diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/grgr10h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/grgr10h.htm | 6080 |
1 files changed, 6080 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/grgr10h.htm b/old/grgr10h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b5251e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/grgr10h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6080 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Grisly Grisell</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Grisly Grisell, by Charlotte M. Yonge</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Grisly Grisell, by Charlotte M. Yonge + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Grisly Grisell + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7387] +[This file was first posted on April 24, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1906 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, +email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>GRISLY GRISELL, or THE LAIDLY LADY OF WHITBURN: A TALE OF THE WARS +OF THE ROSES</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I - AN EXPLOSION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>It was a great pity, so it was, this villanous saltpetre should be +digg’d out of the bowels of the harmless earth.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE <i>King Henry IV</i>., Part I.</p> +<p>A terrible shriek rang through the great Manor-house of Amesbury. +It was preceded by a loud explosion, and there was agony as well as +terror in the cry. Then followed more shrieks and screams, some +of pain, some of fright, others of anger and recrimination. Every +one in the house ran together to the spot whence the cries proceeded, +namely, the lower court, where the armourer and blacksmith had their +workshops.</p> +<p>There was a group of children, the young people who were confided +to the great Earl Richard and Countess Alice of Salisbury for education +and training. Boys and girls were alike there, some of the latter +crying and sobbing, others mingling with the lads in the hot dispute +as to “who did it.”</p> +<p>By the time the gentle but stately Countess had reached the place, +all the grown-up persons of the establishment - knights, squires, grooms, +scullions, and females of every degree - had thronged round them, but +parted at her approach, though one of the knights said, “Nay, +Lady Countess, ’tis no sight for you. The poor little maid +is dead, or nigh upon it.”</p> +<p>“But who is it? What is it?” asked the Countess, +still advancing.</p> +<p>A confused medley of voices replied, “The Lord of Whitburn’s +little wench - Leonard Copeland - gunpowder.”</p> +<p>“And no marvel,” said a sturdy, begrimed figure, “if +the malapert young gentles be let to run all over the courts, and handle +that with which they have no concern, lads and wenches alike.”</p> +<p>“Nay, how can I stop it when my lady will not have the maidens +kept ever at their distaffs and needles in seemly fashion,” cried +a small but stout and self-assertive dame, known as “Mother of +the Maidens,” then starting, “Oh! my lady, I crave your +pardon, I knew not you were in this coil! And if the men-at-arms +be let to have their perilous goods strewn all over the place, no wonder +at any mishap.”</p> +<p>“Do not wrangle about the cause,” said the Countess. +“Who is hurt? How much?”</p> +<p>The crowd parted enough for her to make way to where a girl of about +ten was lying prostrate and bleeding with her head on a woman’s +lap.</p> +<p>“Poor maid,” was the cry, “poor maid! ’Tis +all over with her. It will go ill with young Leonard Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Worse with Hodge Smith for letting him touch his irons.”</p> +<p>“Nay, what call had Dick Jenner to lay his foul, burning gunpowder +- a device of Satan - in this yard? A mercy we are not all blown +to the winds.”</p> +<p>The Countess, again ordering peace, reached the girl, whose moans +showed that she was still alive, and between the barber-surgeon and +the porter’s wife she was lifted up, and carried to a bed, the +Countess Alice keeping close to her, though the “Mother of the +Maidens,” who was a somewhat helpless personage, hung back, declaring +that the sight of the wounds made her swoon. There were terrible +wounds upon the face and neck, which seemed to be almost bared of skin. +The lady, who had been bred to some knowledge of surgical skill, together +with the barber-surgeon, did their best to allay the agony with applications +of sweet oil. Perhaps if they had had more of what was then considered +skill, it might have been worse for her.</p> +<p>The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay the suffering +of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaning for “nurse.” +She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron of Whitburn, and had +been placed, young as she was, in the household of the Countess of Salisbury +on her mother being made one of the ladies attending on the young Queen +Margaret of Anjou, lately married to King Henry VI.</p> +<p>Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing +the history of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses’ +feet showed that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to +her old nurse, she went down to the hall to receive him.</p> +<p>The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged, +round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood before +him, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulder +held fast by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stood behind.</p> +<p>There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose, +came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting, demanded, +“What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I fear me she cannot live,” was the answer.</p> +<p>“Will Dacre of Whitburn’s maid? That’s ill, +poor child! How fell it out?”</p> +<p>“That I know as little as you,” was the answer. +“I have been seeing to the poor little maid’s hurts.”</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point +of fact, she was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had been +created Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, the +staunch warrior of Henry V. in the siege of Orleans.</p> +<p>“Speak out, Leonard Copeland,” said the Earl. “What +hast thou done?”</p> +<p>The boy only growled, “I never meant to hurt the maid.”</p> +<p>“Speak to the point, sir,” said Lord Salisbury sternly; +“give yourself at least the grace of truth.”</p> +<p>Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only +hung his head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl +turned to those who were only too eager to accuse him.</p> +<p>“He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, +and put it to the barrel of powder.”</p> +<p>“Is this true, Leonard?” demanded the Earl again, amazed +at the frantic proceeding, and Leonard muttered “Aye,” vouchsafing +no more, and looking black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed +to his side and said, “Uncle,” doffing his cap, “so +please you, my lord, the barrels had just been brought in upon Hob Carter’s +wain, and Leonard said they ought to have the Lord Earl’s arms +on them. So he took a bar of hot iron from the forge to mark the +saltire on them, and thereupon there was this burst of smoke and flame, +and the maid, who was leaning over, prying into his doings, had the +brunt thereof.”</p> +<p>“Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done,” +ejaculated the lady shuddering, while her lord proceeded - “It +was not malice, but malapert meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, +thou must be scourged to make thee keep thine hands off where they be +not needed. For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn +may require. Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and keep +him in ward till we see the issue.”</p> +<p>Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not uttering +a word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire’s +grasp, but only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster.</p> +<p>Next, Lord Salisbury’s severity fell upon Hob the carter and +Hodge the smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court-yard. +Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, but soundly +flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the “blackguard” +at any age, even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat +higher in position, and not in charge at the moment, was not called +to account, but the next question was, how the “Mother of the +Maids” - the gouvernante in charge of the numerous damsels who +formed the train of the Lady of Salisbury, and were under education +and training - could have permitted her maidens to stray into the regions +appropriated to the yeomen and archers, and others of the meiné, +where they certainly had no business.</p> +<p>It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls +in the gardens “a playing at the ball” with some of the +pages, and that there, on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented +her from discovering the absence of the younger part of the bevy. +The demure elder damsels deposed that, at the sound of wains coming +into the court, the boys had rushed off, and the younger girls had followed +them, whether with or without warning was not made clear. Poor +little Grisell’s condition might have been considered a sufficient +warning, nevertheless the two companions in her misdemeanour were condemned +to a whipping, to enforce on them a lesson of maidenliness; and though +the Mother of the Maids could not partake of the flagellation, she remained +under her lord’s and lady’s grave displeasure, and probably +would have to submit to a severe penance from the priest for her carelessness. +Yet, as she observed, Mistress Grisell was a North Country maid, never +couthly or conformable, but like a boy, who would moreover always be +after Leonard Copeland, whether he would or no.</p> +<p>It was the more unfortunate, as Lord Salisbury lamented to his wife, +because the Copelands were devoted to the Somerset faction; and the +King had been labouring to reconcile them to the Dacres, and to bring +about a contract of marriage between these two unfortunate children, +but he feared that whatever he could do, there would only be additional +feud and bitterness, though it was clear that the mishap was accidental. +The Lord of Whitburn himself was in Ireland with the Duke of York, while +his lady was in attendance on the young Queen, and it was judged right +and seemly to despatch to her a courier with the tidings of her daughter’s +disaster, although in point of fact, where a house could number sons, +damsels were not thought of great value, except as the means of being +allied with other houses. A message was also sent to Sir William +Copeland that his son had been the death of the daughter of Whitburn; +for poor little Grisell lay moaning in a state of much fever and great +suffering, so that the Lady Salisbury could not look at her, nor hear +her sighs and sobs without tears, and the barber-surgeon, unaccustomed +to the effects of gunpowder, had little or no hope of her life.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland’s mood was sullen, not to say surly. +He submitted to the chastisement without a word or cry, for blows were +the lot of boys of all ranks, and were dealt out without much respect +to justice; and he also had to endure a sort of captivity, in a dismal +little circular room in a turret of the manorial house, with merely +a narrow loophole to look out from, and this was only accessible by +climbing up a steep broken slope of brick-work in the thickness of the +wall.</p> +<p>Here, however, he was visited by his chief friend and comrade, Edmund +Plantagenet of York, who found him lying on the floor, building up fragments +of stone and mortar into the plan of a castle.</p> +<p>“How dost thou, Leonard?” he asked. “Did +old Hal strike very hard?”</p> +<p>“I reck not,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“How long will my uncle keep thee here?” asked Edmund +sympathisingly.</p> +<p>“Till my father comes, unless the foolish wench should go and +die. She brought it on me, the peevish girl. She is always +after me when I want her least.”</p> +<p>“Yea, is not she contracted to thee?”</p> +<p>“So they say; but at least this puts a stop to my being plagued +with her - do what they may to me. There’s an end to it, +if I hang for it.”</p> +<p>“They would never hang thee.”</p> +<p>“None knows what you traitor folk of Nevil would do to a loyal +house,” growled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Traitor, saidst thou,” cried Edmund, clenching his fists. +“’Tis thy base Somerset crew that be the traitors.”</p> +<p>“I’ll brook no such word from thee,” burst forth +Leonard, flying at him.</p> +<p>“Ha! ha!” laughed Edmund even as they grappled. +“Who is the traitor forsooth? Why, ’tis my father +who should be King. ’Tis white-faced Harry and his Beauforts +- ”</p> +<p>The words were cut short by a blow from Leonard, and the warder presently +found the two boys rolling on the floor together in hot contest.</p> +<p>And meanwhile poor Grisell was trying to frame with her torn and +flayed cheeks and lips, “O lady, lady, visit it not on him! +Let not Leonard be punished. It was my fault for getting into +his way when I should have been in the garden. Dear Madge, canst +thou speak for him?”</p> +<p>Madge was Edmund’s sister, Margaret of York, who stood trembling +and crying by Grisell’s bed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II - THE BROKEN MATCH</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The Earl of Salisbury, called Prudence.</p> +<p><i>Contemporary Poem.</i></p> +<p>Little Grisell Dacre did not die, though day after day she lay in +a suffering condition, tenderly watched over by the Countess Alice. +Her mother had been summoned from attendance on the Queen, but at first +there only was returned a message that if the maid was dead she should +be embalmed and sent north to be buried in the family vault, when her +father would be at all charges. Moreover, that the boy should +be called to account for his crime, his father being, as the Lady of +Whitburn caused to be written, an evil-minded minion and fosterer of +the house of Somerset, the very bane of the King and the enemies of +the noble Duke of York and Earl of Warwick.</p> +<p>The story will be clearer if it is understood that the Earl of Salisbury +was Richard Nevil, one of the large family of Nevil of Raby Castle in +Westmoreland, and had obtained his title by marriage with Alice Montagu, +heiress of that earldom. His youngest sister had married Richard +Plantagenet, Duke of York, who being descended from Lionel, Duke of +Clarence, was considered to have a better right to the throne than the +house of Lancaster, though this had never been put forward since the +earlier years of Henry V.</p> +<p>Salisbury had several sons. The eldest had married Anne Beauchamp, +and was in her right Earl of Warwick, and had estates larger even than +those of his father. He had not, however, as yet come forward, +and the disputes at Court were running high between the friends of the +Duke of Somerset and those of the Duke of York.</p> +<p>The King and Queen both were known to prefer the house of Somerset, +who were the more nearly related to Henry, and the more inclined to +uphold royalty, while York was considered as the champion of the people. +The gentle King and the Beauforts wished for peace with France; the +nation, and with them York, thought this was giving up honour, land, +and plunder, and suspected the Queen, as a Frenchwoman, of truckling +to the enemy. Jack Cade’s rising and the murder of the Duke +of Suffolk had been the outcome of this feeling. Indeed, Lord +Salisbury’s messenger reported the Country about London to be +in so disturbed a state that it was no wonder that the Lady of Whitburn +did not make the journey. She was not, as the Countess suspected, +a very tender mother. Grisell’s moans were far more frequently +for her nurse than for her, but after some space they ceased. +The child became capable of opening first one eye, then the other, and +both barber and lady perceived that she was really unscathed in any +vital part, and was on the way to recovery, though apparently with hopelessly +injured features.</p> +<p>Leonard Copeland had already been released from restraint, and allowed +to resume his usual place among the Earl’s pages; when the warder +announced that he saw two parties approaching from opposite sides of +the down, one as if from Salisbury, the other from the north; and presently +he reported that the former wore the family badge, a white rosette, +the latter none at all, whence it was perceived that the latter were +adherents of the Beauforts of Somerset, for though the “Rose of +Snow” had been already adopted by York, Somerset had in point +of fact not plucked the Red Rose in the Temple gardens, nor was it as +yet the badge of Lancaster.</p> +<p>Presently it was further reported that the Lady of Whitburn was in +the fore front of the party, and the Lord of Salisbury hastened to receive +her at the gates, his suite being rapidly put into some order.</p> +<p>She was a tall, rugged-faced North Country dame, not very smooth +of speech, and she returned his salute with somewhat rough courtesy, +demanding as she sprang off her horse with little aid, “Lives +my wench still?”</p> +<p>“Yes, madam, she lives, and the leech trusts that she will +yet be healed.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Methought you would have sent to me if aught further +had befallen her. Be that as it may, no doubt you have given the +malapert boy his deserts.”</p> +<p>“I hope I have, madam,” began the Earl. “I +kept him in close ward while she was in peril of death, but - ” +A fresh bugle blast interrupted him, as there clattered through the +resounding gate the other troop, at sight of whom the Lady of Whitburn +drew herself up, redoubling her grim dignity, and turning it into indignation +as a young page rushed forward to meet the newcomers, with a cry of +“Father! Lord Father, come at last;” then composing +himself, doffed his cap and held the stirrup, then bent a knee for his +father’s blessing.</p> +<p>“You told me, Lord Earl, the mischievous, murderous fellow +was in safe hold,” said the lady, bending her dark brows.</p> +<p>“While the maid was in peril,” hastily answered Salisbury. +“Pardon me, madam, my Countess will attend you.”</p> +<p>The Countess’s high rank and great power were impressive to +the Baroness of Whitburn, who bent in salutation, but almost her first +words were, “Madam, you at least will not let the murderous traitors +of Somerset and the Queen prevail over the loyal friends of York and +the nation.”</p> +<p>“There is happily no murder in the case. Praise be to +the saints,” said Countess Alice, “your little maid - ”</p> +<p>“Aye, that’s what they said as to the poor good Duke +Humfrey,” returned the irate lady; “but that you, madam, +the good-sister of the noble York, should stand up for the enemies of +him, and the friends of France, is more than a plain North Country woman +like me can understand. And there - there, turning round upon +the steep steps, there is my Lord Earl hand and glove with that minion +fellow of Somerset, who was no doubt at the bottom of the plot! +None would believe it at Raby.”</p> +<p>“None at Raby would believe that my lord could be lacking in +courtesy to a guest,” returned Lady Salisbury with dignity, “nor +that a North Country dame could expect it of him. Those who are +under his roof must respect it by fitting demeanour towards one another.”</p> +<p>The Lady of Whitburn was quenched for the time, and the Countess +asked whether she did not wish to see her daughter, leading the way +to a chamber hung with tapestry, and with a great curtained bed nearly +filling it up, for the patient had been installed in one of the best +guest-chambers of the Castle. Lady Whitburn was surprised, but +was too proud to show herself gratified by what she thought was the +due of the dignity of the Dacres. An old woman in a hood sat by +the bed, where there was a heap of clothes, and a dark-haired little +girl stood by the window, whence she had been describing the arrivals +in the Castle court.</p> +<p>“Here is your mother, my poor child,” began the Lady +of Salisbury, but there was no token of joy. Grisell gave a little +gasp, and tried to say “Lady Mother, pardon - ” but the +Lady of Whitburn, at sight of the reddened half of the face which alone +was as yet visible, gave a cry, “She will be a fright! You +evil little baggage, thus to get yourself scarred and made hideous! +Running where you ought not, I warrant!” and she put out her hand +as if to shake the patient, but the Countess interposed, and her niece +Margaret gave a little cry. “Grisell is still very weak +and feeble! She cannot bear much; we have only just by Heaven’s +grace brought her round.”</p> +<p>“As well she were dead as like this,” cried this untender +parent. “Who is to find her a husband now? and as to a nunnery, +where is one to take her without a dower such as is hard to find, with +two sons to be fitly provided? I looked that in a household like +this, better rule should be kept.”</p> +<p>“None can mourn it more than myself and the Earl,” said +the gentle Countess; “but young folks can scarce be watched hour +by hour.”</p> +<p>“The rod is all that is good for them, and I trusted to you +to give it them, madam,” said Lady Whitburn. “Now, +the least that can be done is to force yonder malapert lad and his father +into keeping his contract to her, since he has spoilt the market for +any other.”</p> +<p>“Is he contracted to her?” asked the Countess.</p> +<p>“Not fully; but as you know yourself, lady, your lord, and +the King, and all the rest, thought to heal the breach between the houses +by planning a contract between their son and my daughter. He shall +keep it now, at his peril.”