deck recognising old landmarks, and pointing +them out with the joy of homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps felt +less delight, since the joys of her life had only begun when she +turned her back on her unkind kinsfolk. + +Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to Grisell +the beauteous belfry, rising on high above the many-peaked gables, +though she did smile when a long-billed, long-legged stork flapped +his wings overhead, and her husband signed that it was in greeting. +The greeting that delighted him she could not hear, the sweet chimes +from that same tower, which floated down the stream, when he doffed +his cap, crossed himself, and clasped his hands in devout +thanksgiving. + +It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kinds +thronged together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tall +painted ships of Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the stoutly-built +Netherlanders and the English traders. Shouts in all languages were +heard, and Grisell looked round in wonder and bewilderment as to how +the helpless and precious charge on the deck was ever to be safely +landed. + +Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the occasion. He +secured some of the men who came round the vessel in barges +clamouring for employment, and--Grisell scarce knew how--Leonard on +his bed was lifted down, and laid in the bottom of the barge. The +big bundles and cases were committed to the care of another barge, to +follow close after theirs, and on they went under, one after another, +the numerous high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, while +tall sharp-gabled houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green gardens, +bounded the margins, with a narrow foot-way between. The houses had +often pavement leading by stone steps to the river, and stone steps +up to the door, which was under the deep projecting eaves running +along the front of the house--a stoop, as the Low Countries called +it. At one of these--not one of the largest or handsomest, but far +superior to the old home at Sunderland--hung the large handsome +painted and gilded sign of the same serpent which Grisell had learnt +to know so well, and here the barge hove to, while two servants, the +man in a brown belted jerkin, the old woman in a narrow, tight, white +hood, came out on the steps with outstretched hands. + +"Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! Greet thee well. +Thanks to our Lady that I have lived to see this day," was the old +woman's cry. + +"Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet thee, trusty Anton. +You had my message? Have you a bed and chamber ready for this +gentleman?" + +Such was Lambert's hasty though still cordial greeting, as he gave +his hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old nurse, who was +mother to Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb show shared the +welcome, and directed as Leonard was carried up an outside stone +stair to a guest-chamber, and deposited in a stately bed with fresh, +cool, lace-bordered, lavender-scented sheets, and Grisell put between +his lips a spoonful of the cordial with which Lambert had supplied +her. + +More distinctly than before he murmured, "Thanks, sweet Eleanor." + +The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made him +feverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks to +Eleanor for tending her "wounded knight," little knowing whom he +wounded by his thanks. + +On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at Lambert, and +when he used her title of "Lady," in begging her to leave old Mother +Abra in charge and to come down to supper, she made a gesture of +silence, and as she came down the broad stair--a refinement scarce +known in England--she entreated him to let her be Grisell still. + +"Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his name," she +said. + +"Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by right." + +"By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known as mine own +self without cumbering him with my claims. No, let me alone to be +Grisell as ever before, an English orphan, bower-woman to Vrow +Clemence if she will have me." + +Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it was +agreed that she should remain as one of the many orphans made by the +civil war in England, without precise definition of her rank, and be +only called by her Christian name. She was astonished at the status +of Master Groot, the size and furniture of the house, and the +servants who awaited him; all so unlike his little English +establishment, for the refinements and even luxuries were not only +far beyond those of Whitburn, but almost beyond all that she had seen +even in the households of the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. He had +indeed been bred to all this, for the burghers of Bruges were some of +the most prosperous of all the rich citizens of Flanders in the +golden days of the Dukes of Burgundy; and he had left it all for the +sake of his Clemence, but without forfeiting his place in his Guild, +or his right to his inheritance. + +He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with the great +merchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not unprosperous +trade in spices, drugs, condiments and other delicacies. + +He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard Copeland, +but there was no great difference in the young man's condition for +many days. Grisell nursed him indefatigably, sitting by him so as to +hear the sweet bells chime again and again, and the storks clatter on +the roofs at sunrise. + +Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held drink +to his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and more and more +did the sense sink down upon her like lead that she must give him up +to Eleanor. + +Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the pillow her +love went out to him. It might have done so even had he been +disfigured like herself; but his was a beautiful countenance of noble +outlines, and she felt a certain pride in it as hers, while she +longed to see it light up with reason, and glow once more with +health. Then she thought she could rejoice, even if there were no +look of love for her. + +The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out of +them, and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for comfort +and relief. He thanked her courteously, so that she felt a thrill of +pleasure every time. He even learnt her name of Grisell, and once he +asked whether she were not English, to which she replied simply that +she was, and on a further question she said that she had been at +Sunderland with Master Groot, and that she had lost her home in the +course of the wars. + +There for some time it rested--rested at least with the knight. But +with the lady there was far from rest, for every hour she was +watching for some favourable token which might draw them nearer, and +give opportunity for making herself known. Nearer they certainly +drew, for he often smiled at her. He liked her to wait on him, and +to beguile the weariness of his recovery by singing to him, telling +some of her store of tales, or reading to him, for books were more +plentiful at Bruges than at Sunderland, and there were even whispers +of a wonderful mode of multiplying them far more quickly than by the +scrivener's hand. + +How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or heard +his voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly see, just +as he would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have heard him, and +he evidently thought her likewise of burgher quality, and much of the +same age as the Vrow Groot. Indeed, the long toil and wear of the +past months had made her thin and haggard, and the traces of her +disaster were all the more apparent, so that no one would have +guessed her years to be eighteen. + +She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on a +chain, within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But many a +night, ere she lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed it, as she +asked herself whether her knight would ever bid her wear it. Until +he did so her finger should never again be encircled by it. + +Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and the +garden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had left +at Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of this +one as Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller means. +Here was a fountain trellised over by a framework rich in roses and +our lady's bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, pansies, lavender, +and the new snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, and a +little bush shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose +grown in King Rene's garden of Provence. + +These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds of +useful vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots had +long been in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimenting +on. Much did Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiar +plants he had often needed and could not procure in England, and for +some of which he had a real individual love. The big improved +distillery and all the jars and bottles of his youth were a joy to +him, almost as much as the old friends who accepted him again after a +long "wander year." + +Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she could +not share, and while most of the burghers' wives spent the summer +evening sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop, +conversing with their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff or +needle among the roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguiling +Grisell to come and take the air in company with her, for they +understood one another's mute language; and when Lambert Groot was +with his old friends they sufficed for one another--so far as +Grisell's anxious heart could find solace, and perhaps in none so +much as the gentle matron who could caress but could not talk. + + + +CHAPTER XXIII--THE CANKERED OAK GALL + + + +That Walter was no fool, though that him list +To change his wif, for it was for the best; +For she is fairer, so they demen all, +Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age. + +CHAUCER, The Clerke's Tale. + +It was on an early autumn evening when the belfry stood out beautiful +against the sunset sky, and the storks with their young fledglings +were wheeling homewards to their nest on the roof, that Leonard was +lying on the deep oriel window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell sat +opposite to him with a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after the +pattern of Wilton for a Church vestment. + +"The storks fly home," he said. "I marvel whether we have still a +home in England, or ever shall have one!" + +"I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to the Queen +and her son," said Grisell. + +"He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with this old Duke +who sheltered him so long. Still, when he is firm fixed on his +throne he may yet bring home our brave young Prince and set the +blessed King on his throne once more." + +"Ah! You love the King." + +"I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my sword in a +holy cause when I fight for him," said Leonard, raising himself with +glittering eyes. + +"And the Queen?" + +"Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who makes swords fly +out of their scabbards by her brave stirring words and her noble +mien. Her bright eyes and undaunted courage fire each man's heart in +her cause till there is nothing he would not do or dare, ay, or give +up for her, and those she loves better than herself, her husband, and +her son." + +"You have done so," faltered Grisell. + +"Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore any other name. +You mind me of the bane and grief of my life." + +"Verily?" uttered Grisell with some difficulty. + +"Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains were astray, +uttered any name?" + +"By times, even so!" she confessed. + +"I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! I have never +told you of the deed that marred my life." + +"Nay," she said, letting her bobbins fall though she drooped her +head, not daring to look him in the face. + +"I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of Salisbury's house. A good +man was he, but the jealousies and hatreds of the nobles had begun +long ago, and the good King hoped, as he ever hoped, to compose them. +So he brought about a compact between my father and the Dacre of +Whitburn for a marriage between their children, and caused us both to +be bred up in the Lady of Salisbury's household, meaning, I trow, +that we should enter into solemn contract when we were of less tender +age; but there never was betrothal; and before any fit time for it +had come, I had the mishap to have the maid close to me--she was ever +besetting and running after me--when by some prank, unhappily of +mine, a barrel of gunpowder blew up and wellnigh tore her to pieces. +My father came, and her mother, an unnurtured, uncouth woman, who +would have forced me to wed her on the spot, but my father would not +hear of it, more especially as there were then two male heirs, so +that I should not have gained her grim old Tower and bare moorlands. +All held that I was not bound to her; the Queen herself owned it, and +that whatever the damsel might be, the mother was a mere northern +she-bear, whose child none would wish to wed, and of the White Rose +besides. So the King had me to his school at Eton, and then I was a +squire of my Lord of Somerset, and there I saw my fairest Eleanor +Audley. The Queen and the Duke of Somerset--rest his soul--would +have had us wedded. On the love day, when all walked together to St. +Paul's, and the King hoped all was peace, we spoke our vows to one +another in the garden of Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gave +her the jewel of my cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like our +limpid northern brooks. Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star in +the sunset, but her father, the Lord Audley, was absent, and we could +go no farther; and therewith came the Queen's summons to her liegemen +to come and arrest Salisbury at Bloreheath. There never was rest +again, as you know. My father was slain at Northampton, I yielded me +to young Falconberg; but I found the Yorkists had set headsmen to +work as though we had been traitors, and I was begging for a priest +to hear my shrift, when who should come into the foul, wretched barn +where we lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of Whitburn. He had +craved me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained my life on what +condition he did not tell me, but he bound my feet beneath my horse, +and thus bore me out of the camp for all the first day. Then, I own +he let me ride as became a knight, on my word of honour not to +escape; but much did I marvel whether it were revenge or ransom that +he wanted; and as to ransom, all our gold had all been riding on +horseback with my poor father. What he had devised I knew not nor +guessed till late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, where +I looked for a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choice +that the old robber--" + +Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of indignation. + +"Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better of him. But +any way the choice he left me was the halter that dangled from the +roof and his grisly daughter!" + +"Did you see her?" Grisell contrived to ask. + +"I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was enow. They say she has +a face like a cankered oak gall or a rotten apple lying cracked on +the ground among the wasps. Mayhap though you have seen her." + +Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, "Never since she was +a child," for no mirror had come in her way since she was at Warwick +House. She was upborne by the thought that it would be a relief to +him not to see anything like a rotten apple. He went on - + +"My first answer and first thought was rather death--and of my word +to my Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to see me here now. I felt as though +nothing would make me a recreant to her. Her sweet smile and shining +eyes rose up before me, and half the night I dreamt of them, and knew +that I would rather die than be given to another and be false to +them. Ah! but you will deem me a recreant. With the waking hours I +thought of my King and Queen. My elder brother died with Lord +Shrewsbury in Gascony, and after me the next heir is a devoted +Yorkist who would turn my castle, the key of Cleveland, against the +Queen. I knew the defeat would make faithful swords more than ever +needful to her, and that it was my bounden duty, if it were possible, +to save my life, my sword, and my lands for her. Mistress, you are a +good woman. Did I act as a coward?" + +"You offered up yourself," said Grisell, looking up. + +"So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I should be free at +once. We were wedded in the gloom--ere sunrise--a thunderstorm +coming up, which so darkened the church that if she had been a +peerless beauty, fair as Cressid herself, I could not have seen her, +and even had she been beauty itself, nought can to me be such as my +Eleanor. So I was free to gallop off through the storm for Wearmouth +when the rite was over, and none pursued me, for old Whitburn was a +man of his word. Mine uncle held the marriage as nought, but next I +made for the Queen at Durham, and, if aught could comfort my spirit, +it was her thanks, and assurances that it would cost nothing but the +dispensation of the Pope to set me free. So said Dr. Morton, her +chaplain, one of the most learned men in England. I told him all, +and he declared that no wedlock was valid without the heartfelt +consent of each party." + +"Said he so?" Poor Grisell could not repress the inquiry. + +"Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between me and Lord +Audley's daughter, yet that the vows we had of our own free will +exchanged would be quite enough to annul my forced marriage." + +"You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had defaced that +countenance. I thought of that! I would have endowed her with all I +had if she would set me free. I trusted yet so to do, when, for my +misfortune as well as hers, the day of Wakefield cut off her father +and brother, and a groom was taken who was on his way to Sendal with +tidings of the other brother's death. Then, what do the Queen and +Sir Pierre de Breze but command me to ride off instantly to claim +Whitburn Tower! In vain did I refuse; in vain did I plead that if I +were about to renounce the lady it were unknightly to seize on her +inheritance. They would not hear me. They said it would serve as a +door to England, and that it must be secured for the King, or the +Dacres would hold it for York. They bade me on my allegiance, and +commanded me to take it in King Henry's name, as though it were a +mere stranger's castle, and gave me a crew of hired men-at-arms, as I +verily believe to watch over what I did. But ere I started I made a +vow in Dr. Morton's hands, to take it only for the King, and so soon +as the troubles be ended to restore it to the lady, when our marriage +is dissolved. As it fell out, I never saw the lady. Her mother lay +a-dying, and there was no summoning her. I bade them show her all +due honour, hoisted my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, and +thence to mine own lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way to +London. As you well know, all was over with our cause at Towton +Moor; and it was on my way northward after the deadly fight that half +a dozen of the men-at-arms brought me tidings, not only that the +Gilsland Dacres had, as had been feared, claimed the castle, but that +this same so-called lady of mine had been shown to deal in sorcery +and magic. They sent for a wise man from Shields, but she found by +her arts what they were doing, fled, and was slain by an arquebuss in +the form of a hare! + +"Do you believe it was herself in sooth?" asked Grisell. + +"Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, hath little +faith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change into hares. All +have known them." + +"She was scarce old," Grisell trusted herself to say. + +"That skills not. They said she made strange cures by no rules of +art. Ay, and said her prayers backward, and had unknown books." + +"Did your squire tell this, or was it only the men?" + +"My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He was made captive by a +White Rose party, so far as I could hear, and St. Peter knows where +he may be. But look you, the lady, for all her foul looks, had cast +her spell over him, and held him as bound and entranced as by a true +love, so that he was ready to defend her beauty--her beauty! look +you!--against all the world in the lists. He was neither to have nor +to hold if any man durst utter a word against her! And it was the +same with her tirewoman and her own old squire." + +"Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the arquebusier rid +you of your witch wife?" There was a little bitterness, even scorn, +in the tone. + +"I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too well to credit all +they say, and I was on my way to inquire into the matter and learn +the truth when these same Dacres fell on me; and that I lie here is +due to you and good Master Lambert. Many a woman whose face is ill +favoured has learnt to keep up her power by unhallowed arts, and if +it be so with her whom in my boyish prank I have marred, Heaven +forgive her and me. If I can ever return I shall strive to trace her +life or death, without which mayhap I could scarce win my true +bride." + +Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her hopes. She crept +away murmuring something about the vesper bell at the convent chapel +near, for it was there that she could best kneel, while thoughts and +strength and resolution came to her. + +The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, or +rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag, +mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that his +love to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever. + +Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then what +would become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted as +that of a nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on the +means supplied by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had +soon been exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting +from Ridley's bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her as +the fishermen's dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement this, +or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in his +concoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which was of a device +learnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. There was something +strangely delightful to her in thus supporting Leonard even though he +knew it not, and she determined to persist in her present course till +there was some change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor's marriage to +some one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple face. She must +find a glass, or even a pail of water, and judge! Or the Lancastrian +fortunes might revive, he might go home in triumph, and then would +she give him her ring and her renunciation, and either earn enough to +obtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted for the sake of +her handiwork! + +Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew upon +her as Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To reveal herself +would only be misery to him, and in his present state of mind would +deprive him of all he needed, since he would never be base enough to +let her toil for him and then cast her off. + +She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for counsel, that +at night, over the fire in the stove, she told what Leonard had said, +to which her host listened with the fatherly sympathy that had grown +up towards her. He was quite determined against her making herself +known. The accusation of sorcery really alarmed him. He said that +to be known as the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched the +young squire and many more might bring both her and himself into +imminent danger; and there were Lancastrian exiles who might take up +the report. Her only safety was in being known, to the few who did +meet her, as the convent-bred maiden whose home had been destroyed, +and who was content to gain a livelihood as the assistant whom his +wife's infirmity made needful. As to Sir Leonard, the knight's own +grace and gratitude had endeared him, as well as the professional +pleasure of curing him, and for the lady's sake he should still be +made welcome. + +So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell's story except Master +Lambert and her Father Confessor, and whether he really knew it, +through the medium of her imperfect French, might be doubted. Even +Clemence, though of course aware of her identity, did not know all +the details, since no one who could communicate with her had thought +it well to distress her with the witchcraft story. + +Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, though +sometimes there would be admitted to walk in the garden and converse +with Master Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his counsel on +giving permanence and clearness to the ink he was using in that new +art of printing which he was trying to perfect, but which there were +some who averred to be a work of the Evil One, imparted to the +magician Dr. Faustus. + + + +CHAPTER XXIV--GRISELL'S PATIENCE + + + +When silent were both voice and chords, + The strain seemed doubly dear, +Yet sad as sweet,--for English words + Had fallen upon the ear. + +WORDSWORTH, Incident at Bruges. + +Meanwhile Leonard was recovering and vexing himself as to his future +course, inclining chiefly to making his way back to Wearmouth to +ascertain how matters were going in England. + +One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, while +Grisell sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, attracted +by the English words and voice, was turned up to him. He exclaimed, +"By St. Mary, Philip Scrope," and starting up, began to feel for the +stick which he still needed. + +A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer shop +inquiring in halting French, "Did I see the face of the Beau Sire +Leonard Copeland?" + +By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a tall +perfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the Burgundian +Cross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and handsome sword belt, +had advanced, and the two embraced as old friends did embrace in the +middle ages, especially when each had believed the other dead. + +"I deemed thee dead at Towton!" + +"Methought you were slain in the north! You have not come off scot- +free." + +"Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows took me to my +uncle at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the good folk here, +and cares for my maintenance. How didst thou 'scape?" + +"Half a dozen of us--Will Percy and a few more--made off from the +woful field under cover of night, and got to the sea-shore, to a +village--I know not the name--and laid hands on a fisher's smack, +which Jock of Hull was seaman enough to steer with the aid of the lad +on board, as far as Friesland, and thence we made our way as best we +could to Utrecht, where we had the luck to fall in with one of the +Duke's captains, who was glad enough to meet with a few stout fellows +to make up his company of men-at-arms." + +"Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. How art thou so well +attired, Phil?" + +"We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the King of +France's sacring at Rheims. I promise thee the jewels and gold +blazed as we never saw the like--and as to the rascaille Scots +archers, every one of them was arrayed so as the sight was enough to +drive an honest Borderer crazy. Half their own kingdom's worth was +on their beggarly backs. But do what they might, our Duke surpassed +them all with his largesses and splendour." + +"Your Duke!" grumbled Leonard. + +"Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord is he. Better +be under him than under the shrivelled skinflint of France, who wore +his fine robes as though they galled him. Come and take service here +when thou art whole of thine hurt, Leonard." + +"I thought thy Duke was disinclined to Lancaster." + +"He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the Saints guard, but +he likes English hearts and thews in his pay well enough." + +"Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck." + +"Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter and my Lord of +Oxford have put their honours in their pouch and are serving him. +Thy lame leg is a worse hindrance than the gold spur on it, but I +trow that will pass." + +The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and homes, +and the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed in this, and in +many subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon as Leonard should +have shaken off his lameness he should begin service under one of the +Duke's captains. A man-at-arms in the splendid suite of the +Burgundian Dukes was generally of good birth, and was attended by two +grooms and a page when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, +and his accoutrements and arms were required to be such as to do +honour to his employer. It was the refuge sooner or later of many a +Lancastrian, and Leonard, who doubted of the regularity of his +uncle's supplies, decided that he could do no better for himself +while waiting for better times for his Queen, though Master Lambert +told him that he need not distress himself, there were ample means +for him still. + +Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad pleasure in +working for him, and she was absolutely proud of him when he stood +before her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of health on his cheek +and a light in his eye, his length of limb arrayed in his own armour, +furbished and mended, his bright helmet alone new and of her own +providing (out of her mother's pearl necklace), his surcoat and +silken scarf all her own embroidering. As he truly said, he made a +much finer appearance than he had done on the morn of his melancholy +knighthood, in the poverty-stricken army of King Henry at +Northampton. + +"Thanks," he said, with a courteous bow, "to his good friends and +hosts, who had a wonderful power over the purse." He added special +thanks to "Mistress Grisell for her deft stitchery," and she +responded with downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her heart +throbbed high. + +Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to take +leave of his host, and announced that he had been sent off with his +friend to garrison Neufchatel, where the castle, being a border one, +was always carefully watched over. + +His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it prevented his +knowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen Margaret and her son at +Sluys, with only seven attendants, denuded of almost everything, +having lost her last castles, and sometimes having had to exist on a +single herring a day. + +Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet if he +had known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, and before +they ever reached Neufchatel the Duke had bestowed on her wherewithal +to continue her journey to her father's Court at Bar. + +However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the Queen's +journey to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had been again lost at +Hedgeley Moor and Hexham. He was so good and efficient a man-at-arms +that he rose in promotion, and attracted the notice of the Count of +Charolais, the eldest son of the Duke, who made him one of his own +bodyguard. His time was chiefly spent in escorting the Count from +one castle or city to another, but whenever Charles the Bold was at +Bruges, Leonard came to the sign of the Green Serpent not only for +lodging, nor only to take up the money that Lambert had in charge for +him, but as to a home where he was sure of a welcome, and of kindly +woman's care of his wardrobe, and where he grew more and more to look +to the sympathy and understanding of his English and Burgundian +interests alike, which he found in the maiden who sat by the hearth. + +From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was clad in a +pilgrim's gown and broad hat, and looked much older. He had had free +quarters at Willimoteswick, but the wild young Borderers had not +suited his old age well, except one clerkly youth, who reminded him +of little Bernard, and who, later, was the patron of his nephew, the +famous Nicolas. He had thus set out on pilgrimage, as the best means +of visiting his dear lady. The first time he came, under his robe he +carried a girdle, where was sewn up a small supply from Father +Copeland for his nephew, and another sum, very meagre, but collected +from the faithful retainers of Whitburn for their lady. He meant to +visit the Three Kings at Cologne, and then to go on to St. Gall, and +to the various nearer shrines in France, but to return again to see +Grisell; and from time to time he showed his honest face, more and +more weather-beaten, though a pilgrim was never in want; but Grisell +delighted in preparing new gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats for +him. + +Public events passed while she still lived and worked in the +Apothecary's house at Bruges. There were wars in which Sir Leonard +Copeland had his share, not very perilous to a knight in full armour, +but falling very heavily on poor citizens. Bruges, however, was at +peace and exceedingly prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds of +citizens, and wonderful trade and wealth. The bells seemed to be +always chiming from its many beautiful steeples, and there was one +convent lately founded which began to have a special interest for +Grisell. + +It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if not +actually founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, the +wife of the Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the Good, from +his genial manners, and bounteous liberality, was a man of violent +temper and terrible severity when offended. He had a fierce quarrel +with his only son, who was equally hot tempered. The Duchess took +part with her son, and fell under such furious displeasure from her +husband that she retired into the house of Grey Sisters. She was +first cousin once removed to Henry VI.--her mother, the admirable +Philippa, having been a daughter of John of Gaunt--and she was the +sister of the noble Princes, King Edward of Portugal, Henry the great +voyager, and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and she had never been +thoroughly at home or happy in Flanders, where her husband was of a +far coarser nature than her own family; and, in her own words, after +many years, she always felt herself a stranger. + +Some of Grisell's lace had found its way to the convent, and was at +once recognised by her as English, such as her mother had always +prized. She wished to give the Chaplain a set of robes adorned with +lace after a pattern of her own devising, bringing in the five +crosses of Portugal, with appropriate wreaths of flowers and emblems. +Being told that the English maiden in Master Groot's house could +devise her own patterns, she desired to see her and explain the +design in person. + + + +CHAPTER XXV--THE OLD DUCHESS + + + +Temples that rear their stately heads on high, +Canals that intersect the fertile plain, +Wide streets and squares, with many a court and hall, +Spacious and undefined, but ancient all. + +SOUTHEY, Pilgrimage to Waterloo. + +The kind couple of Groots were exceedingly solicitous about Grisell's +appearance before the Duchess, and much concerned that she could not +be induced to wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veils +depending from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. +Her black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the external +or third Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her dress, and under +it might be seen a face, with something peculiar on one side, but +still full of sweetness and intelligence; and the years of comfort +and quiet had, in spite of anxiety, done much to obliterate the +likeness to a cankered oak gall. Lambert wanted to drench her with +perfumes, but she only submitted to have a little essence in the +pouncet box given her long ago by Lady Margaret at their parting at +Amesbury. Master Groot himself chose to conduct her on this first +great occasion, and they made their way to the old gateway, +sculptured above with figures that still remain, into the great +cloistered court, with its chapel, chapter-house, and splendid great +airy hall, in which the Hospital Sisters received their patients. + +They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of gray, +whence they were known as Soeurs Grises, though, in fact, their dress +was white, with a black hood and mantle. The Duchess, however, lived +in a set of chambers on one side of the court, which she had built +and fitted for herself. + +A lay sister became Grisell's guide, and just then, coming down from +the Duchess's apartments, with a board with a chalk sketch in his +hand, appeared a young man, whom Groot greeted as Master Hans +Memling, and who had been receiving orders, and showing designs to +the Duchess for the ornamentation of the convent, which in later +years he so splendidly carried out. With him Lambert remained. + +There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment hung with +stamped Spanish leather, representing the history of King David, and +with a window, glazed as usual below with circles and lozenges, but +the upper part glowing with coloured glass. At the farther end was a +dais with a sort of throne, like the tester and canopy of a four-post +bed, with curtains looped up at each side. Here the Duchess sat, +surrounded by her ladies, all in the sober dress suitable with +monastic life. + +Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when admitted. A +dark-complexioned lady came to lead her forward, and directed her to +kneel twice on her way to the Duchess. She obeyed, and in that +indescribable manner which betrayed something of her breeding, so +that after her second obeisance, the manner of the lady altered +visibly from what it had been at first as to a burgher maiden. The +wealth and luxury of the citizen world of the Low Countries caused +the proud and jealous nobility to treat them with the greater +distance of manner. And, as Grisell afterwards learnt, this was +Isabel de Souza, Countess of Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had come +over with her Infanta; and whose daughter produced Les Honneurs de la +Cour, the most wonderful of all descriptions of the formalities of +the Court. + +Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the Duchess +addressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she could by this +time speak herself. + +"You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak French?" + +"Oui, si madame, son Altese le veut," replied Grisell, for her tongue +had likewise become accustomed to French in this city of many +tongues. + +"This is English make," said the Duchess, not with a very good French +accent either, looking at the specimens handed by her lady. "Are you +English?" + +"So please your Highness, I am." + +"An exile?" the Princess added kindly. + +"Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, and I owe shelter +to the good Apothecary, Master Lambert." + +"Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have heard of him;" and +she then proceeded with her orders, desiring to see the first piece +Grisell should produce in the pattern she wished, which was to be of +roses in honour of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the Peninsular +Isabels reckoned as their namesake and patroness. + +It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and much +skill; but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took her +leave, kissing the Duchess's hand--a great favour to be granted to +her--curtseying three times, and walking backwards, after the old +training that seemed to come back to her with the atmosphere. + +Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. "Now you will find +your way back to your proper station and rank," he said. + +"It may do more than that," said Grisell. "If I could plead his +cause." + +Lambert only sighed. "I would fain your way was not won by a base, +mechanical art," he said. + +"Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin are unworthy of +none; and as to the honour of the matter, what did Sir Leonard tell +us but that the Countess of Oxford, as now she is, was maintaining +her husband by her needle?" and Grisell ended with a sigh at thought +of the happy woman whose husband knew of, and was grateful for, her +toils. + +The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memling +himself, who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the cushion. +In after times it might have been held a greater honour to work from +his pattern than for the Duchess, who sent to inquire after it more +than once, and finally desired that Mistress Grisell should bring her +cushion and show her progress. + +She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and even the +small fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, who begged +to see her at work. As it could not well be done kneeling, a +footstool, covered in tapestry with the many Burgundian quarterings, +was brought, and here Grisell was seated, the Duchess bending over +her, and asking questions as her fingers flew, at first about the +work, but afterwards, "Where did you learn this art, maiden?" + +"At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery of St. Edith, near +to Salisbury." + +"St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints rest, spoke of her; +but I have not heard of her in Portugal nor here. Where did she +suffer?" + +"She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair legend." + +And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith and the +christening. + +"You speak well, maiden," said the Duchess. "It is easy to perceive +that you are convent trained. Have the wars in England hindered your +being professed?" + +"Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian Abbess." + +Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all Grisell's early +story, with the exception of her name and whose was the iron that +caused the explosion, and likewise of her marriage, and the +accusation of sorcery. That male heirs of the opposite party should +have expelled the orphan heiress was only too natural an occurrence. +Nor did Grisell conceal her home; but Whitburn was an impossible word +to Portuguese lips, and Dacre they pronounced after its crusading +derivation De Acor. + + + +CHAPTER XXVI--THE DUKE'S DEATH + + + +Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish; +If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. + +SHAKESPEARE, King Henry VI., Part III. + +So time went on, and the rule of the House of York in England seemed +established, while the exiles had settled down in Burgundy, Grisell +to her lace pillow, Leonard to the suite of the Count de Charolais. +Indeed there was reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in the +change of dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel to +bring on another desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Rose +party were making their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the Duchess +Isabel became extremely fond of Grisell, and often summoned her to +come and work by her side, and talk to her; and thus came on the +summer of 1467, when Duke Philip returned from the sack of unhappy +Dinant in a weakened state, and soon after was taken fatally ill. +All the city of Bruges watched in anxiety for tidings, for the kindly +Duke was really loved where his hand did not press. One evening +during the suspense when Master Lambert was gone out to gather +tidings, there was the step with clank of spurs which had grown +familiar, and Leonard Copeland strode in hot and dusty, greeting Vrow +Clemence as usual with a touch of the hand and inclination of the +head, and Grisell with hand and courteous voice, as he threw himself +on the settle, heated and weary, and began with tired fingers to +unfasten his heavy steel cap. + +Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of cooling +Rhine wine. "There, thanks, mistress. We have ridden all day from +Ghent, in the heat and dust, and after all the Count got before us." + +"To the Duke?" + +"Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his father's sickness. +Say what they will of hot words and fierce passages between them, +that father and son have hearts loving one another truly." + +"It is well they should agree at the last," said Grisell, "or the +Count will carry with him the sorest of memories." + +And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of his +speechless father in an agony of grief. + +Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their warning +that a soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell made signs to +Clemence, while Leonard lifted himself upright, and all breathed the +same for the mighty Prince as for the poorest beggar, the +intercession for the dying. Then the solemn note became a knell, and +their prayer changed to the De Profundis, "Out of the depths." + +Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with the +intelligence that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with his +wife and son on either side of him, and his little granddaughter +kneeling beside the Duchess. + +There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over Flanders +and the other domains united under the Dukedom of Burgundy, for +though Philip had often deeply erred, he had been a fair ruler, +balancing discordant interests justly, and maintaining peace, while +all that was splendid or luxurious prospered and throve under him. +There was a certain dread of the future under his successor. + +"A better man at heart," said Leonard, who had learnt to love the +Count de Charolais. "He loathes the vices and revelry that have +stained the Court." + +"That is true," said Lambert. "Yet he is a man of violence, and with +none of the skill and dexterity with which Duke Philip steered his +course." + +"A plague on such skill," muttered Leonard. "Caring solely for his +own gain, not for the right!" + +"Yet your Count has a heavy hand," said Lambert. "Witness Dinant! +unhappy Dinant." + +"The rogues insulted his mother," said Leonard. "He offered them +terms which they would not have in their stubborn pride! But speak +not of that! I never saw the like in England. There we strike at +the great, not at the small. Ah well, with all our wars and troubles +England was the better place to live in. Shall we ever see it more?" + +There was something delightful to Grisell in that "we," but she made +answer, "So far as I hear, there has been quiet there for the last +two years under King Edward." + +"Ay, and after all he has the right of blood," said Leonard. "Our +King Henry is a saint, and Queen Margaret a peerless dame of romance, +but since I have come to years of understanding I have seen that they +neither had true claim of inheritance nor power to rule a realm." + +"Then would you make your peace with the White Rose?" + +"The rose en soleil that wrought us so much evil at Mortimer's Cross? +Methinks I would. I never swore allegiance to King Henry. My father +was still living when last I saw that sweet and gracious countenance +which I must defend for love and reverence' sake." + +"And he knighted you," said Grisell. + +"True," with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how she was aware of +the fact; "but only as my father's heir. My poor old house and +tenants! I would I knew how they fare; but mine uncle sends me no +letters, though he does supply me." + +"Then you do not feel bound in honour to Lancaster?" said Grisell. + +"Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when last she called +up the Scots--the Scots indeed!--to aid her. I could not join them +in a foray on England. I fear me she will move heaven and earth +again when her son is of age to bear arms; but my spirit rises +against allies among Scots or French, and I cannot think it well to +bring back bloodshed and slaughter." + +"I shall pray for peace," said Grisell. All this was happiness to +her, as she felt that he was treating her with confidence. Would she +ever be nearer to him? + +He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than he had +been at the time of his hurried marriage, and had conversed with men +of real understanding of the welfare of their country. Such talks as +these made Grisell feel that she could look up to him as most truly +her lord and guide. But how was it with the fair Eleanor, and +whither did his heart incline? An English merchant, who came for +spices, had said that the Lord Audley had changed sides, and it was +thus probable that the damsel was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist; +but there was no knowing, nor did Grisell dare to feel her way to +discovering whether Leonard knew, or felt himself still bound to +constancy, outwardly and in heart. + +Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke Philip; +he was to be finally interred with his father and grandfather in the +grand tombs at Dijon, but for the present the body was to be placed +in the Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at night. + +Sir Leonard rode at a foot's pace in the troop of men-at-arms, all in +full armour, which glanced in the light of the sixteen hundred +torches which were borne before, behind, and in the midst of the +procession, which escorted the bier. Outside the coffin, arrayed in +ducal coronet and robes, with the Golden Fleece collar round the +neck, lay the exact likeness of the aged Duke, and on shields around +the pall, as well as on banners borne waving aloft, were the armorial +bearings of all his honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, +lordships innumerable, besides the banners of all the guilds carried +to do him honour. + +More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the mass, which +began in the morning hour, and in the requiem. The heralds of all +the domains broke their white staves and threw them on the bier, +proclaiming that Philip, lord of all these lands, was deceased. +Then, as in the case of royalty, Charles his son was proclaimed; and +the organ led an acclamation of jubilee from all the assembly which +filled the church, and a shout as of thunder arose, "Vivat Carolus." + +Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, silent, +immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the whirlwinds of passion +that had raged between him and the father whom he had loved all the +time? or was there on him the weight of a foreboding that he, though +free from the grosser faults of his father, would never win and keep +hearts in the same manner, and that a sad, tumultuous, troubled +career and piteous, untimely end lay before him? + +His mother, Grisell's Duchess, according to the rule of the Court, +lay in bed for six weeks--at least she was bound to lie there +whenever she was not in entire privacy. The room and bed were hung +with black, but a white covering was over her, and she was fully +dressed in the black and white weeds of royal widowhood. The light +of day was excluded, and hosts of wax candles burnt around. + +Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately mourning, +but she heard that the good lady had spent her time in weeping and +praying for her husband, all the more earnestly that she had little +cause personally to mourn him. + + + +CHAPTER XXVII--FORGET ME NOT + + + + And added, of her wit, +A border fantasy of branch and flower, +And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. + +TENNYSON, Elaine. + +The Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquette +permitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lace +hangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval. +She was in the palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved her +with devoted affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hung +halls and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, all +filled with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black dresses. +Next pages and squires, knights of the lady, and lastly ladies in +black velvet, who sat at their work, with a chaplain reading to them. +One of these, the Countess of Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at the +Grey Sisters' convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, and +conducted her into the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, +with black hangings worked and edged, however, with white, and the +window was permitted to let in the light of day. The bed was raised +on steps in an alcove, and was splendidly draped and covered with +black embroidered with white, but the Duchess did not occupy it. A +curtain was lifted, and she came forward in her deepest robes of +widowhood, leading her little granddaughter Mary, a child of eight or +nine years old. Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of each, and the +Duchess said - + +"Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. Have you finished +the border?" + +"Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the corporal." + +The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the little +Mary, the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the dainty web was +woven, while she signed the maker to seat herself on a step of the +alcove. + +When the child's questions and interest were exhausted, and she began +to be somewhat perilously curious about the carved weights of the +bobbins, her grandmother sent her to play with the ladies in the +ante-room, desiring Grisell to continue the work. After a few kindly +words the Duchess said, "The poor child is to have a stepdame so soon +as the year of mourning is passed. May she be good to her! Hath the +rumour thereof reached you in the city, Maid Griselda, that my son is +in treaty with your English King, though he loves not the house of +York? But princely alliances must be looked for in marriage." + +"Madge!" exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, "I should say the Lady +Margaret of York." + +"You knew her?" + +"Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in the Lord of +Salisbury's house! There never was a maid whom I knew or loved like +her!" + +"In the Count of Salisbury's house," repeated the Duchess. "Were you +there as the Lady Margaret's fellow-pupil?" she said, as though +perceiving that her lace maker must be of higher quality than she had +supposed. + +"It was while my father was alive, madame, and before her father had +fixed his eyes on the throne, your Highness." + +"And your father was, you said, the knight De--De--D'Acor." + +"So please you, madame," said Grisell kneeling, "not to mention my +poor name to the lady." + +"We are a good way from speech of her," said the Duchess smiling. +"Our year of doole must pass, and mayhap the treaty will not hold in +the meantime. The King of France would fain hinder it. But if the +Demoiselle loved you of old would she not give you preferment in her +train if she knew?" + +"Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be here! There is much +that hangs on it, more than I can tell at present, without doing +harm; but I have a petition to prefer to her." + +"An affair of true love," said the Duchess smiling. + +"I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!" + +When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in which +in spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the pure +frostwork-like web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, and +moreover, combined therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the three +scallops of Dacre, and each connected with ramifications of the +forget-me-not flower shaped like the turquoises of her pouncet box, +and with the letter G to be traced by ingenious eyes, though the +uninitiated might observe nothing. + +She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much of a +certainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till July +came round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever of +preparation to receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, carvers were +desperately at work at the Duke's palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, +embroiderers, sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers and +jewellers had no rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering on +the canals, graceful skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out in +full detail the glories of the architecture above, the tapestry-hung +windows in the midst, the gaily-clad Vrows beneath, while the bells +rang out their merriest carillons from every steeple, whence +fluttered the banners of the guilds. + +The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at Sluys, and +Duchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive her. + +"Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a tirewoman +perchance?" asked the Duchess kindly. + +Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permitted +to remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. +And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As she +freshly trimmed and broidered Leonard's surcoat and sword-belt, she +heard one of the many gossips who delighted to recount the members of +the English suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds +and pursuivants who had to marshal the procession and order the +banquet. "Fair ladies too," he said, "from England. There is the +Lord Audley's daughter with her father. They say she is the very +pearl of beauties. We shall see whether our fair dames do not +surpass her." + +"The Lord Audley's daughter did you say?" asked Grisell. + +"His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, per +pale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, for +Heringham. She is one of the Duchess Margaret's dames-of-honour." + +To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her +self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard's happiness on the other. + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII--THE PAGEANT + + + +When I may read of tilts in days of old, + And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown, +Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold - + If fancy would pourtray some stately town, +Which for such pomp fit theatre would be, +Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee. + +SOUTHEY, Pilgrimage to Waterloo. + +Leonard Copeland was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not +give a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that +there was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham +affected him. Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little +town of Damme, and here the more important portions of the betrothal +ceremony took place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des +Princes, leaving to the bride all the splendour of the entrance. + +The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. The +Grey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the +presenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with great +pleasure Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert's lovely +white Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried by +the youngest novice, a fair white rosebud herself. + +Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from +window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and +silver thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, +banners and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, +garlands of bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. +All had been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the +final touches began with the first hours of light in the long, summer +morning. To Grisell's great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at +the hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. "Ah! my +ladybird," said he, "in good health as ever." + +"All the better for seeing you, mine old friend," she cried. "I +thought you were far away at Compostella." + +"So verily I was. Here's St. James's cockle to wit--Santiago as they +call him there, and show the stone coffin he steered across the sea. +No small miracle that! And I've crossed France, and looked at many a +field of battle of the good old times, and thought and said a prayer +for the brave knights who broke lances there. But as I was making +for St. Martha's cave in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of the +goodly gathering there was like to be here; and I would fain see +whether I could hap upon old friends, or at any rate hear a smack of +our kindly English tongue, so I made the best of my way hither." + +"In good time," said Lambert. "You will take the lady and the +housewife to the stoop at Master Caxton's house, where he has +promised them seats whence they may view the entrance. I myself am +bound to walk with my fellows of the Apothecaries' Society, and it +will be well for them to have another guard in the throng, besides +old Anton." + +"Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show," said Ridley, looking +at his russet gown. + +"We will see to that anon," said Lambert; and ere supper was over, +old Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from the neighbouring +merchants, with gold lace seams and girdle, peaked boots, and the +hideous brimless hat which was then highly fashionable. Ridley's +trusty sword he had always worn under his pilgrim's gown, and with +the dagger always used as a knife, he made his appearance once more +as a squire of degree, still putting the scallop into his hat, in +honour of Dacre as well as of St. James. + +The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly gliding +along several streets in a barge, watching the motley crowds +thronging banks and bridges--a far more brilliant crowd than in these +later centuries, since both sexes were alike gay in plumage. From +every house, even those out of the line of the procession, hung +tapestry, or coloured cloths, and the garlands of flowers, of all +bright lines, with their fresh greenery, were still unfaded by the +clear morning sun, while joyous carillons echoed and re-echoed from +the belfry and all the steeples. Ridley owned that he had never seen +the like since King Harry rode home from Agincourt--perhaps hardly +even then, for Bruges was at the height of its splendour, as were the +Burgundian Dukes at the very climax of their magnificence. + +After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, and +Anton with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd before +they gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps had been +railed in, and seats arranged under the shelter of the projecting +roof. + +Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made Kentishman, +who had lived long abroad, and was always ready to make an Englishman +welcome. He listened politely to Grisell's introduction of Master +Ridley, exchanged silent greetings with Vrow Clemence, and insisted +on their coming into the chamber within, where a repast of cold +pasty, marchpane, strawberries, and wine, awaited them--to be eaten +while as yet there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes. + +Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the few who +cared for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the history of Troy +town, and likewise the strange machine on which he was experimenting +for multiplying copies of the translation he had in hand, with blocks +for the woodcuts which Grisell could not in conscience say would be +as beautiful as the gorgeous illuminations of his books. + +Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to see +only scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the bride at +the gate of St. Croix. + +By and by, however, came the "gang," as Ridley called it, in earnest. +Every body of ecclesiastics was there: monks and friars, black, +white, and gray; nuns, black, white, and blue; the clergy in their +richest robes, with costly crucifixes of gold, silver, and ivory held +aloft, and reliquaries of the most exquisite workmanship, sparkling +with precious jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire flashing +in the sun; the fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by their +Master and their banner, gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, +such as stockings, saw and compasses, weavers' shuttles, and the +like. Master Lambert looked up and nodded a smile from beneath a +banner with Apollo and the Python, which Ridley might be excused for +taking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The Mayor in scarlet, white +fur and with gold collar, surrounded by his burgomasters in almost +equally radiant garments, marched on. + +Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts of +instruments before them, making the most festive din, through which +came bursts of the joy bells. Violet and black arrayed the +inferiors, setting off the crimson satin pourpoints of the higher +officers, on whose brimless hats each waved with a single ostrich +plume in a shining brooch. + +Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; next +heralds and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke's domains, +glittering back and front in the tabard of his county's armorial +bearings, and with its banner borne beside him. Then a division of +the Duke's bodyguard, all like himself in burnished armour with +scarves across them. The nobles of Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, +Holland, and Alsace, the most splendid body then existing, came in +endless numbers, their horses, feather-crested as well as themselves, +with every bridle tinkling with silver bells, and the animals +invisible all but their heads and tails under their magnificent +housings, while the knights seemed to be pillars of radiance. Yet +even more gorgeous were the knights of the Golden Fleece, who left +between them a lane in which moved six white horses, caparisoned in +cloth of gold, drawing an open litter in which sat, as on a throne, +herself dazzling in cloth of silver, the brown-eyed Margaret of old, +her dark hair bride fashion flowing on her shoulders, and around it a +marvellously-glancing diamond coronet, above it, however, the wreath +of white roses, which her own hands had placed there when presented +by the novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell's hand with delight as she +recognised her own white rose, the finest of the garland. + +Immediately after the car came Margaret's English attendants, the +stately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest to her, and then a +bevy of dames and damsels on horseback, but moving so slowly that +Grisell had full time to discover the silver herrings on the +caparisons of one of the palfreys, and then to raise her eyes to the +face of the tall stately lady whose long veil, flowing down from her +towered head-gear, by no means concealed a beautiful complexion and +fair perfect features, such as her own could never have rivalled even +if they had never been defaced. Her heart sank within her, +everything swam before her eyes, she scarcely saw the white doves let +loose from the triumphant arch beyond to greet the royal lady, and +was first roused by Ridley's exclamation as the knights with their +attendants began to pass. + +"Ha! the lad kens me! 'Tis Harry Featherstone as I live." + +Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, +there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendid +knight, Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge of +Wakefield. He was lowering his lance in greeting, but there was no +knowing whether it was to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether he +recognised her, as she wore her veil far over her face. + +This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the figure which +was more to her than all the rest, for he was among the knights and +guards waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive the bride when the +final ceremonies of the marriage were to be performed. + +Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young Featherstone, but +Grisell impressed on him that she wished to remain unknown for the +present, above all to Sir Leonard Copeland, and he had been quite +sufficiently alarmed by the accusations of sorcery to believe in the +danger of her becoming known among the English. + +"More by token," said he, "that the house of this Master Caxton as +you call him seems to me no canny haunt. Tell me what you will of +making manifold good books or bad, I'll never believe but that Dr. +Faustus and the Devil hatched the notion between them for the +bewilderment of men's brains and the slackening of their hands." + +Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young lady to +come forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to which he +rushed, through crowds and jostling, to behold, with the ardour of an +old warrior, the various tilts and tourneys, though he grumbled that +they were nothing but child's play and vain show, no earnest in them +fit for a man. + +Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of the +wonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion thereof in +the lists of the Hotel de Ville, and again, some days later, of the +banquet, when the table decorations were mosaic gardens with silver +trees, laden with enamelled fruit, and where, as an interlude, a +whale sixty feet long made its entrance and emitted from its jaws a +troop of Moorish youths and maidens, who danced a saraband to the +sound of tambourines and cymbals! Such scenes were bliss to the deaf +housewife, and would enliven the silent world of her memory all the +rest of her life. + +The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such scenes being +inappropriate to her mourning, and besides her apartments being +needed for the influx of guests. There, in early morning, before the +revels began, Grisell ventured to ask for an audience, and was +permitted to follow the Duchess when she returned from mass to her +own apartments. + +"Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in the revels and +pageantries?" + +"I saw the procession, so please your Grace." + +"And your old playmate in her glory?" + +"Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of Heaven!" + +"Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not unfit us for +the veritable everlasting glories, when all these things shall be no +more." + +The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the day when +her son's corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and stripped, beside +the marsh. + +But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any petition. + +"Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put into the +hands of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without naming me." + +She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons of +blue and silver in an outer case, worked with the White Rose. + +The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, "Nay, but this is more beauteous than +all you have wrought before. Ah! here is your own device! I see +there is purpose in these patterns of your web. And am I not to name +you?" + +"I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess should divine +the worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought that she will." + +"Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called 'Forget- +me-not.' Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?" + +"Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in your prayers +to ask that I may do the right," said Grisell, with clasped hands and +weeping eyes. + + + +CHAPTER XXIX--DUCHESS MARGARET + + + +I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old; +Stately dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of +Gold. + +LONGFELLOW, The Belfry of Bruges. + +In another week the festivities were over, and she waited anxiously, +dreading each day more and more that her gift had been forgotten or +misunderstood, or that her old companion disdained or refused to take +notice of her; then trying to console herself by remembering the +manifold engagements and distractions of the bride. + +Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard Copeland +came one evening to supper. He was lodged among the guards of the +Duke in the palace, and had much less time at his disposal than +formerly, for Duke Charles insisted on the most strict order and +discipline among all his attendants. Moreover, there were tokens of +enmity on the part of the French on the border of the Somme, and +Leonard expected to be despatched to the camp which was being formed +there. He was out of spirits. The sight and speech of so many of +his countrymen had increased the longing for home. + +"I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish tongues," he owned, +when Master Lambert was out of hearing. "I should feel at home if I +could but hear an honest carter shout 'Woa' to his horses." + +"Did you have any speech with the ladies?" asked Grisell. + +"I? No! What reck they of a poor knight adventurer?" + +"Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a belted knight was +a comrade for a king," said Grisell. + +"Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and Counts, and +great Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a trout stream, +what chance is there that a poor, landless exile will have a word or +a glance?" + +Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? Grisell longed +to know, but for that very reason she faltered when about to ask, and +turned her query into one whether he had heard any news of his +English relations. + +"My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years--so far +as I can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. I must +account with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing clearly. +I fancy the truth is that George Copeland, who holds it, is little +better than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward might grant +it back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn never to +pardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of Rutland." + +"You had not! I know you had not!" + +"Hurt Ned? I'd as soon have hurt my own brother! Nay, I got this +blow from Clifford for coming between," said he, pushing back his +hair so as to show a mark near his temple. "But how did you know?" + +"Harry Featherstone told me." She had all but said, "My father's +squire." + +"You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. He is here +now; a good man of his hands," muttered Leonard. "Anyway the King +believes I had a hand in that cruel business of Wakefield Bridge, and +nought but his witness would save my neck if once I ventured into +England--if that would. So I may resign myself to be the Duke's +captain of archers for the rest of my days. Heigh ho! And a lonely +man; I fear me in debt to good Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress +Grisell, to whom I owe more than coin will pay. Ha! was that--" +interrupting himself, for a trumpet blast was ringing out at +intervals, the signal of summons to the men-at-arms. Leonard started +up, waved farewell, and rushed off. + +The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the Duke +early the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses in +Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned from +mass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash in +the sun as the troop passed along the main street, and became visible +at the opening of that up which they walked. + +The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters that +Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel. + +She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. Indeed, +she shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. She +hurried on so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was quite +out of breath, and panted after her within gasps of "Stay! stay, +mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though a mad ox had got +loose!" + +Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear from +her kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed. + +Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additional +chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies as +usual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, +even as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in a +pair of soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and there +was a tender cry in her own tongue of "My Grisell! my dear old +Grisell! I have found you at last! Oh! that was good in you. I +knew the forget-me-nots, and all your little devices. Ah!" as +Grisell, unable to speak for tears of joy, held up the pouncet box, +the childish gift. + +The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds was +pressed to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round her, the +white satin broidered skirt swept about her feet, the pearl-edged +matronly cap on the youthful head leant fondly against her, as +Margaret led her up, still in her embrace, and cried, "It is she, it +is she! Dear belle mere, thanks indeed for bringing us together!" + +The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at English +impulsiveness, and the elder Duchess herself looked for a moment +stiff, as her lace-maker slipped to her knees to kiss her hand and +murmur her thanks. + +"Let me look at you," cried Margaret. "Ah! have you recovered that +terrible mishap? By my troth, 'tis nearly gone. I should never have +found it out had I not known!" + +This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal of +difference in Grisell's face, and the Duchess Margaret was one of the +most eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent alike in love and +in hate, ready both to act on slight evidence for those whose cause +she took up, and to nourish bitter hatred against the enemies of her +house. + +"Now, tell me all," she continued in English. "I heard that you had +been driven out of Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick had sped you +northward. How is it that you are here, weaving lace like any +mechanical sempstress? Nay, nay! I cannot listen to you on your +knees. We have hugged one another too often for that." + +Grisell, with the elder Duchess's permission, seated herself on the +cushion at Margaret's feet. "Speak English," continued the bride. +"I am wearying already of French! Ma belle mere, you will not find +fault. You know a little of our own honest tongue." + +Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions of +Margaret, told her story. When she came to the mention of her +marriage to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive exclamation, +"Bound to that blood-thirsty traitor! Never! After the way he +treated you, no marvel that he fell on my sweet Edmund!" + +"Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save him." + +"He! A follower of King Henry! Never!" + +"Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord Edmund. He strove to stay +Lord Clifford's hand, and threw himself between, but Clifford dashed +him aside, and he bears still the scar where he fell against the +parapet of the bridge. Harry Featherstone told me, when he fled from +the piteous field, where died my father and brother Robin." + +"Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. I would have made him +good cheer for your sake, but my mother was ever strict, and rapped +our fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, if we ever spake to any of +my father's meine. Tell on, Grisell," as her hand found its way +under the hood, and stroked the fair hair. "Poor lonely one!" + +Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland's love, and +still more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, truly enough, +that he should have taken both lady and Tower, or given both up, and +lending a most unwilling ear to the plea that he had never thought +his relations to Grisell binding. She had never loved Lady +Heringham, and it was plainly with good cause. + +Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared that +Grisell had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close inquiries +elicited that she had been maintaining him all this while, actually +for seven years, all unknown to him, the young Duchess could not +contain herself. "Grisell! Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mere, +belle mere, do you understand?" and in rapid French she recounted +all. + +"He is my husband," said Grisell simply, as the two Duchesses showed +their wonder and admiration. + +"Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly wife," cried Margaret. +"And now what would you have me do for you, my most patient of +Grisells? Write to my brother the King to restore your lands, and-- +and I suppose you would have this recreant fellow's given back since +you say he has seen the error of following that make-bate Queen. But +can you prove him free of Edmund's blood? Aught but that might be +forgiven." + +"Master Featherstone is gone back to England," said Grisell, "but he +can bear witness; but my father's old squire, Cuthbert Ridley, is +here, who heard his story when he came to us from Wakefield. +Moreover, I have seen the mark on Sir Leonard's brow." + +"Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. He has been more prone +to Lancaster folk since he was caught by the wiles of Lady Grey; but +I would that I could hear what would clear this knight of yours by +other testimony than such as your loving heart may frame. But you +must come and be one of mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never go +back to your Poticary--Faugh!" + +This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret really +reverenced her too much to press her. + +However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and returned +with a letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a mission to +find Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock. + +"'Tis working for that rogue Copeland," he growled. "I would it were +for you, my sweet lady." + +"It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, good Cuthbert." + +"Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you are, wed +or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live +nameless, like the Poticary's serving-woman," concluded Ridley as his +parting grumble. + + + +CHAPTER XXX--THE WEDDING CHIMES + + + +Low at times and loud at times, +Changing like a poet's rhymes, +Rang the beautiful wild chimes, +From the belfry in the market +Of the ancient town of Bruges. + +LONGFELLOW, The Carillon. + +No more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was absent +with the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune and +Liege, the romantic version of which may be read in Quentin Durward, +and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though it seemed +to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing. + +The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for +effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was +suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. +There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back +and the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her +Grisell at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert +Ridley and Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette +to exchange any greetings. + +She knelt to kiss the Duchess's hand, and as she did so Margaret +raised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, "I +greet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letter +from my brother, King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count +Palatine, to put you in possession of thy castle and lands, whoever +may gainsay it." + +That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisell +was conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave the +letter; but there was more to come, and Margaret continued - + +"Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give this +parchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing his +full and free pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, and +his restoration to all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady of +Whitburn. It was you, his true wife, who won it for him. It is you +who should give it to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard." + +He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had been +to kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at the +Duchess's feet in thanks. + +"To her, to her," said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he turned, spoke, +trying to clear her voice from a rising sob. + +"Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken all. I am +well advised that the wedlock into which you were forced against your +will was of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will were +contracted to the Lady Eleanor Audley." + +Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. "True, I know +that she was likewise constrained to wed; but she is a widow, and +free to choose for herself. Therefore, either by the bishop, or it +may be through our Holy Father the Pope, by mutual consent, shall the +marriage at Whitburn be annulled and declared void, and I pray you to +accept seisin thereof, while my lady, her Highness the Duchess +Isabel, with the Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister." + +There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have sprung +forward and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with her. + +"Never! never!" he cried, throwing himself on his knees and mastering +his wife's hand. "Grisell, Grisell, dost think I could turn to the +feather-pated, dull-souled, fickle-hearted thing I know now Eleanor +of Audley to be, instead of you?" + +There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess herself, but +Grisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in low broken +tones, "Nay, nay; she is fair, I am loathly." + +"What is her fair skin to me?" he cried; "to me, who have learnt to +know, and love, and trust to you with a very different love from the +boy's passion I felt for Eleanor in youth, and the cure whereof was +the sight and words of the Lady Heringham! Grisell, Grisell, I was +about to lay my very heart at your feet when the Duke's trumpet +called me away, ere I guessed, fool that I was, that mine was the +hand that left the scar that now I love, but which once I treated +with a brute's or a boy's lightness. Oh! pardon me! Still less did +I know that it was my own forsaken wife who saved my life, who tended +my sickness, nay, as I verily believed, toiled for me and my bread +through these long seven years, all in secret. Yea, and won my +entire soul and deep devotion or ever I knew that it was to you alone +that they were due. Grisell, Grisell," as she could not speak for +tears. "Oh forgive! Pardon me! Turn not away to be a Grey Sister. +I cannot do without you! Take me! Let me strive throughout my life +to merit a little better all that you have done and suffered for one +so unworthy!" + +Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and regardless +of all spectators, she was for the first time clasped in her +husband's arms, and the joyful tears of her friends high and low. + +What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be narrated how +this wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the lovely bells of +Bruges rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot and Clemence rejoiced +though they lost their guest, how Caxton gave them a choice specimen +of his printing, how Ridley doffed his pilgrim's garb and came out as +a squire of dames, how the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged with +the Duchess, and how the Duke growled that from whichever party he +took his stout English he was sure to lose them? + +Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, and a +progress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and haggard, came +and entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had little guessed what +her talk was doing, and that Ralph made her believe whatever he +chose! She had a hard life, treated like a slave by the burgesses, +who despised the fisher maid. Oh that she could go back to serve her +dear good lady! + +There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the late +reign of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern their estates +that for long years the time of 'Grisly Grisell' was remembered as +Whitburn's golden age. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, GRISLY GRISELL *** + +This file should be named grgr10.txt or grgr10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, grgr11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, grgr10a.txt + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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Yonge + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Grisly Grisell + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7387] +[This file was first posted on April 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1906 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>GRISLY GRISELL, or THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN: A TALE OF THE WARS +OF THE ROSES</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I - AN EXPLOSION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous saltpetre should be +digg’d out of the bowels of the harmless earth.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE <i>King Henry IV</i>., Part I.</p> +<p>A terrible shriek rang through the great Manor-house of Amesbury. +It was preceded by a loud explosion, and there was agony as well as +terror in the cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some +of pain, some of fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every +one in the house ran together to the spot whence the cries proceeded, +namely, the lower court, where the armourer and blacksmith had their +workshops.</p> +<p>There was a group of children, the young people who were confided +to the great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of Salisbury for education +and training. Boys and girls were alike there, some of the latter +crying and sobbing, others mingling with the lads in the hot dispute +as to “who did it.”</p> +<p>By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, +all the grown-up persons of the establishment - knights, squires, grooms, +scullions, and females of every degree - had thronged round them, but +parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, “Nay, +Lady Countess, ’tis no sight for you. The poor little maid +is dead, or nigh upon it.”</p> +<p>“But who is it? What is it?” asked the Countess, +still advancing.</p> +<p>A confused medley of voices replied, “The Lord of Whitburn’s +little wench - Leonard Copeland - gunpowder.”</p> +<p>“And no marvel,” said a sturdy, begrimed figure, “if +the malapert young gentles be let to run all over the courts, and handle +that with which they have no concern, lads and wenches alike.”</p> +<p>“Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the maidens +kept ever at their distaffs and needles in seemly fashion,” cried +a small but stout and self-assertive dame, known as “Mother of +the Maidens,” then starting, “Oh! my lady, I crave your +pardon, I knew not you were in this coil! And if the men-at-arms +be let to have their perilous goods strewn all over the place, no wonder +at any mishap.”</p> +<p>“Do not wrangle about the cause,” said the Countess. +“Who is hurt? How much?”</p> +<p>The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of about +ten was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a woman’s +lap.</p> +<p>“Poor maid,” was the cry, “poor maid! ’Tis +all over with her. It will go ill with young Leonard Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his irons.”</p> +<p>“Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning gunpowder +- a device of Satan - in this yard? A mercy we are not all blown +to the winds.”</p> +<p>The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose moans +showed that she was still alive, and between the barber-surgeon and +the porter’s wife she was lifted up, and carried to a bed, the +Countess Alice keeping close to her, though the “Mother of the +Maidens,” who was a somewhat helpless personage, hung back, declaring +that the sight of the wounds made her swoon. There were terrible +wounds upon the face and neck, which seemed to be almost bared of skin. +The lady, who had been bred to some knowledge of surgical skill, together +with the barber-surgeon, did their best to allay the agony with applications +of sweet oil. Perhaps if they had had more of what was then considered +skill, it might have been worse for her.</p> +<p>The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay the suffering +of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaning for “nurse.” +She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron of Whitburn, and had +been placed, young as she was, in the household of the Countess of Salisbury +on her mother being made one of the ladies attending on the young Queen +Margaret of Anjou, lately married to King Henry VI.</p> +<p>Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing +the history of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses’ +feet showed that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to +her old nurse, she went down to the hall to receive him.</p> +<p>The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged, +round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood before +him, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulder +held fast by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stood behind.</p> +<p>There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose, +came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting, demanded, +“What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I fear me she cannot live,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“Will Dacre of Whitburn’s maid? That’s ill, +poor child! How fell it out?”</p> +<p>“That I know as little as you,” was the answer. +“I have been seeing to the poor little maid’s hurts.”</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point +of fact, she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had been +created Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, the +staunch warrior of Henry V. in the siege of Orleans.</p> +<p>“Speak out, Leonard Copeland,” said the Earl. “What +hast thou done?”</p> +<p>The boy only growled, “I never meant to hurt the maid.”</p> +<p>“Speak to the point, sir,” said Lord Salisbury sternly; +“give yourself at least the grace of truth.”</p> +<p>Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only +hung his head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl +turned to those who were only too eager to accuse him.</p> +<p>“He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, +and put it to the barrel of powder.”</p> +<p>“Is this true, Leonard?” demanded the Earl again, amazed +at the frantic proceeding, and Leonard muttered “Aye,” vouchsafing +no more, and looking black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed +to his side and said, “Uncle,” doffing his cap, “so +please you, my lord, the barrels had just been brought in upon Hob Carter’s +wain, and Leonard said they ought to have the Lord Earl’s arms +on them. So he took a bar of hot iron from the forge to mark the +saltire on them, and thereupon there was this burst of smoke and flame, +and the maid, who was leaning over, prying into his doings, had the +brunt thereof.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done,” +ejaculated the lady shuddering, while her lord proceeded - “It +was not malice, but malapert meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, +thou must be scourged to make thee keep thine hands off where they be +not needed. For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn +may require. Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and keep +him in ward till we see the issue.”</p> +<p>Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not uttering +a word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire’s +grasp, but only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster.</p> +<p>Next, Lord Salisbury’s severity fell upon Hob the carter and +Hodge the smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court-yard. +Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, but soundly +flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the “blackguard” +at any age, even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat +higher in position, and not in charge at the moment, was not called +to account, but the next question was, how the “Mother of the +Maids” - the gouvernante in charge of the numerous damsels who +formed the train of the Lady of Salisbury, and were under education +and training - could have permitted her maidens to stray into the regions +appropriated to the yeomen and archers, and others of the meiné, +where they certainly had no business.</p> +<p>It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls +in the gardens “a playing at the ball” with some of the +pages, and that there, on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented +her from discovering the absence of the younger part of the bevy. +The demure elder damsels deposed that, at the sound of wains coming +into the court, the boys had rushed off, and the younger girls had followed +them, whether with or without warning was not made clear. Poor +little Grisell’s condition might have been considered a sufficient +warning, nevertheless the two companions in her misdemeanour were condemned +to a whipping, to enforce on them a lesson of maidenliness; and though +the Mother of the Maids could not partake of the flagellation, she remained +under her lord’s and lady’s grave displeasure, and probably +would have to submit to a severe penance from the priest for her carelessness. +Yet, as she observed, Mistress Grisell was a North Country maid, never +couthly or conformable, but like a boy, who would moreover always be +after Leonard Copeland, whether he would or no.</p> +<p>It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his wife, +because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; and the +King had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, and to bring +about a contract of marriage between these two unfortunate children, +but he feared that whatever he could do, there would only be additional +feud and bitterness, though it was clear that the mishap was accidental. +The Lord of Whitburn himself was in Ireland with the Duke of York, while +his lady was in attendance on the young Queen, and it was judged right +and seemly to despatch to her a courier with the tidings of her daughter’s +disaster, although in point of fact, where a house could number sons, +damsels were not thought of great value, except as the means of being +allied with other houses. A message was also sent to Sir William +Copeland that his son had been the death of the daughter of Whitburn; +for poor little Grisell lay moaning in a state of much fever and great +suffering, so that the Lady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear +her sighs and sobs without tears, and the barber-surgeon, unaccustomed +to the effects of gunpowder, had little or no hope of her life.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland’s mood was sullen, not to say surly. +He submitted to the chastisement without a word or cry, for blows were +the lot of boys of all ranks, and were dealt out without much respect +to justice; and he also had to endure a sort of captivity, in a dismal +little circular room in a turret of the manorial house, with merely +a narrow loophole to look out from, and this was only accessible by +climbing up a steep broken slope of brick-work in the thickness of the +wall.</p> +<p>Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, Edmund +Plantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, building up fragments +of stone and mortar into the plan of a castle.</p> +<p>“How dost thou, Leonard?” he asked. “Did +old Hal strike very hard?”</p> +<p>“I reck not,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“How long will my uncle keep thee here?” asked Edmund +sympathisingly.</p> +<p>“Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should go and +die. She brought it on me, the peevish girl. She is always +after me when I want her least.”</p> +<p>“Yea, is not she contracted to thee?”</p> +<p>“So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being plagued +with her - do what they may to me. There’s an end to it, +if I hang for it.”</p> +<p>“They would never hang thee.”</p> +<p>“None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a loyal +house,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Traitor, saidst thou,” cried Edmund, clenching his fists. +“’Tis thy base Somerset crew that be the traitors.”</p> +<p>“I’ll brook no such word from thee,” burst forth +Leonard, flying at him.</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” laughed Edmund even as they grappled. +“Who is the traitor forsooth? Why, ’tis my father +who should be King. ’Tis white-faced Harry and his Beauforts +- ”</p> +<p>The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the warder presently +found the two boys rolling on the floor together in hot contest.</p> +<p>And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn and +flayed cheeks and lips, “O lady, lady, visit it not on him! +Let not Leonard be punished. It was my fault for getting into +his way when I should have been in the garden. Dear Madge, canst +thou speak for him?”</p> +<p>Madge was Edmund’s sister, Margaret of York, who stood trembling +and crying by Grisell’s bed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II - THE BROKEN MATCH</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence.</p> +<p><i>Contemporary Poem.</i></p> +<p>Little Grisell Dacre did not die, though day after day she lay in +a suffering condition, tenderly watched over by the Countess Alice. +Her mother had been summoned from attendance on the Queen, but at first +there only was returned a message that if the maid was dead she should +be embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, when her +father would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boy should +be called to account for his crime, his father being, as the Lady of +Whitburn caused to be written, an evil-minded minion and fosterer of +the house of Somerset, the very bane of the King and the enemies of +the noble Duke of York and Earl of Warwick.</p> +<p>The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl of Salisbury +was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of Raby Castle in +Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by marriage with Alice Montagu, +heiress of that earldom. His youngest sister had married Richard +Plantagenet, Duke of York, who being descended from Lionel, Duke of +Clarence, was considered to have a better right to the throne than the +house of Lancaster, though this had never been put forward since the +earlier years of Henry V.</p> +<p>Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne Beauchamp, +and was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates larger even than +those of his father. He had not, however, as yet come forward, +and the disputes at Court were running high between the friends of the +Duke of Somerset and those of the Duke of York.</p> +<p>The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of Somerset, +who were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more inclined to +uphold royalty, while York was considered as the champion of the people. +The gentle King and the Beauforts wished for peace with France; the +nation, and with them York, thought this was giving up honour, land, +and plunder, and suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, of truckling +to the enemy. Jack Cade’s rising and the murder of the Duke +of Suffolk had been the outcome of this feeling. Indeed, Lord +Salisbury’s messenger reported the Country about London to be +in so disturbed a state that it was no wonder that the Lady of Whitburn +did not make the journey. She was not, as the Countess suspected, +a very tender mother. Grisell’s moans were far more frequently +for her nurse than for her, but after some space they ceased. +The child became capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and +both barber and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any +vital part, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently with hopelessly +injured features.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, and allowed +to resume his usual place among the Earl’s pages; when the warder +announced that he saw two parties approaching from opposite sides of +the down, one as if from Salisbury, the other from the north; and presently +he reported that the former wore the family badge, a white rosette, +the latter none at all, whence it was perceived that the latter were +adherents of the Beauforts of Somerset, for though the “Rose of +Snow” had been already adopted by York, Somerset had in point +of fact not plucked the Red Rose in the Temple gardens, nor was it as +yet the badge of Lancaster.</p> +<p>Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn was in +the fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury hastened to receive +her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put into some order.</p> +<p>She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very smooth +of speech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough courtesy, +demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, “Lives +my wench still?”</p> +<p>“Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she will +yet be healed.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught further +had befallen her. Be that as it may, no doubt you have given the +malapert boy his deserts.”</p> +<p>“I hope I have, madam,” began the Earl. “I +kept him in close ward while she was in peril of death, but - ” +A fresh bugle blast interrupted him, as there clattered through the +resounding gate the other troop, at sight of whom the Lady of Whitburn +drew herself up, redoubling her grim dignity, and turning it into indignation +as a young page rushed forward to meet the newcomers, with a cry of +“Father! Lord Father, come at last;” then composing +himself, doffed his cap and held the stirrup, then bent a knee for his +father’s blessing.</p> +<p>“You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous fellow +was in safe hold,” said the lady, bending her dark brows.</p> +<p>“While the maid was in peril,” hastily answered Salisbury. +“Pardon me, madam, my Countess will attend you.”</p> +<p>The Countess’s high rank and great power were impressive to +the Baroness of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost her first +words were, “Madam, you at least will not let the murderous traitors +of Somerset and the Queen prevail over the loyal friends of York and +the nation.”</p> +<p>“There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be to +the saints,” said Countess Alice, “your little maid - ”</p> +<p>“Aye, that’s what they said as to the poor good Duke +Humfrey,” returned the irate lady; “but that you, madam, +the good-sister of the noble York, should stand up for the enemies of +him, and the friends of France, is more than a plain North Country woman +like me can understand. And there - there, turning round upon +the steep steps, there is my Lord Earl hand and glove with that minion +fellow of Somerset, who was no doubt at the bottom of the plot! +None would believe it at Raby.”</p> +<p>“None at Raby would believe that my lord could be lacking in +courtesy to a guest,” returned Lady Salisbury with dignity, “nor +that a North Country dame could expect it of him. Those who are +under his roof must respect it by fitting demeanour towards one another.”</p> +<p>The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the Countess +asked whether she did not wish to see her daughter, leading the way +to a chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great curtained bed nearly +filling it up, for the patient had been installed in one of the best +guest-chambers of the Castle. Lady Whitburn was surprised, but +was too proud to show herself gratified by what she thought was the +due of the dignity of the Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat by +the bed, where there was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired little +girl stood by the window, whence she had been describing the arrivals +in the Castle court.</p> +<p>“Here is your mother, my poor child,” began the Lady +of Salisbury, but there was no token of joy. Grisell gave a little +gasp, and tried to say “Lady Mother, pardon - ” but the +Lady of Whitburn, at sight of the reddened half of the face which alone +was as yet visible, gave a cry, “She will be a fright! You +evil little baggage, thus to get yourself scarred and made hideous! +Running where you ought not, I warrant!” and she put out her hand +as if to shake the patient, but the Countess interposed, and her niece +Margaret gave a little cry. “Grisell is still very weak +and feeble! She cannot bear much; we have only just by Heaven’s +grace brought her round.”</p> +<p>“As well she were dead as like this,” cried this untender +parent. “Who is to find her a husband now? and as to a nunnery, +where is one to take her without a dower such as is hard to find, with +two sons to be fitly provided? I looked that in a household like +this, better rule should be kept.”</p> +<p>“None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl,” said +the gentle Countess; “but young folks can scarce be watched hour +by hour.”</p> +<p>“The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to you +to give it them, madam,” said Lady Whitburn. “Now, +the least that can be done is to force yonder malapert lad and his father +into keeping his contract to her, since he has spoilt the market for +any other.”</p> +<p>“Is he contracted to her?” asked the Countess.</p> +<p>“Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, and +the King, and all the rest, thought to heal the breach between the houses +by planning a contract between their son and my daughter. He shall +keep it now, at his peril.”</p> +<p>Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how much +she heard or understood. The Countess was glad to get Lady Whitburn +out of the room, but both she and her Earl had a very trying evening, +in trying to keep the peace between the two parents. Sir William +Copeland was devoted to the Somerset family, of whom he held his manor; +and had had a furious quarrel with the Baron of Whitburn, when both +were serving in France.</p> +<p>The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and had +induced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the future marriage +of Leonard, Copeland’s second son, to Grisell Dacre, then the +only child of the Lord of Whitburn. He had also obtained that +the two children should be bred up in the household of the Earl of Salisbury, +by way of letting them grow up together. On the same principle +the Lady of Whitburn had been made one of the attendants of Queen Margaret +- but neither arrangement had been more successful than most of those +of poor King Henry.