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diff --git a/7387-h/7387-h.htm b/7387-h/7387-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2d3ad64 --- /dev/null +++ b/7387-h/7387-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7417 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Grisly Grisell, by Charlotte M. 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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