</p> +<p>Grisell was cowering among her pillows, and no one knew how much +she heard or understood. The Countess was glad to get Lady Whitburn +out of the room, but both she and her Earl had a very trying evening, +in trying to keep the peace between the two parents. Sir William +Copeland was devoted to the Somerset family, of whom he held his manor; +and had had a furious quarrel with the Baron of Whitburn, when both +were serving in France.</p> +<p>The gentle King had tried to bring about a reconciliation, and had +induced the two fathers to consent to a contract for the future marriage +of Leonard, Copeland’s second son, to Grisell Dacre, then the +only child of the Lord of Whitburn. He had also obtained that +the two children should be bred up in the household of the Earl of Salisbury, +by way of letting them grow up together. On the same principle +the Lady of Whitburn had been made one of the attendants of Queen Margaret +- but neither arrangement had been more successful than most of those +of poor King Henry.</p> +<p>Grisell indeed considered Leonard as a sort of property of hers, +but she beset him in the manner that boys are apt to resent from younger +girls, and when he was thirteen, and she ten years old, there was very +little affection on his side. Moreover, the birth of two brothers +had rendered Grisell’s hand a far less desirable prize in the +eyes of the Copelands.</p> +<p>To attend on the Court was penance to the North Country dame, used +to a hardy rough life in her sea-side tower, with absolute rule, and +no hand over her save her husband’s; while the young and outspoken +Queen, bred up in the graceful, poetical Court of Aix or Nancy, looked +on her as no better than a barbarian, and if she did not show this openly, +reporters were not wanting to tell her that the Queen called her the +great northern hag, or that her rugged unwilling curtsey was said to +look as if she were stooping to draw water at a well. Her husband +had kept her in some restraint, but when be had gone to Ireland with +the Duke of York, offences seemed to multiply upon her. The last +had been that when she had tripped on her train, dropped the salver +wherewith she was serving the Queen, and broken out with a loud “Lawk +a daisy!” all the ladies, and Margaret herself, had gone into +fits of uncontrollable laughter, and the Queen had begged her to render +her exclamation into good French for her benefit.</p> +<p>“Madam,” she had exclaimed, “if a plain woman’s +plain English be not good enough for you, she can have no call here!” +And without further ceremony she had flown out of the royal presence.</p> +<p>Margaret of Anjou, naturally offended, and never politic, had sent +her a message, that her attendance was no longer required. So +here she was going out of her way to make a casual inquiry, from the +Court at Winchester, whether that very unimportant article, her only +daughter, were dead or alive.</p> +<p>The Earl absolutely prohibited all conversation on affairs in debate +during the supper which was spread in the hall, with quite as much state +as, and even greater profusion and splendour, than was to be found at +Windsor, Winchester, or Westminster. All the high born sat on +the dais, raised on two steps with gorgeous tapestry behind, and a canopy +overhead; the Earl and Countess on chairs in the centre of the long +narrow table. Lady Whitburn sat beside the Earl, Sir William Copeland +by the Countess, watching with pleasure how deftly his son ran about +among the pages, carrying the trenchers of food, and the cups. +He entered on a conversation with the Countess, telling her of the King’s +interest and delight in his beautiful freshly-founded Colleges at Eton +and Cambridge, how the King rode down whenever he could to see the boys, +listen to them at their tasks in the cloisters, watch them at their +sports in the playing fields, and join in their devotions in the Chapel +- a most holy example for them.</p> +<p>“Ay, for such as seek to be monks and shavelings,” broke +in the North Country voice sarcastically.</p> +<p>“There are others - sons of gentlemen and esquires - lodged +in houses around,” said Sir William, “who are not meant +for cowl or for mass-priests.”</p> +<p>“Yea, forsooth,” called Lady Whitburn across the Earl +and the Countess, “what for but to make them as feckless as the +priests, unfit to handle lance or sword!”</p> +<p>“So, lady, you think that the same hand cannot wield pen and +lance,” said the Earl.</p> +<p>“I should like to see one of your clerks on a Border foray,” +laughed the Dame of Dacre. “’Tis all a device of the +Frenchwoman!”</p> +<p>“Verily?” said the Earl, in an interrogative tone.</p> +<p>“Ay, to take away the strength and might of Englishmen with +this clerkly lore, so that her folk may have the better of them in France; +and the poor, witless King gives in to her. And so while the Beauforts +rule the roast - ”</p> +<p>Salisbury caught her up. “Ay, the roast. Will you +partake of these roast partridges, madam?”</p> +<p>They were brought round skewered on a long spit, held by a page for +the guest to help herself. Whether by her awkwardness or that +of the boy, it so chanced that the bird made a sudden leap from the +impalement, and deposited itself in the lap of Lady Whitburn’s +scarlet kirtle! The fact was proclaimed by her loud rude cry, +“A murrain on thee, thou ne’er-do-weel lad,” together +with a sounding box on the ear.</p> +<p>“’Tis thine own greed, who dost not - ”</p> +<p>“Leonard, be still - know thy manners,” cried both at +once the Earl and Sir William, for, unfortunately, the offender was +no other than Leonard Copeland, and, contrary to all the laws of pagedom, +he was too angry not to argue the point. “’Twas no +doing of mine! She knew not how to cut the bird.”</p> +<p>Answering again was a far greater fault than the first, and his father +only treated it as his just desert when he was ordered off under the +squire in charge to be soundly scourged, all the more sharply for his +continuing to mutter, “It was her fault.”</p> +<p>And sore and furrowed as was his back, he continued to exclaim, when +his friend Edmund of York came to condole with him as usual in all his +scrapes, “’Tis she that should have been scourged for clumsiness! +A foul, uncouth Border dame! Well, one blessing at least is that +now I shall never be wedded to her daughter - let the wench live or +die as she lists!”</p> +<p>That was not by any means the opinion of the Lady of Whitburn, and +no sooner was the meal ended than, in the midst of the hall, the debate +began, the Lady declaring that in all honour Sir William Copeland was +bound to affiance his son instantly to her poor daughter, all the more +since the injuries he had inflicted to her face could never be done +away with. On the other hand, Sir William Copeland was naturally +far less likely to accept such a daughter-in-law, since her chances +of being an heiress had ceased, and he contended that he had never absolutely +accepted the contract, and that there had been no betrothal of the children.</p> +<p>The Earl of Salisbury could not but think that a strictly honourable +man would have felt poor Grisell’s disaster inflicted by his son’s +hands all the more reason for holding to the former understanding; but +the loud clamours and rude language of Lady Whitburn were enough to +set any one in opposition to her, and moreover, the words he said in +favour of her side of the question appeared to Copeland merely spoken +out of the general enmity of the Nevils to the Beauforts and all their +following.</p> +<p>Thus, all the evening Lady Whitburn raged, and appealed to the Earl, +whose support she thought cool and unfriendly, while Copeland stood +sullen and silent, but determined.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, “were you a true friend to +York and Raby, you would deal with this scowling fellow as we should +on the Border.”</p> +<p>“We are not on the Border, madam,” quietly said Salisbury.</p> +<p>“But you are in your own Castle, and can force him to keep +faith. No contract, forsooth! I hate your mincing South +Country forms of law.” Then perhaps irritated by a little +ironical smile which Salisbury could not suppress. “Is this +your castle, or is it not? Then bring him and his lad to my poor +wench’s side, and see their troth plighted, or lay him by the +heels in the lowest cell in your dungeon. Then will you do good +service to the King and the Duke of York, whom you talk of loving in +your shilly-shally fashion.”</p> +<p>“Madam,” said the Earl, his grave tones coming in contrast +to the shrill notes of the angry woman, “I counsel you, in the +south at least, to have some respect to these same forms of law. +I bid you a fair good-night. The chamberlain will marshal you.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III - THE MIRROR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>“Of all the maids, the foulest maid<br /> From +Teviot unto Dee.<br />Ah!” sighing said that lady then,<br /> “Can +ne’er young Harden’s be.”</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Reiver’s Wedding.</i></p> +<p>“They are gone,” said Margaret of York, standing half +dressed at the deep-set window of the chamber where Grisell lay in state +in her big bed.</p> +<p>“Who are gone?” asked Grisell, turning as well as she +could under the great heraldically-embroidered covering.</p> +<p>“Leonard Copeland and his father. Did’st not hear +the horses’ tramp in the court?”</p> +<p>“I thought it was only my lord’s horses going to the +water.”</p> +<p>“It was the Copelands going off without breaking their fast +or taking a stirrup cup, like discourteous rogues as they be,” +said Margaret, in no measured language.</p> +<p>“And are they gone? And wherefore?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Wherefore? but for fear my noble uncle of Salisbury should +hold them to their contract. Sir William sat as surly as a bear +just about to be baited, while thy mother rated and raved at him like +a very sleuth-hound on the chase. And Leonard - what think’st +thou he saith? “That he would as soon wed the loathly lady +as thee,” the cruel Somerset villain as he is; and yet my brother +Edmund is fain to love him. So off they are gone, like recreant +curs as they are, lest my uncle should make them hear reason.”</p> +<p>“But Lady Madge, dear Lady Madge, am I so very loathly?” +asked poor Grisell.</p> +<p>“Mine aunt of Salisbury bade that none should tell thee,” +responded Margaret, in some confusion.</p> +<p>“Ah me! I must know sooner or later! My mother, +she shrieked at sight of me!”</p> +<p>“I would not have your mother,” said the outspoken daughter +of “proud Cis.” “My Lady Duchess mother is stern +enough if we do not bridle our heads, and if we make ourselves too friendly +with the meiné, but she never frets nor rates us, and does not +heed so long as we do not demean ourselves unlike our royal blood. +She is no termagant like yours.”</p> +<p>It was not polite, but Grisell had not seen enough of her mother +to be very sensitive on her account. In fact, she was chiefly +occupied with what she had heard about her own appearance - a matter +which had not occurred to her before in all her suffering. She +returned again to entreat Margaret to tell her whether she was so foully +ill-favoured that no one could look at her, and the damsel of York, +adhering to the letter rather young than the spirit of the cautions +which she had received, pursed up her lips and reiterated that she had +been commanded not to mention the subject.</p> +<p>“Then,” entreated Grisell, “do - do, dear Madge +- only bring me the little hand mirror out of my Lady Countess’s +chamber.”</p> +<p>“I know not that I can or may.”</p> +<p>“Only for the space of one Ave,” reiterated Grisell.</p> +<p>“My lady aunt would never - ”</p> +<p>“There - hark - there’s the bell for mass. Thou +canst run into her chamber when she and the tirewomen are gone down.”</p> +<p>“But I must be there.”</p> +<p>“Thou canst catch them up after. They will only think +thee a slug-a-bed. Madge, dear Madge, prithee, I cannot rest without. +Weeping will be worse for me.”</p> +<p>She was crying, and caressing Margaret so vehemently that she gained +her point. Indeed the other girl was afraid of her sobs being +heard, and inquired into, and therefore promised to make the attempt, +keeping a watch out of sight till she had seen the Lady of Salisbury +in her padded head-gear of gold net, and long purple train, sweep down +the stair, followed by her tirewomen and maidens of every degree. +Then darting into the chamber, she bore away from a stage where lay +the articles of the toilette, a little silver-backed and handled Venetian +mirror, with beautiful tracery in silvered glass diminishing the very +small oval left for personal reflection and inspection. That, +however, was quite enough and too much for poor Grisell when Lady Margaret +had thrown it to her on her bed, and rushed down the stair so as to +come in the rear of the household just in time.</p> +<p>A glance at the mirror disclosed, not the fair rosy face, set in +light yellow curls, that Grisell had now and then peeped at in a bucket +of water or a polished breast-plate, but a piteous sight. One +half, as she expected, was hidden by bandages, but the other was fiery +red, except that from the corner of the eye to the ear there was a purple +scar; the upper lip was distorted, the hair, eyebrows, and lashes were +all gone! The poor child was found in an agony of sobbing when, +after the service, the old woman who acted as her nurse came stumping +up in her wooden clogs to set the chamber and bed in order for Lady +Whitburn’s visit.</p> +<p>The dame was in hot haste to get home. Rumours were rife as +to Scottish invasions, and her tower was not too far south not to need +to be on its guard. Her plan was to pack Grisell on a small litter +slung to a sumpter mule, and she snorted a kind of defiant contempt +when the Countess, backed by the household barber-surgeon, declared +the proceeding barbarous and impossible. Indeed she had probably +forgotten that Grisell was far too tall to be made up into the bundle +she intended; but she then declared that the wench might ride pillion +behind old Diccon, and she would not be convinced till she was taken +up to the sick chamber. There the first sound that greeted them +was a choking agony of sobs and moans, while the tirewoman stood over +the bed, exclaiming, “Aye, no wonder; it serves thee right, thou +evil wench, filching my Lady Countess’s mirror from her very chamber, +when it might have been broken for all thanks to thee. The Venice +glass that the merchant gave her! Thou art not so fair a sight, +I trow, as to be in haste to see thyself. At the bottom of all +the scathe in the Castle! We shall be well rid of thee.”</p> +<p>So loud was the objurgation of the tirewoman that she did not hear +the approach of her mistress, nor indeed the first words of the Countess, +“Hush, Maudlin, the poor child is not to be thus rated! +Silence!”</p> +<p>“See, my lady, what she has done to your ladyship’s Venice +glass, which she never should have touched. She must have run +to your chamber while you were at mass. All false her feigning +to be so sick and feeble.”</p> +<p>“Ay,” replied Lady Whitburn, “she must up - don +her clothes, and away with me.”</p> +<p>“Hush, I pray you, madam. How, how, Grisell, my poor +child. Call Master Miles, Maudlin! Give me that water.” +The Countess was raising the poor child in her arms, and against her +bosom, for the shock of that glance in the mirror, followed by the maid’s +harsh reproaches, and fright at the arrival of the two ladies, had brought +on a choking, hysterical sort of convulsive fit, and the poor girl writhed +and gasped on Lady Salisbury’s breast, while her mother exclaimed, +“Heed her not, Lady; it is all put on to hinder me from taking +her home. If she could go stealing to your room - ”</p> +<p>“No, no,” broke out a weeping, frightened voice. +“It was I, Lady Aunt. You bade me never tell her how her +poor face looked, and when she begged and prayed me, I did not say, +but I fetched the mirror. Oh! oh! It has not been the death +of her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, by God’s blessing! Take away the glass, +Margaret. Go and tell thy beads, child; thou hast done much scathe +unwittingly! Ah, Master Miles, come to the poor maid’s aid. +Canst do aught for her?”</p> +<p>“These humours must be drawn off, my lady,” said the +barber-surgeon, who advanced to the bed, and felt the pulse of the poor +little patient. “I must let her blood.”</p> +<p>Maudlin, whose charge she was, came to his help, and Countess Alice +still held her up, while, after the practice of those days, he bled +the already almost unconscious child, till she fainted and was laid +down again on her pillows, under the keeping of Maudlin, while the clanging +of the great bell called the family down to the meal which broke fast, +whether to be called breakfast or dinner.</p> +<p>It was plain that Grisell was in no state to be taken on a journey, +and her mother went grumbling down the stair at the unchancy bairn always +doing scathe.</p> +<p>Lord Salisbury, beside whom she sat, courteously, though perhaps +hardly willingly, invited her to remain till her daughter was ready +to move.</p> +<p>“Nay, my Lord, I am beholden to you, but I may scarce do that. +I be sorely needed at Whitburn Tower. The knaves go all agee when +both my lord and myself have our backs turned, and my lad bairns - worth +a dozen of yon whining maid - should no longer be left to old Cuthbert +Ridley and Nurse. Now the Queen and Somerset have their way ’tis +all misrule, and who knows what the Scots may do?”</p> +<p>“There are Nevils and Dacres enough between Whitburn and the +Border,” observed the Earl gravely. However, the visitor +was not such an agreeable one as to make him anxious to press her stay +beyond what hospitality demanded, and his wife could not bear to think +of giving over her poor little patient to such usage as she would have +met with on the journey.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn was overheard saying that those who had mauled the +maid might mend her, if they could; and accordingly she acquiesced, +not too graciously, when the Countess promised to tend the child like +her own, and send her by and by to Whitburn under a safe escort; and +as Middleham Castle lay on the way to Whitburn, it was likely that means +would be found of bringing or sending her.</p> +<p>This settled, Lady Whitburn was restless to depart, so as to reach +a hostel before night.</p> +<p>She donned her camlet cloak and hood, and looked once more in upon +Grisell, who after her loss of blood, had, on reviving, been made to +swallow a draught of which an infusion of poppy heads formed a great +part, so that she lay, breathing heavily, in a deep sleep, moaning now +and then. Her mother did not scruple to try to rouse her with +calls of “Grizzy! Look up, wench!” but could elicit +nothing but a half turn on the pillow, and a little louder moan, and +Master Miles, who was still watching, absolutely refused to let his +patient be touched or shaken.</p> +<p>“Well a day!” said Lady Whitburn, softened for a moment, +“what the Saints will must be, I trow; but it is hard, and I shall +let St. Cuthbert of Durham know it, that after all the candles I have +given him, he should have let my poor maid be so mauled and marred, +and then forsaken by the rascal who did it, so that she will never be +aught but a dead weight on my two fair sons! The least he can +do for me now is to give me my revenge upon that lurdane runaway knight +and his son. But he hath no care for lassies. Mayhap St. +Hilda may serve me better.”</p> +<p>Wherewith the Lady of Whitburn tramped down stairs. It may +be feared that in the ignorance in which northern valleys were left +she was very little more enlightened in her ideas of what would please +the Saints, or what they could do for her, than were the old heathen +of some unknown antiquity who used to worship in the mysterious circles +of stones which lay on the downs of Amesbury.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV - PARTING</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>There in the holy house at Almesbury<br />Weeping, none with her +save a little maid.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Idylls of the King.</i></p> +<p>The agitations of that day had made Grisell so much worse that her +mind hardly awoke again to anything but present suffering from fever, +and in consequence the aggravation of the wounds on her neck and cheek. +She used to moan now and then “Don’t take me away!” +or cower in terror, “She is coming!” being her cry, or sometimes +“So foul and loathly.” She hung again between life +and death, and most of those around thought death would be far better +for the poor child, but the Countess and the Chaplain still held to +the faith that she must be reserved for some great purpose if she survived +so much.</p> +<p>Great families with all their train used to move from one castle +or manor to another so soon as they had eaten up all the produce of +one place, and the time had come when the Nevils must perforce quit +Amesbury. Grisell was in no state for a long journey; she was +exceedingly weak, and as fast as one wound in her face and neck healed +another began to break out, so that often she could hardly eat, and +whether she would ever have the use of her left eye was doubtful.</p> +<p>Master Miles was at his wits’ end, Maudlin was weary of waiting +on her, and so in truth was every one except the good Countess, and +she could not always be with the sufferer, nor could she carry such +a patient to London, whither her lord was summoned to support his brother-in-law, +the Duke of York, against the Duke of Somerset.</p> +<p>The only delay was caused by the having to receive the newly-appointed +Bishop, Richard Beauchamp, who had been translated from his former see +at Hereford on the murder of his predecessor, William Ayscough, by some +of Jack Cade’s party.