</p> +<p>Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of hers, +but she beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent from younger +girls, and when he was thirteen, and she ten years old, there was very +little affection on his side. Moreover, the birth of two brothers +had rendered Grisell’s hand a far less desirable prize in the +eyes of the Copelands.</p> +<p>To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, used +to a hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute rule, and +no hand over her save her husband’s; while the young and outspoken +Queen, bred up in the graceful, poetical Court of Aix or Nancy, looked +on her as no better than a barbarian, and if she did not show this openly, +reporters were not wanting to tell her that the Queen called her the +great northern hag, or that her rugged unwilling curtsey was said to +look as if she were stooping to draw water at a well. Her husband +had kept her in some restraint, but when be had gone to Ireland with +the Duke of York, offences seemed to multiply upon her. The last +had been that when she had tripped on her train, dropped the salver +wherewith she was serving the Queen, and broken out with a loud “Lawk +a daisy!” all the ladies, and Margaret herself, had gone into +fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the Queen had begged her to render +her exclamation into good French for her benefit.</p> +<p>“Madam,” she had exclaimed, “if a plain woman’s +plain English be not good enough for you, she can have no call here!” +And without further ceremony she had flown out of the royal presence.</p> +<p>Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had sent +her a message, that her attendance was no longer required. So +here she was going out of her way to make a casual inquiry, from the +Court at Winchester, whether that very unimportant article, her only +daughter, were dead or alive.</p> +<p>The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in debate +during the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite as much state +as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than was to be found at +Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All the high born sat on +the dais, raised on two steps with gorgeous tapestry behind, and a canopy +overhead; the Earl and Countess on chairs in the centre of the long +narrow table. Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William Copeland +by the Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his son ran about +among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and the cups. +He entered on a conversation with the Countess, telling her of the King’s +interest and delight in his beautiful freshly-founded Colleges at Eton +and Cambridge, how the King rode down whenever he could to see the boys, +listen to them at their tasks in the cloisters, watch them at their +sports in the playing fields, and join in their devotions in the Chapel +- a most holy example for them.</p> +<p>“Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings,” broke +in the North Country voice sarcastically.</p> +<p>“There are others - sons of gentlemen and esquires - lodged +in houses around,” said Sir William, “who are not meant +for cowl or for mass-priests.”</p> +<p>“Yea, forsooth,” called Lady Whitburn across the Earl +and the Countess, “what for but to make them as feckless as the +priests, unfit to handle lance or sword!”</p> +<p>“So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and +lance,” said the Earl.</p> +<p>“I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray,” +laughed the Dame of Dacre. “’Tis all a device of the +Frenchwoman!”</p> +<p>“Verily?” said the Earl, in an interrogative tone.</p> +<p>“Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with +this clerkly lore, so that her folk may have the better of them in France; +and the poor, witless King gives in to her. And so while the Beauforts +rule the roast - ”</p> +<p>Salisbury caught her up. “Ay, the roast. Will you +partake of these roast partridges, madam?”</p> +<p>They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a page for +the guest to help herself. Whether by her awkwardness or that +of the boy, it so chanced that the bird made a sudden leap from the +impalement, and deposited itself in the lap of Lady Whitburn’s +scarlet kirtle! The fact was proclaimed by her loud rude cry, +“A murrain on thee, thou ne’er-do-weel lad,” together +with a sounding box on the ear.</p> +<p>“’Tis thine own greed, who dost not - ”</p> +<p>“Leonard, be still - know thy manners,” cried both at +once the Earl and Sir William, for, unfortunately, the offender was +no other than Leonard Copeland, and, contrary to all the laws of pagedom, +he was too angry not to argue the point. “’Twas no +doing of mine! She knew not how to cut the bird.”</p> +<p>Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and his father +only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered off under the +squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the more sharply for his +continuing to mutter, “It was her fault.”</p> +<p>And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to exclaim, when +his friend Edmund of York came to condole with him as usual in all his +scrapes, “’Tis she that should have been scourged for clumsiness! +A foul, uncouth Border dame! Well, one blessing at least is that +now I shall never be wedded to her daughter - let the wench live or +die as she lists!”</p> +<p>That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and +no sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debate +began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland was +bound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all the more +since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never be done +away with. On the other hand, Sir William Copeland was naturally +far less likely to accept such a daughter-in-law, since her chances +of being an heiress had ceased, and he contended that he had never absolutely +accepted the contract, and that there had been no betrothal of the children.</p> +<p>The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly honourable +man would have felt poor Grisell’s disaster inflicted by his son’s +hands all the more reason for holding to the former understanding; but +the loud clamours and rude language of Lady Whitburn were enough to +set any one in opposition to her, and moreover, the words he said in +favour of her side of the question appeared to Copeland merely spoken +out of the general enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts and all their +following.</p> +<p>Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the Earl, +whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while Copeland stood +sullen and silent, but determined.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, “were you a true friend to +York and Raby, you would deal with this scowling fellow as we should +on the Border.”</p> +<p>“We are not on the Border, madam,” quietly said Salisbury.</p> +<p>“But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to keep +faith. No contract, forsooth! I hate your mincing South +Country forms of law.” Then perhaps irritated by a little +ironical smile which Salisbury could not suppress. “Is this +your castle, or is it not? Then bring him and his lad to my poor +wench’s side, and see their troth plighted, or lay him by the +heels in the lowest cell in your dungeon. Then will you do good +service to the King and the Duke of York, whom you talk of loving in +your shilly-shally fashion.”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said the Earl, his grave tones coming in contrast +to the shrill notes of the angry woman, “I counsel you, in the +south at least, to have some respect to these same forms of law. +I bid you a fair good-night. The chamberlain will marshal you.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III - THE MIRROR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Of all the maids, the foulest maid<br /> From +Teviot unto Dee.<br />Ah!” sighing said that lady then,<br /> “Can +ne’er young Harden’s be.”</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Reiver’s Wedding.</i></p> +<p>“They are gone,” said Margaret of York, standing half +dressed at the deep-set window of the chamber where Grisell lay in state +in her big bed.</p> +<p>“Who are gone?” asked Grisell, turning as well as she +could under the great heraldically-embroidered covering.</p> +<p>“Leonard Copeland and his father. Did’st not hear +the horses’ tramp in the court?”</p> +<p>“I thought it was only my lord’s horses going to the +water.”</p> +<p>“It was the Copelands going off without breaking their fast +or taking a stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they be,” +said Margaret, in no measured language.</p> +<p>“And are they gone? And wherefore?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury should +hold them to their contract. Sir William sat as surly as a bear +just about to be baited, while thy mother rated and raved at him like +a very sleuth-hound on the chase. And Leonard - what think’st +thou he saith? “That he would as soon wed the loathly lady +as thee,” the cruel Somerset villain as he is; and yet my brother +Edmund is fain to love him. So off they are gone, like recreant +curs as they are, lest my uncle should make them hear reason.”</p> +<p>“But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very loathly?” +asked poor Grisell.</p> +<p>“Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell thee,” +responded Margaret, in some confusion.</p> +<p>“Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My mother, +she shrieked at sight of me!”</p> +<p>“I would not have your mother,” said the outspoken daughter +of “proud Cis.” “My Lady Duchess mother is stern +enough if we do not bridle our heads, and if we make ourselves too friendly +with the meiné, but she never frets nor rates us, and does not +heed so long as we do not demean ourselves unlike our royal blood. +She is no termagant like yours.”</p> +<p>It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her mother +to be very sensitive on her account. In fact, she was chiefly +occupied with what she had heard about her own appearance - a matter +which had not occurred to her before in all her suffering. She +returned again to entreat Margaret to tell her whether she was so foully +ill-favoured that no one could look at her, and the damsel of York, +adhering to the letter rather young than the spirit of the cautions +which she had received, pursed up her lips and reiterated that she had +been commanded not to mention the subject.</p> +<p>“Then,” entreated Grisell, “do - do, dear Madge +- only bring me the little hand mirror out of my Lady Countess’s +chamber.”</p> +<p>“I know not that I can or may.”</p> +<p>“Only for the space of one Ave,” reiterated Grisell.</p> +<p>“My lady aunt would never - ”</p> +<p>“There - hark - there’s the bell for mass. Thou +canst run into her chamber when she and the tirewomen are gone down.”</p> +<p>“But I must be there.”</p> +<p>“Thou canst catch them up after. They will only think +thee a slug-a-bed. Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I cannot rest without. +Weeping will be worse for me.”</p> +<p>She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she gained +her point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her sobs being +heard, and inquired into, and therefore promised to make the attempt, +keeping a watch out of sight till she had seen the Lady of Salisbury +in her padded head-gear of gold net, and long purple train, sweep down +the stair, followed by her tirewomen and maidens of every degree. +Then darting into the chamber, she bore away from a stage where lay +the articles of the toilette, a little silver-backed and handled Venetian +mirror, with beautiful tracery in silvered glass diminishing the very +small oval left for personal reflection and inspection. That, +however, was quite enough and too much for poor Grisell when Lady Margaret +had thrown it to her on her bed, and rushed down the stair so as to +come in the rear of the household just in time.</p> +<p>A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set in +light yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in a bucket +of water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous sight. One +half, as she expected, was hidden by bandages, but the other was fiery +red, except that from the corner of the eye to the ear there was a purple +scar; the upper lip was distorted, the hair, eyebrows, and lashes were +all gone! The poor child was found in an agony of sobbing when, +after the service, the old woman who acted as her nurse came stumping +up in her wooden clogs to set the chamber and bed in order for Lady +Whitburn’s visit.</p> +<p>The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife as +to Scottish invasions, and her tower was not too far south not to need +to be on its guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on a small litter +slung to a sumpter mule, and she snorted a kind of defiant contempt +when the Countess, backed by the household barber-surgeon, declared +the proceeding barbarous and impossible. Indeed she had probably +forgotten that Grisell was far too tall to be made up into the bundle +she intended; but she then declared that the wench might ride pillion +behind old Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was taken +up to the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them +was a choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood over +the bed, exclaiming, “Aye, no wonder; it serves thee right, thou +evil wench, filching my Lady Countess’s mirror from her very chamber, +when it might have been broken for all thanks to thee. The Venice +glass that the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair a sight, +I trow, as to be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all +the scathe in the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee.”</p> +<p>So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hear +the approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of the Countess, +“Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated! +Silence!”</p> +<p>“See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship’s Venice +glass, which she never should have touched. She must have run +to your chamber while you were at mass. All false her feigning +to be so sick and feeble.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” replied Lady Whitburn, “she must up - don +her clothes, and away with me.”</p> +<p>“Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor +child. Call Master Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water.” +The Countess was raising the poor child in her arms, and against her +bosom, for the shock of that glance in the mirror, followed by the maid’s +harsh reproaches, and fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had brought +on a choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girl writhed +and gasped on Lady Salisbury’s breast, while her mother exclaimed, +“Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to hinder me from taking +her home. If she could go stealing to your room - ”</p> +<p>“No, no,” broke out a weeping, frightened voice. +“It was I, Lady Aunt. You bade me never tell her how her +poor face looked, and when she begged and prayed me, I did not say, +but I fetched the mirror. Oh! oh! It has not been the death +of her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, by God’s blessing! Take away the glass, +Margaret. Go and tell thy beads, child; thou hast done much scathe +unwittingly! Ah, Master Miles, come to the poor maid’s aid. +Canst do aught for her?”</p> +<p>“These humours must be drawn off, my lady,” said the +barber-surgeon, who advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse of the poor +little patient. “I must let her blood.”</p> +<p>Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess Alice +still held her up, while, after the practice of those days, he bled +the already almost unconscious child, till she fainted and was laid +down again on her pillows, under the keeping of Maudlin, while the clanging +of the great bell called the family down to the meal which broke fast, +whether to be called breakfast or dinner.</p> +<p>It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a journey, +and her mother went grumbling down the stair at the unchancy bairn always +doing scathe.</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though perhaps +hardly willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter was ready +to move.</p> +<p>“Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do that. +I be sorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The knaves go all agee when +both my lord and myself have our backs turned, and my lad bairns - worth +a dozen of yon whining maid - should no longer be left to old Cuthbert +Ridley and Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way ’tis +all misrule, and who knows what the Scots may do?”</p> +<p>“There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and the +Border,” observed the Earl gravely. However, the visitor +was not such an agreeable one as to make him anxious to press her stay +beyond what hospitality demanded, and his wife could not bear to think +of giving over her poor little patient to such usage as she would have +met with on the journey.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled the +maid might mend her, if they could; and accordingly she acquiesced, +not too graciously, when the Countess promised to tend the child like +her own, and send her by and by to Whitburn under a safe escort; and +as Middleham Castle lay on the way to Whitburn, it was likely that means +would be found of bringing or sending her.</p> +<p>This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to reach +a hostel before night.</p> +<p>She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in upon +Grisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been made to +swallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads formed a great +part, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep, moaning now +and then. Her mother did not scruple to try to rouse her with +calls of “Grizzy! Look up, wench!” but could elicit +nothing but a half turn on the pillow, and a little louder moan, and +Master Miles, who was still watching, absolutely refused to let his +patient be touched or shaken.</p> +<p>“Well a day!” said Lady Whitburn, softened for a moment, +“what the Saints will must be, I trow; but it is hard, and I shall +let St. Cuthbert of Durham know it, that after all the candles I have +given him, he should have let my poor maid be so mauled and marred, +and then forsaken by the rascal who did it, so that she will never be +aught but a dead weight on my two fair sons! The least he can +do for me now is to give me my revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight +and his son. But he hath no care for lassies. Mayhap St. +Hilda may serve me better.”</p> +<p>Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It may +be feared that in the ignorance in which northern valleys were left +she was very little more enlightened in her ideas of what would please +the Saints, or what they could do for her, than were the old heathen +of some unknown antiquity who used to worship in the mysterious circles +of stones which lay on the downs of Amesbury.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV - PARTING</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There in the holy house at Almesbury<br />Weeping, none with her +save a little maid.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Idylls of the King.</i></p> +<p>The agitations of that day had made Grisell so much worse that her +mind hardly awoke again to anything but present suffering from fever, +and in consequence the aggravation of the wounds on her neck and cheek. +She used to moan now and then “Don’t take me away!” +or cower in terror, “She is coming!” being her cry, or sometimes +“So foul and loathly.” She hung again between life +and death, and most of those around thought death would be far better +for the poor child, but the Countess and the Chaplain still held to +the faith that she must be reserved for some great purpose if she survived +so much.</p> +<p>Great families with all their train used to move from one castle +or manor to another so soon as they had eaten up all the produce of +one place, and the time had come when the Nevils must perforce quit +Amesbury. Grisell was in no state for a long journey; she was +exceedingly weak, and as fast as one wound in her face and neck healed +another began to break out, so that often she could hardly eat, and +whether she would ever have the use of her left eye was doubtful.</p> +<p>Master Miles was at his wits’ end, Maudlin was weary of waiting +on her, and so in truth was every one except the good Countess, and +she could not always be with the sufferer, nor could she carry such +a patient to London, whither her lord was summoned to support his brother-in-law, +the Duke of York, against the Duke of Somerset.</p> +<p>The only delay was caused by the having to receive the newly-appointed +Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been translated from his former see +at Hereford on the murder of his predecessor, William Ayscough, by some +of Jack Cade’s party.</p> +<p>In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and cross-bearers, +and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to meet him, and to arrange +with him for his reception and installation. It was then that +the Countess heard that there was a nun at Wilton Abbey so skilled in +the treatment of wounds and sores that she was thought to work miracles, +being likewise a very holy woman.</p> +<p>The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be present +at his enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady made this +an opportunity of riding to the convent on her way back, consulting +the Abbess, whom she had long known, and likewise seeing Sister Avice, +and requesting that her poor little guest might be received and treated +there.</p> +<p>There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles were sovereigns +in their own domains; the Countess owned half Wiltshire, and was much +loved and honoured in all the religious houses for her devotion and +beneficence.</p> +<p>The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the demoiselle +Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady Countess would +entrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that Sister Avice could +effect a cure.</p> +<p>Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all night crying, +so she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage of those days +was called, was actually being prepared, and then she went to the chamber +where the poor child had spent five months, and where she was now sitting +dressed, but propped up on a sort of settle, and with half her face +still bandaged.</p> +<p>“My little maid, this is well,” said the Countess. +“Come with me. I am going to take thee to a kind and holy +dame who will, I trust, with the blessing of Heaven, be able to heal +thee better than we have done.”</p> +<p>“Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!” cried Grisell; +“not from you and Madge.”</p> +<p>“My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, +and Madge is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. +Thou couldst not brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to the +good Sister Avice.”</p> +<p>“A nun, a nunnery,” sighed Grisell. “Oh! +I shall be mewed up there and never come forth again! Do not, +I pray, do not, good my lady, send me thither!”</p> +<p>Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might +be the fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, but +she only told her that there was no reason she should not leave Wilton, +as she was not put there to take the vows, but only to be cured.</p> +<p>Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much +as she dared over the order; but no child ventured to make much resistance +to elders in those days, and especially not to the Countess, so Grisell, +a very poor little wasted being, was carried down, and only delayed +in the hall for an affectionate kiss from Margaret of York.</p> +<p>“And here is a keepsake, Grisell,” she said. “Mine +own beauteous pouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round +each little hole.”</p> +<p>“I will keep it for ever,” said Grisell, and they parted, +but not as girls part who hope to meet again, and can write letters +constantly, but with tearful eyes and clinging hands, as little like +to meet again, or even to hear more of one another.</p> +<p>The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, and +Lady Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best to lessen +the force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was dragged over the +chalk road over the downs, passing the wonderful stones of Amesbury +- a wider circle than even Stonehenge, though without the triliths, +<i>i.e</i>. the stones laid one over the tops of the other two like +a doorway. Grisell heard some thing murmured about Merlin and +Arthur and Guinevere, but she did not heed, and she was quite worn out +with fatigue by the time they reached the descent into the long smooth +valley where Wilton Abbey stood, and the spire of the Cathedral could +be seen rising tall and beautiful.</p> +<p>The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm trees, +and the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven home, their +bells tinkling. There was an outer court, within an arched gate +kept by a stout porter, and thus far came the whirlicote and the Countess’s +attendants; but a lay porteress, in a cap and veil and black dress, +came out to receive her as the door of the carriage was opened, and +held out her arms to receive the muffled figure of the little visitor. +“Ah, poor maid,” she said, “but Sister Avice will +soon heal her.”</p> +<p>At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to the cloistered +court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all her sisters, drawn up +in double line to receive the Countess, whom they took to their refectory +and to their chapel.</p> +<p>Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken into +the arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she shuddered +and would have screamed if she had been a little stronger and less tired, +for illness and weakness had brought back the babyish horror of anything +black; but she felt soothed by the sweet voice and tender words, “Poor +little one! she is fore spent. She shall lie down on a soft bed, +and have some sweet milk anon.”</p> +<p>Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she had +been carried to the little bed which had been made ready for her. +When she opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to her lips, the first +thing she saw was the sweetest, calmest, most motherly of faces bent +over her, one arm round her, the other giving her the spoon of some +cordial. She looked up and even smiled, though it was a sad contorted +smile, which brought a tear into the good sister’s eyes; but then +she fell asleep, and only half awoke when the Countess came up to see +her for the last time, and bade her farewell with a kiss on her forehead, +and a charge to Sister Avice to watch her well, and be tender with her. +Indeed no one could look at Sister Avice’s gentle face and think +there was much need of the charge.</p> +<p>Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially born +for the gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have been an excellent +wife and mother, but from the very hour of her birth she had been vowed +to be a nun in gratitude on her mother’s part for her father’s +safety at Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost +a baby, and had never gone farther from it than on very rare occasions +to the Cathedral at Salisbury; but she had grown up with a wonderful +instinct for nursing and healing, and had a curious insight into the +properties of herbs, as well as a soft deft hand and touch, so that +for some years she had been sister infirmarer, and moreover the sick +were often brought to the gates for her counsel, treatment, or, as some +believed, even her healing touch.</p> +<p>When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, which +was really built over the Norman cloister. The walls were of pale +creamy stone, but at the end where she lay there were hangings of faded +tapestry. At one end there was a window, through the thick glass +of which could be dimly seen, as Grisell raised herself a little, beautiful +trees, and the splendid spire of the Cathedral rising, as she dreamily +thought, like a finger pointing upwards. Nearer were several more +narrow windows along the side of the room, and that beside her bed had +the lattice open, so that she saw a sloping green bank, with a river +at the foot; and there was a trim garden between. Opposite to +her there seemed to be another window with a curtain drawn across it, +through which came what perhaps had wakened her, a low, clear murmuring +tone, pausing and broken by the full, sweet, if rather shrill response +in women’s voices. Beneath that window was a little altar, +with a crucifix and two candlesticks, a holy-water stoup by the side, +and there was above the little deep window a carving of the Blessed +Virgin with the Holy Child, on either side a niche, one with a figure +of a nun holding a taper, the other of a bishop with a book.</p> +<p>Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself alone, but +the sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her pillows, half +dozing but quite content, except that the wound on her neck felt stiff +and dry; and by and by when the chanting ceased, the kind nun, with +a lay sister, came back again carrying water and other appliances, at +sight of which Grisell shuddered, for Master Miles never touched her +without putting her to pain.</p> +<p>“<i>Benedicite</i>, my little maid, thou art awake,” +said Sister Avice. “I thought thou wouldst sleep till the +vespers were ended. Now let us dress these sad wounds of thine, +and thou shalt sleep again.”</p> +<p>Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise Sister +Avice’s touch was as soft and soothing as were her words, and +the ointment she applied was fragrant and delicious and did not burn +or hurt her.</p> +<p>She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then the evening +meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it on the seat of +the window looking out on the Cathedral spire. It was a milk posset +far more nicely flavoured than what she had been used to at Amesbury, +where, in spite of the Countess’s kindness, the master cook had +grown tired of any special service for the Dacre wench; and unless Margaret +of York secured fruit for her, she was apt to be regaled with only the +scraps that Maudlin managed to cater for her after the meals were over.</p> +<p>After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that she +said her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, herself telling +her that she should sleep beside her, and that she would hear the voices +of the sisters singing in the chapel their matins and lauds. Grisell +did hear them, as in a dream, but she had not slept so well since her +disaster as she slept on that night.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V - SISTER AVICE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Love, to her ear, was but a name<br />Combined with vanity and shame;<br />Her +hopes, her fears, her joys, were all<br />Bounded within the cloister +wall.</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>Marmion.</i></p> +<p>Sister Avice sat in the infirmary, diligently picking the leaves +off a large mass of wood-sorrel which had been brought to her by the +children around, to make therewith a conserve.</p> +<p>Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had knelt +at the window, where the curtain was drawn back while mass was said +by the Chaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and making their responses. +It was a low-browed chapel of Norman or even older days, with circular +arches and heavy round piers, and so dark that the gleam of the candles +was needed to light it.</p> +<p>Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her couch, +slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice still compounding +her simples.</p> +<p>She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell her all +the news of Amesbury - who was riding at the ring, or who had shot the +best bolt, or who had had her work picked out as not neat or well shaded +enough.</p> +<p>Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a dried plum +and a little milk, and began to talk to her.</p> +<p>“You will soon be better,” she said, “and then +you will be able to play in the garden.”</p> +<p>“Is there any playfellow for me?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily to learn +her hornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay and play with +you.”</p> +<p>“I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as Madge! +See what she gave me.”</p> +<p>Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and then +she asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in the convent.</p> +<p>“Oh no, not of need,” said the sister. “Many +a maiden who has been here for a time has gone out into the world, but +some love this home the best, as I have done.”</p> +<p>“Did yonder nun on the wall?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, though +she was a King’s daughter. Edith was her name, and two days +after Holy Cross day we shall keep her feast. Shall I tell you +her story?”</p> +<p>“Prithee, prithee!” exclaimed Grisell. “I +love a tale dearly.”</p> +<p>Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love and tenderness +at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and the flowers in the +garden, and how all loved her, her young playmates especially. +She promised one who went away to be wedded that she would be godmother +to her first little daughter, but ere the daughter was born the saintly +Edith had died. The babe was carried to be christened in the font +at Winchester Cathedral, and by a great and holy man, no other than +Alphegius, who was then Bishop of Winchester, but was made Archbishop +of Canterbury, and died a holy martyr.</p> +<p>“Then,” said Sister Avice, “there was a great marvel, +for among the sponsors around the square black font there stood another +figure in the dress of our Mother Abbess, and as the Bishop spake and +said, “Bear this taper, in token that thy lamp shall be alight +when the Bridegroom cometh,” the form held the torch, shining +bright, clear, and like no candle or light on earth ever shone, and +the face was the face of the holy Edith. It is even said that +she held the babe, but that I know not, being a spirit without a body, +but she spake the name, her own name Edith. And when the holy +rite was over, she had vanished away.”</p> +<p>“And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I should +have been afraid!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Not of the holy soul?” said the sister.</p> +<p>“Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the little +window into the church,” cried Grisell trembling.</p> +<p>Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, Grisell +could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from St. Edith, +who, as she was told, slept her long sleep in the church below. +It may be feared that one chief reliance was on the fact that she could +not be holy enough for a vision of the Saint, but this was not so valuable +to her as the touch of Sister Avice’s kind hand, or the very knowing +her present.</p> +<p>That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted to +hear it over again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, and who +were the Virgins in memory of whom the lamps were carried. Both +these, and many another history, parable, or legend were told her by +Sister Avice, training her soul, throughout the long recovery, which +was still very slow, but was becoming more confirmed every day. +Grisell could use her eye, turn her head, and the wounds closed healthily +under the sister’s treatment without showing symptoms of breaking +out afresh; and she grew in strength likewise, first taking a walk in +the trim garden and orchard, and by and by being pronounced able to +join the other girl scholars of the convent. Only here was the +first demur. Her looks did not recover with her health. +She remained with a much-seamed neck, and a terrible scar across each +cheek, on one side purple, and her eyebrows were entirely gone.</p> +<p>She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely in +the infirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and occasionally +a lay sister, who came to help; but the first time she went down the +turret stair into the cloister - a beautiful succession of arches round +a green court - she met a novice and a girl about her own age; the elder +gave a little scream at the sight and ran away.</p> +<p>The other hung back. “Mary, come hither,” said +Sister Avice. “This is Grisell Dacre, who hath suffered +so much. Wilt thou not come and kiss and welcome her?”</p> +<p>Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her head +within, “Oh, if you had liefer not!” and turned her back +on the girl.</p> +<p>Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her weakness +allowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third step on the stairs.</p> +<p>“Oh, no - go away - don’t bring her. Every one +will hate me,” sobbed the poor child.</p> +<p>Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces were against +the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and coax her to believe +that by one at least she was not hated.</p> +<p>“I had forgotten,” said Grisell. “I saw myself +once at Amesbury! but my face was not well then. Let me see again, +sister! Where’s a mirror?”</p> +<p>“Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of worldly things +like mirrors; I never saw one in my life.”</p> +<p>“But oh, for pity’s sake, tell me what like am I. +Am I so loathly?”</p> +<p>“Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of aught +save that thou art mine own little one, given back to us by the will +of Heaven. Aye, and so will others think of thee, if thou art +good and loving to them.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate and +flee from me, as from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the Loathly Worm +of Spindlesheugh,” sobbed Grisell.</p> +<p>“Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet words +and kind deeds. They are better than looks. And here too +they shall soon think only of what thou art, not of what thou look’st.”</p> +<p>“But know you, sister, how - how I should have been married +to Leonard Copeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he +is fair and beauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now +he and his father rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so +foul to see,” cried Grisell, between her sobs.</p> +<p>“If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would surely +not have made thee a good husband,” reasoned the sister.</p> +<p>“But I shall never have a husband now,” wailed Grisell.</p> +<p>“Belike not,” said Sister Avice; “but, my sweetheart, +there is better peace and rest and cheer in such a home as this holy +house, than in the toils and labours of the world. When my sisters +at Dunbridge and Dinton come to see me they look old and careworn, and +are full of tales of the turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, +and dues, and tenants’ fees, and villeins, and I know not what, +that I often think that even in this world’s sense I am the best +off. And far above and beyond that,” she added, in a low +voice, “the virgin hath a hope, a Spouse beyond all human thought.”</p> +<p>Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept bitterly. +“Must she be a nun all her life?” was all she thought of, +and the shady cloister seemed to her like a sort of prison. Sister +Avice had to soothe and comfort her, till her tears were all spent, +as so often before, and she had cried herself so ill that she had to +be taken back to her bed and lie down again. It was some days +before she could be coaxed out again to encounter any companions.</p> +<p>However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and life, came +back to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became accustomed to being +with the other inmates of the fine old convent, as they grew too much +used to her appearance to be startled or even to think about it. +The absence of mirrors prevented it from ever being brought before her, +and Sister Avice set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, and +kindness could endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw for herself +how much more loved was the old and very plain Mother Anne than the +very beautiful young Sister Isabel, who had been forced into the convent +by her tyrannical brother, and wore out her life in fretting and rudeness +to all who came in her way. She declared that the sight of Grisell +made her ill, and insisted that the veiled hood which all the girls +wore should be pulled forward whenever they came near one another, and +that Grisell’s place should be out of her sight in chapel or refectory.</p> +<p>Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, Sister Avice +especially so, and Grisell soon forgot her disfigurement when she ceased +to suffer from it. She had begun to learn reading, writing, and +a little Latin, besides spinning, stitchery, and a few housewifely arts, +in the Countess of Salisbury’s household, for every lady was supposed +to be educated in these arts, and great establishments were schools +for the damsels there bred up. It was the same with convent life, +and each nunnery had traditional works of its own, either in embroidery, +cookery, or medicine. Some secrets there were not imparted beyond +the professed nuns, and only to the more trustworthy of them, so that +each sisterhood might have its own especial glory in confections, whether +in portrait-worked vestments, in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in +salves and unguents; but the pensioners were instructed in all those +common arts of bakery, needlework, notability, and surgery which made +the lady of a castle or manor so important, and within the last century +in the more fashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French “of the +school of Stratford le Bowe,” and the like, were added. +Thus Grisell learnt as an apt scholar these arts, and took especial +delight in helping Sister Avice to compound her simples, and acquired +a tender hand with which to apply them.</p> +<p>Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, but to +know the signification in English. There were translations of +the Lord’s Prayer and Creed in the hands of all careful and thoughtful +people, even among the poor, if they had a good parish priest, or had +come under the influence of the better sort of friars. In convents +where discipline was kept up the meaning was carefully taught, and there +were English primers in the hands of all the devout, so that the services +could be intelligently followed even by those who did not learn Latin, +as did Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, generally clothed +in rhyme, and versified lives of the Saints, were read aloud at meal-times +in the refectory, and Grisell became so good a reader that she was often +chosen to chant out the sacred story, and her sweet northern voice was +much valued in the singing in the church. She was quite at home +there, and though too young to be admitted as a novice, she wore a black +dress and white hood like theirs, and the annual gifts to the nunnery +from the Countess of Salisbury were held to entitle her to the residence +there as a pensioner. She had fully accepted the idea of spending +her life there, sheltered from the world, among the kind women whom +she loved, and who had learnt to love her, and in devotion to God, and +works of mercy to the sick.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI - THE PROCTOR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>But if a mannes soul were in his purse,<br />For in his purse he +should yfurnished be.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>Canterbury Pilgrims.</i></p> +<p>Five years had passed since Grisell had been received at Wilton, +when the Abbess died. She had been infirm and confined to her +lodging for many months, and Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death +was to change the whole tenor of the maiden’s life.</p> +<p>The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The Bishop +himself came to attend them, and likewise all the neighbouring clergy, +and the monks, friars, and nuns, overflowing the chapel, while peasants +and beggars for whom there was no room in the courts encamped outside +the walls, to receive the dole and pray for the soul of the right reverend +Mother Abbess.</p> +<p>For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem mass +was daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed on the +crowd, who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, but beguiled +the time by watching <i>jongleurs</i> and mountebanks performing beyond +the walls.</p> +<p>There was the “Month’s Mind” still to come, and +then the chapter of nuns intended to proceed to the election of their +new Abbess, unanimously agreeing that she should be their present Prioress, +who had held kindly rule over them through the slow to-decay of the +late Abbess. Before, however, this could be done a messenger arrived +on a mule bearing an inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election.</p> +<p>His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the next appointment +to this as well as to certain other wealthy abbeys.</p> +<p>The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could do +nothing for them. Such reservations had been constant in the subservient +days that followed King John’s homage, and though the great Edwards +had struggled against them, and the yoke had been shaken off during +the Great Schism, no sooner had this been healed than the former claims +were revived, nay, redoubled, and the pious Henry VI. was not the man +to resist them. The sisters therefore waited in suspense, daring +only meekly to recommend their Prioress in a humble letter, written +by the Chaplain, and backed by a recommendation from Bishop Beauchamp. +Both alike were disregarded, as all had expected.</p> +<p>The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, a +relation of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as the +Commissioner assured the nuns; but they had never heard of her before, +and were not at all gratified. They had always elected their Abbess +before, and had quite made up their minds as to the choice of the present +Mother Prioress as Abbess, and of Sister Avice as Prioress.</p> +<p>However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King or +to their Bishop would have been quite useless; they could only do as +the Pope commanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling themselves +with the reflection that she was not likely to trouble herself about +them, and their old Prioress would govern them. And so she did +so far as regarded the discipline of the house, but what they had not +so entirely understood was the Mother de Borgia’s desire to squeeze +all she could out of the revenues of the house.</p> +<p>Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and square +cap, and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her steward, and to +overlook the income and expenditure of the convent; to know who had +duly paid her dowry to the nunnery, what were the rents, and the like. +The sisters had already raised a considerable gift in silver merks to +be sent through Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, and this requisition +was a fresh blow.</p> +<p>Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on what +terms she was at the convent. It was explained that she had been +brought thither for her cure by the Lady of Salisbury, and had stayed +on, without fee or payment from her own home in the north, but the ample +donations of the Earl of Salisbury had been held as full compensation, +and it had been contemplated to send to the maiden’s family to +obtain permission to enrol her as a sister after her novitiate - which +might soon begin, as she was fifteen years old.</p> +<p>The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had no +right to receive a pensioner without payment, far less to admit a novice +as a sister without a dowry.</p> +<p>Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands either +of her own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and certainly not +readmitted unless her dowry were paid. He scarcely consented to +give time for communication with the Countess, to consider how to dispose +of the poor child.</p> +<p>The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, but +the Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where they were +likely to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to in the time +allowed by the Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing from her home +all the time she had been at Wilton. The only thing that the Prioress +could devise, was to request the Chaplain to seek her out at Salisbury +a trustworthy escort, pilgrim, merchant or other, with whom Grisell +might safely travel to London, and if the Earl and Countess were not +there, some responsible person of theirs, or of their son’s, was +sure to be found, who would send the maiden on.</p> +<p>The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, whence +he returned, bringing with him news of a merchant’s wife who was +about to go on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at Walsingham, and would feel +herself honoured by acting as the convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre as +far at least as London.</p> +<p>There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor Grisell +must be cast out on the world - the Proctor even spoke of calling the +Countess, or her steward, to account for her maintenance during these +five years.</p> +<p>There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, and +Grisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, holy life.</p> +<p>“Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy life.”</p> +<p>“If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder me.”</p> +<p>“That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to take +such a vow on herself without consent of her father, nor is it binding +otherwise. No! but no one can take away from a Christian maid +the power of holiness. Bear that for ever in mind, sweetheart. +Naught that can be done by man or by devil to the body can hurt the +soul that is fixed on Christ and does not consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“The Saints forefend that ever - ever I should consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, my +child. Will and soul not consenting nor being led astray thou +art safe. Nay, the lack of a fair-favoured face may be thy guard.”</p> +<p>“All will hate me. Alack! alack!”</p> +<p>“Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. Wherefore +shouldst not thou in like manner win love among thine own people?”</p> +<p>“My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me not.”</p> +<p>“Love them, child! Do them good offices! None can +hinder thee from that.”</p> +<p>“Can I love those who love not me?”</p> +<p>“Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings the +heart to love. Even as thou seest a poor dog love the master who +beats him, so it is with us, only with the higher Christian love. +Service and prayer open the heart to love, hoping for nothing again, +and full oft that which was not hoped for is vouchsafed.”</p> +<p>That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her home +of peace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, who would +herself give her into the hands of the good Mistress Hall.</p> +<p>Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along the +bank of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other side, and +the grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they came nearer; +while the sound of the bells grew upon them, for there was then a second +tower beyond to hold the bells, whose reverberation would have been +dangerous to the spire, and most sweet was their chime, the sound of +which had indeed often reached Wilton in favourable winds; but it sounded +like a sad farewell to Grisell.</p> +<p>The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by kneeling in +the Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and entered by the west +door with the long vista of clustered columns and pointed arches before +them.</p> +<p>Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their ears, +for it was still early in the day. The Prioress passed the length +of nave, and went beyond the choir to the lady chapel, with its slender +supporting columns and exquisite arches, and there she, with Grisell +by her side, joined in earnest supplications for the child.</p> +<p>The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that the +dame arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark riding-dress was +Mistress Hall.</p> +<p>Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially in +the naves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no sooner was +the mass finished and “<i>Ite missa est</i>” pronounced +than the scarlet cloak rose, and hastened into the south transept, where +she waited for the Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction +seemed needed. “The Holy Mother Prioress,” she began, +bending her knee and kissing the lady’s hand. “Much +honoured am I by the charge of this noble little lady.” +Grisell by the by was far taller than the plump little goodwoman Hall, +but that was no matter, and the Prioress had barely space to get in +a word of thanks before she went on: “I will keep her and tend +her as the apple of mine eye. She shall pray with me at all the +holy shrines for the good of her soul and mine. She shall be my +bedfellow wherever we halt, and sit next me, and be cherished as though +she were mine own daughter - ladybird as she is - till I can give her +into the hands of the good Lady Countess. Oh yes - you may trust +Joan Hall, dame reverend mother. She is no new traveller. +I have been in my time to all our shrines - to St. Thomas of Canterbury, +to St. Winifred’s Well, aye, and, moreover, to St. James of Compostella, +and St. Martha of Provence, not to speak of lesser chantries and Saints. +Aye, and I crossed the sea to see the holy coat of Trèves, and +St. Ursula’s eleven thousand skulls - and a gruesome sight they +were. Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in London it would cost +me little to go on to the north with her. There’s St. Andrew +of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them at Lincoln, +and there’s St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly, not +to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby, who might +take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I have been to so +many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverend mother; +I’ll never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out of my +sight till I have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our good +customer for all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin.”</p> +<p>The good woman’s stream of conversation lasted almost without +drawing breath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured +hearty voice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature, +while her bright black eyes had a lively glance.