</p> +<p>In full splendour he came, with a train of chaplains and cross-bearers, +and the clergy of Salisbury sent a deputation to meet him, and to arrange +with him for his reception and installation. It was then that +the Countess heard that there was a nun at Wilton Abbey so skilled in +the treatment of wounds and sores that she was thought to work miracles, +being likewise a very holy woman.</p> +<p>The Earl and Countess would accompany the new bishop to be present +at his enthronement and the ensuing banquet, and the lady made this +an opportunity of riding to the convent on her way back, consulting +the Abbess, whom she had long known, and likewise seeing Sister Avice, +and requesting that her poor little guest might be received and treated +there.</p> +<p>There was no chance of a refusal, for the great nobles were sovereigns +in their own domains; the Countess owned half Wiltshire, and was much +loved and honoured in all the religious houses for her devotion and +beneficence.</p> +<p>The nuns were only too happy to undertake to receive the demoiselle +Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, or any other whom my Lady Countess would +entrust to them, and the Abbess had no doubt that Sister Avice could +effect a cure.</p> +<p>Lady Salisbury dreaded that Grisell should lie awake all night crying, +so she said nothing till her whirlicote, as the carriage of those days +was called, was actually being prepared, and then she went to the chamber +where the poor child had spent five months, and where she was now sitting +dressed, but propped up on a sort of settle, and with half her face +still bandaged.</p> +<p>“My little maid, this is well,” said the Countess. +“Come with me. I am going to take thee to a kind and holy +dame who will, I trust, with the blessing of Heaven, be able to heal +thee better than we have done.”</p> +<p>“Oh, lady, lady, do not send me away!” cried Grisell; +“not from you and Madge.”</p> +<p>“My child, I must do so; I am going away myself, with my lord, +and Madge is to go back with her brother to her father the Duke. +Thou couldst not brook the journey, and I will take thee myself to the +good Sister Avice.”</p> +<p>“A nun, a nunnery,” sighed Grisell. “Oh! +I shall be mewed up there and never come forth again! Do not, +I pray, do not, good my lady, send me thither!”</p> +<p>Perhaps my lady thought that to remain for life in a convent might +be the fate, and perhaps the happiest, of the poor blighted girl, but +she only told her that there was no reason she should not leave Wilton, +as she was not put there to take the vows, but only to be cured.</p> +<p>Long nursing had made Grisell unreasonable, and she cried as much +as she dared over the order; but no child ventured to make much resistance +to elders in those days, and especially not to the Countess, so Grisell, +a very poor little wasted being, was carried down, and only delayed +in the hall for an affectionate kiss from Margaret of York.</p> +<p>“And here is a keepsake, Grisell,” she said. “Mine +own beauteous pouncet box, with the forget-me-nots in turquoises round +each little hole.”</p> +<p>“I will keep it for ever,” said Grisell, and they parted, +but not as girls part who hope to meet again, and can write letters +constantly, but with tearful eyes and clinging hands, as little like +to meet again, or even to hear more of one another.</p> +<p>The whirlicote was not much better than an ornamental waggon, and +Lady Salisbury, with the Mother of the Maids, did their best to lessen +the force of the jolts as by six stout horses it was dragged over the +chalk road over the downs, passing the wonderful stones of Amesbury +- a wider circle than even Stonehenge, though without the triliths, +<i>i.e</i>. the stones laid one over the tops of the other two like +a doorway. Grisell heard some thing murmured about Merlin and +Arthur and Guinevere, but she did not heed, and she was quite worn out +with fatigue by the time they reached the descent into the long smooth +valley where Wilton Abbey stood, and the spire of the Cathedral could +be seen rising tall and beautiful.</p> +<p>The convent lay low, among meadows all shut in with fine elm trees, +and the cows belonging to the sisters were being driven home, their +bells tinkling. There was an outer court, within an arched gate +kept by a stout porter, and thus far came the whirlicote and the Countess’s +attendants; but a lay porteress, in a cap and veil and black dress, +came out to receive her as the door of the carriage was opened, and +held out her arms to receive the muffled figure of the little visitor. +“Ah, poor maid,” she said, “but Sister Avice will +soon heal her.”</p> +<p>At the deeply ornamented round archway of the inner gate to the cloistered +court stood the Lady Abbess, at the head of all her sisters, drawn up +in double line to receive the Countess, whom they took to their refectory +and to their chapel.</p> +<p>Of this, however, Grisell saw nothing, for she had been taken into +the arms of a tall nun in a black veil. At first she shuddered +and would have screamed if she had been a little stronger and less tired, +for illness and weakness had brought back the babyish horror of anything +black; but she felt soothed by the sweet voice and tender words, “Poor +little one! she is fore spent. She shall lie down on a soft bed, +and have some sweet milk anon.”</p> +<p>Still a deadly feeling of faintness came upon her before she had +been carried to the little bed which had been made ready for her. +When she opened her eyes, while a spoon was held to her lips, the first +thing she saw was the sweetest, calmest, most motherly of faces bent +over her, one arm round her, the other giving her the spoon of some +cordial. She looked up and even smiled, though it was a sad contorted +smile, which brought a tear into the good sister’s eyes; but then +she fell asleep, and only half awoke when the Countess came up to see +her for the last time, and bade her farewell with a kiss on her forehead, +and a charge to Sister Avice to watch her well, and be tender with her. +Indeed no one could look at Sister Avice’s gentle face and think +there was much need of the charge.</p> +<p>Sister Avice was one of the women who seem to be especially born +for the gentlest tasks of womanhood. She might have been an excellent +wife and mother, but from the very hour of her birth she had been vowed +to be a nun in gratitude on her mother’s part for her father’s +safety at Agincourt. She had been placed at Wilton when almost +a baby, and had never gone farther from it than on very rare occasions +to the Cathedral at Salisbury; but she had grown up with a wonderful +instinct for nursing and healing, and had a curious insight into the +properties of herbs, as well as a soft deft hand and touch, so that +for some years she had been sister infirmarer, and moreover the sick +were often brought to the gates for her counsel, treatment, or, as some +believed, even her healing touch.</p> +<p>When Grisell awoke she was alone in the long, large, low room, which +was really built over the Norman cloister. The walls were of pale +creamy stone, but at the end where she lay there were hangings of faded +tapestry. At one end there was a window, through the thick glass +of which could be dimly seen, as Grisell raised herself a little, beautiful +trees, and the splendid spire of the Cathedral rising, as she dreamily +thought, like a finger pointing upwards. Nearer were several more +narrow windows along the side of the room, and that beside her bed had +the lattice open, so that she saw a sloping green bank, with a river +at the foot; and there was a trim garden between. Opposite to +her there seemed to be another window with a curtain drawn across it, +through which came what perhaps had wakened her, a low, clear murmuring +tone, pausing and broken by the full, sweet, if rather shrill response +in women’s voices. Beneath that window was a little altar, +with a crucifix and two candlesticks, a holy-water stoup by the side, +and there was above the little deep window a carving of the Blessed +Virgin with the Holy Child, on either side a niche, one with a figure +of a nun holding a taper, the other of a bishop with a book.</p> +<p>Grisell might have begun crying again at finding herself alone, but +the sweet chanting lulled her, and she lay back on her pillows, half +dozing but quite content, except that the wound on her neck felt stiff +and dry; and by and by when the chanting ceased, the kind nun, with +a lay sister, came back again carrying water and other appliances, at +sight of which Grisell shuddered, for Master Miles never touched her +without putting her to pain.</p> +<p>“<i>Benedicite</i>, my little maid, thou art awake,” +said Sister Avice. “I thought thou wouldst sleep till the +vespers were ended. Now let us dress these sad wounds of thine, +and thou shalt sleep again.”</p> +<p>Grisell submitted, as she knew she must, but to her surprise Sister +Avice’s touch was as soft and soothing as were her words, and +the ointment she applied was fragrant and delicious and did not burn +or hurt her.</p> +<p>She looked up gratefully, and murmured her thanks, and then the evening +meal was brought in, and she sat up to partake of it on the seat of +the window looking out on the Cathedral spire. It was a milk posset +far more nicely flavoured than what she had been used to at Amesbury, +where, in spite of the Countess’s kindness, the master cook had +grown tired of any special service for the Dacre wench; and unless Margaret +of York secured fruit for her, she was apt to be regaled with only the +scraps that Maudlin managed to cater for her after the meals were over.</p> +<p>After that, Sister Avice gently undressed her, took care that she +said her prayers, and sat by her till she fell asleep, herself telling +her that she should sleep beside her, and that she would hear the voices +of the sisters singing in the chapel their matins and lauds. Grisell +did hear them, as in a dream, but she had not slept so well since her +disaster as she slept on that night.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V - SISTER AVICE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Love, to her ear, was but a name<br />Combined with vanity and shame;<br />Her +hopes, her fears, her joys, were all<br />Bounded within the cloister +wall.</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>Marmion.</i></p> +<p>Sister Avice sat in the infirmary, diligently picking the leaves +off a large mass of wood-sorrel which had been brought to her by the +children around, to make therewith a conserve.</p> +<p>Grisell lay on her couch. She had been dressed, and had knelt +at the window, where the curtain was drawn back while mass was said +by the Chaplain, the nuns kneeling in their order and making their responses. +It was a low-browed chapel of Norman or even older days, with circular +arches and heavy round piers, and so dark that the gleam of the candles +was needed to light it.</p> +<p>Grisell watched, till tired with kneeling she went back to her couch, +slept a little, and then wondered to see Sister Avice still compounding +her simples.</p> +<p>She moved wearily, and sighed for Madge to come in and tell her all +the news of Amesbury - who was riding at the ring, or who had shot the +best bolt, or who had had her work picked out as not neat or well shaded +enough.</p> +<p>Sister Avice came and shook up her pillow, and gave her a dried plum +and a little milk, and began to talk to her.</p> +<p>“You will soon be better,” she said, “and then +you will be able to play in the garden.”</p> +<p>“Is there any playfellow for me?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“There is a little maid from Bemerton, who comes daily to learn +her hornbook and her sampler. Mayhap she will stay and play with +you.”</p> +<p>“I had Madge at Amesbury; I shall love no one as well as Madge! +See what she gave me.”</p> +<p>Grisell displayed her pouncet box, which was duly admired, and then +she asked wearily whether she should always have to stay in the convent.</p> +<p>“Oh no, not of need,” said the sister. “Many +a maiden who has been here for a time has gone out into the world, but +some love this home the best, as I have done.”</p> +<p>“Did yonder nun on the wall?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Yea, truly. She was bred here, and never left it, though +she was a King’s daughter. Edith was her name, and two days +after Holy Cross day we shall keep her feast. Shall I tell you +her story?”</p> +<p>“Prithee, prithee!” exclaimed Grisell. “I +love a tale dearly.”</p> +<p>Sister Avice told the legend, how St. Edith grew in love and tenderness +at Wilton, and how she loved the gliding river and the flowers in the +garden, and how all loved her, her young playmates especially. +She promised one who went away to be wedded that she would be godmother +to her first little daughter, but ere the daughter was born the saintly +Edith had died. The babe was carried to be christened in the font +at Winchester Cathedral, and by a great and holy man, no other than +Alphegius, who was then Bishop of Winchester, but was made Archbishop +of Canterbury, and died a holy martyr.</p> +<p>“Then,” said Sister Avice, “there was a great marvel, +for among the sponsors around the square black font there stood another +figure in the dress of our Mother Abbess, and as the Bishop spake and +said, “Bear this taper, in token that thy lamp shall be alight +when the Bridegroom cometh,” the form held the torch, shining +bright, clear, and like no candle or light on earth ever shone, and +the face was the face of the holy Edith. It is even said that +she held the babe, but that I know not, being a spirit without a body, +but she spake the name, her own name Edith. And when the holy +rite was over, she had vanished away.”</p> +<p>“And that is she, with the lamp in her hand? Oh, I should +have been afraid!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Not of the holy soul?” said the sister.</p> +<p>“Oh! I hope she will never come in here, by the little +window into the church,” cried Grisell trembling.</p> +<p>Indeed, for some time, in spite of all Sister Avice could say, Grisell +could not at night be free from the fear of a visit from St. Edith, +who, as she was told, slept her long sleep in the church below. +It may be feared that one chief reliance was on the fact that she could +not be holy enough for a vision of the Saint, but this was not so valuable +to her as the touch of Sister Avice’s kind hand, or the very knowing +her present.</p> +<p>That story was the prelude to many more. Grisell wanted to +hear it over again, and then who was the Archbishop martyr, and who +were the Virgins in memory of whom the lamps were carried. Both +these, and many another history, parable, or legend were told her by +Sister Avice, training her soul, throughout the long recovery, which +was still very slow, but was becoming more confirmed every day. +Grisell could use her eye, turn her head, and the wounds closed healthily +under the sister’s treatment without showing symptoms of breaking +out afresh; and she grew in strength likewise, first taking a walk in +the trim garden and orchard, and by and by being pronounced able to +join the other girl scholars of the convent. Only here was the +first demur. Her looks did not recover with her health. +She remained with a much-seamed neck, and a terrible scar across each +cheek, on one side purple, and her eyebrows were entirely gone.</p> +<p>She seemed to have forgotten the matter while she was entirely in +the infirmary, with no companion but Sister Avice, and occasionally +a lay sister, who came to help; but the first time she went down the +turret stair into the cloister - a beautiful succession of arches round +a green court - she met a novice and a girl about her own age; the elder +gave a little scream at the sight and ran away.</p> +<p>The other hung back. “Mary, come hither,” said +Sister Avice. “This is Grisell Dacre, who hath suffered +so much. Wilt thou not come and kiss and welcome her?”</p> +<p>Mary came forward rather reluctantly, but Grisell drew up her head +within, “Oh, if you had liefer not!” and turned her back +on the girl.</p> +<p>Sister Avice followed as Grisell walked away as fast as her weakness +allowed, and found her sitting breathless at the third step on the stairs.</p> +<p>“Oh, no - go away - don’t bring her. Every one +will hate me,” sobbed the poor child.</p> +<p>Avice could only gather her into her arms, though embraces were against +the strict rule of Benedictine nuns, and soothe and coax her to believe +that by one at least she was not hated.</p> +<p>“I had forgotten,” said Grisell. “I saw myself +once at Amesbury! but my face was not well then. Let me see again, +sister! Where’s a mirror?”</p> +<p>“Ah! my child, we nuns are not allowed the use of worldly things +like mirrors; I never saw one in my life.”</p> +<p>“But oh, for pity’s sake, tell me what like am I. +Am I so loathly?”</p> +<p>“Nay, my dear maid, I love thee too well to think of aught +save that thou art mine own little one, given back to us by the will +of Heaven. Aye, and so will others think of thee, if thou art +good and loving to them.”</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, none will ever love me! All will hate and +flee from me, as from a basilisk or cockatrice, or the Loathly Worm +of Spindlesheugh,” sobbed Grisell.</p> +<p>“Then, my maid, thou must win them back by thy sweet words +and kind deeds. They are better than looks. And here too +they shall soon think only of what thou art, not of what thou look’st.”</p> +<p>“But know you, sister, how - how I should have been married +to Leonard Copeland, the very youth that did me this despite, and he +is fair and beauteous as a very angel, and I did love him so, and now +he and his father rid away from Amesbury, and left me because I am so +foul to see,” cried Grisell, between her sobs.</p> +<p>“If they could treat thee thus despiteously, he would surely +not have made thee a good husband,” reasoned the sister.</p> +<p>“But I shall never have a husband now,” wailed Grisell.</p> +<p>“Belike not,” said Sister Avice; “but, my sweetheart, +there is better peace and rest and cheer in such a home as this holy +house, than in the toils and labours of the world. When my sisters +at Dunbridge and Dinton come to see me they look old and careworn, and +are full of tales of the turmoil and trouble of husbands, and sons, +and dues, and tenants’ fees, and villeins, and I know not what, +that I often think that even in this world’s sense I am the best +off. And far above and beyond that,” she added, in a low +voice, “the virgin hath a hope, a Spouse beyond all human thought.”</p> +<p>Grisell did not understand the thought, and still wept bitterly. +“Must she be a nun all her life?” was all she thought of, +and the shady cloister seemed to her like a sort of prison. Sister +Avice had to soothe and comfort her, till her tears were all spent, +as so often before, and she had cried herself so ill that she had to +be taken back to her bed and lie down again. It was some days +before she could be coaxed out again to encounter any companions.</p> +<p>However, as time went on, health, and with it spirits and life, came +back to Grisell Dacre at Wilton, and she became accustomed to being +with the other inmates of the fine old convent, as they grew too much +used to her appearance to be startled or even to think about it. +The absence of mirrors prevented it from ever being brought before her, +and Sister Avice set herself to teach her how goodness, sweetness, and +kindness could endear any countenance, and indeed Grisell saw for herself +how much more loved was the old and very plain Mother Anne than the +very beautiful young Sister Isabel, who had been forced into the convent +by her tyrannical brother, and wore out her life in fretting and rudeness +to all who came in her way. She declared that the sight of Grisell +made her ill, and insisted that the veiled hood which all the girls +wore should be pulled forward whenever they came near one another, and +that Grisell’s place should be out of her sight in chapel or refectory.</p> +<p>Every one else, however, was very kind to the poor girl, Sister Avice +especially so, and Grisell soon forgot her disfigurement when she ceased +to suffer from it. She had begun to learn reading, writing, and +a little Latin, besides spinning, stitchery, and a few housewifely arts, +in the Countess of Salisbury’s household, for every lady was supposed +to be educated in these arts, and great establishments were schools +for the damsels there bred up. It was the same with convent life, +and each nunnery had traditional works of its own, either in embroidery, +cookery, or medicine. Some secrets there were not imparted beyond +the professed nuns, and only to the more trustworthy of them, so that +each sisterhood might have its own especial glory in confections, whether +in portrait-worked vestments, in illuminations, in sweetmeats, or in +salves and unguents; but the pensioners were instructed in all those +common arts of bakery, needlework, notability, and surgery which made +the lady of a castle or manor so important, and within the last century +in the more fashionable abbeys Latin of a sort, French “of the +school of Stratford le Bowe,” and the like, were added. +Thus Grisell learnt as an apt scholar these arts, and took especial +delight in helping Sister Avice to compound her simples, and acquired +a tender hand with which to apply them.</p> +<p>Moreover, she learnt not only to say and sing her Breviary, but to +know the signification in English. There were translations of +the Lord’s Prayer and Creed in the hands of all careful and thoughtful +people, even among the poor, if they had a good parish priest, or had +come under the influence of the better sort of friars. In convents +where discipline was kept up the meaning was carefully taught, and there +were English primers in the hands of all the devout, so that the services +could be intelligently followed even by those who did not learn Latin, +as did Grisell. Selections from Scripture history, generally clothed +in rhyme, and versified lives of the Saints, were read aloud at meal-times +in the refectory, and Grisell became so good a reader that she was often +chosen to chant out the sacred story, and her sweet northern voice was +much valued in the singing in the church. She was quite at home +there, and though too young to be admitted as a novice, she wore a black +dress and white hood like theirs, and the annual gifts to the nunnery +from the Countess of Salisbury were held to entitle her to the residence +there as a pensioner. She had fully accepted the idea of spending +her life there, sheltered from the world, among the kind women whom +she loved, and who had learnt to love her, and in devotion to God, and +works of mercy to the sick.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI - THE PROCTOR</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>But if a mannes soul were in his purse,<br />For in his purse he +should yfurnished be.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>Canterbury Pilgrims.</i></p> +<p>Five years had passed since Grisell had been received at Wilton, +when the Abbess died. She had been infirm and confined to her +lodging for many months, and Grisell had hardly seen her, but her death +was to change the whole tenor of the maiden’s life.</p> +<p>The funeral ceremonies took place in full state. The Bishop +himself came to attend them, and likewise all the neighbouring clergy, +and the monks, friars, and nuns, overflowing the chapel, while peasants +and beggars for whom there was no room in the courts encamped outside +the walls, to receive the dole and pray for the soul of the right reverend +Mother Abbess.</p> +<p>For nine days constant services were kept up, and the requiem mass +was daily said, the dirges daily sung, and the alms bestowed on the +crowd, who were by no means specially sorrowful or devout, but beguiled +the time by watching <i>jongleurs</i> and mountebanks performing beyond +the walls.</p> +<p>There was the “Month’s Mind” still to come, and +then the chapter of nuns intended to proceed to the election of their +new Abbess, unanimously agreeing that she should be their present Prioress, +who had held kindly rule over them through the slow to-decay of the +late Abbess. Before, however, this could be done a messenger arrived +on a mule bearing an inhibition to the sisters to proceed in the election.</p> +<p>His holiness Pope Calixtus had reserved to himself the next appointment +to this as well as to certain other wealthy abbeys.</p> +<p>The nuns in much distress appealed to the Bishop, but he could do +nothing for them. Such reservations had been constant in the subservient +days that followed King John’s homage, and though the great Edwards +had struggled against them, and the yoke had been shaken off during +the Great Schism, no sooner had this been healed than the former claims +were revived, nay, redoubled, and the pious Henry VI. was not the man +to resist them. The sisters therefore waited in suspense, daring +only meekly to recommend their Prioress in a humble letter, written +by the Chaplain, and backed by a recommendation from Bishop Beauchamp. +Both alike were disregarded, as all had expected.</p> +<p>The new Abbess thus appointed was the Madre Matilda de Borgia, a +relation of Pope Calixtus, very noble, and of Spanish birth, as the +Commissioner assured the nuns; but they had never heard of her before, +and were not at all gratified. They had always elected their Abbess +before, and had quite made up their minds as to the choice of the present +Mother Prioress as Abbess, and of Sister Avice as Prioress.</p> +<p>However, they had only to submit. To appeal to the King or +to their Bishop would have been quite useless; they could only do as +the Pope commanded, and elect the Mother Matilda, consoling themselves +with the reflection that she was not likely to trouble herself about +them, and their old Prioress would govern them. And so she did +so far as regarded the discipline of the house, but what they had not +so entirely understood was the Mother de Borgia’s desire to squeeze +all she could out of the revenues of the house.</p> +<p>Her Proctor arrived, a little pinched man in a black gown and square +cap, and desired to see the Mother Prioress and her steward, and to +overlook the income and expenditure of the convent; to know who had +duly paid her dowry to the nunnery, what were the rents, and the like. +The sisters had already raised a considerable gift in silver merks to +be sent through Lombard merchants to their new Abbess, and this requisition +was a fresh blow.</p> +<p>Presently the Proctor marked out Grisell Dacre, and asked on what +terms she was at the convent. It was explained that she had been +brought thither for her cure by the Lady of Salisbury, and had stayed +on, without fee or payment from her own home in the north, but the ample +donations of the Earl of Salisbury had been held as full compensation, +and it had been contemplated to send to the maiden’s family to +obtain permission to enrol her as a sister after her novitiate - which +might soon begin, as she was fifteen years old.</p> +<p>The Proctor, however, was much displeased. The nuns had no +right to receive a pensioner without payment, far less to admit a novice +as a sister without a dowry.</p> +<p>Mistress Grisell must be returned instantly upon the hands either +of her own family or of the Countess of Salisbury, and certainly not +readmitted unless her dowry were paid. He scarcely consented to +give time for communication with the Countess, to consider how to dispose +of the poor child.</p> +<p>The Prioress sent messengers to Amesbury and to Christ Church, but +the Earl and Countess were not there, nor was it clear where they were +likely to be. Whitburn was too far off to send to in the time +allowed by the Proctor, and Grisell had heard nothing from her home +all the time she had been at Wilton. The only thing that the Prioress +could devise, was to request the Chaplain to seek her out at Salisbury +a trustworthy escort, pilgrim, merchant or other, with whom Grisell +might safely travel to London, and if the Earl and Countess were not +there, some responsible person of theirs, or of their son’s, was +sure to be found, who would send the maiden on.</p> +<p>The Chaplain mounted his mule and rode over to Salisbury, whence +he returned, bringing with him news of a merchant’s wife who was +about to go on pilgrimage to fulfil a vow at Walsingham, and would feel +herself honoured by acting as the convoy of the Lady Grisell Dacre as +far at least as London.</p> +<p>There was no further hope of delay or failure. Poor Grisell +must be cast out on the world - the Proctor even spoke of calling the +Countess, or her steward, to account for her maintenance during these +five years.</p> +<p>There was weeping and wailing in the cloisters at the parting, and +Grisell clung to Sister Avice, mourning for her peaceful, holy life.</p> +<p>“Nay, my child, none can take from thee a holy life.”</p> +<p>“If I make a vow of virginity none can hinder me.”</p> +<p>“That was not what I meant. No maid has a right to take +such a vow on herself without consent of her father, nor is it binding +otherwise. No! but no one can take away from a Christian maid +the power of holiness. Bear that for ever in mind, sweetheart. +Naught that can be done by man or by devil to the body can hurt the +soul that is fixed on Christ and does not consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“The Saints forefend that ever - ever I should consent to evil.”</p> +<p>“It is the Blessed Spirit alone who can guard thy will, my +child. Will and soul not consenting nor being led astray thou +art safe. Nay, the lack of a fair-favoured face may be thy guard.”</p> +<p>“All will hate me. Alack! alack!”</p> +<p>“Not so. See, thou hast won love amongst us. Wherefore +shouldst not thou in like manner win love among thine own people?”</p> +<p>“My mother hates me already, and my father heeds me not.”</p> +<p>“Love them, child! Do them good offices! None can +hinder thee from that.”</p> +<p>“Can I love those who love not me?”</p> +<p>“Yea, little one. To serve and tend another brings the +heart to love. Even as thou seest a poor dog love the master who +beats him, so it is with us, only with the higher Christian love. +Service and prayer open the heart to love, hoping for nothing again, +and full oft that which was not hoped for is vouchsafed.”</p> +<p>That was the comfort with which Grisell had to start from her home +of peace, conducted by the Chaplain, and even the Prioress, who would +herself give her into the hands of the good Mistress Hall.</p> +<p>Very early they heard mass in the convent, and then rode along the +bank of the river, with the downs sloping down on the other side, and +the grand spire ever seeming as it were taller as they came nearer; +while the sound of the bells grew upon them, for there was then a second +tower beyond to hold the bells, whose reverberation would have been +dangerous to the spire, and most sweet was their chime, the sound of +which had indeed often reached Wilton in favourable winds; but it sounded +like a sad farewell to Grisell.</p> +<p>The Prioress thought she ought to begin her journey by kneeling in +the Cathedral, so they crossed the shaded close and entered by the west +door with the long vista of clustered columns and pointed arches before +them.</p> +<p>Low sounds of mass being said at different altars met their ears, +for it was still early in the day. The Prioress passed the length +of nave, and went beyond the choir to the lady chapel, with its slender +supporting columns and exquisite arches, and there she, with Grisell +by her side, joined in earnest supplications for the child.</p> +<p>The Chaplain touched her as she rose, and made her aware that the +dame arrayed in a scarlet mantle and hood and dark riding-dress was +Mistress Hall.</p> +<p>Silence was not observed in cathedrals or churches, especially in +the naves, except when any sacred rite was going on, and no sooner was +the mass finished and “<i>Ite missa est</i>” pronounced +than the scarlet cloak rose, and hastened into the south transept, where +she waited for the Chaplain, Prioress, and Grisell. No introduction +seemed needed. “The Holy Mother Prioress,” she began, +bending her knee and kissing the lady’s hand. “Much +honoured am I by the charge of this noble little lady.” +Grisell by the by was far taller than the plump little goodwoman Hall, +but that was no matter, and the Prioress had barely space to get in +a word of thanks before she went on: “I will keep her and tend +her as the apple of mine eye. She shall pray with me at all the +holy shrines for the good of her soul and mine. She shall be my +bedfellow wherever we halt, and sit next me, and be cherished as though +she were mine own daughter - ladybird as she is - till I can give her +into the hands of the good Lady Countess. Oh yes - you may trust +Joan Hall, dame reverend mother. She is no new traveller. +I have been in my time to all our shrines - to St. Thomas of Canterbury, +to St. Winifred’s Well, aye, and, moreover, to St. James of Compostella, +and St. Martha of Provence, not to speak of lesser chantries and Saints. +Aye, and I crossed the sea to see the holy coat of Trèves, and +St. Ursula’s eleven thousand skulls - and a gruesome sight they +were. Nay, if the Lady Countess be not in London it would cost +me little to go on to the north with her. There’s St. Andrew +of Ely, Hugh, great St. Hugh and little St. Hugh, both of them at Lincoln, +and there’s St. Wilfred of York, and St. John of Beverly, not +to speak of St. Cuthbert of Durham and of St. Hilda of Whitby, who might +take it ill if I pray at none of their altars, when I have been to so +many of their brethren. Oh, you may trust me, reverend mother; +I’ll never have the young lady, bless her sweet face, out of my +sight till I have safe bestowed her with my Lady Countess, our good +customer for all manner of hardware, or else with her own kin.”</p> +<p>The good woman’s stream of conversation lasted almost without +drawing breath all the way down the nave. It was a most good-humoured +hearty voice, and her plump figure and rosy face beamed with good nature, +while her bright black eyes had a lively glance.</p> +<p>The Chaplain had inquired about her, and found that she was one of +the good women to whom pilgrimage was an annual dissipation, consecrated +and meritorious as they fondly believed, and gratifying their desire +for change and variety. She was a kindly person of good reputation, +trustworthy, and kind to the poor, and stout John Hall, her husband, +could manage the business alone, and was thought not to regret a little +reprieve from her continual tongue.</p> +<p>She wanted the Prioress to do her the honour of breaking her fast +with her, but the good nun was in haste to return, after having once +seen her charge in safe hands, and excused herself, while Grisell, blessed +by the Chaplain, and hiding her tears under her veil, was led away to +the substantial smith’s abode, where she was to take a first meal +before starting on her journey on the strong forest pony which the Chaplain’s +care had provided for her.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII - THE PILGRIM OF SALISBURY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>She hadde passed many a strange shrine,<br />At Rome she had been +and at Boleine,<br />At Galice, at St. James, and at Coleine,<br />She +could moche of wandering by the way.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>Canterbury Pilgrims.</i></p> +<p>Grisell found herself brought into a hall where a stout oak table +occupied the centre, covered with home-spun napery, on which stood trenchers, +wooden bowls, pewter and a few silver cups, and several large pitchers +of ale, small beer, or milk. A pie and a large piece of bacon, +also a loaf of barley bread and a smaller wheaten one, were there.</p> +<p>Shelves all round the walls shone with pewter and copper dishes, +cups, kettles, and vessels and implements of all household varieties, +and ranged round the floor lay ploughshares, axes, and mattocks, all +polished up. The ring of hammers on the anvil was heard in the +court in the rear. The front of the hall was open for the most +part, without windows, but it could be closed at night.</p> +<p>Breakfast was never a regular meal, and the household had partaken +of it, so that there was no one in the hall excepting Master Hall, a +stout, brawny, grizzled man, with a good-humoured face, and his son, +more slim, but growing into his likeness, also a young notable-looking +daughter-in-law with a swaddled baby tucked under her arm.</p> +<p>They seated Grisell at the table, and implored her to eat. +The wheaten bread and the fowl were, it seemed, provided in her honour, +and she could not but take her little knife from the sheath in her girdle, +turn back her nun-like veil, and prepare to try to drive back her sobs, +and swallow the milk of almonds pressed on her.</p> +<p>“Eh!” cried the daughter-in-law in amaze. “She’s +only scarred after all.”</p> +<p>“Well, what else should she be, bless her poor heart?” +said Mrs. Hall the elder.</p> +<p>“Why, wasn’t it thou thyself, good mother, that brought +home word that they had the pig-faced lady at Wilton there?”</p> +<p>“Bless thee, Agnes, thou should’st know better than to +lend an ear to all the idle tales thy poor old mother may hear at market +or fair.”</p> +<p>“Then should we have enough to do,” muttered her husband.</p> +<p>“And as thou seest, ’tis a sweet little face, only cruelly +marred by the evil hap.”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell was crimson at finding all eyes on her, an ordeal she +had never undergone in the convent, and she hastily pulled forward her +veil.</p> +<p>“Nay now, my sweet young lady, take not the idle words in ill +part,” pleaded the good hostess. “We all know how +to love thee, and what is a smooth skin to a true heart? Take +a bit more of the pasty, ladybird; we’ll have far to ride ere +we get to Wherwell, where the good sisters will give us a meal for young +St. Edward’s sake and thy Prioress’s. Aye - I turn +out of my way for that; I never yet paid my devotion to poor young King +Edward, and he might take it in dudgeon, being a king, and his shrine +so near at hand.”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha!” laughed the smith; “trust my dame for +being on the right side of the account with the Saints. Well for +me and Jack that we have little Agnes here to mind the things on earth +meanwhile. Nay, nay, dame, I say nought to hinder thee; I know +too well what it means when spring comes, and thou beginn’st to +moan and tell up the tale of the shrines where thou hast not told thy +beads.”</p> +<p>It was all in good humour, and Master Hall walked out to the city +gate to speed his gad-about or pious wife, whichever he might call her, +on her way, apparently quite content to let her go on her pilgrimages +for the summer quarter.</p> +<p>She rode a stout mule, and was attended by two sturdy varlets - quite +sufficient guards for pilgrims, who were not supposed to carry any valuables. +Grisell sadly rode her pony, keeping her veil well over her face, yearning +over the last view of the beloved spire, thinking of Sister Avice ministering +to her poor, and with a very definite fear of her own reception in the +world and dread of her welcome at home. Yet there was a joy in +being on horseback once more, for her who had ridden moorland ponies +as soon as she could walk.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall talked on, with anecdotes of every hamlet that they +passed, and these were not very many. At each church they dismounted +and said their prayers, and if there were a hostel near, they let their +animals feed the while, and obtained some refreshment themselves. +England was not a very safe place for travellers just then, but the +cockle-shells sewn to the pilgrim’s hat of the dame, and to that +of one of her attendants, and the tall staff and wallet each carried, +were passports of security. Nothing could be kinder than Mistress +Hall was to her charge, of whom she was really proud, and when they +halted for the night at the nunnery of Queen Elfrida at Wherwell, she +took care to explain that this was no burgess’s daughter but the +Lady Grisell Dacre of Whitburn, trusted to <i>her</i> convoy, and thus +obtained for her quarters in the guest-chamber of the refectory instead +of in the general hospitium; but on the whole Grisell had rather not +have been exposed to the shock of being shown to strangers, even kindly +ones, for even if they did not exclaim, some one was sure to start and +whisper.</p> +<p>After another halt for the night the travellers reached London, and +learned at the city gate that the Earl and Countess of Salisbury were +absent, but that their eldest son, the Earl of Warwick, was keeping +court at Warwick House.</p> +<p>Thither therefore Mistress Hall resolved to conduct Grisell. +The way lay through narrow streets with houses overhanging the roadway, +but the house itself was like a separate castle, walled round, enclosing +a huge space, and with a great arched porter’s lodge, where various +men-at-arms lounged, all adorned on the arm of their red jackets with +the bear and ragged staff.</p> +<p>They were courteous, however, for the Earl Richard of Warwick insisted +on civility to all comers, and they respected the scallop-shell on the +dame’s hat. They greeted her good-humouredly.</p> +<p>“Ha, good-day, good pilgrim wife. Art bound for St. Paul’s? +Here’s supper to the fore for all comers!”</p> +<p>“Thanks, sir porter, but this maid is of other mould; she is +the Lady Grisell Dacre, and is company for my lord and my lady.”</p> +<p>“Nay, her hood and veil look like company for the Abbess. +Come this way, dame, and we will find the steward to marshal her.”</p> +<p>Grisell had rather have been left to the guardianship of her kind +old friend, but she was obliged to follow. They dismounted in +a fine court with cloister-like buildings round it, and full of people +of all kinds, for no less than six hundred stout yeomen wore red coats +and the bear and ragged staff. Grisell would fain have clung to +her guide, but she was not allowed to do so. She was marshalled +up stone steps into a great hall, where tables were being laid, covered +with white napery and glittering with silver and pewter.</p> +<p>The seneschal marched before her all the length of the hall to where +there was a large fireplace with a burning log, summer though it was, +and shut off by handsome tapestried and carved screens sat a half circle +of ladies, with a young-looking lady in a velvet fur-trimmed surcoat +in their midst. A tall man with a keen, resolute face, in long +robes and gold belt and chain, stood by her leaning on her chair.</p> +<p>The seneschal announced, “Place, place for the Lady Grisell +Dacre of Whitburn,” and Grisell bent low, putting back as much +of her veil as she felt courtesy absolutely to require. The lady +rose, the knight held out his hand to raise the bending figure. +He had that power of recollection and recognition which is so great +an element in popularity. “The Lady Grisell Dacre,” +he said. “She who met with so sad a disaster when she was +one of my lady mother’s household?”</p> +<p>Grisell glowing all over signed acquiescence, and he went on, “Welcome +to my poor house, lady. Let me present you to my wife.”</p> +<p>The Countess of Warwick was a pale, somewhat inane lady. She +was the heiress of the Beauchamps and De Spensers in consequence of +the recent death of her brother, “the King of the Isle of Wight” +- and through her inheritance her husband had risen to his great power. +She was delicate and feeble, almost apathetic, and she followed her +husband’s lead, and received her guest with fair courtesy; and +Grisell ventured in a trembling voice to explain that she had spent +those years at Wilton, but that the new Abbess’s Proctor would +not consent to her remaining there any longer, not even long enough +to send to her parents or to the Countess of Salisbury.</p> +<p>“Poor maiden! Such are the ways of his Holiness where +the King is not man enough to stand in his way,” said Warwick. +“So, fair maiden, if you will honour my house for a few days, +as my lady’s guest, I will send you north in more fitting guise +than with this white-smith dame.”