</p> +<p>The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one of +the good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation, consecrated +and meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifying their desire +for change and variety. She was a kindly person of good reputation, +trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall, her husband, +could manage the business alone, and was thought not to regret a little +reprieve from her continual tongue.</p> +<p>She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fast +with her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having once +seen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell, blessed +by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was led away to +the substantial smith’s abode, where she was to take a first meal +before starting on her journey on the strong forest pony which the Chaplain’s +care had provided for her.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII - THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>She hadde passed many a strange shrine,<br />At Rome she had been +and at Boleine,<br />At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine,<br />She +could moche of wandering by the way.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>Canterbury Pilgrims.</i></p> +<p>Grisell found herself brought into a hall where a stout oak table +occupied the centre, covered with home-spun napery, on which stood trenchers, +wooden bowls, pewter and a few silver cups, and several large pitchers +of ale, small beer, or milk. A pie and a large piece of bacon, +also a loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, were there.</p> +<p>Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper dishes, +cups, kettles, and vessels and implements of all household varieties, +and ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, axes, and mattocks, all +polished up. The ring of hammers on the anvil was heard in the +court in the rear. The front of the hall was open for the most +part, without windows, but it could be closed at night.</p> +<p>Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had partaken +of it, so that there was no one in the hall excepting Master Hall, a +stout, brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured face, and his son, +more slim, but growing into his likeness, also a young notable-looking +daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby tucked under her arm.</p> +<p>They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to eat. +The wheaten bread and the fowl were, it seemed, provided in her honour, +and she could not but take her little knife from the sheath in her girdle, +turn back her nun-like veil, and prepare to try to drive back her sobs, +and swallow the milk of almonds pressed on her.</p> +<p>“Eh!” cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. “She’s +only scarred after all.”</p> +<p>“Well, what else should she be, bless her poor heart?” +said Mrs. Hall the elder.</p> +<p>“Why, wasn’t it thou thyself, good mother, that brought +home word that they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton there?”</p> +<p>“Bless thee, Agnes, thou should’st know better than to +lend an ear to all the idle tales thy poor old mother may hear at market +or fair.”</p> +<p>“Then should we have enough to do,” muttered her husband.</p> +<p>“And as thou seest, ’tis a sweet little face, only cruelly +marred by the evil hap.”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal she +had never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled forward her +veil.</p> +<p>“Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words in ill +part,” pleaded the good hostess. “We all know how +to love thee, and what is a smooth skin to a true heart? Take +a bit more of the pasty, ladybird; we’ll have far to ride ere +we get to Wherwell, where the good sisters will give us a meal for young +St. Edward’s sake and thy Prioress’s. Aye - I turn +out of my way for that; I never yet paid my devotion to poor young King +Edward, and he might take it in dudgeon, being a king, and his shrine +so near at hand.”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed the smith; “trust my dame for +being on the right side of the account with the Saints. Well for +me and Jack that we have little Agnes here to mind the things on earth +meanwhile. Nay, nay, dame, I say nought to hinder thee; I know +too well what it means when spring comes, and thou beginn’st to +moan and tell up the tale of the shrines where thou hast not told thy +beads.”</p> +<p>It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the city +gate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might call her, +on her way, apparently quite content to let her go on her pilgrimages +for the summer quarter.</p> +<p>She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets - quite +sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry any valuables. +Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well over her face, yearning +over the last view of the beloved spire, thinking of Sister Avice ministering +to her poor, and with a very definite fear of her own reception in the +world and dread of her welcome at home. Yet there was a joy in +being on horseback once more, for her who had ridden moorland ponies +as soon as she could walk.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that they +passed, and these were not very many. At each church they dismounted +and said their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they let their +animals feed the while, and obtained some refreshment themselves. +England was not a very safe place for travellers just then, but the +cockle-shells sewn to the pilgrim’s hat of the dame, and to that +of one of her attendants, and the tall staff and wallet each carried, +were passports of security. Nothing could be kinder than Mistress +Hall was to her charge, of whom she was really proud, and when they +halted for the night at the nunnery of Queen Elfrida at Wherwell, she +took care to explain that this was no burgess’s daughter but the +Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, trusted to <i>her</i> convoy, and thus +obtained for her quarters in the guest-chamber of the refectory instead +of in the general hospitium; but on the whole Grisell had rather not +have been exposed to the shock of being shown to strangers, even kindly +ones, for even if they did not exclaim, some one was sure to start and +whisper.</p> +<p>After another halt for the night the travellers reached London, and +learned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess of Salisbury were +absent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of Warwick, was keeping +court at Warwick House.</p> +<p>Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct Grisell. +The way lay through narrow streets with houses overhanging the roadway, +but the house itself was like a separate castle, walled round, enclosing +a huge space, and with a great arched porter’s lodge, where various +men-at-arms lounged, all adorned on the arm of their red jackets with +the bear and ragged staff.</p> +<p>They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwick insisted +on civility to all comers, and they respected the scallop-shell on the +dame’s hat. They greeted her good-humouredly.</p> +<p>“Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for St. Paul’s? +Here’s supper to the fore for all comers!”</p> +<p>“Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is +the Lady Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady.”</p> +<p>“Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. +Come this way, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her.”</p> +<p>Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind +old friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in +a fine court with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people +of all kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats +and the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to +her guide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled +up stone steps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered +with white napery and glittering with silver and pewter.</p> +<p>The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where +there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, +and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half circle +of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed surcoat +in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in long +robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her chair.</p> +<p>The seneschal announced, “Place, place for the Lady Grisell +Dacre of Whitburn,” and Grisell bent low, putting back as much +of her veil as she felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady +rose, the knight held out his hand to raise the bending figure. +He had that power of recollection and recognition which is so great +an element in popularity. “The Lady Grisell Dacre,” +he said. “She who met with so sad a disaster when she was +one of my lady mother’s household?”</p> +<p>Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, “Welcome +to my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife.”</p> +<p>The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She +was the heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of +the recent death of her brother, “the King of the Isle of Wight” +- and through her inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. +She was delicate and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her +husband’s lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; and +Grisell ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spent +those years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess’s Proctor would +not consent to her remaining there any longer, not even long enough +to send to her parents or to the Countess of Salisbury.</p> +<p>“Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where +the King is not man enough to stand in his way,” said Warwick. +“So, fair maiden, if you will honour my house for a few days, +as my lady’s guest, I will send you north in more fitting guise +than with this white-smith dame.”</p> +<p>“She hath been very good to me,” Grisell ventured to +add to her thanks.</p> +<p>“She shall have good entertainment here,” said the Earl +smiling. “No doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. +See that Goodwife Hall, the white smith’s wife, and her following +have the best of harbouring,” he added to his silver-chained steward.</p> +<p>“You are a Dacre of Whitburn,” he added to Grisell. +“Your father has not taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the +Percies.” Then seeing that Grisell knew nothing of all this, +he laughed and said, “Little convent birds, you know nought of +our worldly strifes.”</p> +<p>In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last five +years, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mother +could write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent know +much of the state of England, though prayers had been constantly said +for the King’s recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings +for the birth of the Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did +know that just now the Duke of York was governing, for the poor King +seemed as senseless as a stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his Chancellor. +Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, and there was a quarrel +going on between the Nevils and the Percies which Warwick was going +to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisell so far in his company.</p> +<p>The great household was larger than even what she remembered at the +houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, fresh +from the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazing +to her when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along +the vast hall. She was placed at the upper one to her relief, +beside an old lady, Dame Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen +at Montacute Castle in her childhood, as one of the attendants on the +Countess. She was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some +of the young knights and squires staring at her, then nudging one another +and laughing.</p> +<p>“Never mind them, sweetheart,” said Dame Gresford kindly; +“they are but unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make +them know what is befitting if his eye fell on them.”</p> +<p>The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she +kept Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a +city in itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with +innumerable knights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred +red jacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court +of the buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six +oxen were daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and +any friend or acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might +come in, and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much +meat as he could on the point of his dagger.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free quarters, +while she made the round of all the shrines in London, and she was intensely +gratified by the great Earl recollecting, or appearing to recollect, +her and inquiring after her husband, that hearty burgess, whose pewter +was so lasting, and he was sure was still in use among his black guard.</p> +<p>When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she was +carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of “my Lord +Earl’s grace to her.” She hoped that her sweet Lady +Grisell would remain here, as the best hap she could have in the most +noble, excellent, and open-handed house in the world! Grisell’s +own wishes were not the same, for the great household was very bewildering +- a strange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess +was quiet enough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. +She seemed to be always thinking about leeches, wise friars, wonderful +nuns, or even wizards and cunning women, and was much concerned that +her husband absolutely forbade her consulting the witch of Spitalfields.</p> +<p>“Nay, dame,” said he, “an thou didst, the next +thing we should hear would be that thou hadst been sticking pins into +King Harry’s waxen image and roasting him before the fire, and +that nothing but roasting thee in life and limb within a fire would +bring him to life and reason.”</p> +<p>“They would never dare,” cried the lady.</p> +<p>“Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!” +demanded the Earl. “Wouldst like to do penance with sheet +and candle, like Gloucester’s wife?”</p> +<p>Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on the +score of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to ask +her about Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuade +her husband to let her go down to one of his mother’s Wiltshire +houses to consult the nun, but Warwick had business in the north, nor +would he allow her to be separated from him, lest she might be detained +as a hostage.</p> +<p>Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell’s protector, and let +the girl sit and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies +of the house played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of +the pages and squires. The dame’s presence and authority +prevented Grisell’s being beset with uncivil remarks, but she +knew she was like a toad among the butterflies, as she overheard some +saucy youth calling her, while a laugh answered him, and she longed +for her convent.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII - OLD PLAYFELLOWS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> Alone thou goest forth,<br /> Thy +face unto the north,<br />Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath +thee.</p> +<p>E. BARRETT BROWNING, <i>A Valediction.</i></p> +<p>One great pleasure fell to Grisell’s share, but only too brief. +The family of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard’s Castle +halted at Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, +sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while Warwick, +her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with his wife to +meet and receive her.</p> +<p>In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings +a cry of joy was heard, “My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!” +and springing from the midst of her mother’s suite, Margaret Plantagenet, +a tall, lovely, dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin slight +maiden with the scarred face, which excited the scorn and surprise of +her two sisters.</p> +<p>“Margaret! What means this?” demanded the Duchess +severely.</p> +<p>“It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at +my aunt of Salisbury’s manor,” said Margaret, trying to +lead forward her shrinking friend. “She who was so cruelly +scathed.”</p> +<p>Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick briefly +explained. “Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch +baron of the north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the +creature of the Pope’s intruding Abbess has taken upon him to +expel her. So I am about to take her to Middleham, where my mother +may see to her further bestowal.”</p> +<p>“We have even now come from Middleham,” said the Duchess. +“My Lord Duke sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose +the strife between your father and the insolent Percies.”</p> +<p>The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl and +the Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of the northern +counties and of the Court. The elder daughters were languidly +entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed the interview of Margaret +and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawn into the embrasure of +a window, and there fondled each other, and exchanged tidings of their +young lives, and Margaret told of friends in the Nevil household.</p> +<p>All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, after +partaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard’s Castle, +and the Lady Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, +not to say displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. +“Don’t go into a convent, Grisell,” she entreated. +“When I am wedded to some great earl, you must come and be my +lady, mine own, own dear friend. Promise me! Your pledge, +Grisell.”</p> +<p>There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorily +summoned. They would not meet again. The Duchess’s +intelligence had quickened Warwick’s departure, and the next day +the first start northwards was to be made.</p> +<p>It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the kitchen +ménage, with all their pots and pans, kettles and spits, were +sent on a day’s march beforehand, then came the yeomen, the knights +and squires, followed by the more immediate attendants of the Earl and +Countess and their court. She travelled in a whirlicote, and there +were others provided for her elder ladies, the rest riding singly or +on pillions according to age or taste. Grisell did not like to +part with her pony, and Dame Gresford preferred a pillion to the bumps +and jolts of the waggon-like conveyances called chariots, so Grisell +rode by her side, the fresh spring breezes bringing back the sense of +being really a northern maid, and she threw back her veil whenever she +was alone with the attendants, who were used to her, though she drew +it closely round when she encountered town or village. There were +resting-places on the way. In great monasteries all were accommodated, +being used to close quarters; in castles there was room for the “Gentles,” +who, if they fared well, heeded little how they slept, and their attendants +found lairs in the kitchens or stables. In towns there was generally +harbour for the noble portion; indeed in some, Warwick had dwellings +of his own, or his father’s, but these, at first, were at long +distances apart, such as would be ridden by horsemen alone, not encumbered +with ladies, and there were intermediate stages, where some of the party +had to be dispersed in hostels.</p> +<p>It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had taken +Grisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the escort. +A minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of the chimney, and began +to sound his harp and sing long ballads in recitative to the company. +Whether he did it in all innocence and ignorance, or one of the young +squires had mischievously prompted him, there was no knowing; Dame Gresford +suspected the latter, when he began the ballad of “Sir Gawaine’s +Wedding.” She would have silenced it, but feared to draw +more attention on her charge, who had never heard the song, and did +not know what was coming, but listened with increasing eagerness as +she heard of King Arthur, and of the giant, and the secret that the +King could not guess, till as he rode -</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He came to the green forest,<br /> Underneath a +green hollen tree,<br />There sat that lady in red scarlet<br /> That +unseemly was to see.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she hardly +saw them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor had her eyes +and mouth changed places, as in the case of the “Loathly Lady.” +She heard of the condition on which the lady revealed the secret, and +how King Arthur bound himself to bring a fair young knight to wed the +hideous being. Then when he revealed to his assembled knights +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Then some took up their hawks,<br /> And some took +up their hounds,<br />And some sware they would not marry her<br /> For +cities nor for towns.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell was heedless +of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur’s nephew, felt +that his uncle’s oath must be kept, and offered himself as the +bridegroom.</p> +<p>Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead of the +loathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told by her that +he might choose whether she should be foul at night and fair by day, +or fair each evening and frightful in the daylight hours. His +choice at first was that her beauty should be for him alone, in his +home, but when she objected that this would be hard on her, since she +could thus never show her face when other dames ride with their lords +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Then buke him gentle Gawayne,<br /> Said, “Lady, +that’s but a shill;<br />Because thou art mine own lady<br /> Thou +shalt have all thy will.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady related +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“She witched me, being a fair young lady,<br /> To +the green forest to dwell,<br />And there must I walk in woman’s +likeness,<br /> Most like a fiend in hell.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir Gawaine’s bride +was fair to see.</p> +<p>Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so losing +personal thought and feeling that it was startling to her to perceive +that Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, and one of the young +squires was saying, “Hush, hush! for very shame.”</p> +<p>Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the blood +rushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was trying to turn +away attention by calling on the harper for “The Beggar of Bethnal +Green,” or “Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,” or any merry +ballad. So it was borne in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen +she was the lady unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, +indignant and sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth revived. +“Sister Avice had told her how to be not loathly in the sight +of those whom she could teach to love her.”</p> +<p>There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never fulfil +it. If he should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose within her that +though she could not be transformed, he should not see her loathly in +his sight, and in that hope she slept.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX - THE KING-MAKER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>O where is faith? O where is loyalty?</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>Henry VI</i>., <i>Part II.</i></p> +<p>Grisell was disappointed in her hopes of seeing her Countess of Salisbury +again, for as she rode into the Castle of York she heard the Earl’s +hearty voice of greeting. “Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, well +met! What, from the north?”</p> +<p>The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and strong, brown +and weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff leather stained to all +sorts of colours, in which rust predominated, and a face all brown and +red except for the grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. +She had not seen her father since she was five years old, and she would +not have known him.</p> +<p>“I am from the south now, my lord,” she heard his gruff +voice say. “I have been taking my lad to be bred up in the +Duke of York’s house, for better nurture than can be had in my +sea-side tower.”</p> +<p>“Quite right. Well done in you,” responded Warwick. +“The Duke of York is the man to hold by. We have an exchange +for you, a daughter for a son,” and he was leading the way towards +Grisell, who had just dismounted from her pony, and stood by it, trembling +a little, and bending for her father’s blessing. It was +not more than a crossing of her, and he was talking all the time.</p> +<p>“Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had bestowed +her in the Abbey - how call you it?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” returned Warwick; “but since we have not +had King or Parliament with spirit to stand up to the Pope, he thrusts +his claw in everywhere, puts a strange Abbess into Wilton, and what +must she do but send down her Proctor to treat the poor nunnery as it +were a sponge, and spite of all my Lady Mother’s bounties to the +place, what lists he do but turn out the poor maid for lack of a dowry, +not so much as giving time for a notice to be sent.”</p> +<p>“If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should know +how to serve him,” observed Sir William, and Warwick laughed as +befitted a Westmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to more civilised +ways.</p> +<p>“Scurvy usage,” he said, “but the Prioress had +no choice save to put her in such keeping as she could, and send her +away to my Lady Mother, or failing her to her home.”</p> +<p>“Soh! She must e’en jog off with me, though how +it is to be with her my lady may tell, not I, since every groat those +villain yeomen and fisher folk would raise, went to fit out young Rob, +and there has not been so much as a Border raid these four years and +more. There are the nuns at Gateshead, as hard as nails, will +not hear of a maid without a dower, and yonder mansworn fellow Copeland +casts her off like an old glove! Let us look at you, wench! +Ha! Face is unsightly enough, but thou wilt not be a badly-made +woman. Take heart, what’s thy name - Grisell? May +be there’s luck for thee still, though it be hard of coming to +Whitburn,” he added, turning to Warwick. “There’s +this wench scorched to a cinder, enough to fright one, and my other +lad racked from head to foot with pain and sores, so as it is a misery +to hear the poor child cry out, and even if he be reared, he will be +good for nought save a convent.”</p> +<p>Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little brother, +but the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to follow them. +She saw no more of her father except from the far end of the table, +but orders were issued that she should be ready to accompany him on +his homeward way the next morning at six o’clock. Her brother +Robert had been sent in charge of some of the Duke of York’s retainers, +to join his household as a page, though they had missed him on the route, +and the Lord of Whitburn was anxious to get home again, never being +quite sure what the Scots, or the Percies, or his kinsmen of Gilsland, +might attempt in his absence. “Though,” as he said, +“my lady was as good as a dozen men-at-arms, but somehow she had +not been the same woman since little Bernard had fallen sick.”</p> +<p>There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very sorry +to part, for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it had been +merely the attending to the needs of a charge, not showing her any affection, +and she had shrunk from the eyes of so large a party.</p> +<p>When she came down early into the hall, her father’s half-dozen +retainers were taking their morning meal at one end of a big board, +while a manchet of bread and a silver cup of ale was ready for each +of them at the other, and her father while swallowing his was in deep +conversation over northern politics with the courteous Earl, who had +come down to speed his guests. As she passed the retainers she +heard, “Here comes our Grisly Grisell,” and a smothered +laugh, and in fact “Grisly Grisell” continued to be her +name among the free-spoken people of the north. The Earl broke +off, bowed to her, and saw that she was provided, breaking into his +conversation with the Baron, evidently much to the impatience of the +latter; and again the polite noble came down to the door with her, and +placed her on her palfrey, bidding her a kind farewell ere she rode +away with her father. It would be long before she met with such +courtesy again. Her father called to his side his old, rugged-looking +esquire Cuthbert Ridley, and began discussing with him what Lord Warwick +had said, both wholly absorbed in the subject, and paying no attention +to the girl who rode by the Baron’s side, so that it was well +that her old infantine training in horsemanship had come back to her.</p> +<p>She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and petted +her long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than he had done +in those days when he had seemed to her infinitely aged. Indeed +it was to him, far more than to her father, that she owed any attention +or care taken of her on the journey. Her father was not unkind, +but never seemed to recollect that she needed any more care than his +rough followers, and once or twice he and all his people rode off headlong +over the fell at sight of a stag roused by one of their great deer-hounds. +Then Cuthbert Ridley kept beside her, and when the ground became too +rough for a New Forest pony and a hand unaccustomed to northern ground, +he drew up. She would probably - if not thrown and injured - have +been left behind to feel herself lost on the moors. She minded +the less his somewhat rude ejaculation, “Ho! Ho! South! +South! Forgot how to back a horse on rough ground. Eh? +And what a poor soft-paced beast! Only fit to ride on my lady’s +pilgrimage or in a State procession.”</p> +<p>(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern dialect +could be understood by the writer or the reader, and must be taken for +granted.)</p> +<p>“They are all gone!” responded Grisell, rather frightened.</p> +<p>“Never guessed you were not among them,” replied Ridley. +“Why, my lady would be among the foremost, in at the death belike, +if she did not cut the throat of the quarry.”</p> +<p>Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she shuddered +a little as she asked what they were to do next.</p> +<p>“Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord comes +up with us,” answered Ridley. “Or you might be fain +to rest under a rock for a while.”</p> +<p>The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a mossy +stone while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and presently even +brought her a branch or two of whortle-berries. She felt that +she had a friend, and was pleased when he began to talk of how he remembered +her long ago.</p> +<p>“Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, when you +were fetched home from Herring Dick’s house, how you used to run +after the dogs like a kitten after her tail, and used to crave to be +put up on old Black Durham’s back.”</p> +<p>“I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on +his forehead?”</p> +<p>“A white blaze sure enough.”</p> +<p>“Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump +of spears.”</p> +<p>“No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago +come Martinmas, in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, +and I tarried to cut his throat with my dagger - though it went to my +heart, for his good old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord +told me I was a fool for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, +but I could not leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the +rest in time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad.”</p> +<p>Certainly “home” would be very unlike the experience +of Grisell’s education.</p> +<p>Ridley gave her a piece of advice. “Do not be daunted +at my lady; her bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will +not bear with is the seeming cowed before her. She is all the +sharper with her tongue now that her heart is sore for Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“What ails my brother Bernard?” then asked Grisell anxiously.</p> +<p>“The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked +Nan of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child,” returned the esquire. +“Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but +peak and pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking +out on him; though there’s a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his +bed. My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked +Nan, but she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his +oath that he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when +we got there she was not to be seen or heard of. We have heard +of her in the Gilsland ground, where they would all the sooner see a +the young lad of Whitburn crippled and a mere misery to see or hear.”</p> +<p>Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the old +squire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She asked +what nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing within +easy reach. St. Cuthbert’s diocese had not greatly favoured +womankind, and Whitby was far away.</p> +<p>By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horses +being heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted again +before he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and best portions +of the deer.</p> +<p>“Left out, my wench,” he shouted. “We must +mount you better. Ho! Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? +Ha! Ha!”</p> +<p>“The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells,” +muttered the squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy.</p> +<p>“She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim +and dainty lassies here,” growled her father. “Look +you, Ridley, that horse of Hob’s - ” and the rest was lost +in a discussion on horseflesh.</p> +<p>Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedingly +uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerable seclusion, +brought her at last within reach of home. There was a tall church +tower and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord of Whitburn +halted, and blew his bugle with the peculiar note that signified his +own return, then all rode down to the old peel, the outline of which +Grisell saw with a sense of remembrance, against the gray sea-line, +with the little breaking, glancing waves, which she now knew herself +to have unconsciously wanted and missed for years past.</p> +<p>Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlooking +the sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but to +Grisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles and +abbeys of the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrow +and cramped, for truly there was need to have no more walls than could +be helped for the few defenders to guard.</p> +<p>All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullis +over her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of the +lady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seen +her, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, small and +stunted for six years old.</p> +<p>“Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?” shouted the +Baron in his gruff, hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold +your stirrup,” said the mother. “You are soon returned. +Is all well with Rob?”</p> +<p>“O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on +the way to the Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need +all his following if the Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered +as much wit as ever he had. So I e’en sent Rob on with him, +and came back so as to be ready in case there’s a call for me. +Soh! Berney; on thy feet again? That’s well, my lad; +but we’ll have thee up the steps.”</p> +<p>He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it +was Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then little +Bernard in his father’s arms exclaimed</p> +<p>“Black nun woman!”</p> +<p>“By St. Cuthbert!” cried the Baron, “I mind me! +Here, wench! I have brought back the maid in her brother’s +stead.”</p> +<p>And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, Bernard +screamed, “Ugsome wench, send her away!” threw his arms +round his father’s neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture.</p> +<p>“Saints have mercy!” cried the mother, “thou hast +not mended much since I saw thee last. They that marred thee had +best have kept thee. Whatever shall we do with the maid?”</p> +<p>“Send her away, the loathly thing,” reiterated the boy, +lifting up his head from his father’s shoulder for another glimpse, +which produced a puckering of the face in readiness for crying.</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, Bernard,” said Ridley, feeling for the poor +girl and speaking up for her when no one else would. “She +is your sister, and you must be a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured +lad spoilt her poor face when it was as fair as your own. Kiss +your sister like a good lad, and -</p> +<p>“No! no!” shouted Bernard. “Take her away. +I hate her.” He began to cry and kick.</p> +<p>“Get out of his sight as fast as may be,” commanded the +mother, alarmed by her sickly darling’s paroxysm of passion.</p> +<p>Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to +be led away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her in +his rough way. “’Tis the petted bairn’s way, +you see, mistress - and my lady has no thought save for him. He +will get over it soon enough when he learns your gentle convent-bred +conditions.”</p> +<p>Still the cry of “Grisly Grisell,” picked up as if by +instinct or by some echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears +in the angry fretful voice of the poor little creature towards whom +her heart was yearning. Even the two women-servants there were, +no more looked at her askance, as they took her to a seat in the hall, +and consulted where my lady would have her bestowed. She was wiping +away bitter tears as she heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. +“The chamber within the solar is the place for the noble damsels.”</p> +<p>“That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish.”</p> +<p>“Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord’s +daughter.”</p> +<p>There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang +up. “Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have +done so for many nights. Only let me be no burthen. Show +me where I can go to be an anchoress, since they will not have me in +a convent or anywhere,” and bitterly she wept.</p> +<p>“Peace, peace, lady,” said the squire kindly. “I +will deal with these ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! +Go off, and make the chamber ready, or I’ll find a scourge for +you. And as to my lady - she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, +but she has only to get used to you to be friendly enough.”</p> +<p>“O what a hope in a mother,” thought poor Grisell. +“O that I were at Wilton or some nunnery, where my looks would +be pardoned! Mother Avice, dear mother, what wouldst thou say +to me now!”</p> +<p>The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as it +were the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrow +castle court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise the +hall and kitchen - which were the dwelling and sleeping places of the +men of the household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentle +blood, would sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob when +at home in the tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where +was the great box-bed of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard.</p> +<p>Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for +the daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley +to the Lady Grisell. The two women-servants - Bell and Madge - +were wives to the cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused +and made a receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus +the sudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle +voices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishing she +could efface herself.</p> +<p>And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed +to her dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X - COLD WELCOME</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Seek not for others to love you,<br /> But seek +yourself to love them best,<br />And you shall find the secret true,<br /> Of +love and joy and rest.</p> +<p>I. WILLIAMS.</p> +<p>To lack beauty was a much more serious misfortune in the Middle Ages +than at present. Of course it was probable that there might be +a contract of marriage made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, +long before the development of either of the principal parties concerned; +but even then the rude, open-spoken husband would consider himself absolved +from any attention to an ill-favoured wife, and the free tongues of +her surroundings would not be slack to make her aware of her defects. +The cloister was the refuge of the unmarried woman, if of gentle birth +as a nun, if of a lower grade as a lay-sister; but the fifteenth century +was an age neither of religion nor of chivalry. Dowers were more +thought of than devotion in convents as elsewhere. Whitby being +one of the oldest and grandest foundations was sure to be inaccessible +to a high-born but unportioned girl, and Grisell in her sense of loneliness +saw nothing before her but to become an anchoress, that is to say, a +female hermit, such as generally lived in strict seclusion under shelter +of the Church.</p> +<p>“There at least,” thought poor Grisell, “there +would be none to sting me to the heart with those jeering eyes of theirs. +And I might feel in time that God and His Saints loved me, and not long +for my father and mother, and oh! my poor little brother - yes, and +Leonard Copeland, and Sister Avice, and the rest. But would Sister +Avice call this devotion? Nay, would she not say that these cruel +eyes and words are a cross upon me, and I must bear them and love in +spite - at least till I be old enough to choose for myself?”</p> +<p>She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense of dreariness, +for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not come near him, or +he would not eat, and she had to take her meal of dried fish and barley +bread in the wide chimney corner, where there always was a fire at every +season of the year.</p> +<p>Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley’s exertions had compelled +the women to prepare for her, was - as seen in the light of the long +evening - a desolate place, within a turret, opening from the solar, +or chamber of her parents and Bernard, the loophole window devoid of +glass, though a shutter could be closed in bad weather, the walls circular +and of rough, untouched, unconcealed stone, a pallet bed - the only +attempt at furniture, except one chest - and Grisell’s own mails +tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an ancient and fishy smell. +She felt too downhearted even to creep out and ask for a pitcher of +water. She took a long look over the gray, heaving sea, and tired +as she was, it was long before she could pray and cry herself to sleep, +and accustomed as she was to convent beds, this one appeared to be stuffed +with raw apples, and she awoke with aching bones.</p> +<p>Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as southland +finery, for those who washed at all used the horse trough, but fortunately +for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the request. He had been enough +in the south in attendance on his master to know how young damsels lived, +and what treatment they met with, and he was soon rating the women in +no measured terms for the disrespect they had presumed to show to the +Lady Grisell, encouraged by the neglect of her parents</p> +<p>The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, backed +up his retainer, and made it plain that he intended his daughter to +be respected and obeyed, and the grumbling women had to submit. +Nor did he refuse to acknowledge, on Ridley’s representation, +that Grisell ought to have an attendant of her own, and the lady of +the castle, coming down with Bernard clinging to her skirt with one +hand, and leaning on his crutch, consented. “If the maid +was to be here, she must be treated fitly, and Bell and Madge had enough +to do without convent-bred fancies.”</p> +<p>So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt the +fisher folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, bareheaded, with +long, streaming, lint-white locks, and the scantiest of garments, crying +bitterly with fright, and almost struggling to go back. She was +the orphan remnant of a family drowned in the bay, and was a burthen +on her fisher kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose of her.</p> +<p>She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost screamed +when Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the hand. Ridley +fairly drove her upstairs, step by step, and then shut her in with his +young lady, when she sank on the floor and hid her face under all her +bleached hair.</p> +<p>“Poor little thing,” thought Grisell; “it is like +having a fresh-caught sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I am, and +more afraid!”</p> +<p>So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl to look +up, and assuring her that she would not be hurt. Grisell had a +very soft and persuasive voice. Her chief misfortune as regarded +her appearance was that the muscles of one cheek had been so drawn that +though she smiled sweetly with one side of her face, the other was contracted +and went awry, so that when the kind tones had made the girl look up +for a moment, the next she cried, “O don’t - don’t! +Holy Mary, forbid the spell!”</p> +<p>“I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor girl, +a stranger here in my own home. Come, and do not fear me.”</p> +<p>“Madge said you had witches’ marks on your face,” +sobbed the child.</p> +<p>“Only the marks of gunpowder,” said Grisell. “Listen, +I will tell thee what befell me.”</p> +<p>Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn nature, +but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and the girl’s +terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which was Thora, +and learning, too, that she had led a hard life since her granny died, +and her uncle’s wife beat her, and made her carry heavy loads +of seaweed when it froze her hands, besides a hundred other troubles. +As to knowing any kind of feminine art, she was as ignorant as if the +rough and extremely dirty woollen garment she wore, belted round with +a strip of leather, had grown upon her, and though Grisell’s own +stock of garments was not extensive, she was obliged, for very shame, +to dress this strange attendant in what she could best spare, as well +as, in spite of sobs and screams, to wash her face, hands, and feet, +and it was wonderful how great a difference this made in the wild creature +by the time the clang of the castle bell summoned all to the midday +meal, when as before, Bernard professed not to be able to look at his +sister, but when she had retreated he was seen spying at her through +his fingers, with great curiosity.</p> +<p>Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries +for herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning. +She was not very graciously answered; but she was allowed an old frayed +horse-cloth on which Thora might sleep, and for the rest she might see +what she could find under the stairs in the turret, or in the chest +in the hall window.</p> +<p>The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mere rubbish +were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them she picked enough +to render her dreary chamber a very few degrees more habitable. +Thora would sleep there, and certainly their relations were reversed, +for carrying water was almost the only office she performed at first, +since Grisell had to dress her, and teach her to keep herself in a tolerable +state of neatness, and likewise how to spin, luring her with the hope +of spinning yarn for a new dress for herself. As to prayers, her +mind was a mere blank, though she said something that sounded like a +spell except that it began with “Pater.” She did not +know who made her, and entirely believed in Niord and Rana, the storm-gods +of Norseland. Yet she had always been to mass every Sunday morning. +So went all the family at the castle as a matter of course, but except +when the sacring-bell hushed them, the Baron freely discussed crops +or fish with the tenants, and the lady wrangled about dues of lambs, +eggs, and fish. Grisell’s attention was a new thing, and +the priest’s pronunciation was so defective to her ear that she +could hardly follow.</p> +<p>That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling her +room and training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more apt scholar +than she had expected, and became devoted to her like a little faithful +dog.</p> +<p>No one else took much notice of either, except that at times Cuthbert +Ridley showed himself to be willing to stand up for her. Her father +was out a great deal, hunting or hawking or holding consultations with +neighbouring knights or the men of Sunderland. Her mother, with +the loudest and most peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, ordered +the men on their guards and at the stables, and the cook, scullions, +and other servants, but without much good effect as household affairs +were concerned, for the meals were as far removed from the delicate, +dainty serving of the simplest fast-day meal at Wilton as from the sumptuous +plenty and variety of Warwick house, and Bernard often cried and could +not eat. She longed to make up for him one of the many appetising +possets well known at Wilton, but her mother and Ralf the cook both +scouted her first proposal. They wanted no south-bred meddlers +over their fire.</p> +<p>However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in pain, the +Baron had growled out that the child was cockered beyond all bearing, +and the mother had flown out at the unnatural father, and on his half +laughing at her doting ways, had actually rushed across with clenched +fist to box his ears; he had muttered that the pining brat and shrewish +dame made the house no place for him, and wandered out to the society +of his horses. Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath in abuse +of him and all around, carried the child up to his bed. There +he was moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darkness having +put a stop to Grisell’s spinning, she went to her chamber with +Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she even thought +her mother was crying. She ventured to approach and ask, “Fares +he no better? If I might rub that poor leg.”</p> +<p>But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, “Go away, Grisly,” +and her mother exclaimed, “Away with you, I have enough to vex +me here without you.”</p> +<p>She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down +her face as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices, +the same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Before +they were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harsh and +angered voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness for +some little time, but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again, +and there was a jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, +now thinner and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, +and crept out. “If I might rub him a little while, and you +rest, Lady Mother. He cannot see me now.”</p> +<p>She prevailed, or rather the poor mother’s utter weariness +and dejection did, together with the father’s growl, “Let +her bring us peace if she can.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand +to the aching thigh.</p> +<p>“Soft! Soft! Good! Good!” muttered +Bernard presently. “Go on!”</p> +<p>Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical touch +of Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her hand. Her mother, +who was quite worn out, moved to her own bed, and fell asleep, while +the snores of the Baron proclaimed him to have been long appeased. +The boy, too, presently was breathing softly, and Grisell’s attitude +relaxed, as her prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by and +by, what she thought was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light of +St. Edith’s taper, proved to be the musical rush of the incoming +tide, and the golden sunrise over the sea, while all lay sound asleep +around her, and she ventured gently to withdraw into her own room.</p> +<p>That night was Grisell’s victory, though Bernard still held +aloof from her all the ensuing day, when he was really the better and +fresher for his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as usual the pain +came on, he wailed for her to rub him, and as it was still daylight, +and her father had gone out in one of the boats to fish, she ventured +on singing to him, as she rubbed, to his great delight and still greater +boon to her yearning heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, the +little fellow limped up to her, and said, “Grisly, sing that again,” +staring hard in her face as she did so.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI - BERNARD</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I do remember an apothecary, -<br />And hereabouts he dwells.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>.</p> +<p>Bernard’s affection was as strong as his aversion had been. +Poor little boy, no one had been accustomed enough to sickly children, +or indeed to children at all, to know how to make him happy or even +comfortable, and his life had been sad and suffering ever since the +blight that had fallen on him, through either the evil eye of Nan the +witch, or through his fall into a freezing stream. His brother, +a great strong lad, had teased and bullied him; his father, though not +actually unkind except when wearied by his fretfulness, held him as +a miserable failure, scarcely worth rearing; his mother, though her +pride was in her elder son, and the only softness in her heart for the +little one, had been so rugged and violent a woman all the years of +her life, and had so despised all gentler habits of civilisation, that +she really did not know how to be tender to the child who was really +her darling. Her infants had been nursed in the cottages, and +not returned to the castle till they were old enough to rough it - indeed +they were soon sent off to be bred up elsewhere. Some failure +in health, too, made it harder for her to be patient with an ailing +child, and her love was apt to take the form of anger with his petulance +or even with his suffering, or else of fierce battles with her husband +in his defence.