</p> +<p>“She hath been very good to me,” Grisell ventured to +add to her thanks.</p> +<p>“She shall have good entertainment here,” said the Earl +smiling. “No doubt she hath already, as Sarum born. +See that Goodwife Hall, the white smith’s wife, and her following +have the best of harbouring,” he added to his silver-chained steward.</p> +<p>“You are a Dacre of Whitburn,” he added to Grisell. +“Your father has not taken sides with Dacre of Gilsland and the +Percies.” Then seeing that Grisell knew nothing of all this, +he laughed and said, “Little convent birds, you know nought of +our worldly strifes.”</p> +<p>In fact, Grisell had heard nothing from her home for the last five +years, which was the less marvel as neither her father nor her mother +could write if they had cared to do so. Nor did the convent know +much of the state of England, though prayers had been constantly said +for the King’s recovery, and of late there had been thanksgivings +for the birth of the Prince of Wales; but it was as much as she did +know that just now the Duke of York was governing, for the poor King +seemed as senseless as a stone, and the Earl of Salisbury was his Chancellor. +Nevertheless Salisbury was absent in the north, and there was a quarrel +going on between the Nevils and the Percies which Warwick was going +to compose, and thus would be able to take Grisell so far in his company.</p> +<p>The great household was larger than even what she remembered at the +houses of the Countess of Salisbury before her accident, and, fresh +from the stillness of the convent as she was, the noises were amazing +to her when all sat down to supper. Tables were laid all along +the vast hall. She was placed at the upper one to her relief, +beside an old lady, Dame Gresford, whom she remembered to have seen +at Montacute Castle in her childhood, as one of the attendants on the +Countess. She was forced to put back her veil, and she saw some +of the young knights and squires staring at her, then nudging one another +and laughing.</p> +<p>“Never mind them, sweetheart,” said Dame Gresford kindly; +“they are but unmannerly lurdanes, and the Lord Earl would make +them know what is befitting if his eye fell on them.”</p> +<p>The good lady must have had a hint from the authorities, for she +kept Grisell under her wing in the huge household, which was like a +city in itself. There was a knight who acted as steward, with +innumerable knights, squires, and pages under him, besides the six hundred +red jacketed yoemen, and servants of all degrees, in the immense court +of the buttery and kitchen, as indeed there had need to be, for six +oxen were daily cooked, with sheep and other meats in proportion, and +any friend or acquaintance of any one in this huge establishment might +come in, and not only eat and drink his fill, but carry off as much +meat as he could on the point of his dagger.</p> +<p>Goodwife Hall, as coming from Salisbury, stayed there in free quarters, +while she made the round of all the shrines in London, and she was intensely +gratified by the great Earl recollecting, or appearing to recollect, +her and inquiring after her husband, that hearty burgess, whose pewter +was so lasting, and he was sure was still in use among his black guard.</p> +<p>When she saw Grisell on finally departing for St. Albans, she was +carrying her head a good deal higher on the strength of “my Lord +Earl’s grace to her.” She hoped that her sweet Lady +Grisell would remain here, as the best hap she could have in the most +noble, excellent, and open-handed house in the world! Grisell’s +own wishes were not the same, for the great household was very bewildering +- a strange change from her quietly-busy convent. The Countess +was quiet enough, but dull and sickly, and chiefly occupied by her ailments. +She seemed to be always thinking about leeches, wise friars, wonderful +nuns, or even wizards and cunning women, and was much concerned that +her husband absolutely forbade her consulting the witch of Spitalfields.</p> +<p>“Nay, dame,” said he, “an thou didst, the next +thing we should hear would be that thou hadst been sticking pins into +King Harry’s waxen image and roasting him before the fire, and +that nothing but roasting thee in life and limb within a fire would +bring him to life and reason.”</p> +<p>“They would never dare,” cried the lady.</p> +<p>“Who can tell what the Queen would dare if she gets her will!” +demanded the Earl. “Wouldst like to do penance with sheet +and candle, like Gloucester’s wife?”</p> +<p>Such a possibility was enough to silence the Lady of Warwick on the +score of witches, and the only time she spoke to Grisell was to ask +her about Sister Avice and her cures. She set herself to persuade +her husband to let her go down to one of his mother’s Wiltshire +houses to consult the nun, but Warwick had business in the north, nor +would he allow her to be separated from him, lest she might be detained +as a hostage.</p> +<p>Dame Gresford continued to be Grisell’s protector, and let +the girl sit and spin or embroider beside her, while the other ladies +of the house played at ball in the court, or watched the exercises of +the pages and squires. The dame’s presence and authority +prevented Grisell’s being beset with uncivil remarks, but she +knew she was like a toad among the butterflies, as she overheard some +saucy youth calling her, while a laugh answered him, and she longed +for her convent.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII - OLD PLAYFELLOWS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> Alone thou goest forth,<br /> Thy +face unto the north,<br />Moor and pleasance all around thee and beneath +thee.</p> +<p>E. BARRETT BROWNING, <i>A Valediction.</i></p> +<p>One great pleasure fell to Grisell’s share, but only too brief. +The family of the Duke of York on their way to Baynard’s Castle +halted at Warwick House, and the Duchess Cecily, tall, fair, and stately, +sailed into the hall, followed by three fair daughters, while Warwick, +her nephew, though nearly of the same age, advanced with his wife to +meet and receive her.</p> +<p>In the midst of the exchange of affectionate but formal greetings +a cry of joy was heard, “My Grisell! yes, it is my Grisell!” +and springing from the midst of her mother’s suite, Margaret Plantagenet, +a tall, lovely, dark-haired girl, threw her arms round the thin slight +maiden with the scarred face, which excited the scorn and surprise of +her two sisters.</p> +<p>“Margaret! What means this?” demanded the Duchess +severely.</p> +<p>“It is my Grisell Dacre, fair mother, my dear companion at +my aunt of Salisbury’s manor,” said Margaret, trying to +lead forward her shrinking friend. “She who was so cruelly +scathed.”</p> +<p>Grisell curtsied low, but still hung back, and Lord Warwick briefly +explained. “Daughter to Will Dacre of Whitburn, a staunch +baron of the north. My mother bestowed her at Wilton, whence the +creature of the Pope’s intruding Abbess has taken upon him to +expel her. So I am about to take her to Middleham, where my mother +may see to her further bestowal.”</p> +<p>“We have even now come from Middleham,” said the Duchess. +“My Lord Duke sent for me, but he looks to you, my lord, to compose +the strife between your father and the insolent Percies.”</p> +<p>The Duke was at Windsor with the poor insane King, and the Earl and +the Duchess plunged into a discussion of the latest news of the northern +counties and of the Court. The elder daughters were languidly +entertained by the Countess, but no one disturbed the interview of Margaret +and Grisell, who, hand in hand, had withdrawn into the embrasure of +a window, and there fondled each other, and exchanged tidings of their +young lives, and Margaret told of friends in the Nevil household.</p> +<p>All too soon the interview came to an end. The Duchess, after +partaking of a manchet, was ready to proceed to Baynard’s Castle, +and the Lady Margaret was called for. Again, in spite of surprised, +not to say displeased looks, she embraced her dear old playfellow. +“Don’t go into a convent, Grisell,” she entreated. +“When I am wedded to some great earl, you must come and be my +lady, mine own, own dear friend. Promise me! Your pledge, +Grisell.”</p> +<p>There was no time for the pledge. Margaret was peremptorily +summoned. They would not meet again. The Duchess’s +intelligence had quickened Warwick’s departure, and the next day +the first start northwards was to be made.</p> +<p>It was a mighty cavalcade. The black guard, namely, the kitchen +ménage, with all their pots and pans, kettles and spits, were +sent on a day’s march beforehand, then came the yeomen, the knights +and squires, followed by the more immediate attendants of the Earl and +Countess and their court. She travelled in a whirlicote, and there +were others provided for her elder ladies, the rest riding singly or +on pillions according to age or taste. Grisell did not like to +part with her pony, and Dame Gresford preferred a pillion to the bumps +and jolts of the waggon-like conveyances called chariots, so Grisell +rode by her side, the fresh spring breezes bringing back the sense of +being really a northern maid, and she threw back her veil whenever she +was alone with the attendants, who were used to her, though she drew +it closely round when she encountered town or village. There were +resting-places on the way. In great monasteries all were accommodated, +being used to close quarters; in castles there was room for the “Gentles,” +who, if they fared well, heeded little how they slept, and their attendants +found lairs in the kitchens or stables. In towns there was generally +harbour for the noble portion; indeed in some, Warwick had dwellings +of his own, or his father’s, but these, at first, were at long +distances apart, such as would be ridden by horsemen alone, not encumbered +with ladies, and there were intermediate stages, where some of the party +had to be dispersed in hostels.</p> +<p>It was in one of these, at Dunstable, that Dame Gresford had taken +Grisell, and there were also sundry of the gentlemen of the escort. +A minstrel was esconced under the wide spread of the chimney, and began +to sound his harp and sing long ballads in recitative to the company. +Whether he did it in all innocence and ignorance, or one of the young +squires had mischievously prompted him, there was no knowing; Dame Gresford +suspected the latter, when he began the ballad of “Sir Gawaine’s +Wedding.” She would have silenced it, but feared to draw +more attention on her charge, who had never heard the song, and did +not know what was coming, but listened with increasing eagerness as +she heard of King Arthur, and of the giant, and the secret that the +King could not guess, till as he rode -</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He came to the green forest,<br /> Underneath a +green hollen tree,<br />There sat that lady in red scarlet<br /> That +unseemly was to see.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Some eyes were discourteously turned on the maiden, but she hardly +saw them, and at any rate her nose was not crooked, nor had her eyes +and mouth changed places, as in the case of the “Loathly Lady.” +She heard of the condition on which the lady revealed the secret, and +how King Arthur bound himself to bring a fair young knight to wed the +hideous being. Then when he revealed to his assembled knights +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Then some took up their hawks,<br /> And some took +up their hounds,<br />And some sware they would not marry her<br /> For +cities nor for towns.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Glances again went towards the scarred visage, but Grisell was heedless +of them, only listening how Sir Gawaine, Arthur’s nephew, felt +that his uncle’s oath must be kept, and offered himself as the +bridegroom.</p> +<p>Then after the marriage, when he looked on the lady, instead of the +loathly hag he beheld a fair damsel! And he was told by her that +he might choose whether she should be foul at night and fair by day, +or fair each evening and frightful in the daylight hours. His +choice at first was that her beauty should be for him alone, in his +home, but when she objected that this would be hard on her, since she +could thus never show her face when other dames ride with their lords +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Then buke him gentle Gawayne,<br /> Said, “Lady, +that’s but a shill;<br />Because thou art mine own lady<br /> Thou +shalt have all thy will.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And his courtesy broke the spell of the stepdame, as the lady related +-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“She witched me, being a fair young lady,<br /> To +the green forest to dwell,<br />And there must I walk in woman’s +likeness,<br /> Most like a fiend in hell.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Thenceforth the enchantment was broken, and Sir Gawaine’s bride +was fair to see.</p> +<p>Grisell had listened intently, absorbed in the narrative, so losing +personal thought and feeling that it was startling to her to perceive +that Dame Gresford was trying to hush a rude laugh, and one of the young +squires was saying, “Hush, hush! for very shame.”</p> +<p>Then she saw that they were applying the story to her, and the blood +rushed into her face, but the more courteous youth was trying to turn +away attention by calling on the harper for “The Beggar of Bethnal +Green,” or “Lord Thomas and Fair Annet,” or any merry +ballad. So it was borne in on Grisell that to these young gentlemen +she was the lady unseemly to see. Yet though a few hot tears flowed, +indignant and sorrowful, the sanguine spirit of youth revived. +“Sister Avice had told her how to be not loathly in the sight +of those whom she could teach to love her.”</p> +<p>There was one bound by a pledge! Ah, he would never fulfil +it. If he should, Grisell felt a resolute purpose within her that +though she could not be transformed, he should not see her loathly in +his sight, and in that hope she slept.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX - THE KING-MAKER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>O where is faith? O where is loyalty?</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>Henry VI</i>., <i>Part II.</i></p> +<p>Grisell was disappointed in her hopes of seeing her Countess of Salisbury +again, for as she rode into the Castle of York she heard the Earl’s +hearty voice of greeting. “Ha, stout Will of Whitburn, well +met! What, from the north?”</p> +<p>The Earl stood talking with a tall brawny man, lean and strong, brown +and weather-beaten, in a frayed suit of buff leather stained to all +sorts of colours, in which rust predominated, and a face all brown and +red except for the grizzled eyebrows, hair, and stubbly beard. +She had not seen her father since she was five years old, and she would +not have known him.</p> +<p>“I am from the south now, my lord,” she heard his gruff +voice say. “I have been taking my lad to be bred up in the +Duke of York’s house, for better nurture than can be had in my +sea-side tower.”</p> +<p>“Quite right. Well done in you,” responded Warwick. +“The Duke of York is the man to hold by. We have an exchange +for you, a daughter for a son,” and he was leading the way towards +Grisell, who had just dismounted from her pony, and stood by it, trembling +a little, and bending for her father’s blessing. It was +not more than a crossing of her, and he was talking all the time.</p> +<p>“Ha! how now! Methought my Lady of Salisbury had bestowed +her in the Abbey - how call you it?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” returned Warwick; “but since we have not +had King or Parliament with spirit to stand up to the Pope, he thrusts +his claw in everywhere, puts a strange Abbess into Wilton, and what +must she do but send down her Proctor to treat the poor nunnery as it +were a sponge, and spite of all my Lady Mother’s bounties to the +place, what lists he do but turn out the poor maid for lack of a dowry, +not so much as giving time for a notice to be sent.”</p> +<p>“If we had such a rogue in the North Country we should know +how to serve him,” observed Sir William, and Warwick laughed as +befitted a Westmoreland Nevil, albeit he was used to more civilised +ways.</p> +<p>“Scurvy usage,” he said, “but the Prioress had +no choice save to put her in such keeping as she could, and send her +away to my Lady Mother, or failing her to her home.”</p> +<p>“Soh! She must e’en jog off with me, though how +it is to be with her my lady may tell, not I, since every groat those +villain yeomen and fisher folk would raise, went to fit out young Rob, +and there has not been so much as a Border raid these four years and +more. There are the nuns at Gateshead, as hard as nails, will +not hear of a maid without a dower, and yonder mansworn fellow Copeland +casts her off like an old glove! Let us look at you, wench! +Ha! Face is unsightly enough, but thou wilt not be a badly-made +woman. Take heart, what’s thy name - Grisell? May +be there’s luck for thee still, though it be hard of coming to +Whitburn,” he added, turning to Warwick. “There’s +this wench scorched to a cinder, enough to fright one, and my other +lad racked from head to foot with pain and sores, so as it is a misery +to hear the poor child cry out, and even if he be reared, he will be +good for nought save a convent.”</p> +<p>Grisell would fain have heard more about this poor little brother, +but the ladies were entering the castle, and she had to follow them. +She saw no more of her father except from the far end of the table, +but orders were issued that she should be ready to accompany him on +his homeward way the next morning at six o’clock. Her brother +Robert had been sent in charge of some of the Duke of York’s retainers, +to join his household as a page, though they had missed him on the route, +and the Lord of Whitburn was anxious to get home again, never being +quite sure what the Scots, or the Percies, or his kinsmen of Gilsland, +might attempt in his absence. “Though,” as he said, +“my lady was as good as a dozen men-at-arms, but somehow she had +not been the same woman since little Bernard had fallen sick.”</p> +<p>There was no one in the company with whom Grisell was very sorry +to part, for though Dame Gresford had been kind to her, it had been +merely the attending to the needs of a charge, not showing her any affection, +and she had shrunk from the eyes of so large a party.</p> +<p>When she came down early into the hall, her father’s half-dozen +retainers were taking their morning meal at one end of a big board, +while a manchet of bread and a silver cup of ale was ready for each +of them at the other, and her father while swallowing his was in deep +conversation over northern politics with the courteous Earl, who had +come down to speed his guests. As she passed the retainers she +heard, “Here comes our Grisly Grisell,” and a smothered +laugh, and in fact “Grisly Grisell” continued to be her +name among the free-spoken people of the north. The Earl broke +off, bowed to her, and saw that she was provided, breaking into his +conversation with the Baron, evidently much to the impatience of the +latter; and again the polite noble came down to the door with her, and +placed her on her palfrey, bidding her a kind farewell ere she rode +away with her father. It would be long before she met with such +courtesy again. Her father called to his side his old, rugged-looking +esquire Cuthbert Ridley, and began discussing with him what Lord Warwick +had said, both wholly absorbed in the subject, and paying no attention +to the girl who rode by the Baron’s side, so that it was well +that her old infantine training in horsemanship had come back to her.</p> +<p>She remembered Cuthbert Ridley, who had carried her about and petted +her long ago, and, to her surprise, looked no older than he had done +in those days when he had seemed to her infinitely aged. Indeed +it was to him, far more than to her father, that she owed any attention +or care taken of her on the journey. Her father was not unkind, +but never seemed to recollect that she needed any more care than his +rough followers, and once or twice he and all his people rode off headlong +over the fell at sight of a stag roused by one of their great deer-hounds. +Then Cuthbert Ridley kept beside her, and when the ground became too +rough for a New Forest pony and a hand unaccustomed to northern ground, +he drew up. She would probably - if not thrown and injured - have +been left behind to feel herself lost on the moors. She minded +the less his somewhat rude ejaculation, “Ho! Ho! South! +South! Forgot how to back a horse on rough ground. Eh? +And what a poor soft-paced beast! Only fit to ride on my lady’s +pilgrimage or in a State procession.”</p> +<p>(He said Gang, but neither the Old English nor the northern dialect +could be understood by the writer or the reader, and must be taken for +granted.)</p> +<p>“They are all gone!” responded Grisell, rather frightened.</p> +<p>“Never guessed you were not among them,” replied Ridley. +“Why, my lady would be among the foremost, in at the death belike, +if she did not cut the throat of the quarry.”</p> +<p>Grisell could well believe it, but used to gentle nuns, she shuddered +a little as she asked what they were to do next.</p> +<p>“Turn back to the track, and go softly on till my lord comes +up with us,” answered Ridley. “Or you might be fain +to rest under a rock for a while.”</p> +<p>The rest was far from unwelcome, and Grisell sat down on a mossy +stone while Ridley gathered bracken for her shelter, and presently even +brought her a branch or two of whortle-berries. She felt that +she had a friend, and was pleased when he began to talk of how he remembered +her long ago.</p> +<p>“Ah! I mind you, a little fat ball of a thing, when you +were fetched home from Herring Dick’s house, how you used to run +after the dogs like a kitten after her tail, and used to crave to be +put up on old Black Durham’s back.”</p> +<p>“I remember Black Durham! Had he not a white star on +his forehead?”</p> +<p>“A white blaze sure enough.”</p> +<p>“Is he at the tower still? I did not see him in the plump +of spears.”</p> +<p>“No, no, poor beast. He broke his leg four years ago +come Martinmas, in a rabbit-hole on Berwick Law, last raid that we made, +and I tarried to cut his throat with my dagger - though it went to my +heart, for his good old eyes looked at me like Christians, and my lord +told me I was a fool for my pains, for the Elliots were hard upon us, +but I could not leave him to be a mark for them, and I was up with the +rest in time, though I had to cut down the foremost lad.”</p> +<p>Certainly “home” would be very unlike the experience +of Grisell’s education.</p> +<p>Ridley gave her a piece of advice. “Do not be daunted +at my lady; her bark is ever worse than her bite, and what she will +not bear with is the seeming cowed before her. She is all the +sharper with her tongue now that her heart is sore for Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“What ails my brother Bernard?” then asked Grisell anxiously.</p> +<p>“The saints may know, but no man does, unless it was that Crooked +Nan of Strait Glen overlooked the poor child,” returned the esquire. +“Ever since he fell into the red beck he hath done nought but +peak and pine, and be twisted with cramps and aches, with sores breaking +out on him; though there’s a honeycomb-stone from Roker over his +bed. My lord took out all the retainers to lay hold on Crooked +Nan, but she got scent of it no doubt, for Jack of Burhill took his +oath that he had seen a muckle hare run up the glen that morn, and when +we got there she was not to be seen or heard of. We have heard +of her in the Gilsland ground, where they would all the sooner see a +the young lad of Whitburn crippled and a mere misery to see or hear.”</p> +<p>Grisell was quite as ready to believe in witchcraft as was the old +squire, and to tremble at their capacities for mischief. She asked +what nunneries were near, and was disappointed to find nothing within +easy reach. St. Cuthbert’s diocese had not greatly favoured +womankind, and Whitby was far away.</p> +<p>By and by her father came back, the thundering tramp of the horses +being heard in time enough for her to spring up and be mounted again +before he came in sight, the yeomen carrying the antlers and best portions +of the deer.</p> +<p>“Left out, my wench,” he shouted. “We must +mount you better. Ho! Cuthbert, thou a squire of dames? +Ha! Ha!”</p> +<p>“The maid could not be left to lose herself on the fells,” +muttered the squire, rather ashamed of his courtesy.</p> +<p>“She must get rid of nunnery breeding. We want no trim +and dainty lassies here,” growled her father. “Look +you, Ridley, that horse of Hob’s - ” and the rest was lost +in a discussion on horseflesh.</p> +<p>Long rides, which almost exhausted Grisell, and halts in exceedingly +uncomfortable hostels, where she could hardly obtain tolerable seclusion, +brought her at last within reach of home. There was a tall church +tower and some wretched hovels round it. The Lord of Whitburn +halted, and blew his bugle with the peculiar note that signified his +own return, then all rode down to the old peel, the outline of which +Grisell saw with a sense of remembrance, against the gray sea-line, +with the little breaking, glancing waves, which she now knew herself +to have unconsciously wanted and missed for years past.</p> +<p>Whitburn Tower stood on the south side, on a steep cliff overlooking +the sea. The peel tower itself looked high and strong, but to +Grisell, accustomed to the widespread courts of the great castles and +abbeys of the south, the circuit of outbuildings seemed very narrow +and cramped, for truly there was need to have no more walls than could +be helped for the few defenders to guard.</p> +<p>All was open now, and under the arched gateway, with the portcullis +over her head, fitly framing her, stood the tall, gaunt figure of the +lady, grayer, thinner, more haggard than when Grisell had last seen +her, and beside her, leaning on a crutch, a white-faced boy, small and +stunted for six years old.</p> +<p>“Ha, dame! Ha, Bernard; how goes it?” shouted the +Baron in his gruff, hoarse voice.</p> +<p>“He willed to come down to greet you, though he cannot hold +your stirrup,” said the mother. “You are soon returned. +Is all well with Rob?”</p> +<p>“O aye, I found Thorslan of Danby and a plump of spears on +the way to the Duke of York at Windsor. They say he will need +all his following if the Beauforts put it about that the King has recovered +as much wit as ever he had. So I e’en sent Rob on with him, +and came back so as to be ready in case there’s a call for me. +Soh! Berney; on thy feet again? That’s well, my lad; +but we’ll have thee up the steps.”</p> +<p>He seemed quite to have forgotten the presence of Grisell, and it +was Cuthbert Ridley who helped her off her horse, but just then little +Bernard in his father’s arms exclaimed</p> +<p>“Black nun woman!”</p> +<p>“By St. Cuthbert!” cried the Baron, “I mind me! +Here, wench! I have brought back the maid in her brother’s +stead.”</p> +<p>And as Grisell, in obedience to his call, threw back her veil, Bernard +screamed, “Ugsome wench, send her away!” threw his arms +round his father’s neck and hid his face with a babyish gesture.</p> +<p>“Saints have mercy!” cried the mother, “thou hast +not mended much since I saw thee last. They that marred thee had +best have kept thee. Whatever shall we do with the maid?”</p> +<p>“Send her away, the loathly thing,” reiterated the boy, +lifting up his head from his father’s shoulder for another glimpse, +which produced a puckering of the face in readiness for crying.</p> +<p>“Nay, nay, Bernard,” said Ridley, feeling for the poor +girl and speaking up for her when no one else would. “She +is your sister, and you must be a fond brother to her, for an ill-nurtured +lad spoilt her poor face when it was as fair as your own. Kiss +your sister like a good lad, and -</p> +<p>“No! no!” shouted Bernard. “Take her away. +I hate her.” He began to cry and kick.</p> +<p>“Get out of his sight as fast as may be,” commanded the +mother, alarmed by her sickly darling’s paroxysm of passion.</p> +<p>Grisell, scarce knowing where to go, could only allow herself to +be led away by Ridley, who, seeing her tears, tried to comfort her in +his rough way. “’Tis the petted bairn’s way, +you see, mistress - and my lady has no thought save for him. He +will get over it soon enough when he learns your gentle convent-bred +conditions.”</p> +<p>Still the cry of “Grisly Grisell,” picked up as if by +instinct or by some echo from the rear of the escort, rang in her ears +in the angry fretful voice of the poor little creature towards whom +her heart was yearning. Even the two women-servants there were, +no more looked at her askance, as they took her to a seat in the hall, +and consulted where my lady would have her bestowed. She was wiping +away bitter tears as she heard her only friend Cuthbert settle the matter. +“The chamber within the solar is the place for the noble damsels.”</p> +<p>“That is full of old armour, and dried herrings, and stockfish.”</p> +<p>“Move them then! A fair greeting to give to my lord’s +daughter.”</p> +<p>There was some further muttering about a bed, and Grisell sprang +up. “Oh, hush! hush! I can sleep on a cloak; I have +done so for many nights. Only let me be no burthen. Show +me where I can go to be an anchoress, since they will not have me in +a convent or anywhere,” and bitterly she wept.</p> +<p>“Peace, peace, lady,” said the squire kindly. “I +will deal with these ill-tongued lasses. Shame on them! +Go off, and make the chamber ready, or I’ll find a scourge for +you. And as to my lady - she is wrapped up in the sick bairn, +but she has only to get used to you to be friendly enough.”</p> +<p>“O what a hope in a mother,” thought poor Grisell. +“O that I were at Wilton or some nunnery, where my looks would +be pardoned! Mother Avice, dear mother, what wouldst thou say +to me now!”</p> +<p>The peel tower had been the original building, and was still as it +were the citadel, but below had been built the very strong but narrow +castle court, containing the stables and the well, and likewise the +hall and kitchen - which were the dwelling and sleeping places of the +men of the household, excepting Cuthbert Ridley, who being of gentle +blood, would sit above the salt, and had his quarters with Rob when +at home in the tower. The solar was a room above the hall, where +was the great box-bed of the lord and lady, and a little bed for Bernard.</p> +<p>Entered through it, in a small turret, was a chamber designed for +the daughters and maids, and this was rightly appropriated by Ridley +to the Lady Grisell. The two women-servants - Bell and Madge - +were wives to the cook and the castle smith, so the place had been disused +and made a receptacle for drying fish, fruit, and the like. Thus +the sudden call for its use provoked a storm of murmurs in no gentle +voices, and Grisell shrank into a corner of the hall, only wishing she +could efface herself.</p> +<p>And as she looked out on the sea from her narrow window, it seemed +to her dismally gray, moaning, restless, and dreary.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X - COLD WELCOME</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Seek not for others to love you,<br /> But seek +yourself to love them best,<br />And you shall find the secret true,<br /> Of +love and joy and rest.</p> +<p>I. WILLIAMS.</p> +<p>To lack beauty was a much more serious misfortune in the Middle Ages +than at present. Of course it was probable that there might be +a contract of marriage made entirely irrespective of attractiveness, +long before the development of either of the principal parties concerned; +but even then the rude, open-spoken husband would consider himself absolved +from any attention to an ill-favoured wife, and the free tongues of +her surroundings would not be slack to make her aware of her defects. +The cloister was the refuge of the unmarried woman, if of gentle birth +as a nun, if of a lower grade as a lay-sister; but the fifteenth century +was an age neither of religion nor of chivalry. Dowers were more +thought of than devotion in convents as elsewhere. Whitby being +one of the oldest and grandest foundations was sure to be inaccessible +to a high-born but unportioned girl, and Grisell in her sense of loneliness +saw nothing before her but to become an anchoress, that is to say, a +female hermit, such as generally lived in strict seclusion under shelter +of the Church.</p> +<p>“There at least,” thought poor Grisell, “there +would be none to sting me to the heart with those jeering eyes of theirs. +And I might feel in time that God and His Saints loved me, and not long +for my father and mother, and oh! my poor little brother - yes, and +Leonard Copeland, and Sister Avice, and the rest. But would Sister +Avice call this devotion? Nay, would she not say that these cruel +eyes and words are a cross upon me, and I must bear them and love in +spite - at least till I be old enough to choose for myself?”</p> +<p>She was summoned to supper, and this increased the sense of dreariness, +for Bernard screamed that the grisly one should not come near him, or +he would not eat, and she had to take her meal of dried fish and barley +bread in the wide chimney corner, where there always was a fire at every +season of the year.</p> +<p>Her chamber, which Cuthbert Ridley’s exertions had compelled +the women to prepare for her, was - as seen in the light of the long +evening - a desolate place, within a turret, opening from the solar, +or chamber of her parents and Bernard, the loophole window devoid of +glass, though a shutter could be closed in bad weather, the walls circular +and of rough, untouched, unconcealed stone, a pallet bed - the only +attempt at furniture, except one chest - and Grisell’s own mails +tumbled down anyhow, and all pervaded by an ancient and fishy smell. +She felt too downhearted even to creep out and ask for a pitcher of +water. She took a long look over the gray, heaving sea, and tired +as she was, it was long before she could pray and cry herself to sleep, +and accustomed as she was to convent beds, this one appeared to be stuffed +with raw apples, and she awoke with aching bones.</p> +<p>Her request for a pitcher or pail of water was treated as southland +finery, for those who washed at all used the horse trough, but fortunately +for her Cuthbert Ridley heard the request. He had been enough +in the south in attendance on his master to know how young damsels lived, +and what treatment they met with, and he was soon rating the women in +no measured terms for the disrespect they had presumed to show to the +Lady Grisell, encouraged by the neglect of her parents</p> +<p>The Lord of Whitburn, appearing on the scene at the moment, backed +up his retainer, and made it plain that he intended his daughter to +be respected and obeyed, and the grumbling women had to submit. +Nor did he refuse to acknowledge, on Ridley’s representation, +that Grisell ought to have an attendant of her own, and the lady of +the castle, coming down with Bernard clinging to her skirt with one +hand, and leaning on his crutch, consented. “If the maid +was to be here, she must be treated fitly, and Bell and Madge had enough +to do without convent-bred fancies.”</p> +<p>So Cuthbert descended the steep path to the ravine where dwelt the +fisher folk, and came back with a girl barefooted, bareheaded, with +long, streaming, lint-white locks, and the scantiest of garments, crying +bitterly with fright, and almost struggling to go back. She was +the orphan remnant of a family drowned in the bay, and was a burthen +on her fisher kindred, who were rejoiced thus to dispose of her.</p> +<p>She sobbed the more at sight of the grisly lady, and almost screamed +when Grisell smiled and tried to take her by the hand. Ridley +fairly drove her upstairs, step by step, and then shut her in with his +young lady, when she sank on the floor and hid her face under all her +bleached hair.</p> +<p>“Poor little thing,” thought Grisell; “it is like +having a fresh-caught sea-gull. She is as forlorn as I am, and +more afraid!”</p> +<p>So she began to speak gently and coaxingly, begging the girl to look +up, and assuring her that she would not be hurt. Grisell had a +very soft and persuasive voice. Her chief misfortune as regarded +her appearance was that the muscles of one cheek had been so drawn that +though she smiled sweetly with one side of her face, the other was contracted +and went awry, so that when the kind tones had made the girl look up +for a moment, the next she cried, “O don’t - don’t! +Holy Mary, forbid the spell!”</p> +<p>“I have no spells, my poor maid; indeed I am only a poor girl, +a stranger here in my own home. Come, and do not fear me.”</p> +<p>“Madge said you had witches’ marks on your face,” +sobbed the child.</p> +<p>“Only the marks of gunpowder,” said Grisell. “Listen, +I will tell thee what befell me.”</p> +<p>Gunpowder seemed to be quite beyond all experience of Whitburn nature, +but the history of the catastrophe gained attention, and the girl’s +terror abated, so that Grisell could ask her name, which was Thora, +and learning, too, that she had led a hard life since her granny died, +and her uncle’s wife beat her, and made her carry heavy loads +of seaweed when it froze her hands, besides a hundred other troubles. +As to knowing any kind of feminine art, she was as ignorant as if the +rough and extremely dirty woollen garment she wore, belted round with +a strip of leather, had grown upon her, and though Grisell’s own +stock of garments was not extensive, she was obliged, for very shame, +to dress this strange attendant in what she could best spare, as well +as, in spite of sobs and screams, to wash her face, hands, and feet, +and it was wonderful how great a difference this made in the wild creature +by the time the clang of the castle bell summoned all to the midday +meal, when as before, Bernard professed not to be able to look at his +sister, but when she had retreated he was seen spying at her through +his fingers, with great curiosity.</p> +<p>Afterwards she went up to her mother to beg for a few necessaries +for herself and for her maid, and to offer to do some spinning. +She was not very graciously answered; but she was allowed an old frayed +horse-cloth on which Thora might sleep, and for the rest she might see +what she could find under the stairs in the turret, or in the chest +in the hall window.</p> +<p>The broken, dilapidated fragments which seemed to Grisell mere rubbish +were treasures and wonders to Thora, and out of them she picked enough +to render her dreary chamber a very few degrees more habitable. +Thora would sleep there, and certainly their relations were reversed, +for carrying water was almost the only office she performed at first, +since Grisell had to dress her, and teach her to keep herself in a tolerable +state of neatness, and likewise how to spin, luring her with the hope +of spinning yarn for a new dress for herself. As to prayers, her +mind was a mere blank, though she said something that sounded like a +spell except that it began with “Pater.” She did not +know who made her, and entirely believed in Niord and Rana, the storm-gods +of Norseland. Yet she had always been to mass every Sunday morning. +So went all the family at the castle as a matter of course, but except +when the sacring-bell hushed them, the Baron freely discussed crops +or fish with the tenants, and the lady wrangled about dues of lambs, +eggs, and fish. Grisell’s attention was a new thing, and +the priest’s pronunciation was so defective to her ear that she +could hardly follow.</p> +<p>That first week Grisell had plenty of occupation in settling her +room and training her uncouth maid, who proved a much more apt scholar +than she had expected, and became devoted to her like a little faithful +dog.</p> +<p>No one else took much notice of either, except that at times Cuthbert +Ridley showed himself to be willing to stand up for her. Her father +was out a great deal, hunting or hawking or holding consultations with +neighbouring knights or the men of Sunderland. Her mother, with +the loudest and most peremptory of voices, ruled over the castle, ordered +the men on their guards and at the stables, and the cook, scullions, +and other servants, but without much good effect as household affairs +were concerned, for the meals were as far removed from the delicate, +dainty serving of the simplest fast-day meal at Wilton as from the sumptuous +plenty and variety of Warwick house, and Bernard often cried and could +not eat. She longed to make up for him one of the many appetising +possets well known at Wilton, but her mother and Ralf the cook both +scouted her first proposal. They wanted no south-bred meddlers +over their fire.</p> +<p>However, one evening when Bernard had been fretful and in pain, the +Baron had growled out that the child was cockered beyond all bearing, +and the mother had flown out at the unnatural father, and on his half +laughing at her doting ways, had actually rushed across with clenched +fist to box his ears; he had muttered that the pining brat and shrewish +dame made the house no place for him, and wandered out to the society +of his horses. Lady Whitburn, after exhaling her wrath in abuse +of him and all around, carried the child up to his bed. There +he was moaning, and she trying to soothe him, when, darkness having +put a stop to Grisell’s spinning, she went to her chamber with +Thora. In passing, the moaning was still heard, and she even thought +her mother was crying. She ventured to approach and ask, “Fares +he no better? If I might rub that poor leg.”</p> +<p>But Bernard peevishly hid his face and whined, “Go away, Grisly,” +and her mother exclaimed, “Away with you, I have enough to vex +me here without you.”</p> +<p>She could only retire as fast as possible, and her tears ran down +her face as in the long summer twilight she recited the evening offices, +the same in which Sister Avice was joining in Wilton chapel. Before +they were over she heard her father come up to bed, and in a harsh and +angered voice bid Bernard to be still. There was stillness for +some little time, but by and by the moaning and sobbing began again, +and there was a jangling between the gruff voice and the shrill one, +now thinner and weaker. Grisell felt that she must try again, +and crept out. “If I might rub him a little while, and you +rest, Lady Mother. He cannot see me now.”</p> +<p>She prevailed, or rather the poor mother’s utter weariness +and dejection did, together with the father’s growl, “Let +her bring us peace if she can.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn let her kneel down by the bed, and guided her hand +to the aching thigh.</p> +<p>“Soft! Soft! Good! Good!” muttered +Bernard presently. “Go on!”</p> +<p>Grisell had acquired something of that strange almost magical touch +of Sister Avice, and Bernard lay still under her hand. Her mother, +who was quite worn out, moved to her own bed, and fell asleep, while +the snores of the Baron proclaimed him to have been long appeased. +The boy, too, presently was breathing softly, and Grisell’s attitude +relaxed, as her prayers and her dreams mingled together, and by and +by, what she thought was the organ in Wilton chapel, and the light of +St. Edith’s taper, proved to be the musical rush of the incoming +tide, and the golden sunrise over the sea, while all lay sound asleep +around her, and she ventured gently to withdraw into her own room.</p> +<p>That night was Grisell’s victory, though Bernard still held +aloof from her all the ensuing day, when he was really the better and +fresher for his long sleep, but at bed-time, when as usual the pain +came on, he wailed for her to rub him, and as it was still daylight, +and her father had gone out in one of the boats to fish, she ventured +on singing to him, as she rubbed, to his great delight and still greater +boon to her yearning heart. Even by day, as she sat at work, the +little fellow limped up to her, and said, “Grisly, sing that again,” +staring hard in her face as she did so.