</p> +<p>The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that beldame +had disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady Whitburn still cherished +the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres or the Percies to yield the +woman up. Failing this, the boy had been shown to a travelling +friar, who had promised cure through the relics he carried about; but +Bernard had only screamed at him, and had been none the better.</p> +<p>And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he found +that “Grisly,” as he still called her, but only as an affectionate +abbreviation, was the only person who could relieve his pain, or amuse +him, in the whole castle; and he was incessantly hanging on her. +She must put him to bed and sing lullabies to him, she must rub his +limbs when they ached with rheumatic pains; hers was the only hand which +might touch the sores that continually broke out, and he would sit for +long spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down the scar and pitying +it with “Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throw down my glove, +and fight with that lad, and kill him.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me evil. He +is a fair, brave, good boy.”</p> +<p>“He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn and +recreant,” persisted Bernard. “Rob and I will make +him say that you are the fairest of ladies.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay. That he could not.”</p> +<p>“But you are, you are - on this side - mine own Grisly,” +cried Bernard, whose experiences of fair ladies had not been extensive, +and who curled himself on her lap, giving unspeakable rest and joy to +her weary, yearning spirit, as she pressed him to her breast. +“Now, a story, a story,” he entreated, and she was rich +in tales from Scripture history and legends of the Saints, or she would +sing her sweet monastic hymns and chants, as he nestled in her lap.</p> +<p>The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, and +now and then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn and keeping +him a helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his mother for this ill-favoured, +useless sister, and would even snatch away the boy, and declare that +she wanted no one to deal with him save herself; but Bernard had a will +of his own, and screamed for his Grisly, throwing himself about in such +a manner that Lady Whitburn was forced to submit, and quite to the alarm +of her daughter, on one of these occasions she actually burst into a +flood of tears, sobbing loud and without restraint. Indeed, though +she hotly declared that she ailed nothing, there was a lassitude about +her that made it a relief to have the care of Bernard taken off her +hands; and the Baron’s grumbling at disturbed nights made the +removal of Bernard’s bed to his sister’s room generally +acceptable.</p> +<p>Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora the +English version of the Lord’s Prayer and Creed, and moreover to +be telling him the story of the Gospel, there came, no one knew from +where, an accusation which made her father tramp up and say, “Mark +you, wench, I’ll have no Lollards here.”</p> +<p>“Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!” said Grisell +trembling.</p> +<p>“Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things common?”</p> +<p>“We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend mothers +and the holy father.”</p> +<p>The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn was +fit only for a shaveling, it might be all right.</p> +<p>Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation of manhood? +However, Grisell had won permission to compound broths, cakes, and possets +for him, over the hall fire, for the cook and his wife would not endure +her approach to their domain, and with great reluctance allowed her +the materials. Bernard watched her operations with intense delight +and amusement, and tasted with a sense of triumph and appetite, calling +on his mother to taste likewise; and she, on whose palate semi-raw or +over-roasted joints had begun to pall, allowed that the nuns had taught +Grisell something.</p> +<p>And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. Every +one around was used to her scars, and took no notice of them, and there +was nothing to bring the thought before her, except now and then when +a fishwife’s baby, brought to her for cure, would scream at her. +She never went beyond the castle except to mass, now and then to visit +a sick person, and to seek some of the herbs of which she had learnt +the use, and then she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, who made +a great favour of going.</p> +<p>Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she soothed +his pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the knowledge she brought +from the convent. Her affections were with him, and though her +mother could scarcely be said to love her, she tolerated and depended +more and more on the daughter who alone could give her more help or +solace.</p> +<p>That was Grisell’s second victory, when she was actually asked +to compound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when be was caught +in a storm and came in drenched and weary.</p> +<p>She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of Sister +Avice’s ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficacious +than melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from the +church bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients were out +of reach, unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and she obtained +permission to ride thither under the escort of Cuthbert Ridley, and +was provided with a small purse - the proceeds of the Baron’s +dues out of the fishermen’s sales of herrings.</p> +<p>She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her mother, and +enough of cloth to afford winter garments for Bernard; and a steady +old pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn to be exchanged for these +commodities, since the Whitburn household possessed no member dexterous +with the old disused loom, and the itinerant weavers did not come that +way - it was whispered because they were afraid of the fisher folk, +and got but sorry cheer from the lady.</p> +<p>The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two miles’ +ride along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at the curious caverns +in the rock, and seeking for the very strangely-formed stones supposed +to have magic power, which fell from the rock. In the distance +beyond the river to the southward, Ridley pointed to the tall square +tower of Monks Wearmouth Church dominating the great monastery around +it, which had once held the venerable Bede, though to both Ridley and +Grisell he was only a name of a patron saint.</p> +<p>The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel to +Grisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and gaily-coloured +vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very new sights to one +best acquainted with Noah’s ark or St. Peter’s ship in illuminations.</p> +<p>“Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding,” said +Ridley. “Moreover, these come for wool, salt-fish, and our +earth coal, and they bring us fine cloth, linen, and stout armour. +I am glad to see yonder Flemish ensign. If luck goes well with +us, I shall get a fresh pair of gauntlets for my lord, straight from +Gaunt, the place of gloves.”</p> +<p>“<i>Gant</i> for glove,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“How? You speak French. Then you may aid me in +chaffering, and I will straight to the Fleming, with whom I may do better +than with Hodge of the Lamb. How now, here’s a shower coming +up fast!”</p> +<p>It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was already +bursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a thoroughfare across +salt marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was not enough to prevent their +being drenched by a torrent of rain and hail before they reached the +tall-timbered houses of Wearmouth.</p> +<p>“In good time!” cried Ridley; “here’s the +Poticary’s sign! You had best halt here at once.”</p> +<p>In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, hung +a sign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a stall, open to +the street, which the owner was sheltering with a deep canvas awning.</p> +<p>“Hola, Master Lambert Groats,” called Ridley. “Here’s +the young demoiselle of Whitburn would have some dealings with you.”</p> +<p>Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a small, +keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing his green +velvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take shelter in his poor +house.</p> +<p>Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundry marvellous +curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, the shells of +tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her eyes most strange and +weird; but Master Lambert was begging her to hasten in at once to his +dwelling-room beyond, and let his wife dry her clothes, and at once +there came forward a plump, smooth, pleasant-looking personage, greatly +his junior, dressed in a tight gold-edged cap over her fair hair, a +dark skirt, black bodice, bright apron, and white sleeves, curtseying +low, but making signs to invite the newcomers to the fire on the hearth. +“My housewife is stone deaf,” explained their host, “and +she knows no tongue save her own, and the unspoken language of courtesy, +but she is rejoiced to welcome the demoiselle. Ah, she is drenched! +Ah, if she will honour my poor house!”</p> +<p>The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the demoiselle +to come to the fire, and take off her wet mantle. It was a very +comfortable room, with a wide chimney, and deep windows glazed with +thick circles of glass, the spaces between leaded around in diamond +panes, through which vine branches could dimly be seen flapping and +beating in the storm. A table stood under one with various glasses +and vessels of curious shapes, and a big book, and at the other was +a distaff, a work-basket, and other feminine gear. Shelves with +pewter dishes, and red, yellow, and striped crocks, surrounded the walls; +there was a savoury cauldron on the open fire. It was evidently +sitting-room and kitchen in one, with offices beyond, and Grisell was +at once installed in a fine carved chair by the fire - a more comfortable +seat than had ever fallen to her share.</p> +<p>“Look you here, mistress,” said Ridley; “you are +in safe quarters here, and I will leave you awhile, take the horses +to the hostel, and do mine errands across the river - ’tis not +fit for you - and come back to you when the shower is over, and you +can come and chaffer for your woman’s gear.”</p> +<p>From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell was +glad to have time for consultation. An Apothecary of those days +did not rise to the dignity of a leech, but was more like the present +owner of a chemist’s shop, though a chemist then meant something +much more abstruse, who studied occult sciences, such as alchemy and +astrology.</p> +<p>In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though English lips +had made it Groats, belonged to one of the prosperous guilds of the +great merchant city of Bruges, but he had offended his family by his +determination to marry the deaf, and almost dumb, portionless orphan +daughter of an old friend and contemporary, and to save her from the +scorn and slights of his relatives - though she was quite as well-born +as themselves - he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth and Sunderland +had a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These cities enjoyed +the cultivation of the period, and this room, daintily clean and fresh, +seemed to Grisell more luxurious than any she had seen since the Countess +of Warwick’s. A silver bowl of warm soup, extracted from +the <i>pot au feu</i>, was served to her by the Hausfrau, on a little +table, spread with a fine white cloth edged with embroidery, with an +earnest gesture begging her to partake, and a slender Venice glass of +wine was brought to her with a cake of wheaten bread. Much did +Grisell wish she could have transferred such refreshing fare to Bernard. +She ventured to ask “Master Poticary” whether he sold “Balsam +of Egypt.” He was interested at once, and asked whether +it were for her own use.</p> +<p>“Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that was +a burn long ago healed. It is for my poor little brother.”</p> +<p>Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions of symptoms, +drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she learnt a good deal and +perhaps disclosed more of Sister Avice’s methods than Wilton might +have approved. In the midst the sun broke out gaily after the +shower, and disclosed, beyond the window, a garden where every leaf +and spray were glittering and glorious with their own diamond drops +in the sunshine. A garden of herbs was a needful part of an apothecary’s +business, as he manufactured for himself all of the medicaments which +he did not import from foreign parts, but this had been laid out between +its high walls with all the care, taste, and precision of the Netherlander, +and Grisell exclaimed in perfect ecstasy: “Oh, the garden, the +garden! I have seen nothing so fair and sweet since I left Wilton.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is no +describing how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the bare, dry +walls of the castle, and the tossing sea which the maiden had not yet +learnt to love. Nor was the garden dull, though meant for use. +There was a well in the centre with roses trained over it, roses of +the dark old damask kind and the dainty musk, used to be distilled for +the eyes, some flowers lingering still; there was the brown dittany +or fraxinella, whose dried blossoms are phosphoric at night; delicate +pink centaury, good for ague; purple mallows, good for wounds; leopard’s +bane with yellow blossoms; many and many more old and dear friends of +Grisell, redolent of Wilton cloister and Sister Avice; and she ran from +one to the other quite transported, and forgetful of all the dignities +of the young Lady of Whitburn, while Lambert was delighted, and hoped +she would come again when his lilies were in bloom.</p> +<p>So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was asked +of the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert answered that +the value was fully balanced by what he had learnt from the lady. +This, however, did not suit the honour of the Dacres, and Grisell, as +well as her squire, who looked offended, insisted on leaving two gold +crowns in payment. The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it the +last sprays of roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom.</p> +<p>She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where she obtained +the warm winter garments that she needed for her mother and brother, +and likewise some linen, for the Lady of Whitburn had never been housewife +enough to keep up a sufficient supply for Bernard, and Grisell was convinced +that the cleanliness which the nuns had taught her would mitigate his +troubles. With Thora to wash for her she hoped to institute a +new order of things.</p> +<p>Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She was met +there by more grumbling than satisfaction. Her father had expected +more coin to send to Robert, who, like other absent youths, called for +supplies.</p> +<p>The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of paper +with the words:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“MINE HONOURED LORD AND FATHER - I pray you to send me Black +Lightning and xvj crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have +you in their keeping. - Your dutiful sonne,</p> +<p>“ROBERT DACRE.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn vowed +that he had never so called on his father except when he was knighted, +but those were the good old days when spoil was to be won in France. +What could Rob want of such a sum?</p> +<p>“Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no place +to stint in. The two young Earls of March and of Rutland, as they +call them, walk in red and blue and gold bravery, and chains of jewels, +even like king’s sons, and none of the squires and pages can be +behind them.”</p> +<p>“Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the lad fitted +out for years to come. I never sent home the like message to my +father under the last good King Henry, but purveyed myself of a horse +on the battlefield more than once. But those good old days are +over, and lads think more of velvet and broidery than of lances and +swords. Forsooth, their coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk +robes instead of helm and shield; and as to our maids, give them their +rein, and they spend more than all the rest on women’s tawdry +gear!”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and nothing +for herself except a few needles.</p> +<p>However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and sent +away with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell became more and +more a needful person. Bernard was stronger, and even rode out +on a pony, and the fame of his improvement brought other patients to +the Lady Grisell from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best she might, +successfully or the reverse, while her mother, as her health failed, +let fall more and more the reins of household rule.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII - WORD FROM THE WARS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Above, below, the Rose of Snow,<br />Twined with her blushing face +we spread.</p> +<p>GRAY’S <i>Bard.</i></p> +<p>News did not travel very fast to Whitburn, but one summer’s +day a tall, gallant, fair-faced esquire, in full armour of the cumbrous +plate fashion, rode up to the gate, and blew the family note on his +bugle.</p> +<p>“My son! my son Rob,” cried the lady, starting up from +the cushions with which Grisell had furnished her settle.</p> +<p>Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the gate, +by his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in the rear, +while Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung back.</p> +<p>The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not conceal +a good deal of contempt for the rude northern habits. “How +small and dark the hall is! My lady, how old you have grown! +What, Bernard, still fit only for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, +eh? Ha! is that Grisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland +has made a hag of her!”</p> +<p>“’Tis a good maid none the less,” replied her father; +the first direct praise that she had ever had from him, and which made +her heart glow.</p> +<p>“She will ne’er get a husband, with such a visage as +that,” observed Robert, who did not seem to have learnt courtesy +or forbearance yet on his travels; but he was soon telling his father +what concerned them far more than the maiden’s fate.</p> +<p>“Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to summon +you. What, you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as +may be, the arms of every honest man. How many can you get together?”</p> +<p>“But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the +roast last time I heard of him.”</p> +<p>“You know as little as my horse here in the north!” cried +Rob.</p> +<p>“This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the +Queen, that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord of +Salisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten her +and the men of Cheshire.”</p> +<p>“Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the +Copeland banner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant +that bore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed.”</p> +<p>“I’ll warrant it,” muttered his father.</p> +<p>“When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere +in sight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascaille +after that.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. +“That’s my brave lad! And what then? More hopes +of the spurs, eh?”</p> +<p>“Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would +willingly stir a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, +she gets a host together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with +her, at Ludlow. Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass +was said for the repose of his soul, but with the morning what should +we see on the other side of the river Teme but the royal standard, and +who should be under it but King Harry himself with his meek face and +fair locks, twirling his fingers after his wont. So the men would +have it that they had been gulled, and they fell away one after another, +till there was nothing for it but for the Duke and his sons, and my +Lords of Salisbury and Warwick and a few score more of us, to ride off +as best we might, with Sir Andrew Trollope and his men after us, as +hard as might be, so that we had to break up, and keep few together. +I went with the Duke of York and young Lord Edmund into Wales, and thence +in a bit of a fishing-boat across to Ireland. Ask me to fight +in full field with twice the numbers, but never ask me to put to sea +again! There’s nothing like it for taking heart and soul +out of a man!”</p> +<p>“I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, and +known nothing worse than a qualm or two.”</p> +<p>“That was to France,” said his son. “This +Irish Sea is far wider and far more tossing, I know for my own part. +I’d have given a knight’s fee to any one who would have +thrown me overboard. I felt like an empty bag! But once +there, they could not make enough of us. The Duke had got their +hearts before, and odd sort of hearts they are. I was deaf with +the wild kernes shouting round about in their gibberish - such figures, +too, as they are, with their blue cloaks, streaming hair, and long glibbes +(moustaches), and the Lords of the Pale, as they call the English sort, +are nigh about as wild and savage as the mere Irish. It was as +much as my Lord Duke could do to hinder two of them from coming to blows +in his presence; and you should have heard them howl at one another. +However, they are all with him, and a mighty force of them mean to go +back with him to England. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais +to hold counsel with him, and they have sworn to one another to meet +with all their forces, and require the removal of the King’s evil +councillors; and my Lord Duke, with his own mouth, bade me go and summon +his trusty Will Dacre of Whitburn - so he spake, sir - to be with him +with all the spears and bowmen you can raise or call for among the neighbours. +And it is my belief, sir, that he means not to stop at the councillors, +but to put forth his rights. Hurrah for King Richard of the White +Rose!” ended Robert, throwing up his cap.</p> +<p>“Nay, now,” said his father. “I’d be +loth to put down our gallant King Harry’s only son.”</p> +<p>“No one breathes a word against King Harry,” returned +Robert, “no more than against a carven saint in a church, and +he is about as much of a king as old stone King Edmund, or King Oswald, +or whoever he is, over the porch. He is welcome to reign as long +as he likes or lives, provided he lets our Duke govern for him, and +rids the country of the foreign woman and her brat, who is no more hers +than I am, but a mere babe of Westminster town carried into the palace +when the poor King Harry was beside himself.”</p> +<p>“Nay, now, Rob!” cried his mother.</p> +<p>“So ’tis said!” sturdily persisted Rob. “’Tis +well known that the King never looked at him the first time he was shown +the little imp, and next time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted +up his hands and said he wotted nought of the matter. Hap what +hap, King Harry may roam from Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, +so long as he lists, but none of us will brook to be ruled or misruled +by the foreign woman and the Beauforts in his name, nor reigned over +by the French dame or the beggar’s brat, and the traitor coward +Beaufort, but be under our own noble Duke and the White Rose, the only +badge that makes the Frenchman flee.”</p> +<p>The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of one who +knew the world, made his father laugh and say, “Hark to the cockerel +crowing loud. Spurs forsooth!”</p> +<p>“The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted,” grunted Rob, +“and there’s but few years betwixt us.”</p> +<p>“But a good many earldoms and lands,” said the Baron. +“Hadst spoken of being out of pagedom, ’twere another thing.”</p> +<p>“You are coming, sir,” cried Rob, willing to put by the +subject. “You are coming to see how I can win honours.”</p> +<p>“Aye, aye,” said his father. “When Nevil +calls, then must Dacre come, though his old bones might well be at rest +now. Salisbury and Warwick taking to flight like attainted traitors +to please the foreign woman, saidst thou? Then it is the time +men were in the saddle.”</p> +<p>“Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my lord,” +exclaimed Robert.</p> +<p>“Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was greatly +reassured by thy testimony,” said his father drily, while the +mother, full of pride and exultation in her goodly firstborn son, could +not but exclaim, “Daunt him not, my lord; he has done well thus +to be sent home in charge.”</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> daunt him?” returned Lord Whitburn, in his +teasing mood. “By his own showing not a troop of Somerset’s +best horsemen could do that!”</p> +<p>Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations of resources, +which they kept up all through supper-time, and all the evening, till +the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like rang like a repeating +echo in Grisell’s ears. All through those long days of summer +the father and son were out incessantly, riding from one tenant or neighbour +to another, trying to raise men-at-arms and means to equip them if raised. +All the dues on the herring-boats and the two whalers, on which Grisell +had reckoned for the winter needs, were pledged to Sunderland merchants +for armour and weapons; the colts running wild on the moors were hastily +caught, and reduced to a kind of order by rough breaking in. The +women of the castle and others requisitioned from the village toiled +under the superintendence of the lady and Grisell at preparing such +provision and equipments as were portable, such as dried fish, salted +meat, and barley cakes, as well as linen, and there was a good deal +of tailoring of a rough sort at jerkins, buff coats, and sword belts, +not by any means the gentle work of embroidering pennons or scarves +notable in romance.</p> +<p>“Besides,” scoffed Robert, “who would wear Grisly +Grisell’s scarf!”</p> +<p>“I would,” manfully shouted Bernard; “I would cram +it down the throat of that recreant Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Oh! hush, hush, Bernard,” exclaimed Grisell, who was +toiling with aching fingers at the repairs of her father’s greasy +old buff coat. “Such things are, as Robin well says, for +noble demoiselles with fair faces and leisure times like the Lady Margaret. +And oh, Robin, you have never told me of the Lady Margaret, my dear +mate at Amesbury.”</p> +<p>“What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such gear,” +growled Robin, whose chivalry had not reached the point of caring for +ladies.</p> +<p>“The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret of +York,” Grisell explained.</p> +<p>“Oh! That’s what you mean is it? There’s +a whole troop of wenches at the high table in hall. They came +after us with the Duchess as soon as we were settled in Trim Castle, +but they are kept as demure and mim as may be in my lady’s bower; +and there’s a pretty sharp eye kept on them. Some of the +young squires who are fools enough to hanker after a few maids or look +at the fairer ones get their noses wellnigh pinched off by Proud Cis’s +Mother of the Maids.”</p> +<p>“Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell’s greetings +by you.”</p> +<p>“I should like to see myself delivering them! Besides, +we shall meet my lord in camp, with no cumbrance of woman gear.”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn’s own castle was somewhat of a perplexity to +him, for though his lady had once been quite sufficient captain for +his scanty garrison, she was in too uncertain health, and what was worse, +too much broken in spirit and courage, to be fit for the charge. +He therefore decided on leaving Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter at least, +was scarcely as capable of roughing it as of old, to protect the castle, +with a few old or partly disabled men, who could man the walls to some +degree, therefore it was unlikely that there would be any attack.</p> +<p>So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with its +three crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, and round +it mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been raised by the +baron, some being his own vassals, and others hired at Sunderland. +The rest were volunteers - gentlemen, their younger sons, and their +attendants - placing themselves under his leadership, either from goodwill +to York and Nevil, or from love of enterprise and hope of plunder.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII - A KNOT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I would mine heart had caught that wound<br /> And +slept beside him rather!<br />I think it were a better thing<br />Than +murdered friend and marriage-ring<br /> Forced on my +life together.</p> +<p>E. B. BROWNING, <i>The Romaunt of the Page.</i></p> +<p>Ladies were accustomed to live for weeks, months, nay, years, without +news of those whom they had sent to the wars, and to live their life +without them. The Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husband +or son again till the summer campaign was over, and she was not at all +uneasy about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrived at +such a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult to kill +him, and such was the weight, that his danger in being overthrown was +of never being able to get up, but lying there to be smothered, made +prisoner, or killed, by breaking into his armour. The knights +could not have moved at all under the weight if they had not been trained +from infancy, and had nearly reduced themselves to the condition of +great tortoises.</p> +<p>It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, when, +though twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were in bed, and +he was asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the master’s +note, at first in the usual tones, then more loudly and impatiently. +Hastening out of bed to her loophole window, Grisell saw a party beneath +the walls, her father’s scallop-shells dimly seen above them, +and a little in the rear, one who was evidently a prisoner.</p> +<p>The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were beginning +to be astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer room, she found +her mother afoot and hastily dressing.</p> +<p>“My lord! my lord! it is his note,” she cried.</p> +<p>“Father come home!” shouted Bernard, just awake. +“Grisly! Grisly! help me don my clothes.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could not +help her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling rather than +calling for help all the time; and before she, still less Grisell, was +fit for the public, her father’s heavy step was on the stairs, +and she heard fragments of his words.</p> +<p>“All abed! We must have supper - ridden from Ayton since +last baiting. Aye, got a prisoner - young Copeland - old one slain +- great victory - Northampton. King taken - Buckingham and Egremont +killed - Rob well - proud as a pyet. Ho, Grisell,” as she +appeared, “bestir thyself. We be ready to eat a horse behind +the saddle. Serve up as fast as may be.”</p> +<p>Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word Copeland +aright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just crossing the +hall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, with hands over +his face and elbows on his knees, but she could not pause, and went +on to the kitchen, where the peat fire was never allowed to expire, +and it was easy to stir it into heat. Whatever was cold she handed +over to the servants to appease the hunger of the arrivals, while she +broiled steaks, and heated the great perennial cauldron of broth with +all the expedition in her power, with the help of Thora and the grumbling +cook, when he appeared, angry at being disturbed.</p> +<p>Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were over for +the dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and when she again +crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the straw-bestrewn floor +fast asleep. One she specially noticed, his long limbs stretched +out as he lay on his side, his head on his arm, as if he had fallen +asleep from extreme fatigue in spite of himself.</p> +<p>His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and ruddy, +and all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been those long years +ago before her accident. Save for that, she would have been long +ago his wife, she with her marred face the mate of that nobly fair countenance. +How strange to remember. How she would have loved him, frank and +often kind as she remembered him, though rough and impatient of restraint. +What was that which his fingers had held till sleep had unclasped them? +An ivory chessrook! Such was a favourite token of ladies to their +true loves. What did it mean? Might she pause to pray a +prayer over him as once hers - that all might be well with him, for +she knew that in this unhappy war important captives were not treated +as Frenchmen would have been as prisoners of war, but executed as traitors +to their King.</p> +<p>She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one of +the dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, and she +fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fast asleep, +and across to her own room, where she threw herself on her bed, dressed +as she was, but could not sleep for the multitude of strange thoughts +that crowded over her in the increasing daylight.</p> +<p>By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, +and then her mother came in.</p> +<p>“Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning +instantly. Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. +The Earl of Warwick hath granted his life to thy father on that condition +only.”</p> +<p>“Oh, mother, is he willing?” cried Grisell trembling.</p> +<p>“What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, and he +must fulfil his promise now that we have him.”</p> +<p>“Was it troth? I cannot remember it,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“That matters not. Your father’s plight is the +same thing. His father was slain in the battle, so ’tis +between him and us. Put on thy best clothes as fast as may be. +Thou shalt have my wedding-veil and miniver mantle. Speed, I say. +My lord has to hasten away to join the Earl on the way to London. +He will see the knot tied beyond loosing at once.”</p> +<p>To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her bewilderment. +Remonstrance was vain. The actual marriage without choice was +not so repugnant to all her feelings as to a modern maiden; it was the +ordinary destiny of womanhood, and she had been used in her childhood +to look on Leonard Copeland as her property; but to be forced on the +poor youth instantly on his father’s death, and as an alternative +to execution, set all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard +was sitting up in bed, crying out that he could not lose his Grisly. +Her mother was running backwards and forwards, bringing portions of +her own bridal gear, and directing Thora, who was combing out her young +lady’s hair, which was long, of a beautiful brown, and was to +be worn loose and flowing, in the bridal fashion. Grisell longed +to kneel and pray, but her mother hurried her. “My lord +must not be kept waiting, there would be time enough for prayer in the +church.” Then Bernard, clamouring loudly, threw his arms +round the thick old heavy silken gown that had been put on her, and +declared that he would not part with his Grisly, and his mother tore +him away by force, declaring that he need not fear, Copeland would be +in no hurry to take her away, and again when she bent to kiss him he +clung tight round her neck almost strangling her, and rumpling her tresses.</p> +<p>Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the young +lady, and it was he who took the boy off and held him in his arms, as +the mother, who seemed endued with new strength by the excitement, threw +a large white muffling veil over Grisell’s head and shoulders, +and led or rather dragged her down to the hall.</p> +<p>The first sounds she there heard were, “Sir, I have given my +faith to the Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I love.”</p> +<p>“What is that to me? ’Twas a precontract to my +daughter.”</p> +<p>“Not made by me nor her.”</p> +<p>“By your parents, with myself. You went near to being +her death outright, marred her face for life, so that none other will +wed her. What say you? Not hurt by your own will? +Who said it was? What matters that?”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Leonard, “it is true that by mishap, +nay, if you will have it so, by a child’s inadvertence, I caused +this evil chance to befall your daughter, but I deny, and my father +denies likewise, that there was any troth plight between the maid and +me. She will own the same if you ask her. As I spake before, +there was talk of the like kind between you, sir, and my father, and +it was the desire of the good King that thus the families might be reconciled; +but the contract went no farther, as the holy King himself owned when +I gave my faith to the Lord Audley’s daughter, and with it my +heart.”</p> +<p>“Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor fool of +a King believe and avouch anything she choose! This is not the +point. No more words, young man. Here stands my daughter; +there is the rope. Choose - wed or hang.”</p> +<p>Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity over +his face. Then he said, “If I consent, am I at liberty, +free at once to depart?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Whitburn. “So you fulfil your +contract, the rest is nought to me.”</p> +<p>“I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to my Queen +and King?”</p> +<p>“Free.”</p> +<p>“You swear it, on the holy cross?”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, and +made oath on it that when once married to his daughter, Leonard Copeland +was no longer his prisoner.</p> +<p>Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of grief +and renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs of King and +country, and his words chimed in with her conviction.</p> +<p>“Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would die +rather than be false to my love, but my Queen needs good swords and +faithful hearts, and I may not fail her. I am ready!”</p> +<p>“It is well!” said Lord Whitburn. “Ho, you +there! Bring the horses to the door.”</p> +<p>Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had been thinking +of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but that look of grief +roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had no other love to sacrifice.</p> +<p>“Sir! sir!” she cried, as her father turned to bid her +mount the pillion behind Ridley. “Can you not let him go +free without? I always looked to a cloister.”</p> +<p>“That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me now, +or it will be the worse for him and you.”</p> +<p>“One word I would say,” added the mother. “How +far hath this matter with the Audley maid gone? There is no troth +plight, I trow?”</p> +<p>“No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not have +pleaded it if there had been? No more dilly-dallying. Up +on the horse, Grisly, and have done with it. We will show the +young recreant how promises are kept in Durham County.”</p> +<p>He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and lifted her +passively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert Ridley. A fine horse, +Copeland’s own, was waiting for him. He was allowed to ride +freely, but old Whitburn kept close beside him, so that escape would +have been impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, +dimmed and dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, which +glittered on the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, purple in +the sun, was rising in front of this strange bridal cavalcade.</p> +<p>It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the heavy +rain that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole party come +within for the part of the ceremony usually performed outside the west +door.</p> +<p>It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, and +filled with dusky glass, and the arches were low browed. Grisell’s +mufflings were thrown aside, and she stood as became a maiden bride, +with all her hair flowing over her shoulders and long tresses over her +face, but even without this, her features would hardly have been visible, +as the dense cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall and straight +was her figure that no one would have supposed her other than a fair +young spouse. She trembled a good deal, but was too much terrified +and, as it were, stunned for tears, and she durst not raise her drooping +head even to look at her bridegroom, though such light as came in shone +upon his fair hair and was reflected on his armour, and on one golden +spur that still he wore, the other no doubt lost in the fight.</p> +<p>All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was determined +that no ceremony that could make the wedlock valid should be omitted. +The priest, a kind old man, but of peasant birth, and entirely subservient +to the Dacres, proceeded to ask each of the pair when they had been +assoiled, namely, absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, had been +shriven only last Friday; Leonard muttered, “Three days since, +when I was dubbed knight, ere the battle.”</p> +<p>“That suffices,” put in the Baron impatiently. +“On with you, Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, and +Grisell could not but look up anxiously when the solemn charge was given +to mention whether there was any lawful “letting” to their +marriage. Her heart bounded as it were to her throat when Leonard +made no answer.</p> +<p>But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise!</p> +<p>It went on - those betrothal vows, dictated while the two cold hands +were linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, hers, quaking, especially +as, in the old use of York, he took her “for laither for fairer” +- laith being equivalent to loathly - “till death us do part.” +And with failing heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered out her +vow to cleave to him “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, +in sickness or health, and to be bonner (debonair or cheerful) and boughsome +(obedient) till that final parting.”</p> +<p>The troth was plighted, and the silver mark - poor Leonard’s +sole available property at the moment - laid on the priest’s book, +as the words were said, “with worldly cathel I thee endow,” +and the ring, an old one of her mother’s, was held on Grisell’s +finger. It was done, though, alas! the bridegroom could hardly +say with truth, “with my body I thee worship.”</p> +<p>Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands barely +touching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when Latin did not +come home to the pair like English, though both fairly understood it. +Grisell’s feeling was by this time concentrated in the one hope +that she should be dutiful to the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more +to be pitied than herself, and that she should be guarded by God whatever +befell.</p> +<p>It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, but +there was some delay, for the darkness was more dense than ever, the +rush of furious hail was heard without, a great blue flash of intense +light filled every corner of the church, the thunder pealed so sharply +and vehemently overhead that the small company looked at one another +and at the church, to ascertain that no stroke had fallen. Then +the Lord of Whitburn, first recovering himself, cried, “Come, +sir knight, kiss your bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard +- here. Who hath seen him? Not vanished in yon flash! +Eh?”</p> +<p>No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that Sir +Leonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he had fulfilled +the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, and galloped away +through the storm.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV - THE LONELY BRIDE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> Grace for the callant<br />If he marries our muckle-mouth +Meg.</p> +<p>BROWNING.</p> +<p>“The recreant! Shall we follow him?” was the cry +of Lord Whitburn’s younger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his +hand on his horse’s neck, in spite of the torrents of rain and +the fresh flash that set the horses quivering.</p> +<p>“No! no!” roared the Baron. “I tell you no! +He has fulfilled his promise; I fulfil mine. He has his freedom. +Let him go! For the rest, we will find the way to make him good +husband to you, my wench,” and as Harry murmured something, “There’s +work enow in hand without spending our horses’ breath and our +own in chasing after a runaway groom. A brief space we will wait +till the storm be over.”</p> +<p>Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling her beads, +and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all the time giving +thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her mother, whose needs +had been pressing strongly on her, yet that she might do right by this +newly-espoused husband, whose downcast, dejected look had filled her, +not with indignation at the slight to her - she was far past that - +but with yearning compassion for one thus severed from his true love.</p> +<p>When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders to +ride home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, +he asked, “Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thy +runaway bridegroom?”</p> +<p>“Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than +be away with yonder stranger I ken not whither.”</p> +<p>“Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can break +the marriage by pleading precontract, you may lay your reckoning on +it that so he will.”</p> +<p>When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which Lady +Whitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her opinion.</p> +<p>“He will get the knot untied,” she said. “So +thick as the King and his crew are with the Pope, it will cost him nothing, +but we may, for very shame, force a dowry out of his young knighthood +to get the wench into Whitby withal!”</p> +<p>“So he even proffered on his way,” said the Baron. +“He is a fair and knightly youth. ’Tis pity of him +that he holds with the Frenchwoman. Ha, Bernard, ’tis for +thy good.”</p> +<p>For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring that +his Grisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile runaway +husbands.</p> +<p>Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no difference +in her position, excepting that she was scrupulously called Dame Grisell +Copeland. Her father was soon called away by the summons to Parliament, +sent forth in the name of King Henry, who was then in the hands of the +Earl of Warwick in London. The Sheriff’s messenger who brought +him the summons plainly said that all the friends of York, Salisbury, +and Warwick were needed for a great change that would dash the hopes +of the Frenchwoman and her son.</p> +<p>He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle to +Ridley and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not be downhearted. +He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir Leonard, to his marrow bones +before her.</p> +<p>Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the summer +waned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low fever. In +the lady’s case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third +day in her bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over +the child’s bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all +night, sometimes craving to be on his sister’s lap, but too restless +long to lie there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of +all Grisell’s simple treatment, and at last she wrung from the +lady permission to send Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was possible +to bring out Master Lambert Groot to give his advice, or if not, to +obtain medicaments and counsel from him.</p> +<p>The good little man actually came, riding a mule. “Ay, +ay,” quoth Ridley, “I brought him, though he vowed at first +it might never be, but when he heard it concerned you, mistress - I +mean Dame Grisell - he was ready to come to your aid.”</p> +<p>Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher’s dress +and little frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark +old hall.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferior +enough to be under her orders. “Ha! Is that your Poticary?” +she demanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. “Look +at my bairn, Master Dutchman; see to healing him,” she continued +imperiously.</p> +<p>Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed her manner, +though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more civilised than +this North Country dame. He looked anxiously at Bernard, who moaned +a little and turned his head away. “Nay, now, Bernard,” +entreated his sister; “look up at the good man, he that sent you +the sugar-balls. He is come to try to make you well.”</p> +<p>Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand to the +leech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the stranger, who +felt his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for better examination. +There was at first a dismal little whine at being touched and moved, +but when a pleasantly acid drop was put into his little parched mouth, +he smiled with brief content. His mother evidently expected that +both he and she herself would be relieved on the spot, but the Apothecary +durst not be hopeful, though he gave the child a draught which he called +a febrifuge, and which put him to sleep, and bade the lady take another +of the like if she wished for a good night’s rest.</p> +<p>He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage to +Lindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from the foul, +close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil odours of the court. +To the lady he thought it would really be healing, but he doubted whether +the poor little boy was not too far gone for such revival; indeed, he +made no secret that he believed the child was stricken for death.</p> +<p>“Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!” cried +the mother passionately. “You outlandish cheat! you! +What did you come here for? You have not even let him blood!”</p> +<p>“Let him blood! good madame,” exclaimed Master Lambert. +“In his state, to take away his blood would be to kill him outright!”</p> +<p>“False fool and pretender,” cried Lady Whitburn; “as +if all did not ken that the first duty of a leech is to take away the +infected humours of the blood! Demented as I was to send for you. +Had you been worth but a pinch of salt, you would have shown me how +to lay hands on Nan the witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my +poor bairn.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skill +of a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having come +on false pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, and +finally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisell +was thankful to convey her guest out of the chamber, and place him under +the care of Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, and safe +convoy back to Wearmouth when his mule had been rested and baited.</p> +<p>“Oh, Master Lambert,” she said, “it grieves me +that you should have been thus treated.”</p> +<p>“Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share +to brook the like, and I fear me that yours is a weary lot.”</p> +<p>“But my brother! my little brother!” she asked. +“It is all out of my mother’s love for him.”</p> +<p>“Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and +little enough is there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he +high or low born. Were it not better that the Saints should take +him to their keeping, while yet a sackless babe?”</p> +<p>Grisell wrung her hands together. “Ah! he hath been all +my joy or bliss through these years; but I will strive to say it is +well, and yield my will.”</p> +<p>The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called her +back before she could say or hear more. Her mother lay still utterly +exhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but all that evening, +and all the ensuing night, Grisell held the boy, sometimes on her lap, +sometimes on the bed, while all the time his moans grew more and more +feeble, his words more indistinct. By and by, as she sat on the +bed, holding him on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, outwearied +as she was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, till she +was roused by a cry from Thora, “Holy St. Hilda! the bairn has +passed!”</p> +<p>And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that had +been clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a strange cold +at her breast.</p> +<p>Her mother woke with a loud wail. “My bairn! My +bairn!” snatching him to her arms. “This is none other +than your Dutchman’s doings, girl. Have him to the dungeon! +Where are the stocks? Oh, my pretty boy! He breathed, he +is living. Give me the wine!” Then as there was no +opening of the pale lips, she fell into another tempest of tears, during +which Grisell rushed to the stair, where on the lowest step she met +Lambert and Ridley.</p> +<p>“Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert,” she cried. +“Out of the castle instantly. My mother is distraught with +grief; I know not what she may do to him. O go! Not a word!”</p> +<p>They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and leaving +the castle to its sorrow.</p> +<p>So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault in +the church, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her mother, +after her burst of passion subsided, lay still and listless, hardly +noticing anything, as if there had fallen on her some stroke that affected +her brain. Tidings of the Baron were slow to come, and though +Grisell sent a letter by a wandering friar to York, with information +of the child’s death and the mother’s illness, it was very +doubtful when or whether they would ever reach him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV - WAKEFIELD BRIDGE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I come to tell you things since then befallen.<br />After the bloody +fray at Wakefield fought,<br />Where your brave father breathed his +latest gasp.