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI - BERNARD</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I do remember an apothecary, -<br />And hereabouts he dwells.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>.</p> +<p>Bernard’s affection was as strong as his aversion had been. +Poor little boy, no one had been accustomed enough to sickly children, +or indeed to children at all, to know how to make him happy or even +comfortable, and his life had been sad and suffering ever since the +blight that had fallen on him, through either the evil eye of Nan the +witch, or through his fall into a freezing stream. His brother, +a great strong lad, had teased and bullied him; his father, though not +actually unkind except when wearied by his fretfulness, held him as +a miserable failure, scarcely worth rearing; his mother, though her +pride was in her elder son, and the only softness in her heart for the +little one, had been so rugged and violent a woman all the years of +her life, and had so despised all gentler habits of civilisation, that +she really did not know how to be tender to the child who was really +her darling. Her infants had been nursed in the cottages, and +not returned to the castle till they were old enough to rough it - indeed +they were soon sent off to be bred up elsewhere. Some failure +in health, too, made it harder for her to be patient with an ailing +child, and her love was apt to take the form of anger with his petulance +or even with his suffering, or else of fierce battles with her husband +in his defence.</p> +<p>The comfort would have been in burning Crooked Nan, but that beldame +had disposed of herself out of reach, though Lady Whitburn still cherished +the hope of forcing the Gilsland Dacres or the Percies to yield the +woman up. Failing this, the boy had been shown to a travelling +friar, who had promised cure through the relics he carried about; but +Bernard had only screamed at him, and had been none the better.</p> +<p>And now the little fellow had got over the first shock, he found +that “Grisly,” as he still called her, but only as an affectionate +abbreviation, was the only person who could relieve his pain, or amuse +him, in the whole castle; and he was incessantly hanging on her. +She must put him to bed and sing lullabies to him, she must rub his +limbs when they ached with rheumatic pains; hers was the only hand which +might touch the sores that continually broke out, and he would sit for +long spaces on her lap, sometimes stroking down the scar and pitying +it with “Poor Grisly; when I am a man, I will throw down my glove, +and fight with that lad, and kill him.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay, Bernard; he never meant to do me evil. He +is a fair, brave, good boy.”</p> +<p>“He scorned and ran away from you. He is mansworn and +recreant,” persisted Bernard. “Rob and I will make +him say that you are the fairest of ladies.”</p> +<p>“O nay, nay. That he could not.”</p> +<p>“But you are, you are - on this side - mine own Grisly,” +cried Bernard, whose experiences of fair ladies had not been extensive, +and who curled himself on her lap, giving unspeakable rest and joy to +her weary, yearning spirit, as she pressed him to her breast. +“Now, a story, a story,” he entreated, and she was rich +in tales from Scripture history and legends of the Saints, or she would +sing her sweet monastic hymns and chants, as he nestled in her lap.</p> +<p>The mother had fits of jealousy at the exclusive preference, and +now and then would rail at Grisell for cosseting the bairn and keeping +him a helpless baby; or at Bernard for leaving his mother for this ill-favoured, +useless sister, and would even snatch away the boy, and declare that +she wanted no one to deal with him save herself; but Bernard had a will +of his own, and screamed for his Grisly, throwing himself about in such +a manner that Lady Whitburn was forced to submit, and quite to the alarm +of her daughter, on one of these occasions she actually burst into a +flood of tears, sobbing loud and without restraint. Indeed, though +she hotly declared that she ailed nothing, there was a lassitude about +her that made it a relief to have the care of Bernard taken off her +hands; and the Baron’s grumbling at disturbed nights made the +removal of Bernard’s bed to his sister’s room generally +acceptable.</p> +<p>Once, when Grisell was found to have taught both him and Thora the +English version of the Lord’s Prayer and Creed, and moreover to +be telling him the story of the Gospel, there came, no one knew from +where, an accusation which made her father tramp up and say, “Mark +you, wench, I’ll have no Lollards here.”</p> +<p>“Lollards, sir; I never saw a Lollard!” said Grisell +trembling.</p> +<p>“Where, then, didst learn all this, making holy things common?”</p> +<p>“We all learnt it at Wilton, sir, from the reverend mothers +and the holy father.”</p> +<p>The Baron was fairly satisfied, and muttered that if the bairn was +fit only for a shaveling, it might be all right.</p> +<p>Poor child, would he ever be fit for that or any occupation of manhood? +However, Grisell had won permission to compound broths, cakes, and possets +for him, over the hall fire, for the cook and his wife would not endure +her approach to their domain, and with great reluctance allowed her +the materials. Bernard watched her operations with intense delight +and amusement, and tasted with a sense of triumph and appetite, calling +on his mother to taste likewise; and she, on whose palate semi-raw or +over-roasted joints had begun to pall, allowed that the nuns had taught +Grisell something.</p> +<p>And thus as time went on Grisell led no unhappy life. Every +one around was used to her scars, and took no notice of them, and there +was nothing to bring the thought before her, except now and then when +a fishwife’s baby, brought to her for cure, would scream at her. +She never went beyond the castle except to mass, now and then to visit +a sick person, and to seek some of the herbs of which she had learnt +the use, and then she was always attended by Thora and Ridley, who made +a great favour of going.</p> +<p>Bernard had given her the greater part of his heart, and she soothed +his pain, made his hours happy, and taught him the knowledge she brought +from the convent. Her affections were with him, and though her +mother could scarcely be said to love her, she tolerated and depended +more and more on the daughter who alone could give her more help or +solace.</p> +<p>That was Grisell’s second victory, when she was actually asked +to compound a warm, relishing, hot bowl for her father when be was caught +in a storm and came in drenched and weary.</p> +<p>She wanted to try on her little brother the effect of one of Sister +Avice’s ointments, which she thought more likely to be efficacious +than melted mutton fat, mixed with pounded worms, scrapings from the +church bells, and boiled seaweed, but some of her ingredients were out +of reach, unless they were attainable at Sunderland, and she obtained +permission to ride thither under the escort of Cuthbert Ridley, and +was provided with a small purse - the proceeds of the Baron’s +dues out of the fishermen’s sales of herrings.</p> +<p>She was also to purchase a warm gown and mantle for her mother, and +enough of cloth to afford winter garments for Bernard; and a steady +old pack-horse carried the bundles of yarn to be exchanged for these +commodities, since the Whitburn household possessed no member dexterous +with the old disused loom, and the itinerant weavers did not come that +way - it was whispered because they were afraid of the fisher folk, +and got but sorry cheer from the lady.</p> +<p>The commissions were important, and Grisell enjoyed the two miles’ +ride along the cliffs of Roker Bay, looking up at the curious caverns +in the rock, and seeking for the very strangely-formed stones supposed +to have magic power, which fell from the rock. In the distance +beyond the river to the southward, Ridley pointed to the tall square +tower of Monks Wearmouth Church dominating the great monastery around +it, which had once held the venerable Bede, though to both Ridley and +Grisell he was only a name of a patron saint.</p> +<p>The harbour formed by the mouth of the river Wear was a marvel to +Grisell, crowded as it was with low, squarely-rigged and gaily-coloured +vessels of Holland, Friesland, and Flanders, very new sights to one +best acquainted with Noah’s ark or St. Peter’s ship in illuminations.</p> +<p>“Sunderland is a noted place for shipbuilding,” said +Ridley. “Moreover, these come for wool, salt-fish, and our +earth coal, and they bring us fine cloth, linen, and stout armour. +I am glad to see yonder Flemish ensign. If luck goes well with +us, I shall get a fresh pair of gauntlets for my lord, straight from +Gaunt, the place of gloves.”</p> +<p>“<i>Gant</i> for glove,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“How? You speak French. Then you may aid me in +chaffering, and I will straight to the Fleming, with whom I may do better +than with Hodge of the Lamb. How now, here’s a shower coming +up fast!”</p> +<p>It was so indeed; a heavy cloud had risen quickly, and was already +bursting overhead. Ridley hurried on, along a thoroughfare across +salt marshes (nowdocks), but the speed was not enough to prevent their +being drenched by a torrent of rain and hail before they reached the +tall-timbered houses of Wearmouth.</p> +<p>“In good time!” cried Ridley; “here’s the +Poticary’s sign! You had best halt here at once.”</p> +<p>In front of a high-roofed house with a projecting upper story, hung +a sign bearing a green serpent on a red ground, over a stall, open to +the street, which the owner was sheltering with a deep canvas awning.</p> +<p>“Hola, Master Lambert Groats,” called Ridley. “Here’s +the young demoiselle of Whitburn would have some dealings with you.”</p> +<p>Jumping off his horse, he helped Grisell to dismount just as a small, +keen-faced, elderly man in dark gown came forward, doffing his green +velvet cap, and hoping the young lady would take shelter in his poor +house.</p> +<p>Grisell, glancing round the little booth, was aware of sundry marvellous +curiosities hanging round, such as a dried crocodile, the shells of +tortoises, of sea-urchins and crabs, all to her eyes most strange and +weird; but Master Lambert was begging her to hasten in at once to his +dwelling-room beyond, and let his wife dry her clothes, and at once +there came forward a plump, smooth, pleasant-looking personage, greatly +his junior, dressed in a tight gold-edged cap over her fair hair, a +dark skirt, black bodice, bright apron, and white sleeves, curtseying +low, but making signs to invite the newcomers to the fire on the hearth. +“My housewife is stone deaf,” explained their host, “and +she knows no tongue save her own, and the unspoken language of courtesy, +but she is rejoiced to welcome the demoiselle. Ah, she is drenched! +Ah, if she will honour my poor house!”</p> +<p>The wife curtsied low, and by hospitable signs prayed the demoiselle +to come to the fire, and take off her wet mantle. It was a very +comfortable room, with a wide chimney, and deep windows glazed with +thick circles of glass, the spaces between leaded around in diamond +panes, through which vine branches could dimly be seen flapping and +beating in the storm. A table stood under one with various glasses +and vessels of curious shapes, and a big book, and at the other was +a distaff, a work-basket, and other feminine gear. Shelves with +pewter dishes, and red, yellow, and striped crocks, surrounded the walls; +there was a savoury cauldron on the open fire. It was evidently +sitting-room and kitchen in one, with offices beyond, and Grisell was +at once installed in a fine carved chair by the fire - a more comfortable +seat than had ever fallen to her share.</p> +<p>“Look you here, mistress,” said Ridley; “you are +in safe quarters here, and I will leave you awhile, take the horses +to the hostel, and do mine errands across the river - ’tis not +fit for you - and come back to you when the shower is over, and you +can come and chaffer for your woman’s gear.”</p> +<p>From the two good hosts the welcome was decided, and Grisell was +glad to have time for consultation. An Apothecary of those days +did not rise to the dignity of a leech, but was more like the present +owner of a chemist’s shop, though a chemist then meant something +much more abstruse, who studied occult sciences, such as alchemy and +astrology.</p> +<p>In fact, Lambert Groot, which was his real name, though English lips +had made it Groats, belonged to one of the prosperous guilds of the +great merchant city of Bruges, but he had offended his family by his +determination to marry the deaf, and almost dumb, portionless orphan +daughter of an old friend and contemporary, and to save her from the +scorn and slights of his relatives - though she was quite as well-born +as themselves - he had migrated to England, where Wearmouth and Sunderland +had a brisk trade with the Low Countries. These cities enjoyed +the cultivation of the period, and this room, daintily clean and fresh, +seemed to Grisell more luxurious than any she had seen since the Countess +of Warwick’s. A silver bowl of warm soup, extracted from +the <i>pot au feu</i>, was served to her by the Hausfrau, on a little +table, spread with a fine white cloth edged with embroidery, with an +earnest gesture begging her to partake, and a slender Venice glass of +wine was brought to her with a cake of wheaten bread. Much did +Grisell wish she could have transferred such refreshing fare to Bernard. +She ventured to ask “Master Poticary” whether he sold “Balsam +of Egypt.” He was interested at once, and asked whether +it were for her own use.</p> +<p>“Nay, good master, you are thinking of my face; but that was +a burn long ago healed. It is for my poor little brother.”</p> +<p>Therewith Grisell and Master Groats entered on a discussions of symptoms, +drugs, ointments, and ingredients, in which she learnt a good deal and +perhaps disclosed more of Sister Avice’s methods than Wilton might +have approved. In the midst the sun broke out gaily after the +shower, and disclosed, beyond the window, a garden where every leaf +and spray were glittering and glorious with their own diamond drops +in the sunshine. A garden of herbs was a needful part of an apothecary’s +business, as he manufactured for himself all of the medicaments which +he did not import from foreign parts, but this had been laid out between +its high walls with all the care, taste, and precision of the Netherlander, +and Grisell exclaimed in perfect ecstasy: “Oh, the garden, the +garden! I have seen nothing so fair and sweet since I left Wilton.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert was delighted, and led her out. There is no +describing how refreshing was the sight to eyes after the bare, dry +walls of the castle, and the tossing sea which the maiden had not yet +learnt to love. Nor was the garden dull, though meant for use. +There was a well in the centre with roses trained over it, roses of +the dark old damask kind and the dainty musk, used to be distilled for +the eyes, some flowers lingering still; there was the brown dittany +or fraxinella, whose dried blossoms are phosphoric at night; delicate +pink centaury, good for ague; purple mallows, good for wounds; leopard’s +bane with yellow blossoms; many and many more old and dear friends of +Grisell, redolent of Wilton cloister and Sister Avice; and she ran from +one to the other quite transported, and forgetful of all the dignities +of the young Lady of Whitburn, while Lambert was delighted, and hoped +she would come again when his lilies were in bloom.</p> +<p>So went the time till Ridley returned, and when the price was asked +of the packet of medicaments prepared for her, Lambert answered that +the value was fully balanced by what he had learnt from the lady. +This, however, did not suit the honour of the Dacres, and Grisell, as +well as her squire, who looked offended, insisted on leaving two gold +crowns in payment. The Vrow kissed her hand, putting into it the +last sprays of roses, which Grisell cherished in her bosom.</p> +<p>She was then conducted to a booth kept by a Dutchman, where she obtained +the warm winter garments that she needed for her mother and brother, +and likewise some linen, for the Lady of Whitburn had never been housewife +enough to keep up a sufficient supply for Bernard, and Grisell was convinced +that the cleanliness which the nuns had taught her would mitigate his +troubles. With Thora to wash for her she hoped to institute a +new order of things.</p> +<p>Much pleased with her achievements she rode home. She was met +there by more grumbling than satisfaction. Her father had expected +more coin to send to Robert, who, like other absent youths, called for +supplies.</p> +<p>The yeoman who had gone with him returned, bearing a scrap of paper +with the words:-</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“MINE HONOURED LORD AND FATHER - I pray you to send me Black +Lightning and xvj crowns by the hand of Ralf, and so the Saints have +you in their keeping. - Your dutiful sonne,</p> +<p>“ROBERT DACRE.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>xvj crowns were a heavy sum in those days, and Lord Whitburn vowed +that he had never so called on his father except when he was knighted, +but those were the good old days when spoil was to be won in France. +What could Rob want of such a sum?</p> +<p>“Well-a-day, sir, the house of the Duke of York is no place +to stint in. The two young Earls of March and of Rutland, as they +call them, walk in red and blue and gold bravery, and chains of jewels, +even like king’s sons, and none of the squires and pages can be +behind them.”</p> +<p>“Black Lightning too, my best colt, when I deemed the lad fitted +out for years to come. I never sent home the like message to my +father under the last good King Henry, but purveyed myself of a horse +on the battlefield more than once. But those good old days are +over, and lads think more of velvet and broidery than of lances and +swords. Forsooth, their coats-of-arms are good to wear on silk +robes instead of helm and shield; and as to our maids, give them their +rein, and they spend more than all the rest on women’s tawdry +gear!”</p> +<p>Poor Grisell! when she had bought nothing ornamental, and nothing +for herself except a few needles.</p> +<p>However, in spite of murmurs, the xvj crowns were raised and sent +away with Black Lightning; and as time went on Grisell became more and +more a needful person. Bernard was stronger, and even rode out +on a pony, and the fame of his improvement brought other patients to +the Lady Grisell from the vassals, with whom she dealt as best she might, +successfully or the reverse, while her mother, as her health failed, +let fall more and more the reins of household rule.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII - WORD FROM THE WARS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Above, below, the Rose of Snow,<br />Twined with her blushing face +we spread.</p> +<p>GRAY’S <i>Bard.</i></p> +<p>News did not travel very fast to Whitburn, but one summer’s +day a tall, gallant, fair-faced esquire, in full armour of the cumbrous +plate fashion, rode up to the gate, and blew the family note on his +bugle.</p> +<p>“My son! my son Rob,” cried the lady, starting up from +the cushions with which Grisell had furnished her settle.</p> +<p>Robert it was, who came clanking in, met by his father at the gate, +by his mother at the door, and by Bernard on his crutch in the rear, +while Grisell, who had never seen this brother, hung back.</p> +<p>The youth bent his knee, but his outward courtesy did not conceal +a good deal of contempt for the rude northern habits. “How +small and dark the hall is! My lady, how old you have grown! +What, Bernard, still fit only for a shaven friar! Not shorn yet, +eh? Ha! is that Grisell? St. Cuthbert to wit! Copeland +has made a hag of her!”</p> +<p>“’Tis a good maid none the less,” replied her father; +the first direct praise that she had ever had from him, and which made +her heart glow.</p> +<p>“She will ne’er get a husband, with such a visage as +that,” observed Robert, who did not seem to have learnt courtesy +or forbearance yet on his travels; but he was soon telling his father +what concerned them far more than the maiden’s fate.</p> +<p>“Sir, I have come on the part of the Duke of York to summon +you. What, you have not heard? He needs, as speedily as +may be, the arms of every honest man. How many can you get together?”</p> +<p>“But what is it? How is it? Your Duke ruled the +roast last time I heard of him.”</p> +<p>“You know as little as my horse here in the north!” cried +Rob.</p> +<p>“This I did hear last time there was a boat come in, that the +Queen, that mother of mischief, had tried to lay hands on our Lord of +Salisbury, and that he and your Duke of York had soundly beaten her +and the men of Cheshire.”</p> +<p>“Yea, at Blore Heath; and I thought to win my spurs on the +Copeland banner, but even as I was making my way to it and the recreant +that bore it, I was stricken across my steel cap and dazed.”</p> +<p>“I’ll warrant it,” muttered his father.</p> +<p>“When I could look up again all was changed, the banner nowhere +in sight, but I kept my saddle, and cut down half a dozen rascaille +after that.”</p> +<p>“Ha!” half incredulously, for it was a mere boy who boasted. +“That’s my brave lad! And what then? More hopes +of the spurs, eh?”