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>King Henry VI</i>., Part III.</p> +<p>Christmas went by sadly in Whitburn Tower, but the succeeding weeks +were to be sadder still. It was on a long dark evening that a +commotion was heard at the gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had been sitting +by the smouldering fire in her chamber, seemed suddenly startled into +life.</p> +<p>“Tidings,” she cried. “News of my lord and +son. Bring them, Grisell, bring them up.”</p> +<p>Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the household, +men and maids, were gathered round some one freshly come in, and the +first sound she heard was, “Alack! Alack, my lady!”</p> +<p>“How - what - how - ” she asked breathlessly, just recognising +Harry Featherstone, pale, dusty, blood-stained.</p> +<p>“It is evil news, dear lady,” said old Ridley, turning +towards her with outstretched hands, and tears flowing down his cheeks. +“My knight. Oh! my knight! And I was not by!”</p> +<p>“Slain?” almost under her breath, asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Even so! At Wakefield Bridge,” began Featherstone, +but at that instant, walking stiff, upright, and rigid, like a figure +moved by mechanism, Lady Whitburn was among them.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, still as if her voice belonged to +some one else. “Slain? And thou, recreant, here to +tell the tale!”</p> +<p>“Madam, he fell before I had time to strike.” She +seemed to hear no word, but again demanded, “My son.”</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated.</p> +<p>“My son! Speak out, thou coward loon.”</p> +<p>“Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside the +Earl of Rutland. ’Tis a lost field! I barely ’scaped +with a dozen men. I came but to bear the tidings, and see whether +you needed an arm to hold out the castle for young Bernard. Or +I would be on my way to my own folk on the Border, for the Queen’s +men will anon be everywhere, since the Duke is slain!”</p> +<p>“The Duke! The Duke of York!” was the cry, as if +a tower were down.</p> +<p>“What would you. We were caught by Somerset like deer +in a buck-stall. Here! Give me a cup of ale, I can scarce +speak for chill.”</p> +<p>He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale was +brought by some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a sign from +Ridley, one of the serving-men began to draw off his heavy boots and +greaves, covered with frosted mud, snow, and blood, all melting together, +but all the time he talked, and the hearers remained stunned and listening +to what had hardly yet penetrated their understanding. Lady Whitburn +had collapsed into her own chair, and was as still as the rest.</p> +<p>He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a question, +but his fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded.</p> +<p>All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry was +in the power of the White Rose, and had actually consented that Richard +of York should be his next heir, but in the meantime Queen Margaret +had been striving her utmost to raise the Welsh and the Border lords +on behalf of her son. She had obtained aid from Scotland, and +the Percies, the Dacres of Gilsland, and many more, had followed her +standard. The Duke of York and Earl of Salisbury set forth to +repress what they called a riot, probably unaware of the numbers who +were daily joining the Queen. With them went Lord Whitburn, hoping +thence to return home, and his son Robert, still a squire of the Duke’s +household.</p> +<p>They reached York’s castle of Sendal, and there merrily kept +Christmas, but on St. Thomas of Canterbury’s Day they heard that +the foe were close at hand, many thousands strong, and on the morrow +Queen Margaret, with her boy beside her, and the Duke of Somerset, came +before the gate and called on the Duke to surrender the castle, and +his own vaunting claims with it, or else come out and fight.</p> +<p>Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till his +son Edward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from Wales, +but York held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on account of +a scolding woman, and the prudence of the Earl of Salisbury was at fault, +since both presumed on the easy victories they had hitherto gained. +Therefore they sallied out towards Wakefield Bridge, to confront the +main body of Margaret’s army, ignorant or careless that she had +two wings in reserve. These closed in on them, and their fate +was certain.</p> +<p>“My lord fell in the melée among the first,” said +Featherstone. “I was down beside him, trying to lift him +up, when a big Scot came with his bill and struck at my head, and I +knew no more till I found my master lying stark dead and stripped of +all his armour. My sword was gone, but I got off save for this +cut” (and he pushed back his hair) “and a horse’s +kick or two, for the whole battle had gone over me, and I heard the +shouting far away. As my lord lay past help, methought I had best +shift myself ere more rascaille came to strip the slain. And as +luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbled among the corpses +I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown Weardale, running +masterless. Glad enough was he, poor brute, to have my hand on +his rein.</p> +<p>“The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to +put him to the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young +Master Robin, and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, +on the other side, holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress +Grisell wedded, and though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand +to them, and was letting them go by in safety. I was calling to +Master Rob to let me pass as one of his own, when thundering on came +the grim Lord Clifford, roaring like the wind in Roker caves. +I heard him howl at young Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed +spoilers of York. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed +him aside against the wall, and, ah! woe’s me, lady, when Master +Robin threw himself between, the fellow - a murrain on his name - ran +the fair youth through the neck with his sword, and swept him off into +the river. Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, “Thy +father slew mine, and so do I thee,” and dashed out his brains +with his mace. For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over +the river in the twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses +and poor slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was +even worse, some not yet dead, borne along and crying out. A woful +day it was to all who loved the kindly Duke of York, or this same poor +house! As luck would have it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale +and a few more honest fellows, who had ’scaped. We found +none but friends when we were well past the river. They succoured +us at the first abbey we came to. The rest have sped to their +homes, and here am I.”</p> +<p>Such was the tenor of Featherstone’s doleful history of that +blood-thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in dire suspense +on his words, and not till they were ended did Grisell become conscious +that her mother was sitting like a stone, with fixed, glassy eyes and +dropped lip, in the high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathing +strangely.</p> +<p>They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had received +her death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on the slopes +between Sendal and Wakefield.</p> +<p>Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, and +they watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as they tried +their simple, ineffective remedies one after another, with no thought +or possibility of sending for further help, since the roads would be +impassable in the long January night, and besides, the Lancastrians +might make them doubly perilous. Moreover, this dumb paralysis +was accepted as past cure, and needing not the doctor but the priest. +Before the first streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, Ridley’s +ponderous step came up the stair, into the feeble light of the rush +candle which the watchers tried to shelter from the draughts.</p> +<p>The sad question and answer of “No change” passed, and +then Ridley, his gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, “Featherstone +would speak with you, lady. He would know whether it be your pleasure +to keep him in your service to hold out the Tower, or whether he is +free to depart.”</p> +<p>“Mine!” said Grisell bewildered.</p> +<p>“Yea!” exclaimed Ridley. “You are Lady of +Whitburn!”</p> +<p>“Ah! It is true,” exclaimed Grisell, clasping her +hands. “Woe is me that it should be so! And oh! +Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, is a Queen’s man! What +can I do?”</p> +<p>“If it were of any boot I would say hold out the Tower. +He deserves no better after the scurvy way he treated you,” said +Cuthbert grimly. “He may be dead, too, though Harry fears +he was but stunned.”</p> +<p>“But oh!” cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam of light, +“did not I hear something of his trying to save my brother and +Lord Edmund?”</p> +<p>“You had best come down and hear,” said Ridley. +“Featherstone cannot go till he has spoken with you, and he ought +to depart betimes, lest the Gilsland folk and all the rest of them be +ravening on their way back.”</p> +<p>Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, entirely +past her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had seemed to have +no affection to bestow on her daughter, had been entirely broken down +and crushed by the loss of her sons and husband.</p> +<p>Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on young Copeland +they might be giving their Tower to their enemy.</p> +<p>She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose night +had done him more good than hers had, came to meet her, looking much +freshened, and with a bandage over his forehead. He bent low before +her, and offered her his services, but, as he told her, he and Ridley +had been talking it over, and they thought it vain to try to hold out +the Tower, even if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, +for the country round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would be scarcely +possible to get provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, the Gilsland +branch of the family, who would be the male heirs, were on the side +of the King and Queen, and might drive her out if she resisted. +Thus there seemed no occasion for the squire to remain, and he hoped +to reach his own family, and save himself from the risk of being captured.</p> +<p>“No, sir, we do not need you,” said Grisell. “If +Sir Leonard Copeland lives and claims this Tower, there is no choice +save to yield it to him. I would not delay you in seeking your +own safety, but only thank you for your true service to my lord and +father.”</p> +<p>She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his knee.</p> +<p>His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his way +more safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in this war, +the poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were chiefly made on +nobles and gentlemen. So he prepared to set forth, but Grisell +obtained from him what she had scarcely understood the night before, +the entire history of the fall of her father and brother, and how gallantly +Leonard Copeland had tried to withstand Clifford’s rage.</p> +<p>“He did his best for them,” she said, as if it were her +one drop of hope and comfort.</p> +<p>Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford’s blow had freed +her from her reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage would give her +claims on the Copeland property. But Grisell somehow could not +join in the wish. She could only remember the merry boy at Amesbury +and the fair face she had seen sleeping in the hall, and she dwelt on +Featherstone’s assurance that no wound had pierced the knight, +and that he would probably be little the worse for his fall against +the parapet of the bridge. Use her as he might, she could not +wish him dead, though it was a worthy death in defence of his old playfellow +and of her own brother.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI - A NEW MASTER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>In the dark chambère, if the bride was fair,<br /> Ye +wis, I could not see.<br /> . . . .<br /> And +the bride rose from her knee<br />And kissed the smile of her mother +dead.</p> +<p>E. B. BROWNING, <i>The Romaunt of the Page.</i></p> +<p>The Lady of Whitburn lingered from day to day, sometimes showing +signs of consciousness, and of knowing her daughter, but never really +reviving. At the end of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhat +better, but that night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidently +dying that the priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the last +Sacrament. The passing bell rang out from the church, and the +old man, with his little server before him, came up the stair, and was +received by Grisell, Thora, and one or two other servants on their knees.</p> +<p>Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest was crossing +the hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight at their head, rode +to the gate and demanded entrance.</p> +<p>The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, instead +of escorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, had to go to +the gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, far from dead, in +very different guise from that in which he had been brought to the castle +before. He looked, however, awed, as he said, bending his head +-</p> +<p>“Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand with +me?”</p> +<p>“My old lady is <i>in extremis</i>, sir,” replied Ridley. +“Poor soul, she hath never spoken since she heard of my lord’s +death and his son’s.”</p> +<p>“The younger lad? Lives here?” demanded Copeland. +“Is it as I have heard?”</p> +<p>“Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. Luke. +I have my lady’s orders,” he added reluctantly, “to +open the castle to you, as of right.”</p> +<p>“It is well,” returned Sir Leonard. Then, turning +round to the twenty men who followed him, he said, “Men-at-arms, +as you saw and heard, there is death here. Draw up here in silence. +This good esquire will see that you have food and fodder for the horses. +Kemp, Hardcastle,” to his squires, “see that all is done +with honour and respect as to the lady of the castle and mine. +Aught unseemly shall be punished.”</p> +<p>Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, looking +about him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but speaking with low, +grave tones.</p> +<p>“I may not tarry,” he said to Ridley, “but this +place, since it falls to me and mine, must be held for the King and +Queen.”</p> +<p>“My lady bows to your will, sir,” returned Ridley.</p> +<p>Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, +observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lasted +till the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest came forth.</p> +<p>“Sir,” he said to Copeland, “you will pardon the +young lady. Her mother is <i>in articulo mortis</i>, and she cannot +leave her.”</p> +<p>“I would not disturb her,” said Leonard. “The +Saints forbid that I should vex her. I come but as in duty bound +to damn this Tower on behalf of King Harry, Queen Margaret, and the +Prince of Wales against all traitors. I will not tarry here longer +than to put it into hands who will hold it for them and for me. +How say you, Sir Squire?” he added, turning to Ridley, not discourteously.</p> +<p>“We ever did hold for King Harry, sir,” returned the +old esquire.</p> +<p>“Yea, but against his true friends, York and Warwick. +One is cut off, ay, and his aider and defender, Salisbury, who should +rather have stood by his King, has suffered a traitor’s end at +Pomfret.”</p> +<p>“My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my poor young +lady,” sighed Ridley.</p> +<p>“He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the King,” +said Leonard. “We of his household long ago were happy enough, +though strangely divided now. For the rest, till that young wolf +cub, Edward of March, and his mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be +put down, this place must be held against them and theirs - whosoever +bears the White Rose. Wilt do so, Master Seneschal?”</p> +<p>“I hold for my lady. That is all I know,” said +Ridley, “and she holds herself bound to you, sir.”</p> +<p>“Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I see; +but I must leave half a score of fellows for the defence, and will charge +them that they show all respect and honour to the lady, and leave to +you, as seneschal, all the household, and of all save the wardship of +the Tower, calling on you first to make oath of faith to me, and to +do nought to the prejudice of King Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor +to favour the friends of York or Warwick.”</p> +<p>“I am willing, sir,” returned Ridley, who cared a great +deal more for the house of Whitburn than for either party, whose cause +he by no means understood, perhaps no more than they had hitherto done +themselves. As long as he was left to protect his lady it was +all he asked, and more than he expected, and the courtesy, not to say +delicacy, of the young knight greatly impressed both him and the priest, +though he suspected that it was a relief to Sir Leonard not to be obliged +to see his bride of a few months.</p> +<p>The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would rather have +seen them more of the North Country yeoman type than of the regular +weather-beaten men-at-arms whom wars always bred up; but their officer +was a slender, dainty-looking, pale young squire, with his arm in a +sling, named Pierce Hardcastle, selected apparently because his wound +rendered rest desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his charge that +all honour and respect was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, and that +she was free to come and go as she chose, and to be obeyed in every +respect, save in what regarded the defence of the Tower. He himself +was going on to Monks Wearmouth, where he had a kinsman among the monks.</p> +<p>With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to Ridley, +“Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am grieved for +her sorrow and to be compelled to trouble her at such a time; but ’tis +for my Queen’s service, and when this troublous times be ended, +she shall hear more from me.” Turning to the priest he added, +“I have no coin to spare, but let all be done that is needed for +the souls of the departed lord and lady, and I will be answerable.”</p> +<p>Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and squire +looked at one another, and Ridley said, “He will untie your knot, +Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>“He takes kindly to castle and lands,” was the answer, +with a smile; “they may make the lady to be swallowed.”</p> +<p>“I trow ’tis for his cause’s sake,” replied +Ridley. “Mark you, he never once said ‘My lady,’ +nor ‘My wife.’”</p> +<p>“May the sweet lady come safely out of it any way,” sighed +the priest. “She would fain give herself and her lands to +the Church.”</p> +<p>“May be ’tis the best that is like to befall her,” +said Ridley; “but if that young featherpate only had the wit to +guess it, he would find that he might seek Christendom over for a better +wife.”</p> +<p>They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to say +that my lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to the bedside.</p> +<p>All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, and Grisell +was left alone in her desolation. The only real, deep, mutual +love had been between her and poor little Bernard; her elder brother +she had barely seen; her father had been indifferent, chiefly regarding +her as a damaged piece of property, a burthen to the estate; her mother +had been a hard, masculine, untender woman, only softened in her latter +days by the dependence of ill health and her passion for her sickly +youngest; but on her Grisell had experienced Sister Avice’s lesson +that ministry to others begets and fosters love.</p> +<p>And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her work +for her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except so far +as that the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home by a hostile +garrison. Her spirit sank within her, and she bitterly felt the +impoverishment of the always scanty means, which deprived her of the +power of laying out sums of money on those rites which were universally +deemed needful for the repose of souls snatched away in battle. +It was a mercenary age among the clergy, and besides, it was the depth +of a northern winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady of Whitburn +would have been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band of black Benedictine +monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying they had been despatched +at special request and charge of Sir Leonard Copeland.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII - STRANGE GUESTS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The needle, having nought to do,<br /> Was pleased +to let the magnet wheedle,<br />Till closer still the tempter drew,<br /> And +off at length eloped the needle.</p> +<p>T. MOORE.</p> +<p>The nine days of mourning were spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, +who went through every round of devotions prescribed or recommended +by the Church, and felt relief and rest in them. She shrank when +Ridley on the tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in the +solar, but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of the +Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct of Copeland’s +men.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle desires it too,” he said. “He +is a good lad enough, but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough +over those fellows! You need not look for aught save courtesy +from him! Come down, lady, or you will never have your rights.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?”</p> +<p>“To be mistress of your own castle,” returned Ridley, +“and that you will never be unless you take the upper hand. +Here are all our household eating with these rogues of Copeland’s, +and who is to keep rule if the lady comes not?”</p> +<p>“Alack, and how am I to do so?”</p> +<p>However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very early +dinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the return from +mass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He was a tall slender +stripling, looking weak and ill, and he bowed very low as he said, “Greet +you well, lady,” and looked up for a moment as if in fear of what +he might encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with long watching +and grief, and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance all her scars +and distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than her wont. +She saw him shudder a little, but his lame arm and wan looks interested +her kind heart. “I fear me you are still feeling your wound, +sir,” she said, in the sweet voice which was evidently a surprise +to him.</p> +<p>“It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this morning,” +he answered.</p> +<p>They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and Hardcastle, +the servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge and broth and very +small ale were the fare, and salted meat would be for supper, and as +Grisell knew but too well already, her own retainers were grumbling +at the voracious appetites of the men-at-arms as much as did their unwilling +guests at the plainness and niggardliness of the supply.</p> +<p>Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or even +to broach a cask of wine. “For,” said she, “they +are none such fiends as we thought, if one knows how to take them courteously.”</p> +<p>“There is no need that you should have any dealings with them, +Thora,” said her lady, with some displeasure; “Master Ridley +sees to their provision.”</p> +<p>Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about not +being mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And when she attended +her lady to the hall there certainly were glances between her and a +slim young archer.</p> +<p>The lady’s presence was certainly a restraint on the rude men-at-arms, +though two or three of them seemed to her rough, reckless-looking men. +After the meal all her kindly instincts were aroused to ask what she +could do for the young squire, and he willingly put himself into her +hands, for his hurt had become much more painful within the last day +or two, as indeed it proved to be festering, and in great need of treatment.</p> +<p>Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell had +found him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence of the Queen +had snatched from his studies into the battlefield. He told her +a great deal about the good King, and his encouragement of his beloved +scholars at Eton, and he spoke of Queen Margaret with an enthusiasm +new to Grisell, who had only heard her reviled as the Frenchwoman. +Pierce could speak with the greatest admiration, too, of his own knight, +Sir Leonard, whom he viewed as the pink of chivalry, assuring Lady Copeland, +as he called her, that she need never doubt for a moment of his true +honour and courtesy. Grisell longed to know, but modest pride +forbade her to ask, whether he knew how matters stood with her rival, +Lady Eleanor Audley. Ridley, however, had no such feeling, and +he reported to Grisell what he had discovered.</p> +<p>Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought her +very beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry was riding +to his Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a squire, was standing +beside her, and it had been currently reported that he was to be her +bridegroom.</p> +<p>He had returned from his captivity after the battle of Northampton +exceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the cause of Lancaster, +and Hardcastle had heard that the question had been discussed whether +the forced marriage had been valid, or could be dissolved; but since +the bodies of Lord Whitburn and his son had been found on the ground +at Wakefield, this had ceased, and it was believed that Queen Margaret +had commanded Sir Leonard, on his allegiance, to go and take possession +of Whitburn and its vassals in her cause.</p> +<p>But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley’s opinion, that did +his knight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as +man could wish both in word and deed.</p> +<p>“I would fain,” said he, “have the Lady Eleanor +to look at, but this lady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. +Never met I woman who was so good company! She might almost be +a scholar at Oxford for her wit.”</p> +<p>However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of Master +Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thora exchanged +glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few days Ridley spoke to +Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue if the silly wench +were not checked in her habit of loitering and chattering whenever she +could escape from her lady’s presence in the solar, which Grisell +used as her bower, only descending to the hall at meal-times.</p> +<p>Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed unreasonably +over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered something about young +Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcher up the stair.</p> +<p>“It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strange +soldiers,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse +with their captain,” retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free +of speech and with a toss of the head.</p> +<p>“Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet,” said Grisell, +clenching a fist unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement +as a duty. “You know full well that my only speech with +Master Hardcastle is as his hostess.”</p> +<p>Thora laughed. “Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. +How that poor youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour +over him as of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!” and Grisell’s +hand actually descended on her maiden’s face, but so slight was +the force that it only caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered +the young mistress as to give her energy to strike again with all her +might.</p> +<p>“And you’d beat me,” observed her victim, roused +to anger. “You are so ill favoured yourself that you cannot +bear a man to look on a fair maid!”</p> +<p>“What insolence is this?” cried Grisell, utterly amazed. +“Go into the turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till +I call you to supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems +a modest maiden.”</p> +<p>She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and withdrew +still pouting and grumbling.</p> +<p>Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew not +that her wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, while sympathy +might have evoked wholesome confidence.</p> +<p>For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, was attractive +enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison with nothing to +do, and on her side their notice, their rough compliments, and even +their jests, were delightful compared with the dulness of her mistress’s +mourning chamber, and court enough was paid to her completely to turn +her head. If there were love and gratitude lurking in the bottom +of her heart towards the lady who had made a fair and skilful maiden +out of the wild fisher girl, all was smothered in the first strong impulse +of love for this young Ralph Hart, the first to awaken the woman out +of the child.</p> +<p>The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in all +times, placed in the course of this true love, did but serve to alienate +the girl and place her in opposition. The creature had grown up +as wild and untamed as one of the seals on the shore, and though she +had had a little training and teaching of late years, it was entirely +powerless when once the passion was evoked in her by the new intercourse +and rough compliments of the young archer, and she was for the time +at his beck and call, regarding her lady as her tyrant and enemy. +It was the old story of many a household.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII - WITCHERY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The lady has gone to her secret bower,<br />The bower that was guarded +by word and by spell.</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel.</i></p> +<p>“Master Squire,” said the principal man-at-arms of the +garrison to Pierce Hardcastle, “is it known to you what this laidly +dame’s practices be?”</p> +<p>“I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and esteem,” +returned the esquire, turning hastily round in wrath. He much +disliked this man, a regular mercenary of the free lance description, +a fellow of French or Alsatian birth, of middle age, much strength, +and on account of a great gash and sideways twist of his snub nose always +known as Tordu, and strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort +of spy or check on Sir Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man +replied with a growl:</p> +<p>“Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem dainty +cakes to those under her art.”</p> +<p>In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the Lady Castellane’s +society, the great improvement in his wound under her treatment, and +the manner in which the serfs around came to ask her aid in their maladies, +had excited the suspicion of the men-at-arms. They were older +men, hardened and roughened, inclined to despise his youth, and to resent +the orderly discipline of the household, which under Ridley went on +as before, and the murmurs of Thora led to inquiries, answered after +the exaggerated fashion of gossip.</p> +<p>There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and shouts +demanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not have the +lady insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He was about to +order Tordu as ringleader into custody, but Ridley said to him aside, +“Best not, sir; his fellows will not lay a finger on him, and +if we did so, there would be a brawl, and we might come by the worst.”</p> +<p>So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, “Bear +in mind that Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and all miscourtesy +to his lady is an offence to himself, which will be visited with his +wrath.”</p> +<p>The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, “Ay, +ay, sir; she has bewitched you, and we’ll soon have him and you +free.”</p> +<p>Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but the +other men came between, and Ridley held him back.</p> +<p>“You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled would +be worse than to let it pass.”</p> +<p>“There, fellow, I’ll spare you, so you ask pardon of +me and the lady.”</p> +<p>Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a sulky +growl that might pass for an apology, and Ridley’s counsel was +decided that Pierce had better not pursue the matter.</p> +<p>What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the watch, +and the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along the cliffs beyond +the castle, the lad who acted as his page came to him, with round, wondering +eyes, “Sir,” said he, after a little hesitation, “is +it sooth that the lady spake a spell over your arm?”</p> +<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said Pierce smiling.</p> +<p>“It might be without your knowledge,” said the boy. +“They say it healed as no chirurgeon could have healed it, and +by magic arts.”</p> +<p>“Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to believe +them, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but ’tis her bower-woman and Madge, the cook’s +wife. Both aver that the lady hath bewitched whoever comes in +her way ever since she crossed the door. She hath wrought strange +things with her father, mother, and brothers. They say she bound +them to her; that the little one could not brook to have her out of +sight; yet she worked on him so that he was crooked and shrivelled. +Yet he wept and cried to have her ever with him, while he peaked and +pined and dwindled away. And her mother, who was once a fine, +stately, masterful dame, pined to mere skin and bone, and lay in lethargy; +and now she is winding her charms on you, sir!”</p> +<p>Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. Dick lowered +his voice to a whisper of awe.</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose to +ride over to Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her when he +has found the witch’s mark.”</p> +<p>“The lady!” cried Hardcastle in horror. “You +see her what she is! A holy woman if ever there was one! +At mass each morning.”</p> +<p>“Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that ’tis prayers +backward she says there. Thora has oft heard her at night, and +’twas no Ave nor Credo as they say them here.”</p> +<p>Pierce burst out laughing. “I should think not. +They speak gibberish, and she, for I have heard her in Church, speaks +words with a meaning, as her priest and nuns taught her.”</p> +<p>“But her face, sir. There’s the Evil One’s +mark. One side says nay to the other.”</p> +<p>“The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than Sir Leonard +himself. ’Twas he that all unwittingly, when a boy, fired +a barrel of powder close to her and marred her countenance. You +are not fool and ass enough to give credence to these tales.”</p> +<p>“I said not that I did, sir,” replied the page; “but +it is what the men-at-arms swear to, having drawn it from the serving-maid.”</p> +<p>“The adder,” muttered Pierce.</p> +<p>“Moreover,” continued the boy, “they have found +out that there is a wise man witch-finder at Shields. They mean +to be revenged for the scanty fare and mean providings; and they deem +it will be a merry jest in this weary hold, and that Sir Leonard will +be too glad to be quit of his gruesome dame to call them to account.”</p> +<p>It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence to +restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where his +knight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likely +that these terrible intentions might be carried out before any messenger +could reach him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery was universal, +and no rank was exempt from the danger of the accusation. Thora’s +treachery was specially perilous. All that the young man could +do was to seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he was obliged +to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. Ridley too +had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed too preposterous +for him to attend to it. “You are young, Hardcastle,” +he said, with a smile, “or you would know that there is nothing +a grumbler will not say, nor how far men’s tongues lie from their +hands.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but if their hands <i>did</i> begin to act, how should +we save the lady? There’s nothing Tordu would not do. +Could we get her away to some nunnery?”</p> +<p>“There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there +the Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give +her up, on such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. +My poor bairn! That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring +her neck! Yet here are our fisher folk, who love her for her bounty.”</p> +<p>“Would they hide her?” asked Pierce.</p> +<p>“That serving-wench - would I had drowned her ere bringing +her here - might turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might +not be scared or tortured into giving her up!”</p> +<p>Here Dick looked in. “Tordu is crossing the yard,” +he said.</p> +<p>They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition of +Featherstone’s horse, which had never wholly recovered the flight +from Wakefield.</p> +<p>After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in +her apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulous +alarm, in her face. She put her hands in his. “Is +it sooth?” she said, in a strange, awe-stricken voice.</p> +<p>“You have heard, then, my wench?”</p> +<p>“Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing +against me. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and +the rest would never let them touch me?”</p> +<p>“They should only do so through my heart’s blood, dear +child; but mine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, +whom those fellows believe to be bewitched. We must find some +other way!”</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good +Earl of Salisbury is dead.”</p> +<p>“’Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid +of these men. But where?” and he made a despairing gesture.</p> +<p>Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose before +her of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savage hands +of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or at best +by water. She pressed her hands together, feeling utterly desolate, +and prayed her prayer to the God of the fatherless to save her or brace +her to endure.</p> +<p>Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, “Would Master Groats, the Poticary, +shelter you till this is over-past? His wife is deaf and must +perforce keep counsel.”</p> +<p>“He would! I verily believe he would,” exclaimed +Grisell; “and no suspicion would light on him. How soon +can I go to him, and how?”</p> +<p>“If it may be, this very night,” said Ridley. “I +missed two of the rogues, and who knows whither they may have gone?”</p> +<p>“Will there be time?” said the poor girl, looking round +in terror.</p> +<p>“Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, and +they cannot get there and back under two days. Have you jewels, +lady? And hark you, trust not to Thora. She is the worst +traitor of all. Ask me no more, but be ready to come down when +you hear a whistle.”</p> +<p>That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her - the girl whom +she had taught, trained, and civilised - was too much to believe. +She would almost, in spite of cautions, have asked her if it were possible, +and tried to explain the true character of the services that were so +cruelly misinterpreted; but as she descended the dark winding stair +to supper, she heard the following colloquy:</p> +<p>“You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear Ralph?”</p> +<p>“That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a word to +her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no evil.”</p> +<p>“What! Going back on what thou saidst of her brother +and her mother. Take thou heed, or they will take order with thee.”</p> +<p>“Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! I have +done it for thee.”</p> +<p>“Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little mouth;” +and there was a sound of kissing.</p> +<p>“What will they do to her?” in a lower voice.</p> +<p>“Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. Ha! ha! +She will have enough of the draught that is so free to us.”</p> +<p>Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean against the +wall hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud enough to betray +her, till a call from the hall put an end to the terrible whispers.</p> +<p>She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how near +she had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, trying to +converse with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror the absence of +the two soldiers.</p> +<p>How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The castle +keys were never delivered to her, but always to Hardcastle, and she +saw him take them; but she received from Ridley a look and sign which +meant that she was to be ready, and when she left the hall she made +up a bundle of needments, and in it her precious books and all the jewels +she had inherited. That Thora did not follow her was a boon.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX - A MARCH HARE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Yonder is a man in sight -<br />Yonder is a house - but where?<br />No. +she must not enter there.<br />To the caves, and to the brooks,<br />To +the clouds of heaven she looks.</p> +<p>WORDSWORTH, <i>Feast of Brougham Castle.</i></p> +<p>Long, long did Grisell kneel in an agony of prayer and terror, as +she seemed already to feel savage hands putting her to the ordeal.</p> +<p>The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, when +there was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang to the door +and held Ridley’s hand.</p> +<p>“Now is the time,” he said, under his breath; “the +squire waits. That treacherous little baggage is safe locked into +the cellar, whither I lured her to find some malvoisie for the rascaille +crew. Come.”</p> +<p>He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the narrow +passage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle with the keys. +He let them out and crossed the court with them to the little door leading +to a steep descent of the cliffs by a narrow path. Not till the +sands were reached did any of the three dare to speak, and then Grisell +held out her hands in thanks and farewell.</p> +<p>“May I not guard you on your way, lady?” said Pierce.</p> +<p>“Best not, sir,” returned Ridley; “best not know +whither she is gone. I shall be back again before I am missed +or your rogues are stirring.”</p> +<p>“When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady,” said +Pierce, “then will Ridley tell him where to find you and bring +you back in all honour.”</p> +<p>Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the young +man, who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley as the waning +moon lighted them over the glistening sands, till they sought the friendly +shadows of the cliffs. And thus Grisell Dacre parted from the +home of her fathers.</p> +<p>“Cuthbert,” she said, “should you see Sir Leonard, +let him know that if - if he would be free from any bond to me I will +aid in breaking it, and ask only dowry enough to obtain entrance to +a convent, while he weds the lady he loves.”</p> +<p>Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, and exhortations +to her to hold her own, and not abandon her rights. “If +he keep the lands, he should keep the wife,” was his cry.</p> +<p>“His word and heart - ” began Grisell.</p> +<p>“Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed on +some one else. You do not want to be quit of him and be mewed +in a nunnery.”</p> +<p>“I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his life.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get over +the first glance and you are worth the fairest dame that ever was jousted +for in the lists. Send him at least a message as though it were +not your will to cast him off.”</p> +<p>“If you will have it so, then,” said Grisell, “tell +him that if it be his desire, I will strive to make him a true, loyal, +and loving wife.”</p> +<p>The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little inward chuckle, +as of one who suspected that the duties of the good and loving wife +would not be unwillingly undertaken.</p> +<p>Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and though +the distance was only two miles, it was a good deal for Grisell, and +she plodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of the sea and the cries +of the gulls. The caverns of the rock looked very black and gloomy, +and she clung to Ridley, almost expecting something to spring out on +her; but all was still, and the pale eastward light began to be seen +over the sea before they turned away from it to ascend to the scattered +houses of the little rising town.</p> +<p>The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it was +only twilight when they reached the wall of Lambert’s garden of +herbs, where there was a little door that yielded to Ridley’s +push. The house was still closed, and hoar frost lay on the leaves, +but Grisell proposed to hide herself in the little shed which served +the purpose of tool-house and summer-house till she could make her entrance. +She felt sure of a welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave +her, so as to return to the Tower early enough to avert suspicion - +an easier matter as the men-at-arms were given to sleeping as late as +they could. He would make an errand to the Apothecary’s +as soon as he could, so as to bring intelligence.</p> +<p>There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while the +blackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet odours rising +from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, and a morning bell +rang from the great monastery church. With that she saw the house +door open, and Master Lambert in a fur cap and gown turned up with lambs’-wool +come out into the garden, basket in hand, and chirp to the birds to +come down and be fed.</p> +<p>It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, chaffinch, +robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited a moment to watch +them before she stepped forth and said, “Ah! Master Groot, +here is another poor bird to implore your bounty.”</p> +<p>“Lady Grisell,” he cried, with a start.</p> +<p>“Ah! not that name,” she said; “not a word. +O Master Lambert, I came by night; none have seen me, none but good +Cuthbert Ridley ken where I am. There can be no peril to you or +yours if you will give shelter for a little while to a poor maid.”</p> +<p>“Dear lady, we will do all we can,” returned Lambert. +“Fear not. How pale you are. You have walked all night! +Come and rest. None will follow. You are sore spent! +Clemence shall bring you a warm drink! Condescend, dear lady,” +and he made her lean on his arm, and brought her into his large living +room, and placed her in the comfortable cross-legged chair with straps +and cushions as a back, while he went into some back settlement to inform +his wife of her visitor; and presently they brought her warm water, +with some refreshing perfume, in a brass basin, and he knelt on one +knee to hold it to her, while she bathed her face and hands with a sponge +- a rare luxury. She started at every sound, but Lambert assured +her that she was safe, as no one ever came beyond the booth. His +Clemence had no gossips, and the garden could not be overlooked. +While some broth was heated for her she began to explain her peril, +but he exclaimed, “Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent +that a great strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to ask +me for a charm against gramarie, with hints that ’twas in high +places. ’Twas enough to make one laugh to see the big lubber +try to whisper hints, and shiver and shake, as he showed me a knot in +his matted locks and asked if it were not the enemy’s tying. +I told him ’twas tied by the enemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, +and that a stout Dutchman ought to be ashamed of himself for carrying +such a head within or without. But I scarce bethought me the impudent +Schelm could have thought of you, lady.”</p> +<p>“Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone to +Shields in search of the witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe me, and +drown me, or burn me,” cried Grisell, clasping her hands. +“Oh! take me somewhere if you cannot safely hide me; I would not +bring trouble on you!”</p> +<p>“You need not fear,” he answered. “None will +enter here but by my goodwill, and I will bar the garden door lest any +idle lad should pry in; but they come not here. The tortoise who +crawls about in the summer fills them with too much terror for them +to venture, and is better than any watch-dog. Now, let me touch +your pulse. Ah! I would prescribe lying down on the bed +and resting for the day.”</p> +<p>She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where it +was the pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a guest-chamber, absolutely +neat, though very little furnished, and indeed seldom or never used; +but she solicitously stroked the big bed, and signed to Grisell to lie +down in the midst of pillows of down, above and below, taking off her +hood, mantle, and shoes, and smoothing her down with nods and sweet +smiles, so that she fell sound asleep.</p> +<p>When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down to +the noontide meal. Master Groot was looking much entertained.</p> +<p>Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch Whitburn +man-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful story. Not only +had the grisly lady vanished, but a cross-bow man had shot an enormous +hare on the moor, a creature with one ear torn off, and a seam on its +face, and Masters Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured the belief +that it was the sorceress herself without time to change her shape. +Did Mynheer Groot hold with them?</p> +<p>For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at home, yet +in a strange country they held together, and remembered that they were +both Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know what thought the wise +man.</p> +<p>“Depend on it, there was no time for a change,” gravely +said Groot. “Have not Nostradamus, Albertus Magnus, and +Rogerus Bacon” (he was heaping names together as he saw Hannekin’s +big gray eyes grow rounder and rounder) “all averred that the +great Diabolus can give his minions power to change themselves at will +into hares, cats, or toads to transport themselves to the Sabbath on +Walpurgs’ night?”</p> +<p>“You deem it in sooth,” said the Dutchman, “for +know you that the parish priest swears, and so do the more part of the +villein fisher folk, that there’s no sorcery in the matter, but +that she is a true and holy maid, with no powers save what the Saints +had given her, and that her cures were by skill. Yet such was +scarce like to a mere Jungvrow.”</p> +<p>It went sorely against Master Lambert’s feelings, as well as +somewhat against his conscience, to encourage the notion of the death +of his guest as a hare, though it ensured her safety and prevented a +search. He replied that her skill certainly was uncommon in a +Jungvrow, beyond nature, no doubt, and if they were unholy, it was well +that the arblaster had made a riddance of her.</p> +<p>“By the same token,” added Hannekin, “the elf lock +came out of my hair this very morn, I having, as you bade me, combed +it each morn with the horse’s currycomb.”</p> +<p>Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to believe. +And the next day all Sunderland and the two Wearmouths believed that +the dead hare had shrieked in a human voice on being thrown on a fire, +and had actually shown the hands and feet of a woman before it was consumed.</p> +<p>It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not recognised, +and of this there was little danger. She was scarcely known in +Wearmouth, and could go to mass at the Abbey Church in a deep black +hood and veil. Master Lambert sometimes received pilgrims from +his own country on their way to English shrines, and she could easily +pass for one of these if her presence were perceived, but except to +mass in very early morning, she never went beyond the garden, where +the spring beauty was enjoyment to her in the midst of her loneliness +and entire doubt as to her future.</p> +<p>It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, reminding +her of the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty though undecorated +square tower, entered by an archway adorned with curious twisted snakes +with long beaks, stretching over and under one another.</p> +<p>The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small windows, +casting a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense of being in +the atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton Abbey. She longed +after Sister Avice’s wisdom and tenderness, and wondered whether +her lands would purchase from her knight, power to return thither with +dower enough to satisfy the demands of the Proctor. It was a hope +that seemed like an inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one was +faithful save Cuthbert Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart above all +by Thora’s defection and cruel accusations, not knowing that half +was owning to the intoxication of love, and the other half to a gossiping +tongue.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX - A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Witness Aire’s unhappy water<br /> Where the +ruthless Clifford fell,<br />And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter<br /> On +the day of Towton’s field.<br />Gathering in its guilty flood<br />The +carnage and the ill spilt blood<br /> That forty thousand +lives could yield.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte.</i></p> +<p>Grisell from the first took her part in the Apothecary’s household. +Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace with +Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days at Wilton; +and still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the house in making +his compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and imparting others to +him, showing a delicacy of finger which the old Fleming could not emulate. +In the fabrication of perfumes for the pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared +with honey and sugar, she proved to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, +who would not touch her jewels, declared that she was fully earning +her maintenance by the assistance that she gave to him.</p> +<p>They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war of battles, +not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than were wont to +reach Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward to London; +and the terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out while the snow +fell far from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choir boys had +been singing their <i>Gloria</i>, <i>laus et honor</i> in the gallery +over the church door, shivering a little at the untimely blast, there +had been grim and awful work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Aire +the snow lay mixed with blood. That the Yorkists had gained was +known, and that the Queen and Prince had fled; but nothing was heard +of the fate of individuals, and Master Lambert was much occupied with +tidings from Bruges, whence information came, in a messenger sent by +a notary that his uncle, an old miser, whose harsh displeasure at his +marriage had driven him forth, was just dead, leaving him heir to a +fairly prosperous business and a house in the city.</p> +<p>To return thither was of course Lambert’s intention as soon +as he could dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell +to accompany him and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of +so great a prince as Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a better +hope of hearing tidings of her husband than in a remote town like Sunderland; +and that if she still wished to dispose of her jewels she would have +a far better chance of so doing. He was arguing the point with +her, when there was a voice in the stall outside which made Grisell +start, and Lambert, going out, brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering +under the weight of his best suit of armour, and with a bundle and bag +under his mantle.</p> +<p>Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands into +his he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, “Ah! +Sir Leonard - ?”</p> +<p>“No tidings of the recreant,” growled Ridley, “but +ill tidings for both of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, +claiming your castle and lands as male heirs to your father.”</p> +<p>“Do they know that I live?” asked Grisell, “or” +- unable to control a little laugh - “do they deem that I was +slain in the shape of a hare?”</p> +<p>“Or better than that,” put in Lambert; “they have +it now in the wharves that the corpse of the hare took the shape and +hands of a woman when in the hall.”</p> +<p>“I ken not, the long-tongued rogues,” said Ridley; “but +if my young lady were standing living and life-like before them as, +thank St. Hilda, I see her now, they would claim it all the more as +male heirs, and this new King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, +being that she is the wife of one of King Henry’s men!”</p> +<p>“Are they there? How did you escape?”</p> +<p>“I got timely notice,” said Cuthbert. “Twenty +strong halted over the night at Yeoman Kester’s farm on Heather +Gill - a fellow that would do anything for me since we fought side by +side on the day of the Herrings. So he sends out his two grandsons +to tell me what they were after, while they were drinking his good ale +to health of their King Edward. So forewarned, forearmed. +We have left them empty walls, get in as they can or may - unless that +traitor Tordu chooses to stay and make terms with them.”</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!” +asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better +sort, went off long since to join their knight’s banner, and the +Saints know how the poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they +have had. For my part, I felt not bound to hold out the castle +against my old lord’s side, when there was no saving it for you, +so I put what belonged to me together, and took poor old Roan, and my +young lady’s pony, and made my way hither, no one letting me. +I doubt me much, lady, that there is little hope of winning back your +lands, whatever side may be uppermost, yet there be true hearts among +our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any save their lord’s +daughter.”</p> +<p>“Then I am landless and homeless,” sighed Grisell.</p> +<p>“The greater cause that you should make your home with us, +lady,” returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley +the state of the case, and his own plans. House and business, +possibly a seat in the city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, +and the vessel from Ostend which had continually brought him supplies +for his traffic was daily expected. He intended, so soon as she +had made up her cargo of wool, to return in her to his native country, +and he was urgent that the Lady Grisell should go with him, representing +that all the changes of fortune in the convulsed kingdom of England +were sure to be quickly known there, and that she was as near the centre +of action in Flanders as in Durham, besides that she would be out of +reach of any enemies who might disbelieve the hare transformation.</p> +<p>After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to the +proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust and +love, and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she had +profitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels. +Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues on +the herring-boats and the wool.</p> +<p>“Will not you come with the lady, sir?” asked Lambert.</p> +<p>“Oh, come!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar’s +shop,” said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the +rugged old gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell +were both about to speak he went on, “I can serve her better elsewhere. +I am going first to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen +it these forty year, and whether my brother or my nephew make me welcome +or no, I shall have seen the old moors and mosses. Then methought +I would come hither, or to some of the towns about, and see how it fares +with the old Tower and the folk; and if they be as good as their word, +and keep their dues for my lady, I could gather them, and take or bring +them to her, with any other matter which might concern her nearly.”</p> +<p>This was thoroughly approved by Grisell’s little council, and +Lambert undertook to make known to the good esquire the best means of +communication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments, +since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch and +Flemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible.</p> +<p>Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, +had come up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foul +practices. He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had come +after her, had threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mob +of fishermen, and finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who married +them willy-nilly. He was the runaway son of a currier in York, +and had taken her <i>en croupe</i>, and ridden off to his parents at +the sign of the Hart, to bespeak their favour.</p> +<p>Grisell grieved deeply over Thora’s ingratitude to her, and +the two elder men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and +hoped that Thora would sup sorrow.</p> +<p>Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and before +he set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bag containing +a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostly French. They +were, he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry the Fifth and the +two Lord Salisburys, which he had never had occasion to spend, and he +desired that they might be laid out on the Lady Grisell in case of need, +leaving her to think they were the dues from her faithful tenantry. +To the Hausvrow Clemence it was a great grief to leave the peaceful +home of her married life, and go among kindred who had shown their scorn +in neglect and cold looks; but she kept a cheerful face for her husband, +and only shed tears over the budding roses and other plants she had +to leave; and she made her guest understand how great a comfort and +solace was her company.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI - THE WOUNDED KNIGHT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Belted Will Howard is marching here,<br />And hot Lord Dacre with +many a spear</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel.</i></p> +<p>“Master Groot, a word with you.” A lay brother +in the coarse, dark robe of St. Benedict was standing in the booth of +the Green Serpent.</p> +<p>Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, and touched +his brow in recognition.</p> +<p>“Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an arquebuss, +the like of which our poor peaceful house never looked to harbour?”</p> +<p>“For whom is it needed, good brother?”</p> +<p>“Best not ask,” said Brother Christopher, who was, however, +an inveterate gossip, and went on in reply to Lambert’s question +as to the place of the wound. “In the shoulder is the worst, +the bullet wound where the Brother Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. +St. Bede! How the poor knight howled, though he tried to stop +it, and brought it down to moaning. His leg is broken beside, +but we could deal with that. His horse went down with him, you +see, when he was overtaken and shot down by the Gilsland folk.”</p> +<p>“The Gilsland folk!”</p> +<p>“Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see after +his own, or his wife’s, since all the Whitburn sons are at an +end, and the Tower gone to the spindle side. They say, too, that +the damsel he wedded perforce was given to magic, and fled in form of +a hare. But be that as it will, young Copeland - St. Bede, pardon +me! What have I let out?”</p> +<p>“Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over the +town. How of Copeland?”</p> +<p>“As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, when the +Dacres - Will and Harry - fell on him, and left him for dead; but by +the Saints’ good providence, his squire and groom put him on a +horse, and brought him to our Abbey at night, knowing that he is kin +to our Sub-Prior. And there he lies, whether for life or death +only Heaven knows, but for death it will be if only King Edward gets +a scent of him; so hold your peace, Master Groats, as to who it be, +as you live, or as you would not have his blood on you.”</p> +<p>Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions as to +the application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took his leave, +reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard’s life depended on his +secrecy.</p> +<p>Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the inner room. +Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and the little shutter of the +wooden partition was open. Thus Lambert found Grisell standing +with clasped hands, and a face of intense attention and suspense.</p> +<p>“You have heard, lady,” he said.</p> +<p>“Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!” she cried.</p> +<p>“The Saints grant him recovery.”</p> +<p>“Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be free +from such a yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a Yorkist house, +might win back your lands, above all, since, as you once told me, you +were a playmate of the King’s sister.”</p> +<p>“Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! treacherously +wounded, and lying moaning. That gruesome oil! Oh! my poor +Leonard!” and she burst into tears. “So fair, and +comely, and young, thus stricken down!”</p> +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed Lambert. “Such are women! +One would think she loved him, who flouted her!”</p> +<p>“I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore pain +and dolour, he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his true love.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity of +womankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed that +had the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, ever at her +feet, the lady could not have been so sore troubled.</p> +<p>The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request from +the Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that “Master Groats” would +come to the monastery, and give them the benefit of his advice on the +wounds and the fever which was setting in, since gun-shot wounds were +beyond the scope of the monastic surgery.</p> +<p>To refuse would not have been possible, even without the earnest +entreaty of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical instinct which +no training can supply, went on his way with the lay brother.</p> +<p>He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request that +had been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed sick nigh +unto death, grievously hurt, and distraught by the fever, or it might +be by the blow on his head in the fall with his horse, which seemed +to have kicked him; but there was no reason that with good guidance +and rest he should not recover. But, on the other hand, King Edward +was known to be on his progress to Durham, and he was understood to +be especially virulent against Sir Leonard Copeland, under the impression +that the young knight had assisted in Clifford’s slaughter of +his brother Edmund of Rutland. It was true that a monastery was +a sanctuary, but if all that was reported of Edward Plantagenet were +true, he might, if he tracked Copeland to the Abbey, insist on his being +yielded up, or might make Abbot and monks suffer severely for the protection +given to his enemy; and there was much fear that the Dacres might be +on the scent. The Abbot and Father Copeland were anxious to be +able to answer that Sir Leonard was not within their precincts, and, +having heard that Master Groats was about to sail for Flanders, the +Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his nephew might thus be conveyed to +the Low Countries, where the fugitives of each party in turn found a +refuge. Father Copeland promised to be at charges, and, in truth, +the scheme was the best hope for Leonard’s chances of life. +Master Groot had hesitated, seeing various difficulties in the way of +such a charge, and being by no means disposed towards Lady Grisell’s +unwilling husband, as such, though in a professional capacity he was +interested in his treatment of his patient, and was likewise touched +by the good mien of the fine, handsome, straight-limbed young man, who +was lying unconscious on his pallet in a narrow cell.</p> +<p>He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he had consulted +his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was needful; and there was +of course another, whom he did not mention.</p> +<p>As he told all the colour rose in Grisell’s face, rosy on one +side, purple, alas, on the other. “O master, good master, +you will, you will!”</p> +<p>“Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should have held +that the kindness to you would be to rid you of him.”</p> +<p>“No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know too well +what I think! Is not this my best hope of making him know me, +and becoming his true and - and - ”</p> +<p>A sob cut her short, but she cried, “I will be at all the pains +and all the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master Lambert, good +Master Groot.”</p> +<p>“Ah, would I knew what is well for her!” said Lambert, +turning to his wife, and making rapid signs with face and fingers in +their mutual language, but Grisell burst in -</p> +<p>“Good for her,” cried she. “Can it be good +for a wife to leave her husband to be slain by the cruel men of York +and Warwick, him who strove to save the young Lord Edmund? Master, +you will suffer no such foul wrong. O master, if you did, I would +stay behind, in some poor hovel on the shore, where none would track +him, and tend him there. I will! I vow it to St. Mary.”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange passion. +You could not be more moved if he were the tenderest spouse who ever +breathed.”</p> +<p>“But you will have pity, sir. You will aid us. +You will save us. Give him the chance for life.”</p> +<p>“What say you, housewife?” said Groot, turning to the +silent Clemence, whom his signs and their looks had made to perceive +the point at issue. Her reply was to seize Grisell’s two +hands, kiss them fervently, clasp both together, and utter in her deaf +voice two Flemish words, “<i>Goot Vrow</i>.” Grisell +eagerly embraced her in tears.</p> +<p>“We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He may +not choose to meddle with English outlaws.”</p> +<p>“If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not take +me,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>There was no more to be said except something about the waywardness +of the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot was not ill-pleased +at the bottom that both the females of the household took part against +him, and they had a merry supper that night, amid the chests in which +their domestic apparatus and stock-in-trade were packed, with the dried +lizard, who passed for a crocodile, sitting on the settle as if he were +one of the company. Grisell’s spirits rose with an undefined +hope that, like Sir Gawaine’s bride, or her own namesake, Griselda +the patient, she should at last win her lord’s love; and, deprived +as she was of all her own relatives, there arose strongly within her +the affection that ten long years ago had made her haunt the footsteps +of the boy at Amesbury Manor.</p> +<p>Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in his +family. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard at her +<i>démenagement</i>, and only with scruples accepted the assistance +of her guest, who was glad to work away her anxiety in the folding of +curtains and stuffing of mails.</p> +<p>At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards many +times between the <i>Vrow Gudule</i> and the Abbey, for Skipper Vrowst +drove a hard bargain, and made the most of the inconvenience and danger +of getting into ill odour with the authorities; and, however anxious +Father Copeland might be to save his nephew, Abbot and bursar demurred +at gratifying extortion, above all when the King might at any time be +squeezing them for contributions hard to come by.</p> +<p>However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in to the +Abbey steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing of the home +grange, and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the wounded knight +should be brought on board the <i>Vrow Gudule</i>, where Groot and the +women would await him, their freight being already embarked, and all +ready to weigh anchor.</p> +<p>The chief danger was in a King’s officer coming on board to +weigh the fleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But Sunderland +either had no King, or had two just at that time, and Father Copeland +handed Master Groot a sum which might bribe one or both; while it was +to the interest of the captain to make off without being overhauled +by either.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII - THE CITY OF BRIDGES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,<br />There in the naked hall, +propping his head,<br />And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.<br />And +at the last he waken’d from his swoon.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Enid.</i></p> +<p>The transit was happily effected, and closely hidden in wool, Leonard +Copeland was lifted out the boat, more than half unconscious, and afterwards +transferred to the vessel, and placed in wrappings as softly and securely +as Grisell and Clemence could arrange before King Edward’s men +came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happily did not concern +themselves about the sick man.</p> +<p>He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, for though +he suffered, he would not retain the recollection of his suffering, +and the voyage was very miserable to every one, though the weather was +far from unfavourable, as the captain declared. Grisell indeed +was so entirely taken up with ministering to her knight that she seemed +impervious to sickness or discomfort. It was a great relief to +enter on the smooth waters of the great canal from Ostend, and Lambert +stood on the deck recognising old landmarks, and pointing them out with +the joy of homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps felt less delight, since +the joys of her life had only begun when she turned her back on her +unkind kinsfolk.</p> +<p>Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to Grisell +the beauteous belfry, rising on high above the many-peaked gables, though +she did smile when a long-billed, long-legged stork flapped his wings +overhead, and her husband signed that it was in greeting. The +greeting that delighted him she could not hear, the sweet chimes from +that same tower, which floated down the stream, when he doffed his cap, +crossed himself, and clasped his hands in devout thanksgiving.</p> +<p>It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kinds thronged +together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tall painted ships +of Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the stoutly-built Netherlanders +and the English traders. Shouts in all languages were heard, and +Grisell looked round in wonder and bewilderment as to how the helpless +and precious charge on the deck was ever to be safely landed.</p> +<p>Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the occasion. +He secured some of the men who came round the vessel in barges clamouring +for employment, and - Grisell scarce knew how - Leonard on his bed was +lifted down, and laid in the bottom of the barge. The big bundles +and cases were committed to the care of another barge, to follow close +after theirs, and on they went under, one after another, the numerous +high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, while tall sharp-gabled +houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green gardens, bounded the margins, +with a narrow foot-way between. The houses had often pavement +leading by stone steps to the river, and stone steps up to the door, +which was under the deep projecting eaves running along the front of +the house - a stoop, as the Low Countries called it. At one of +these - not one of the largest or handsomest, but far superior to the +old home at Sunderland - hung the large handsome painted and gilded +sign of the same serpent which Grisell had learnt to know so well, and +here the barge hove to, while two servants, the man in a brown belted +jerkin, the old woman in a narrow, tight, white hood, came out on the +steps with outstretched hands.</p> +<p>“Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! Greet +thee well. Thanks to our Lady that I have lived to see this day,” +was the old woman’s cry.</p> +<p>“Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet thee, trusty +Anton. You had my message? Have you a bed and chamber ready +for this gentleman?”</p> +<p>Such was Lambert’s hasty though still cordial greeting, as +he gave his hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old nurse, who +was mother to Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb show shared the +welcome, and directed as Leonard was carried up an outside stone stair +to a guest-chamber, and deposited in a stately bed with fresh, cool, +lace-bordered, lavender-scented sheets, and Grisell put between his +lips a spoonful of the cordial with which Lambert had supplied her.</p> +<p>More distinctly than before he murmured, “Thanks, sweet Eleanor.”</p> +<p>The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made him +feverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks to Eleanor +for tending her “wounded knight,” little knowing whom he +wounded by his thanks.</p> +<p>On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at Lambert, +and when he used her title of “Lady,” in begging her to +leave old Mother Abra in charge and to come down to supper, she made +a gesture of silence, and as she came down the broad stair - a refinement +scarce known in England - she entreated him to let her be Grisell still.</p> +<p>“Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his name,” +she said.</p> +<p>“Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by right.”</p> +<p>“By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known as +mine own self without cumbering him with my claims. No, let me +alone to be Grisell as ever before, an English orphan, bower-woman to +Vrow Clemence if she will have me.”</p> +<p>Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it was +agreed that she should remain as one of the many orphans made by the +civil war in England, without precise definition of her rank, and be +only called by her Christian name. She was astonished at the status +of Master Groot, the size and furniture of the house, and the servants +who awaited him; all so unlike his little English establishment, for +the refinements and even luxuries were not only far beyond those of +Whitburn, but almost beyond all that she had seen even in the households +of the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. He had indeed been bred +to all this, for the burghers of Bruges were some of the most prosperous +of all the rich citizens of Flanders in the golden days of the Dukes +of Burgundy; and he had left it all for the sake of his Clemence, but +without forfeiting his place in his Guild, or his right to his inheritance.</p> +<p>He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with the great +merchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not unprosperous trade +in spices, drugs, condiments and other delicacies.</p> +<p>He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard Copeland, +but there was no great difference in the young man’s condition +for many days. Grisell nursed him indefatigably, sitting by him +so as to hear the sweet bells chime again and again, and the storks +clatter on the roofs at sunrise.</p> +<p>Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held drink +to his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and more and more +did the sense sink down upon her like lead that she must give him up +to Eleanor.</p> +<p>Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the pillow +her love went out to him. It might have done so even had he been +disfigured like herself; but his was a beautiful countenance of noble +outlines, and she felt a certain pride in it as hers, while she longed +to see it light up with reason, and glow once more with health. +Then she thought she could rejoice, even if there were no look of love +for her.</p> +<p>The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out of +them, and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for comfort +and relief. He thanked her courteously, so that she felt a thrill +of pleasure every time. He even learnt her name of Grisell, and +once he asked whether she were not English, to which she replied simply +that she was, and on a further question she said that she had been at +Sunderland with Master Groot, and that she had lost her home in the +course of the wars.</p> +<p>There for some time it rested - rested at least with the knight. +But with the lady there was far from rest, for every hour she was watching +for some favourable token which might draw them nearer, and give opportunity +for making herself known. Nearer they certainly drew, for he often +smiled at her. He liked her to wait on him, and to beguile the +weariness of his recovery by singing to him, telling some of her store +of tales, or reading to him, for books were more plentiful at Bruges +than at Sunderland, and there were even whispers of a wonderful mode +of multiplying them far more quickly than by the scrivener’s hand.</p> +<p>How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or heard +his voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly see, just +as he would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have heard him, and +he evidently thought her likewise of burgher quality, and much of the +same age as the Vrow Groot. Indeed, the long toil and wear of +the past months had made her thin and haggard, and the traces of her +disaster were all the more apparent, so that no one would have guessed +her years to be eighteen.</p> +<p>She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on a +chain, within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But many +a night, ere she lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed it, as +she asked herself whether her knight would ever bid her wear it. +Until he did so her finger should never again be encircled by it.</p> +<p>Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and the +garden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had left +at Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of +this one as Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller +means. Here was a fountain trellised over by a framework rich +in roses and our lady’s bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, +pansies, lavender, and the new snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, +and a little bush shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose +grown in King Réne’s garden of Provence.</p> +<p>These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds of useful +vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots had long been +in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimenting on. +Much did Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiar plants he +had often needed and could not procure in England, and for some of which +he had a real individual love. The big improved distillery and +all the jars and bottles of his youth were a joy to him, almost as much +as the old friends who accepted him again after a long “wander +year.”</p> +<p>Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she could +not share, and while most of the burghers’ wives spent the summer +evening sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop, conversing +with their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff or needle among +the roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguiling Grisell to come +and take the air in company with her, for they understood one another’s +mute language; and when Lambert Groot was with his old friends they +sufficed for one another - so far as Grisell’s anxious heart could +find solace, and perhaps in none so much as the gentle matron who could +caress but could not talk.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII - THE CANKERED OAK GALL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>That Walter was no fool, though that him list<br />To change his +wif, for it was for the best;<br />For she is fairer, so they demen +all,<br />Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>The Clerke’s Tale.</i></p> +<p>It was on an early autumn evening when the belfry stood out beautiful +against the sunset sky, and the storks with their young fledglings were +wheeling homewards to their nest on the roof, that Leonard was lying +on the deep oriel window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell sat opposite +to him with a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after the pattern of Wilton +for a Church vestment.</p> +<p>“The storks fly home,” he said. “I marvel +whether we have still a home in England, or ever shall have one!”</p> +<p>“I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to the +Queen and her son,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with this +old Duke who sheltered him so long. Still, when he is firm fixed +on his throne he may yet bring home our brave young Prince and set the +blessed King on his throne once more.”</p> +<p>“Ah! You love the King.”</p> +<p>“I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my sword +in a holy cause when I fight for him,” said Leonard, raising himself +with glittering eyes.</p> +<p>“And the Queen?”</p> +<p>“Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who makes +swords fly out of their scabbards by her brave stirring words and her +noble mien. Her bright eyes and undaunted courage fire each man’s +heart in her cause till there is nothing he would not do or dare, ay, +or give up for her, and those she loves better than herself, her husband, +and her son.”</p> +<p>“You have done so,” faltered Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore any +other name. You mind me of the bane and grief of my life.”</p> +<p>“Verily?” uttered Grisell with some difficulty.</p> +<p>“Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains +were astray, uttered any name?”</p> +<p>“By times, even so!” she confessed.</p> +<p>“I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! +I have never told you of the deed that marred my life.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” she said, letting her bobbins fall though she +drooped her head, not daring to look him in the face.</p> +<p>“I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of Salisbury’s +house. A good man was he, but the jealousies and hatreds of the +nobles had begun long ago, and the good King hoped, as he ever hoped, +to compose them. So he brought about a compact between my father +and the Dacre of Whitburn for a marriage between their children, and +caused us both to be bred up in the Lady of Salisbury’s household, +meaning, I trow, that we should enter into solemn contract when we were +of less tender age; but there never was betrothal; and before any fit +time for it had come, I had the mishap to have the maid close to me +- she was ever besetting and running after me - when by some prank, +unhappily of mine, a barrel of gunpowder blew up and wellnigh tore her +to pieces. My father came, and her mother, an unnurtured, uncouth +woman, who would have forced me to wed her on the spot, but my father +would not hear of it, more especially as there were then two male heirs, +so that I should not have gained her grim old Tower and bare moorlands. +All held that I was not bound to her; the Queen herself owned it, and +that whatever the damsel might be, the mother was a mere northern she-bear, +whose child none would wish to wed, and of the White Rose besides. +So the King had me to his school at Eton, and then I was a squire of +my Lord of Somerset, and there I saw my fairest Eleanor Audley. +The Queen and the Duke of Somerset - rest his soul - would have had +us wedded. On the love day, when all walked together to St. Paul’s, +and the King hoped all was peace, we spoke our vows to one another in +the garden of Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gave her the +jewel of my cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like our limpid northern +brooks. Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star in the sunset, +but her father, the Lord Audley, was absent, and we could go no farther; +and therewith came the Queen’s summons to her liegemen to come +and arrest Salisbury at Bloreheath. There never was rest again, +as you know. My father was slain at Northampton, I yielded me +to young Falconberg; but I found the Yorkists had set headsmen to work +as though we had been traitors, and I was begging for a priest to hear +my shrift, when who should come into the foul, wretched barn where we +lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of Whitburn. He had craved +me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained my life on what condition +he did not tell me, but he bound my feet beneath my horse, and thus +bore me out of the camp for all the first day. Then, I own he +let me ride as became a knight, on my word of honour not to escape; +but much did I marvel whether it were revenge or ransom that he wanted; +and as to ransom, all our gold had all been riding on horseback with +my poor father. What he had devised I knew not nor guessed till +late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, where I looked for +a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choice that the +old robber - ”</p> +<p>Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of indignation.</p> +<p>“Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better of +him. But any way the choice he left me was the halter that dangled +from the roof and his grisly daughter!”</p> +<p>“Did you see her?” Grisell contrived to ask.</p> +<p>“I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was enow. +They say she has a face like a cankered oak gall or a rotten apple lying +cracked on the ground among the wasps. Mayhap though you have +seen her.”</p> +<p>Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, “Never since +she was a child,” for no mirror had come in her way since she +was at Warwick House. She was upborne by the thought that it would +be a relief to him not to see anything like a rotten apple. He +went on -</p> +<p>“My first answer and first thought was rather death - and of +my word to my Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to see me here now. +I felt as though nothing would make me a recreant to her. Her +sweet smile and shining eyes rose up before me, and half the night I +dreamt of them, and knew that I would rather die than be given to another +and be false to them. Ah! but you will deem me a recreant. +With the waking hours I thought of my King and Queen. My elder +brother died with Lord Shrewsbury in Gascony, and after me the next +heir is a devoted Yorkist who would turn my castle, the key of Cleveland, +against the Queen. I knew the defeat would make faithful swords +more than ever needful to her, and that it was my bounden duty, if it +were possible, to save my life, my sword, and my lands for her. +Mistress, you are a good woman. Did I act as a coward?”</p> +<p>“You offered up yourself,” said Grisell, looking up.</p> +<p>“So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I should +be free at once. We were wedded in the gloom - ere sunrise - a +thunderstorm coming up, which so darkened the church that if she had +been a peerless beauty, fair as Cressid herself, I could not have seen +her, and even had she been beauty itself, nought can to me be such as +my Eleanor. So I was free to gallop off through the storm for +Wearmouth when the rite was over, and none pursued me, for old Whitburn +was a man of his word. Mine uncle held the marriage as nought, +but next I made for the Queen at Durham, and, if aught could comfort +my spirit, it was her thanks, and assurances that it would cost nothing +but the dispensation of the Pope to set me free. So said Dr. Morton, +her chaplain, one of the most learned men in England. I told him +all, and he declared that no wedlock was valid without the heartfelt +consent of each party.”</p> +<p>“Said he so?” Poor Grisell could not repress the inquiry.</p> +<p>“Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between me +and Lord Audley’s daughter, yet that the vows we had of our own +free will exchanged would be quite enough to annul my forced marriage.”</p> +<p>“You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had defaced +that countenance. I thought of that! I would have endowed +her with all I had if she would set me free. I trusted yet so +to do, when, for my misfortune as well as hers, the day of Wakefield +cut off her father and brother, and a groom was taken who was on his +way to Sendal with tidings of the other brother’s death. +Then, what do the Queen and Sir Pierre de Brezé but command me +to ride off instantly to claim Whitburn Tower! In vain did I refuse; +in vain did I plead that if I were about to renounce the lady it were +unknightly to seize on her inheritance. They would not hear me. +They said it would serve as a door to England, and that it must be secured +for the King, or the Dacres would hold it for York. They bade +me on my allegiance, and commanded me to take it in King Henry’s +name, as though it were a mere stranger’s castle, and gave me +a crew of hired men-at-arms, as I verily believe to watch over what +I did. But ere I started I made a vow in Dr. Morton’s hands, +to take it only for the King, and so soon as the troubles be ended to +restore it to the lady, when our marriage is dissolved. As it +fell out, I never saw the lady. Her mother lay a-dying, and there +was no summoning her. I bade them show her all due honour, hoisted +my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, and thence to mine own +lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way to London. As you +well know, all was over with our cause at Towton Moor; and it was on +my way northward after the deadly fight that half a dozen of the men-at-arms +brought me tidings, not only that the Gilsland Dacres had, as had been +feared, claimed the castle, but that this same so-called lady of mine +had been shown to deal in sorcery and magic. They sent for a wise +man from Shields, but she found by her arts what they were doing, fled, +and was slain by an arquebuss in the form of a hare!</p> +<p>“Do you believe it was herself in sooth?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, hath +little faith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change into hares. +All have known them.”</p> +<p>“She was scarce old,” Grisell trusted herself to say.</p> +<p>“That skills not. They said she made strange cures by +no rules of art. Ay, and said her prayers backward, and had unknown +books.”</p> +<p>“Did your squire tell this, or was it only the men?”</p> +<p>“My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He was +made captive by a White Rose party, so far as I could hear, and St. +Peter knows where he may be. But look you, the lady, for all her +foul looks, had cast her spell over him, and held him as bound and entranced +as by a true love, so that he was ready to defend her beauty - her beauty! +look you! - against all the world in the lists. He was neither +to have nor to hold if any man durst utter a word against her! +And it was the same with her tirewoman and her own old squire.”</p> +<p>“Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the arquebusier +rid you of your witch wife?” There was a little bitterness, +even scorn, in the tone.</p> +<p>“I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too well +to credit all they say, and I was on my way to inquire into the matter +and learn the truth when these same Dacres fell on me; and that I lie +here is due to you and good Master Lambert. Many a woman whose +face is ill favoured has learnt to keep up her power by unhallowed arts, +and if it be so with her whom in my boyish prank I have marred, Heaven +forgive her and me. If I can ever return I shall strive to trace +her life or death, without which mayhap I could scarce win my true bride.”</p> +<p>Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her hopes. She +crept away murmuring something about the vesper bell at the convent +chapel near, for it was there that she could best kneel, while thoughts +and strength and resolution came to her.</p> +<p>The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, +or rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag, +mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that his +love to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever.</p> +<p>Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then +what would become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted +as that of a nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on the +means supplied by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had +soon been exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting +from Ridley’s bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her +as the fishermen’s dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement +this, or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in +his concoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which was of a device +learnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. There was something +strangely delightful to her in thus supporting Leonard even though he +knew it not, and she determined to persist in her present course till +there was some change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor’s marriage +to some one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple face. +She must find a glass, or even a pail of water, and judge! Or +the Lancastrian fortunes might revive, he might go home in triumph, +and then would she give him her ring and her renunciation, and either +earn enough to obtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted for +the sake of her handiwork!</p> +<p>Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew upon +her as Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To reveal herself +would only be misery to him, and in his present state of mind would +deprive him of all he needed, since he would never be base enough to +let her toil for him and then cast her off.</p> +<p>She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for counsel, that +at night, over the fire in the stove, she told what Leonard had said, +to which her host listened with the fatherly sympathy that had grown +up towards her. He was quite determined against her making herself +known. The accusation of sorcery really alarmed him. He +said that to be known as the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched +the young squire and many more might bring both her and himself into +imminent danger; and there were Lancastrian exiles who might take up +the report. Her only safety was in being known, to the few who +did meet her, as the convent-bred maiden whose home had been destroyed, +and who was content to gain a livelihood as the assistant whom his wife’s +infirmity made needful. As to Sir Leonard, the knight’s +own grace and gratitude had endeared him, as well as the professional +pleasure of curing him, and for the lady’s sake he should still +be made welcome.</p> +<p>So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell’s story except +Master Lambert and her Father Confessor, and whether he really knew +it, through the medium of her imperfect French, might be doubted. +Even Clemence, though of course aware of her identity, did not know +all the details, since no one who could communicate with her had thought +it well to distress her with the witchcraft story.</p> +<p>Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, though sometimes +there would be admitted to walk in the garden and converse with Master +Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his counsel on giving permanence +and clearness to the ink he was using in that new art of printing which +he was trying to perfect, but which there were some who averred to be +a work of the Evil One, imparted to the magician Dr. Faustus.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV - GRISELL’S PATIENCE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When silent were both voice and chords,<br /> The +strain seemed doubly dear,<br />Yet sad as sweet, - for English words<br /> Had +fallen upon the ear.</p> +<p>WORDSWORTH, <i>Incident at Bruges.</i></p> +<p>Meanwhile Leonard was recovering and vexing himself as to his future +course, inclining chiefly to making his way back to Wearmouth to ascertain +how matters were going in England.</p> +<p>One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, while Grisell +sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, attracted by the English +words and voice, was turned up to him. He exclaimed, “By +St. Mary, Philip Scrope,” and starting up, began to feel for the +stick which he still needed.</p> +<p>A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer shop inquiring +in halting French, “Did I see the face of the Beau Sire Leonard +Copeland?”</p> +<p>By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a tall +perfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the Burgundian +Cross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and handsome sword belt, +had advanced, and the two embraced as old friends did embrace in the +middle ages, especially when each had believed the other dead.</p> +<p>“I deemed thee dead at Towton!”</p> +<p>“Methought you were slain in the north! You have not +come off scot-free.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows took +me to my uncle at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the good folk +here, and cares for my maintenance. How didst thou ’scape?”</p> +<p>“Half a dozen of us - Will Percy and a few more - made off +from the woful field under cover of night, and got to the sea-shore, +to a village - I know not the name - and laid hands on a fisher’s +smack, which Jock of Hull was seaman enough to steer with the aid of +the lad on board, as far as Friesland, and thence we made our way as +best we could to Utrecht, where we had the luck to fall in with one +of the Duke’s captains, who was glad enough to meet with a few +stout fellows to make up his company of men-at-arms.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. How +art thou so well attired, Phil?”</p> +<p>“We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the King +of France’s sacring at Rheims. I promise thee the jewels +and gold blazed as we never saw the like - and as to the rascaille Scots +archers, every one of them was arrayed so as the sight was enough to +drive an honest Borderer crazy. Half their own kingdom’s +worth was on their beggarly backs. But do what they might, our +Duke surpassed them all with his largesses and splendour.”</p> +<p>“Your Duke!” grumbled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord is he. +Better be under him than under the shrivelled skinflint of France, who +wore his fine robes as though they galled him. Come and take service +here when thou art whole of thine hurt, Leonard.”</p> +<p>“I thought thy Duke was disinclined to Lancaster.”</p> +<p>“He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the Saints +guard, but he likes English hearts and thews in his pay well enough.”</p> +<p>“Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck.”</p> +<p>“Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter and +my Lord of Oxford have put their honours in their pouch and are serving +him. Thy lame leg is a worse hindrance than the gold spur on it, +but I trow that will pass.”</p> +<p>The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and homes, +and the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed in this, and +in many subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon as Leonard should +have shaken off his lameness he should begin service under one of the +Duke’s captains. A man-at-arms in the splendid suite of +the Burgundian Dukes was generally of good birth, and was attended by +two grooms and a page when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, +and his accoutrements and arms were required to be such as to do honour +to his employer. It was the refuge sooner or later of many a Lancastrian, +and Leonard, who doubted of the regularity of his uncle’s supplies, +decided that he could do no better for himself while waiting for better +times for his Queen, though Master Lambert told him that he need not +distress himself, there were ample means for him still.</p> +<p>Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad pleasure +in working for him, and she was absolutely proud of him when he stood +before her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of health on his cheek +and a light in his eye, his length of limb arrayed in his own armour, +furbished and mended, his bright helmet alone new and of her own providing +(out of her mother’s pearl necklace), his surcoat and silken scarf +all her own embroidering. As he truly said, he made a much finer +appearance than he had done on the morn of his melancholy knighthood, +in the poverty-stricken army of King Henry at Northampton.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” he said, with a courteous bow, “to his +good friends and hosts, who had a wonderful power over the purse.” +He added special thanks to “Mistress Grisell for her deft stitchery,” +and she responded with downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her +heart throbbed high.</p> +<p>Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to take +leave of his host, and announced that he had been sent off with his +friend to garrison Neufchâtel, where the castle, being a border +one, was always carefully watched over.</p> +<p>His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it prevented +his knowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen Margaret and her son +at Sluys, with only seven attendants, denuded of almost everything, +having lost her last castles, and sometimes having had to exist on a +single herring a day.</p> +<p>Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet if he +had known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, and before +they ever reached Neufchâtel the Duke had bestowed on her wherewithal +to continue her journey to her father’s Court at Bar.</p> +<p>However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the Queen’s +journey to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had been again lost at +Hedgeley Moor and Hexham. He was so good and efficient a man-at-arms +that he rose in promotion, and attracted the notice of the Count of +Charolais, the eldest son of the Duke, who made him one of his own bodyguard. +His time was chiefly spent in escorting the Count from one castle or +city to another, but whenever Charles the Bold was at Bruges, Leonard +came to the sign of the Green Serpent not only for lodging, nor only +to take up the money that Lambert had in charge for him, but as to a +home where he was sure of a welcome, and of kindly woman’s care +of his wardrobe, and where he grew more and more to look to the sympathy +and understanding of his English and Burgundian interests alike, which +he found in the maiden who sat by the hearth.</p> +<p>From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was clad in +a pilgrim’s gown and broad hat, and looked much older. He +had had free quarters at Willimoteswick, but the wild young Borderers +had not suited his old age well, except one clerkly youth, who reminded +him of little Bernard, and who, later, was the patron of his nephew, +the famous Nicolas. He had thus set out on pilgrimage, as the +best means of visiting his dear lady. The first time he came, +under his robe he carried a girdle, where was sewn up a small supply +from Father Copeland for his nephew, and another sum, very meagre, but +collected from the faithful retainers of Whitburn for their lady. +He meant to visit the Three Kings at Cologne, and then to go on to St. +Gall, and to the various nearer shrines in France, but to return again +to see Grisell; and from time to time he showed his honest face, more +and more weather-beaten, though a pilgrim was never in want; but Grisell +delighted in preparing new gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats for him.</p> +<p>Public events passed while she still lived and worked in the Apothecary’s +house at Bruges. There were wars in which Sir Leonard Copeland +had his share, not very perilous to a knight in full armour, but falling +very heavily on poor citizens. Bruges, however, was at peace and +exceedingly prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds of citizens, and wonderful +trade and wealth. The bells seemed to be always chiming from its +many beautiful steeples, and there was one convent lately founded which +began to have a special interest for Grisell.</p> +<p>It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if not actually +founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, the wife of +the Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the Good, from his +genial manners, and bounteous liberality, was a man of violent temper +and terrible severity when offended. He had a fierce quarrel with +his only son, who was equally hot tempered. The Duchess took part +with her son, and fell under such furious displeasure from her husband +that she retired into the house of Grey Sisters. She was first +cousin once removed to Henry VI. - her mother, the admirable Philippa, +having been a daughter of John of Gaunt - and she was the sister of +the noble Princes, King Edward of Portugal, Henry the great voyager, +and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and she had never been thoroughly +at home or happy in Flanders, where her husband was of a far coarser +nature than her own family; and, in her own words, after many years, +she always felt herself a stranger.</p> +<p>Some of Grisell’s lace had found its way to the convent, and +was at once recognised by her as English, such as her mother had always +prized. She wished to give the Chaplain a set of robes adorned +with lace after a pattern of her own devising, bringing in the five +crosses of Portugal, with appropriate wreaths of flowers and emblems. +Being told that the English maiden in Master Groot’s house could +devise her own patterns, she desired to see her and explain the design +in person.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV - THE OLD DUCHESS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Temples that rear their stately heads on high,<br />Canals that intersect +the fertile plain,<br />Wide streets and squares, with many a court +and hall,<br />Spacious and undefined, but ancient all.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo.</i></p> +<p>The kind couple of Groots were exceedingly solicitous about Grisell’s +appearance before the Duchess, and much concerned that she could not +be induced to wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veils +depending from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. +Her black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the external +or third Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her dress, and under +it might be seen a face, with something peculiar on one side, but still +full of sweetness and intelligence; and the years of comfort and quiet +had, in spite of anxiety, done much to obliterate the likeness to a +cankered oak gall. Lambert wanted to drench her with perfumes, +but she only submitted to have a little essence in the pouncet box given +her long ago by Lady Margaret at their parting at Amesbury. Master +Groot himself chose to conduct her on this first great occasion, and +they made their way to the old gateway, sculptured above with figures +that still remain, into the great cloistered court, with its chapel, +chapter-house, and splendid great airy hall, in which the Hospital Sisters +received their patients.</p> +<p>They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of gray, whence +they were known as Sœurs Grises, though, in fact, their dress +was white, with a black hood and mantle. The Duchess, however, +lived in a set of chambers on one side of the court, which she had built +and fitted for herself.</p> +<p>A lay sister became Grisell’s guide, and just then, coming +down from the Duchess’s apartments, with a board with a chalk +sketch in his hand, appeared a young man, whom Groot greeted as Master +Hans Memling, and who had been receiving orders, and showing designs +to the Duchess for the ornamentation of the convent, which in later +years he so splendidly carried out. With him Lambert remained.</p> +<p>There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment hung +with stamped Spanish leather, representing the history of King David, +and with a window, glazed as usual below with circles and lozenges, +but the upper part glowing with coloured glass. At the farther +end was a dais with a sort of throne, like the tester and canopy of +a four-post bed, with curtains looped up at each side. Here the +Duchess sat, surrounded by her ladies, all in the sober dress suitable +with monastic life.</p> +<p>Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when admitted. +A dark-complexioned lady came to lead her forward, and directed her +to kneel twice on her way to the Duchess. She obeyed, and in that +indescribable manner which betrayed something of her breeding, so that +after her second obeisance, the manner of the lady altered visibly from +what it had been at first as to a burgher maiden. The wealth and +luxury of the citizen world of the Low Countries caused the proud and +jealous nobility to treat them with the greater distance of manner. +And, as Grisell afterwards learnt, this was Isabel de Souza, Countess +of Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had come over with her Infanta; and +whose daughter produced <i>Les Honneurs de la Cour</i>, the most wonderful +of all descriptions of the formalities of the Court.</p> +<p>Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the Duchess +addressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she could by this +time speak herself.</p> +<p>“You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak French?”</p> +<p>“<i>Oui</i>, <i>si madame</i>, <i>son Altese le veut</i>,” +replied Grisell, for her tongue had likewise become accustomed to French +in this city of many tongues.</p> +<p>“This is English make,” said the Duchess, not with a +very good French accent either, looking at the specimens handed by her +lady. “Are you English?”</p> +<p>“So please your Highness, I am.”</p> +<p>“An exile?” the Princess added kindly.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, and +I owe shelter to the good Apothecary, Master Lambert.”</p> +<p>“Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have heard +of him;” and she then proceeded with her orders, desiring to see +the first piece Grisell should produce in the pattern she wished, which +was to be of roses in honour of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the Peninsular +Isabels reckoned as their namesake and patroness.</p> +<p>It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and much +skill; but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took her leave, +kissing the Duchess’s hand - a great favour to be granted to her +- curtseying three times, and walking backwards, after the old training +that seemed to come back to her with the atmosphere.</p> +<p>Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. “Now +you will find your way back to your proper station and rank,” +he said.</p> +<p>“It may do more than that,” said Grisell. “If +I could plead his cause.”</p> +<p>Lambert only sighed. “I would fain your way was not won +by a base, mechanical art,” he said.</p> +<p>“Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin are +unworthy of none; and as to the honour of the matter, what did Sir Leonard +tell us but that the Countess of Oxford, as now she is, was maintaining +her husband by her needle?” and Grisell ended with a sigh at thought +of the happy woman whose husband knew of, and was grateful for, her +toils.</p> +<p>The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memling himself, +who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the cushion. In +after times it might have been held a greater honour to work from his +pattern than for the Duchess, who sent to inquire after it more than +once, and finally desired that Mistress Grisell should bring her cushion +and show her progress.</p> +<p>She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and even +the small fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, who begged +to see her at work. As it could not well be done kneeling, a footstool, +covered in tapestry with the many Burgundian quarterings, was brought, +and here Grisell was seated, the Duchess bending over her, and asking +questions as her fingers flew, at first about the work, but afterwards, +“Where did you learn this art, maiden?”</p> +<p>“At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery of St. +Edith, near to Salisbury.”</p> +<p>“St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints rest, +spoke of her; but I have not heard of her in Portugal nor here. +Where did she suffer?”</p> +<p>“She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair legend.”</p> +<p>And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith and +the christening.</p> +<p>“You speak well, maiden,” said the Duchess. “It +is easy to perceive that you are convent trained. Have the wars +in England hindered your being professed?”</p> +<p>“Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian Abbess.”</p> +<p>Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all Grisell’s +early story, with the exception of her name and whose was the iron that +caused the explosion, and likewise of her marriage, and the accusation +of sorcery. That male heirs of the opposite party should have +expelled the orphan heiress was only too natural an occurrence. +Nor did Grisell conceal her home; but Whitburn was an impossible word +to Portuguese lips, and Dacre they pronounced after its crusading derivation +De Acor.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI - THE DUKE’S DEATH</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish;<br />If you contend, +a thousand lives must wither.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>King Henry VI</i>., Part III.</p> +<p>So time went on, and the rule of the House of York in England seemed +established, while the exiles had settled down in Burgundy, Grisell +to her lace pillow, Leonard to the suite of the Count de Charolais. +Indeed there was reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in the +change of dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel to bring +on another desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Rose +party were making their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the Duchess +Isabel became extremely fond of Grisell, and often summoned her to come +and work by her side, and talk to her; and thus came on the summer of +1467, when Duke Philip returned from the sack of unhappy Dinant in a +weakened state, and soon after was taken fatally ill. All the +city of Bruges watched in anxiety for tidings, for the kindly Duke was +really loved where his hand did not press. One evening during +the suspense when Master Lambert was gone out to gather tidings, there +was the step with clank of spurs which had grown familiar, and Leonard +Copeland strode in hot and dusty, greeting Vrow Clemence as usual with +a touch of the hand and inclination of the head, and Grisell with hand +and courteous voice, as he threw himself on the settle, heated and weary, +and began with tired fingers to unfasten his heavy steel cap.</p> +<p>Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of cooling +Rhine wine. “There, thanks, mistress. We have ridden +all day from Ghent, in the heat and dust, and after all the Count got +before us.”</p> +<p>“To the Duke?”</p> +<p>“Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his father’s +sickness. Say what they will of hot words and fierce passages +between them, that father and son have hearts loving one another truly.”</p> +<p>“It is well they should agree at the last,” said Grisell, +“or the Count will carry with him the sorest of memories.”</p> +<p>And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of his +speechless father in an agony of grief.</p> +<p>Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their warning +that a soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell made signs to +Clemence, while Leonard lifted himself upright, and all breathed the +same for the mighty Prince as for the poorest beggar, the intercession +for the dying. Then the solemn note became a knell, and their +prayer changed to the De Profundis, “Out of the depths.”</p> +<p>Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with the intelligence +that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with his wife and son on +either side of him, and his little granddaughter kneeling beside the +Duchess.</p> +<p>There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over Flanders +and the other domains united under the Dukedom of Burgundy, for though +Philip had often deeply erred, he had been a fair ruler, balancing discordant +interests justly, and maintaining peace, while all that was splendid +or luxurious prospered and throve under him. There was a certain +dread of the future under his successor.</p> +<p>“A better man at heart,” said Leonard, who had learnt +to love the Count de Charolais. “He loathes the vices and +revelry that have stained the Court.”</p> +<p>“That is true,” said Lambert. “Yet he is +a man of violence, and with none of the skill and dexterity with which +Duke Philip steered his course.”</p> +<p>“A plague on such skill,” muttered Leonard. “Caring +solely for his own gain, not for the right!”</p> +<p>“Yet your Count has a heavy hand,” said Lambert. +“Witness Dinant! unhappy Dinant.”</p> +<p>“The rogues insulted his mother,” said Leonard. +“He offered them terms which they would not have in their stubborn +pride! But speak not of that! I never saw the like in England. +There we strike at the great, not at the small. Ah well, with +all our wars and troubles England was the better place to live in. +Shall we ever see it more?”</p> +<p>There was something delightful to Grisell in that “we,” +but she made answer, “So far as I hear, there has been quiet there +for the last two years under King Edward.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and after all he has the right of blood,” said Leonard. +“Our King Henry is a saint, and Queen Margaret a peerless dame +of romance, but since I have come to years of understanding I have seen +that they neither had true claim of inheritance nor power to rule a +realm.”</p> +<p>“Then would you make your peace with the White Rose?”</p> +<p>“The <i>rose en soleil</i> that wrought us so much evil at +Mortimer’s Cross? Methinks I would. I never swore +allegiance to King Henry. My father was still living when last +I saw that sweet and gracious countenance which I must defend for love +and reverence’ sake.”</p> +<p>“And he knighted you,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“True,” with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how she +was aware of the fact; “but only as my father’s heir. +My poor old house and tenants! I would I knew how they fare; but +mine uncle sends me no letters, though he does supply me.”</p> +<p>“Then you do not feel bound in honour to Lancaster?” +said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when last +she called up the Scots - the Scots indeed! - to aid her. I could +not join them in a foray on England. I fear me she will move heaven +and earth again when her son is of age to bear arms; but my spirit rises +against allies among Scots or French, and I cannot think it well to +bring back bloodshed and slaughter.”</p> +<p>“I shall pray for peace,” said Grisell. All this +was happiness to her, as she felt that he was treating her with confidence. +Would she ever be nearer to him?</p> +<p>He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than he +had been at the time of his hurried marriage, and had conversed with +men of real understanding of the welfare of their country. Such +talks as these made Grisell feel that she could look up to him as most +truly her lord and guide. But how was it with the fair Eleanor, +and whither did his heart incline? An English merchant, who came +for spices, had said that the Lord Audley had changed sides, and it +was thus probable that the damsel was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist; +but there was no knowing, nor did Grisell dare to feel her way to discovering +whether Leonard knew, or felt himself still bound to constancy, outwardly +and in heart.</p> +<p>Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke Philip; +he was to be finally interred with his father and grandfather in the +grand tombs at Dijon, but for the present the body was to be placed +in the Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at night.</p> +<p>Sir Leonard rode at a foot’s pace in the troop of men-at-arms, +all in full armour, which glanced in the light of the sixteen hundred +torches which were borne before, behind, and in the midst of the procession, +which escorted the bier. Outside the coffin, arrayed in ducal +coronet and robes, with the Golden Fleece collar round the neck, lay +the exact likeness of the aged Duke, and on shields around the pall, +as well as on banners borne waving aloft, were the armorial bearings +of all his honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, lordships innumerable, +besides the banners of all the guilds carried to do him honour.</p> +<p>More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the mass, which +began in the morning hour, and in the requiem. The heralds of +all the domains broke their white staves and threw them on the bier, +proclaiming that Philip, lord of all these lands, was deceased. +Then, as in the case of royalty, Charles his son was proclaimed; and +the organ led an acclamation of jubilee from all the assembly which +filled the church, and a shout as of thunder arose, “Vivat Carolus.”</p> +<p>Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, silent, +immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the whirlwinds of passion +that had raged between him and the father whom he had loved all the +time? or was there on him the weight of a foreboding that he, though +free from the grosser faults of his father, would never win and keep +hearts in the same manner, and that a sad, tumultuous, troubled career +and piteous, untimely end lay before him?</p> +<p>His mother, Grisell’s Duchess, according to the rule of the +Court, lay in bed for six weeks - at least she was bound to lie there +whenever she was not in entire privacy. The room and bed were +hung with black, but a white covering was over her, and she was fully +dressed in the black and white weeds of royal widowhood. The light +of day was excluded, and hosts of wax candles burnt around.</p> +<p>Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately mourning, +but she heard that the good lady had spent her time in weeping and praying +for her husband, all the more earnestly that she had little cause personally +to mourn him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII - FORGET ME NOT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> And added, of her wit,<br />A border fantasy of +branch and flower,<br />And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Elaine.</i></p> +<p>The Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquette +permitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lace +hangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval. +She was in the palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved her with +devoted affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hung halls +and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, all filled +with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black dresses. +Next pages and squires, knights of the lady, and lastly ladies in black +velvet, who sat at their work, with a chaplain reading to them. +One of these, the Countess of Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at the +Grey Sisters’ convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, +and conducted her into the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, +with black hangings worked and edged, however, with white, and the window +was permitted to let in the light of day. The bed was raised on +steps in an alcove, and was splendidly draped and covered with black +embroidered with white, but the Duchess did not occupy it. A curtain +was lifted, and she came forward in her deepest robes of widowhood, +leading her little granddaughter Mary, a child of eight or nine years +old. Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of each, and the Duchess +said -</p> +<p>“Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. Have +you finished the border?”</p> +<p>“Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the corporal.”</p> +<p>The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the little +Mary, the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the dainty web was +woven, while she signed the maker to seat herself on a step of the alcove.</p> +<p>When the child’s questions and interest were exhausted, and +she began to be somewhat perilously curious about the carved weights +of the bobbins, her grandmother sent her to play with the ladies in +the ante-room, desiring Grisell to continue the work. After a +few kindly words the Duchess said, “The poor child is to have +a stepdame so soon as the year of mourning is passed. May she +be good to her! Hath the rumour thereof reached you in the city, +Maid Griselda, that my son is in treaty with your English King, though +he loves not the house of York? But princely alliances must be +looked for in marriage.”</p> +<p>“Madge!” exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, “I +should say the Lady Margaret of York.”</p> +<p>“You knew her?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in the +Lord of Salisbury’s house! There never was a maid whom I +knew or loved like her!”</p> +<p>“In the Count of Salisbury’s house,” repeated the +Duchess. “Were you there as the Lady Margaret’s fellow-pupil?” +she said, as though perceiving that her lace maker must be of higher +quality than she had supposed.</p> +<p>“It was while my father was alive, madame, and before her father +had fixed his eyes on the throne, your Highness.”</p> +<p>“And your father was, you said, the knight De - De - D’Acor.”</p> +<p>“So please you, madame,” said Grisell kneeling, “not +to mention my poor name to the lady.”</p> +<p>“We are a good way from speech of her,” said the Duchess +smiling. “Our year of doole must pass, and mayhap the treaty +will not hold in the meantime. The King of France would fain hinder +it. But if the Demoiselle loved you of old would she not give +you preferment in her train if she knew?”</p> +<p>“Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be here! +There is much that hangs on it, more than I can tell at present, without +doing harm; but I have a petition to prefer to her.”</p> +<p>“An affair of true love,” said the Duchess smiling.</p> +<p>“I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!”</p> +<p>When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in which +in spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the pure frostwork-like +web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, and moreover, combined +therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the three scallops of Dacre, and +each connected with ramifications of the forget-me-not flower shaped +like the turquoises of her pouncet box, and with the letter G to be +traced by ingenious eyes, though the uninitiated might observe nothing.</p> +<p>She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much of +a certainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till July +came round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever of preparation +to receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, carvers were desperately +at work at the Duke’s palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, +embroiderers, sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers and +jewellers had no rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering on +the canals, graceful skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out in +full detail the glories of the architecture above, the tapestry-hung +windows in the midst, the gaily-clad Vrows beneath, while the bells +rang out their merriest carillons from every steeple, whence fluttered +the banners of the guilds.</p> +<p>The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at Sluys, +and Duchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive her.</p> +<p>“Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a tirewoman +perchance?” asked the Duchess kindly.</p> +<p>Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permitted +to remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. +And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As +she freshly trimmed and broidered Leonard’s surcoat and sword-belt, +she heard one of the many gossips who delighted to recount the members +of the English suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds +and pursuivants who had to marshal the procession and order the banquet. +“Fair ladies too,” he said, “from England. There +is the Lord Audley’s daughter with her father. They say +she is the very pearl of beauties. We shall see whether our fair +dames do not surpass her.”</p> +<p>“The Lord Audley’s daughter did you say?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, +per pale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, for Heringham. +She is one of the Duchess Margaret’s dames-of-honour.”</p> +<p>To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her +self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness on the +other.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII - THE PAGEANT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When I may read of tilts in days of old,<br /> And +tourneys graced by chieftains of renown,<br />Fair dames, grave citoyens, +and warriors bold -<br /> If fancy would pourtray some +stately town,<br />Which for such pomp fit theatre would be,<br />Fair +Bruges, I shall then remember thee.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo.</i></p> +<p>Leonard Copeland was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not +give a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that there +was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. +Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, +and here the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony took +place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des Princes, leaving +to the bride all the splendour of the entrance.</p> +<p>The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. +The Grey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the +presenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with great pleasure +Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert’s lovely white +Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried by the youngest +novice, a fair white rosebud herself.</p> +<p>Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from +window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and silver +thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners +and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of +bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had +been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the final touches +began with the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. +To Grisell’s great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the +hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. “Ah! +my ladybird,” said he, “in good health as ever.”</p> +<p>“All the better for seeing you, mine old friend,” she +cried. “I thought you were far away at Compostella.”</p> +<p>“So verily I was. Here’s St. James’s cockle +to wit - Santiago as they call him there, and show the stone coffin +he steered across the sea. No small miracle that! And I’ve +crossed France, and looked at many a field of battle of the good old +times, and thought and said a prayer for the brave knights who broke +lances there. But as I was making for St. Martha’s cave +in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of the goodly gathering there +was like to be here; and I would fain see whether I could hap upon old +friends, or at any rate hear a smack of our kindly English tongue, so +I made the best of my way hither.”</p> +<p>“In good time,” said Lambert. “You will take +the lady and the housewife to the stoop at Master Caxton’s house, +where he has promised them seats whence they may view the entrance. +I myself am bound to walk with my fellows of the Apothecaries’ +Society, and it will be well for them to have another guard in the throng, +besides old Anton.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show,” said +Ridley, looking at his russet gown.</p> +<p>“We will see to that anon,” said Lambert; and ere supper +was over, old Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from the neighbouring +merchants, with gold lace seams and girdle, peaked boots, and the hideous +brimless hat which was then highly fashionable. Ridley’s +trusty sword he had always worn under his pilgrim’s gown, and +with the dagger always used as a knife, he made his appearance once +more as a squire of degree, still putting the scallop into his hat, +in honour of Dacre as well as of St. James.</p> +<p>The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly gliding +along several streets in a barge, watching the motley crowds thronging +banks and bridges - a far more brilliant crowd than in these later centuries, +since both sexes were alike gay in plumage. From every house, +even those out of the line of the procession, hung tapestry, or coloured +cloths, and the garlands of flowers, of all bright lines, with their +fresh greenery, were still unfaded by the clear morning sun, while joyous +carillons echoed and re-echoed from the belfry and all the steeples. +Ridley owned that he had never seen the like since King Harry rode home +from Agincourt - perhaps hardly even then, for Bruges was at the height +of its splendour, as were the Burgundian Dukes at the very climax of +their magnificence.</p> +<p>After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, and +Anton with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd before +they gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps had been +railed in, and seats arranged under the shelter of the projecting roof.</p> +<p>Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made Kentishman, +who had lived long abroad, and was always ready to make an Englishman +welcome. He listened politely to Grisell’s introduction +of Master Ridley, exchanged silent greetings with Vrow Clemence, and +insisted on their coming into the chamber within, where a repast of +cold pasty, marchpane, strawberries, and wine, awaited them - to be +eaten while as yet there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes.</p> +<p>Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the few who +cared for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the history of Troy +town, and likewise the strange machine on which he was experimenting +for multiplying copies of the translation he had in hand, with blocks +for the woodcuts which Grisell could not in conscience say would be +as beautiful as the gorgeous illuminations of his books.</p> +<p>Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to see +only scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the bride at +the gate of St. Croix.</p> +<p>By and by, however, came the “gang,” as Ridley called +it, in earnest. Every body of ecclesiastics was there: monks and +friars, black, white, and gray; nuns, black, white, and blue; the clergy +in their richest robes, with costly crucifixes of gold, silver, and +ivory held aloft, and reliquaries of the most exquisite workmanship, +sparkling with precious jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire +flashing in the sun; the fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by their +Master and their banner, gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, +such as stockings, saw and compasses, weavers’ shuttles, and the +like. Master Lambert looked up and nodded a smile from beneath +a banner with Apollo and the Python, which Ridley might be excused for +taking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The Mayor in scarlet, white +fur and with gold collar, surrounded by his burgomasters in almost equally +radiant garments, marched on.</p> +<p>Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts of instruments +before them, making the most festive din, through which came bursts +of the joy bells. Violet and black arrayed the inferiors, setting +off the crimson satin pourpoints of the higher officers, on whose brimless +hats each waved with a single ostrich plume in a shining brooch.</p> +<p>Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; next +heralds and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke’s domains, glittering +back and front in the tabard of his county’s armorial bearings, +and with its banner borne beside him. Then a division of the Duke’s +bodyguard, all like himself in burnished armour with scarves across +them. The nobles of Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, Holland, and +Alsace, the most splendid body then existing, came in endless numbers, +their horses, feather-crested as well as themselves, with every bridle +tinkling with silver bells, and the animals invisible all but their +heads and tails under their magnificent housings, while the knights +seemed to be pillars of radiance. Yet even more gorgeous were +the knights of the Golden Fleece, who left between them a lane in which +moved six white horses, caparisoned in cloth of gold, drawing an open +litter in which sat, as on a throne, herself dazzling in cloth of silver, +the brown-eyed Margaret of old, her dark hair bride fashion flowing +on her shoulders, and around it a marvellously-glancing diamond coronet, +above it, however, the wreath of white roses, which her own hands had +placed there when presented by the novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell’s +hand with delight as she recognised her own white rose, the finest of +the garland.</p> +<p>Immediately after the car came Margaret’s English attendants, +the stately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest to her, and then +a bevy of dames and damsels on horseback, but moving so slowly that +Grisell had full time to discover the silver herrings on the caparisons +of one of the palfreys, and then to raise her eyes to the face of the +tall stately lady whose long veil, flowing down from her towered head-gear, +by no means concealed a beautiful complexion and fair perfect features, +such as her own could never have rivalled even if they had never been +defaced. Her heart sank within her, everything swam before her +eyes, she scarcely saw the white doves let loose from the triumphant +arch beyond to greet the royal lady, and was first roused by Ridley’s +exclamation as the knights with their attendants began to pass.</p> +<p>“Ha! the lad kens me! ’Tis Harry Featherstone as +I live.”</p> +<p>Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, +there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendid knight, +Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge of Wakefield. +He was lowering his lance in greeting, but there was no knowing whether +it was to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether he recognised her, as she +wore her veil far over her face.</p> +<p>This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the figure +which was more to her than all the rest, for he was among the knights +and guards waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive the bride when +the final ceremonies of the marriage were to be performed.</p> +<p>Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young Featherstone, +but Grisell impressed on him that she wished to remain unknown for the +present, above all to Sir Leonard Copeland, and he had been quite sufficiently +alarmed by the accusations of sorcery to believe in the danger of her +becoming known among the English.</p> +<p>“More by token,” said he, “that the house of this +Master Caxton as you call him seems to me no canny haunt. Tell +me what you will of making manifold good books or bad, I’ll never +believe but that Dr. Faustus and the Devil hatched the notion between +them for the bewilderment of men’s brains and the slackening of +their hands.”</p> +<p>Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young lady to +come forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to which he rushed, +through crowds and jostling, to behold, with the ardour of an old warrior, +the various tilts and tourneys, though he grumbled that they were nothing +but child’s play and vain show, no earnest in them fit for a man.</p> +<p>Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of the +wonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion thereof in the +lists of the Hôtel de Ville, and again, some days later, of the +banquet, when the table decorations were mosaic gardens with silver +trees, laden with enamelled fruit, and where, as an interlude, a whale +sixty feet long made its entrance and emitted from its jaws a troop +of Moorish youths and maidens, who danced a saraband to the sound of +tambourines and cymbals! Such scenes were bliss to the deaf housewife, +and would enliven the silent world of her memory all the rest of her +life.</p> +<p>The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such scenes being +inappropriate to her mourning, and besides her apartments being needed +for the influx of guests. There, in early morning, before the +revels began, Grisell ventured to ask for an audience, and was permitted +to follow the Duchess when she returned from mass to her own apartments.</p> +<p>“Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in the revels +and pageantries?”</p> +<p>“I saw the procession, so please your Grace.”</p> +<p>“And your old playmate in her glory?”</p> +<p>“Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of Heaven!”</p> +<p>“Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not unfit +us for the veritable everlasting glories, when all these things shall +be no more.”</p> +<p>The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the day +when her son’s corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and stripped, +beside the marsh.</p> +<p>But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any petition.</p> +<p>“Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put into +the hands of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without naming +me.”</p> +<p>She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons of +blue and silver in an outer case, worked with the White Rose.</p> +<p>The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, “Nay, but this is more beauteous +than all you have wrought before. Ah! here is your own device! +I see there is purpose in these patterns of your web. And am I +not to name you?”</p> +<p>“I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess should +divine the worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought that she will.”</p> +<p>“Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called +‘Forget-me-not.’ Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?”</p> +<p>“Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in +your prayers to ask that I may do the right,” said Grisell, with +clasped hands and weeping eyes.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX - DUCHESS MARGARET</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old;<br />Stately +dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold.</p> +<p>LONGFELLOW, <i>The Belfry of Bruges.</i></p> +<p>In another week the festivities were over, and she waited anxiously, +dreading each day more and more that her gift had been forgotten or +misunderstood, or that her old companion disdained or refused to take +notice of her; then trying to console herself by remembering the manifold +engagements and distractions of the bride.</p> +<p>Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard Copeland +came one evening to supper. He was lodged among the guards of +the Duke in the palace, and had much less time at his disposal than +formerly, for Duke Charles insisted on the most strict order and discipline +among all his attendants. Moreover, there were tokens of enmity +on the part of the French on the border of the Somme, and Leonard expected +to be despatched to the camp which was being formed there. He +was out of spirits. The sight and speech of so many of his countrymen +had increased the longing for home.</p> +<p>“I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish tongues,” +he owned, when Master Lambert was out of hearing. “I should +feel at home if I could but hear an honest carter shout ‘Woa’ +to his horses.”</p> +<p>“Did you have any speech with the ladies?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“I? No! What reck they of a poor knight adventurer?”</p> +<p>“Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a belted knight +was a comrade for a king,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and Counts, +and great Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a trout stream, +what chance is there that a poor, landless exile will have a word or +a glance?”</p> +<p>Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? Grisell +longed to know, but for that very reason she faltered when about to +ask, and turned her query into one whether he had heard any news of +his English relations.</p> +<p>“My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years +- so far as I can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. +I must account with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing +clearly. I fancy the truth is that George Copeland, who holds +it, is little better than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward +might grant it back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn +never to pardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of Rutland.”</p> +<p>“You had not! I know you had not!”</p> +<p>“Hurt Ned? I’d as soon have hurt my own brother! +Nay, I got this blow from Clifford for coming between,” said he, +pushing back his hair so as to show a mark near his temple. “But +how did you know?”</p> +<p>“Harry Featherstone told me.” She had all but said, +“My father’s squire.”</p> +<p>“You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. +He is here now; a good man of his hands,” muttered Leonard. +“Anyway the King believes I had a hand in that cruel business +of Wakefield Bridge, and nought but his witness would save my neck if +once I ventured into England - if that would. So I may resign +myself to be the Duke’s captain of archers for the rest of my +days. Heigh ho! And a lonely man; I fear me in debt to good +Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress Grisell, to whom I owe more than +coin will pay. Ha! was that - ” interrupting himself, for +a trumpet blast was ringing out at intervals, the signal of summons +to the men-at-arms. Leonard started up, waved farewell, and rushed +off.</p> +<p>The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the +Duke early the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses +in Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned from +mass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash in +the sun as the troop passed along the main street, and became visible +at the opening of that up which they walked.</p> +<p>The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters +that Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel.</p> +<p>She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. +Indeed, she shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. +She hurried on so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was +quite out of breath, and panted after her within gasps of “Stay! +stay, mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though +a mad ox had got loose!”</p> +<p>Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear +from her kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed.</p> +<p>Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additional +chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies as +usual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, +even as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in a +pair of soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and there was +a tender cry in her own tongue of “My Grisell! my dear old Grisell! +I have found you at last! Oh! that was good in you. I knew +the forget-me-nots, and all your little devices. Ah!” as +Grisell, unable to speak for tears of joy, held up the pouncet box, +the childish gift.</p> +<p>The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds was +pressed to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round her, the +white satin broidered skirt swept about her feet, the pearl-edged matronly +cap on the youthful head leant fondly against her, as Margaret led her +up, still in her embrace, and cried, “It is she, it is she! +Dear belle mère, thanks indeed for bringing us together!”</p> +<p>The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at English impulsiveness, +and the elder Duchess herself looked for a moment stiff, as her lace-maker +slipped to her knees to kiss her hand and murmur her thanks.</p> +<p>“Let me look at you,” cried Margaret. “Ah! +have you recovered that terrible mishap? By my troth, ’tis +nearly gone. I should never have found it out had I not known!”</p> +<p>This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal of +difference in Grisell’s face, and the Duchess Margaret was one +of the most eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent alike in love +and in hate, ready both to act on slight evidence for those whose cause +she took up, and to nourish bitter hatred against the enemies of her +house.</p> +<p>“Now, tell me all,” she continued in English. “I +heard that you had been driven out of Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick +had sped you northward. How is it that you are here, weaving lace +like any mechanical sempstress? Nay, nay! I cannot listen +to you on your knees. We have hugged one another too often for +that.”</p> +<p>Grisell, with the elder Duchess’s permission, seated herself +on the cushion at Margaret’s feet. “Speak English,” +continued the bride. “I am wearying already of French! +Ma belle mère, you will not find fault. You know a little +of our own honest tongue.”</p> +<p>Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions of +Margaret, told her story. When she came to the mention of her +marriage to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive exclamation, +“Bound to that blood-thirsty traitor! Never! After +the way he treated you, no marvel that he fell on my sweet Edmund!”</p> +<p>“Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save him.”</p> +<p>“He! A follower of King Henry! Never!”</p> +<p>“Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord Edmund. +He strove to stay Lord Clifford’s hand, and threw himself between, +but Clifford dashed him aside, and he bears still the scar where he +fell against the parapet of the bridge. Harry Featherstone told +me, when he fled from the piteous field, where died my father and brother +Robin.”</p> +<p>“Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. I would +have made him good cheer for your sake, but my mother was ever strict, +and rapped our fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, if we ever spake +to any of my father’s meiné. Tell on, Grisell,” +as her hand found its way under the hood, and stroked the fair hair. +“Poor lonely one!”</p> +<p>Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland’s love, +and still more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, truly enough, +that he should have taken both lady and Tower, or given both up, and +lending a most unwilling ear to the plea that he had never thought his +relations to Grisell binding. She had never loved Lady Heringham, +and it was plainly with good cause.</p> +<p>Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared that Grisell +had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close inquiries elicited +that she had been maintaining him all this while, actually for seven +years, all unknown to him, the young Duchess could not contain herself. +“Grisell! Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mère, +belle mère, do you understand?” and in rapid French she +recounted all.</p> +<p>“He is my husband,” said Grisell simply, as the two Duchesses +showed their wonder and admiration.</p> +<p>“Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly wife,” +cried Margaret. “And now what would you have me do for you, +my most patient of Grisells? Write to my brother the King to restore +your lands, and - and I suppose you would have this recreant fellow’s +given back since you say he has seen the error of following that make-bate +Queen. But can you prove him free of Edmund’s blood? +Aught but that might be forgiven.”</p> +<p>“Master Featherstone is gone back to England,” said Grisell, +“but he can bear witness; but my father’s old squire, Cuthbert +Ridley, is here, who heard his story when he came to us from Wakefield. +Moreover, I have seen the mark on Sir Leonard’s brow.”</p> +<p>“Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. He +has been more prone to Lancaster folk since he was caught by the wiles +of Lady Grey; but I would that I could hear what would clear this knight +of yours by other testimony than such as your loving heart may frame. +But you must come and be one of mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never +go back to your Poticary - Faugh!”</p> +<p>This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret really reverenced +her too much to press her.</p> +<p>However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and returned +with a letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a mission to +find Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock.</p> +<p>“’Tis working for that rogue Copeland,” he growled. +“I would it were for you, my sweet lady.”</p> +<p>“It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, +good Cuthbert.”</p> +<p>“Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you +are, wed or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live +nameless, like the Poticary’s serving-woman,” concluded +Ridley as his parting grumble.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX - THE WEDDING CHIMES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Low at times and loud at times,<br />Changing like a poet’s +rhymes,<br />Rang the beautiful wild chimes,<br />From the belfry in +the market<br />Of the ancient town of Bruges.</p> +<p>LONGFELLOW, <i>The Carillon.</i></p> +<p>No more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was +absent with the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune +and Liège, the romantic version of which may be read in <i>Quentin +Durward</i>, and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though +it seemed to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing.</p> +<p>The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for +effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was +suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. +There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back +and the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her Grisell +at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert Ridley and +Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette to exchange +any greetings.</p> +<p>She knelt to kiss the Duchess’s hand, and as she did so Margaret +raised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, “I +greet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letter +from my brother, King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count +Palatine, to put you in possession of thy castle and lands, whoever +may gainsay it.”</p> +<p>That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisell +was conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave the letter; +but there was more to come, and Margaret continued -</p> +<p>“Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give this +parchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing his +full and free pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, and his +restoration to all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady of +Whitburn. It was you, his true wife, who won it for him. +It is you who should give it to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard.”</p> +<p>He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had +been to kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at the +Duchess’s feet in thanks.</p> +<p>“To her, to her,” said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he +turned, spoke, trying to clear her voice from a rising sob.</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken +all. I am well advised that the wedlock into which you were forced +against your will was of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will +were contracted to the Lady Eleanor Audley.”</p> +<p>Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. “True, +I know that she was likewise constrained to wed; but she is a widow, +and free to choose for herself. Therefore, either by the bishop, +or it may be through our Holy Father the Pope, by mutual consent, shall +the marriage at Whitburn be annulled and declared void, and I pray you +to accept seisin thereof, while my lady, her Highness the Duchess Isabel, +with the Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister.”</p> +<p>There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have sprung +forward and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with her.</p> +<p>“Never! never!” he cried, throwing himself on his knees +and mastering his wife’s hand. “Grisell, Grisell, +dost think I could turn to the feather-pated, dull-souled, fickle-hearted +thing I know now Eleanor of Audley to be, instead of you?”</p> +<p>There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess herself, +but Grisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in low broken +tones, “Nay, nay; she is fair, I am loathly.”</p> +<p>“What is her fair skin to me?” he cried; “to me, +who have learnt to know, and love, and trust to you with a very different +love from the boy’s passion I felt for Eleanor in youth, and the +cure whereof was the sight and words of the Lady Heringham! Grisell, +Grisell, I was about to lay my very heart at your feet when the Duke’s +trumpet called me away, ere I guessed, fool that I was, that mine was +the hand that left the scar that now I love, but which once I treated +with a brute’s or a boy’s lightness. Oh! pardon me! +Still less did I know that it was my own forsaken wife who saved my +life, who tended my sickness, nay, as I verily believed, toiled for +me and my bread through these long seven years, all in secret. +Yea, and won my entire soul and deep devotion or ever I knew that it +was to you alone that they were due. Grisell, Grisell,” +as she could not speak for tears. “Oh forgive! Pardon +me! Turn not away to be a Grey Sister. I cannot do without +you! Take me! Let me strive throughout my life to merit +a little better all that you have done and suffered for one so unworthy!”</p> +<p>Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and regardless +of all spectators, she was for the first time clasped in her husband’s +arms, and the joyful tears of her friends high and low.</p> +<p>What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be narrated +how this wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the lovely bells +of Bruges rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot and Clemence rejoiced +though they lost their guest, how Caxton gave them a choice specimen +of his printing, how Ridley doffed his pilgrim’s garb and came +out as a squire of dames, how the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged +with the Duchess, and how the Duke growled that from whichever party +he took his stout English he was sure to lose them?</p> +<p>Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, and +a progress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and haggard, +came and entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had little guessed +what her talk was doing, and that Ralph made her believe whatever he +chose! She had a hard life, treated like a slave by the burgesses, +who despised the fisher maid. Oh that she could go back to serve +her dear good lady!</p> +<p>There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the late +reign of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern their estates +that for long years the time of ‘Grisly Grisell’ was remembered +as Whitburn’s golden age.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, GRISLY GRISELL ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named grgr10h.htm or grgr10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, grgr11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, grgr10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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