</p> +<p>“Then what does the Queen do, but seeing that no one would +willingly stir a lance against an old witless saint like King Harry, +she gets a host together, dragging the poor man hither and thither with +her, at Ludlow. Nay, we even heard the King was dead, and a mass +was said for the repose of his soul, but with the morning what should +we see on the other side of the river Teme but the royal standard, and +who should be under it but King Harry himself with his meek face and +fair locks, twirling his fingers after his wont. So the men would +have it that they had been gulled, and they fell away one after another, +till there was nothing for it but for the Duke and his sons, and my +Lords of Salisbury and Warwick and a few score more of us, to ride off +as best we might, with Sir Andrew Trollope and his men after us, as +hard as might be, so that we had to break up, and keep few together. +I went with the Duke of York and young Lord Edmund into Wales, and thence +in a bit of a fishing-boat across to Ireland. Ask me to fight +in full field with twice the numbers, but never ask me to put to sea +again! There’s nothing like it for taking heart and soul +out of a man!”</p> +<p>“I have crossed the sea often enow in the good old days, and +known nothing worse than a qualm or two.”</p> +<p>“That was to France,” said his son. “This +Irish Sea is far wider and far more tossing, I know for my own part. +I’d have given a knight’s fee to any one who would have +thrown me overboard. I felt like an empty bag! But once +there, they could not make enough of us. The Duke had got their +hearts before, and odd sort of hearts they are. I was deaf with +the wild kernes shouting round about in their gibberish - such figures, +too, as they are, with their blue cloaks, streaming hair, and long glibbes +(moustaches), and the Lords of the Pale, as they call the English sort, +are nigh about as wild and savage as the mere Irish. It was as +much as my Lord Duke could do to hinder two of them from coming to blows +in his presence; and you should have heard them howl at one another. +However, they are all with him, and a mighty force of them mean to go +back with him to England. My Lord of Warwick came from Calais +to hold counsel with him, and they have sworn to one another to meet +with all their forces, and require the removal of the King’s evil +councillors; and my Lord Duke, with his own mouth, bade me go and summon +his trusty Will Dacre of Whitburn - so he spake, sir - to be with him +with all the spears and bowmen you can raise or call for among the neighbours. +And it is my belief, sir, that he means not to stop at the councillors, +but to put forth his rights. Hurrah for King Richard of the White +Rose!” ended Robert, throwing up his cap.</p> +<p>“Nay, now,” said his father. “I’d be +loth to put down our gallant King Harry’s only son.”</p> +<p>“No one breathes a word against King Harry,” returned +Robert, “no more than against a carven saint in a church, and +he is about as much of a king as old stone King Edmund, or King Oswald, +or whoever he is, over the porch. He is welcome to reign as long +as he likes or lives, provided he lets our Duke govern for him, and +rids the country of the foreign woman and her brat, who is no more hers +than I am, but a mere babe of Westminster town carried into the palace +when the poor King Harry was beside himself.”</p> +<p>“Nay, now, Rob!” cried his mother.</p> +<p>“So ’tis said!” sturdily persisted Rob. “’Tis +well known that the King never looked at him the first time he was shown +the little imp, and next time, when he was not so distraught, he lifted +up his hands and said he wotted nought of the matter. Hap what +hap, King Harry may roam from Church to shrine, from Abbey to chantry, +so long as he lists, but none of us will brook to be ruled or misruled +by the foreign woman and the Beauforts in his name, nor reigned over +by the French dame or the beggar’s brat, and the traitor coward +Beaufort, but be under our own noble Duke and the White Rose, the only +badge that makes the Frenchman flee.”</p> +<p>The boy was scarcely fifteen, but his political tone, as of one who +knew the world, made his father laugh and say, “Hark to the cockerel +crowing loud. Spurs forsooth!”</p> +<p>“The Lords Edward and Edmund are knighted,” grunted Rob, +“and there’s but few years betwixt us.”</p> +<p>“But a good many earldoms and lands,” said the Baron. +“Hadst spoken of being out of pagedom, ’twere another thing.”</p> +<p>“You are coming, sir,” cried Rob, willing to put by the +subject. “You are coming to see how I can win honours.”</p> +<p>“Aye, aye,” said his father. “When Nevil +calls, then must Dacre come, though his old bones might well be at rest +now. Salisbury and Warwick taking to flight like attainted traitors +to please the foreign woman, saidst thou? Then it is the time +men were in the saddle.”</p> +<p>“Well I knew you would say so, and so I told my lord,” +exclaimed Robert.</p> +<p>“Thou didst, quotha? Without doubt the Duke was greatly +reassured by thy testimony,” said his father drily, while the +mother, full of pride and exultation in her goodly firstborn son, could +not but exclaim, “Daunt him not, my lord; he has done well thus +to be sent home in charge.”</p> +<p>“<i>I</i> daunt him?” returned Lord Whitburn, in his +teasing mood. “By his own showing not a troop of Somerset’s +best horsemen could do that!”</p> +<p>Therewith more amicably, father and son fell to calculations of resources, +which they kept up all through supper-time, and all the evening, till +the names of Hobs, Wills, Dicks, and the like rang like a repeating +echo in Grisell’s ears. All through those long days of summer +the father and son were out incessantly, riding from one tenant or neighbour +to another, trying to raise men-at-arms and means to equip them if raised. +All the dues on the herring-boats and the two whalers, on which Grisell +had reckoned for the winter needs, were pledged to Sunderland merchants +for armour and weapons; the colts running wild on the moors were hastily +caught, and reduced to a kind of order by rough breaking in. The +women of the castle and others requisitioned from the village toiled +under the superintendence of the lady and Grisell at preparing such +provision and equipments as were portable, such as dried fish, salted +meat, and barley cakes, as well as linen, and there was a good deal +of tailoring of a rough sort at jerkins, buff coats, and sword belts, +not by any means the gentle work of embroidering pennons or scarves +notable in romance.</p> +<p>“Besides,” scoffed Robert, “who would wear Grisly +Grisell’s scarf!”</p> +<p>“I would,” manfully shouted Bernard; “I would cram +it down the throat of that recreant Copeland.”</p> +<p>“Oh! hush, hush, Bernard,” exclaimed Grisell, who was +toiling with aching fingers at the repairs of her father’s greasy +old buff coat. “Such things are, as Robin well says, for +noble demoiselles with fair faces and leisure times like the Lady Margaret. +And oh, Robin, you have never told me of the Lady Margaret, my dear +mate at Amesbury.”</p> +<p>“What should I know of your Lady Margarets and such gear,” +growled Robin, whose chivalry had not reached the point of caring for +ladies.</p> +<p>“The Lady Margaret Plantagenet, the young Lady Margaret of +York,” Grisell explained.</p> +<p>“Oh! That’s what you mean is it? There’s +a whole troop of wenches at the high table in hall. They came +after us with the Duchess as soon as we were settled in Trim Castle, +but they are kept as demure and mim as may be in my lady’s bower; +and there’s a pretty sharp eye kept on them. Some of the +young squires who are fools enough to hanker after a few maids or look +at the fairer ones get their noses wellnigh pinched off by Proud Cis’s +Mother of the Maids.”</p> +<p>“Then it would not avail to send poor Grisell’s greetings +by you.”</p> +<p>“I should like to see myself delivering them! Besides, +we shall meet my lord in camp, with no cumbrance of woman gear.”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn’s own castle was somewhat of a perplexity to +him, for though his lady had once been quite sufficient captain for +his scanty garrison, she was in too uncertain health, and what was worse, +too much broken in spirit and courage, to be fit for the charge. +He therefore decided on leaving Cuthbert Ridley, who, in winter at least, +was scarcely as capable of roughing it as of old, to protect the castle, +with a few old or partly disabled men, who could man the walls to some +degree, therefore it was unlikely that there would be any attack.</p> +<p>So on a May morning the old, weather-beaten Dacre pennon with its +three crusading scallop-shells, was uplifted in the court, and round +it mustered about thirty men, of whom eighteen had been raised by the +baron, some being his own vassals, and others hired at Sunderland. +The rest were volunteers - gentlemen, their younger sons, and their +attendants - placing themselves under his leadership, either from goodwill +to York and Nevil, or from love of enterprise and hope of plunder.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII - A KNOT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I would mine heart had caught that wound<br /> And +slept beside him rather!<br />I think it were a better thing<br />Than +murdered friend and marriage-ring<br /> Forced on my +life together.</p> +<p>E. B. BROWNING, <i>The Romaunt of the Page.</i></p> +<p>Ladies were accustomed to live for weeks, months, nay, years, without +news of those whom they had sent to the wars, and to live their life +without them. The Lady of Whitburn did not expect to see her husband +or son again till the summer campaign was over, and she was not at all +uneasy about them, for the full armour of a gentleman had arrived at +such a pitch of perfection that it was exceedingly difficult to kill +him, and such was the weight, that his danger in being overthrown was +of never being able to get up, but lying there to be smothered, made +prisoner, or killed, by breaking into his armour. The knights +could not have moved at all under the weight if they had not been trained +from infancy, and had nearly reduced themselves to the condition of +great tortoises.</p> +<p>It was no small surprise when, very late on a July evening, when, +though twilight still prevailed, all save the warder were in bed, and +he was asleep on his post, a bugle-horn rang out the master’s +note, at first in the usual tones, then more loudly and impatiently. +Hastening out of bed to her loophole window, Grisell saw a party beneath +the walls, her father’s scallop-shells dimly seen above them, +and a little in the rear, one who was evidently a prisoner.</p> +<p>The blasts grew fiercer, the warder and the castle were beginning +to be astir, and when Grisell hurried into the outer room, she found +her mother afoot and hastily dressing.</p> +<p>“My lord! my lord! it is his note,” she cried.</p> +<p>“Father come home!” shouted Bernard, just awake. +“Grisly! Grisly! help me don my clothes.”</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn trembled and shook with haste, and Grisell could not +help her very rapidly in the dark, with Bernard howling rather than +calling for help all the time; and before she, still less Grisell, was +fit for the public, her father’s heavy step was on the stairs, +and she heard fragments of his words.</p> +<p>“All abed! We must have supper - ridden from Ayton since +last baiting. Aye, got a prisoner - young Copeland - old one slain +- great victory - Northampton. King taken - Buckingham and Egremont +killed - Rob well - proud as a pyet. Ho, Grisell,” as she +appeared, “bestir thyself. We be ready to eat a horse behind +the saddle. Serve up as fast as may be.”</p> +<p>Grisell durst not stop to ask whether she had heard the word Copeland +aright, and ran downstairs with a throbbing heart, just crossing the +hall, where she thought she saw a figure bowed down, with hands over +his face and elbows on his knees, but she could not pause, and went +on to the kitchen, where the peat fire was never allowed to expire, +and it was easy to stir it into heat. Whatever was cold she handed +over to the servants to appease the hunger of the arrivals, while she +broiled steaks, and heated the great perennial cauldron of broth with +all the expedition in her power, with the help of Thora and the grumbling +cook, when he appeared, angry at being disturbed.</p> +<p>Morning light was beginning to break before her toils were over for +the dozen hungry men pounced so suddenly in on her, and when she again +crossed the hall, most of them were lying on the straw-bestrewn floor +fast asleep. One she specially noticed, his long limbs stretched +out as he lay on his side, his head on his arm, as if he had fallen +asleep from extreme fatigue in spite of himself.</p> +<p>His light brown hair was short and curly, his cheeks fair and ruddy, +and all reminded her of Leonard Copeland as he had been those long years +ago before her accident. Save for that, she would have been long +ago his wife, she with her marred face the mate of that nobly fair countenance. +How strange to remember. How she would have loved him, frank and +often kind as she remembered him, though rough and impatient of restraint. +What was that which his fingers had held till sleep had unclasped them? +An ivory chessrook! Such was a favourite token of ladies to their +true loves. What did it mean? Might she pause to pray a +prayer over him as once hers - that all might be well with him, for +she knew that in this unhappy war important captives were not treated +as Frenchmen would have been as prisoners of war, but executed as traitors +to their King.</p> +<p>She paused over him till a low sound and the bright eyes of one of +the dogs warned her that all might in another moment be awake, and she +fled up the stair to the solar, where her parents were both fast asleep, +and across to her own room, where she threw herself on her bed, dressed +as she was, but could not sleep for the multitude of strange thoughts +that crowded over her in the increasing daylight.</p> +<p>By and by there was a stir, some words passed in the outer room, +and then her mother came in.</p> +<p>“Wake, Grisly. Busk and bonne for thy wedding-morning +instantly. Copeland is to keep his troth to thee at once. +The Earl of Warwick hath granted his life to thy father on that condition +only.”</p> +<p>“Oh, mother, is he willing?” cried Grisell trembling.</p> +<p>“What skills that, child? His hand was pledged, and he +must fulfil his promise now that we have him.”</p> +<p>“Was it troth? I cannot remember it,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“That matters not. Your father’s plight is the +same thing. His father was slain in the battle, so ’tis +between him and us. Put on thy best clothes as fast as may be. +Thou shalt have my wedding-veil and miniver mantle. Speed, I say. +My lord has to hasten away to join the Earl on the way to London. +He will see the knot tied beyond loosing at once.”</p> +<p>To dress herself was all poor Grisell could do in her bewilderment. +Remonstrance was vain. The actual marriage without choice was +not so repugnant to all her feelings as to a modern maiden; it was the +ordinary destiny of womanhood, and she had been used in her childhood +to look on Leonard Copeland as her property; but to be forced on the +poor youth instantly on his father’s death, and as an alternative +to execution, set all her maidenly feelings in revolt. Bernard +was sitting up in bed, crying out that he could not lose his Grisly. +Her mother was running backwards and forwards, bringing portions of +her own bridal gear, and directing Thora, who was combing out her young +lady’s hair, which was long, of a beautiful brown, and was to +be worn loose and flowing, in the bridal fashion. Grisell longed +to kneel and pray, but her mother hurried her. “My lord +must not be kept waiting, there would be time enough for prayer in the +church.” Then Bernard, clamouring loudly, threw his arms +round the thick old heavy silken gown that had been put on her, and +declared that he would not part with his Grisly, and his mother tore +him away by force, declaring that he need not fear, Copeland would be +in no hurry to take her away, and again when she bent to kiss him he +clung tight round her neck almost strangling her, and rumpling her tresses.</p> +<p>Ridley had come up to say that my lord was calling for the young +lady, and it was he who took the boy off and held him in his arms, as +the mother, who seemed endued with new strength by the excitement, threw +a large white muffling veil over Grisell’s head and shoulders, +and led or rather dragged her down to the hall.</p> +<p>The first sounds she there heard were, “Sir, I have given my +faith to the Lady Eleanor of Audley, whom I love.”</p> +<p>“What is that to me? ’Twas a precontract to my +daughter.”</p> +<p>“Not made by me nor her.”</p> +<p>“By your parents, with myself. You went near to being +her death outright, marred her face for life, so that none other will +wed her. What say you? Not hurt by your own will? +Who said it was? What matters that?”</p> +<p>“Sir,” said Leonard, “it is true that by mishap, +nay, if you will have it so, by a child’s inadvertence, I caused +this evil chance to befall your daughter, but I deny, and my father +denies likewise, that there was any troth plight between the maid and +me. She will own the same if you ask her. As I spake before, +there was talk of the like kind between you, sir, and my father, and +it was the desire of the good King that thus the families might be reconciled; +but the contract went no farther, as the holy King himself owned when +I gave my faith to the Lord Audley’s daughter, and with it my +heart.”</p> +<p>“Aye, we know that the Frenchwoman can make the poor fool of +a King believe and avouch anything she choose! This is not the +point. No more words, young man. Here stands my daughter; +there is the rope. Choose - wed or hang.”</p> +<p>Leonard stood one moment with a look of agonised perplexity over +his face. Then he said, “If I consent, am I at liberty, +free at once to depart?”</p> +<p>“Aye,” said Whitburn. “So you fulfil your +contract, the rest is nought to me.”</p> +<p>“I am then at liberty? Free to carry my sword to my Queen +and King?”</p> +<p>“Free.”</p> +<p>“You swear it, on the holy cross?”</p> +<p>Lord Whitburn held up the cross hilt of his sword before him, and +made oath on it that when once married to his daughter, Leonard Copeland +was no longer his prisoner.</p> +<p>Grisell through her veil read on the youthful face a look of grief +and renunciation; he was sacrificing his love to the needs of King and +country, and his words chimed in with her conviction.</p> +<p>“Sir, I am ready. If it were myself alone, I would die +rather than be false to my love, but my Queen needs good swords and +faithful hearts, and I may not fail her. I am ready!”</p> +<p>“It is well!” said Lord Whitburn. “Ho, you +there! Bring the horses to the door.”</p> +<p>Grisell, in all the strange suspense of that decision, had been thinking +of Sir Gawaine, whose lines rang in her head, but that look of grief +roused other feelings. Sir Gawaine had no other love to sacrifice.</p> +<p>“Sir! sir!” she cried, as her father turned to bid her +mount the pillion behind Ridley. “Can you not let him go +free without? I always looked to a cloister.”</p> +<p>“That is for you and he to settle, girl. Obey me now, +or it will be the worse for him and you.”</p> +<p>“One word I would say,” added the mother. “How +far hath this matter with the Audley maid gone? There is no troth +plight, I trow?”</p> +<p>“No, by all that is holy, no. Would the lad not have +pleaded it if there had been? No more dilly-dallying. Up +on the horse, Grisly, and have done with it. We will show the +young recreant how promises are kept in Durham County.”</p> +<p>He dragged rather than led his daughter to the door, and lifted her +passively to the pillion seat behind Cuthbert Ridley. A fine horse, +Copeland’s own, was waiting for him. He was allowed to ride +freely, but old Whitburn kept close beside him, so that escape would +have been impossible. He was in the armour in which he had fought, +dimmed and dust-stained, but still glancing in the morning sun, which +glittered on the sea, though a heavy western thunder-cloud, purple in +the sun, was rising in front of this strange bridal cavalcade.</p> +<p>It was overhead by the time the church was reached, and the heavy +rain that began to fall caused the priest to bid the whole party come +within for the part of the ceremony usually performed outside the west +door.</p> +<p>It was very dark within. The windows were small and old, and +filled with dusky glass, and the arches were low browed. Grisell’s +mufflings were thrown aside, and she stood as became a maiden bride, +with all her hair flowing over her shoulders and long tresses over her +face, but even without this, her features would hardly have been visible, +as the dense cloud rolled overhead; and indeed so tall and straight +was her figure that no one would have supposed her other than a fair +young spouse. She trembled a good deal, but was too much terrified +and, as it were, stunned for tears, and she durst not raise her drooping +head even to look at her bridegroom, though such light as came in shone +upon his fair hair and was reflected on his armour, and on one golden +spur that still he wore, the other no doubt lost in the fight.</p> +<p>All was done regularly. The Lord of Whitburn was determined +that no ceremony that could make the wedlock valid should be omitted. +The priest, a kind old man, but of peasant birth, and entirely subservient +to the Dacres, proceeded to ask each of the pair when they had been +assoiled, namely, absolved. Grisell, as he well knew, had been +shriven only last Friday; Leonard muttered, “Three days since, +when I was dubbed knight, ere the battle.”</p> +<p>“That suffices,” put in the Baron impatiently. +“On with you, Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>The thoroughly personal parts of the service were in English, and +Grisell could not but look up anxiously when the solemn charge was given +to mention whether there was any lawful “letting” to their +marriage. Her heart bounded as it were to her throat when Leonard +made no answer.</p> +<p>But then what lay before him if he pleaded his promise!</p> +<p>It went on - those betrothal vows, dictated while the two cold hands +were linked, his with a kind of limp passiveness, hers, quaking, especially +as, in the old use of York, he took her “for laither for fairer” +- laith being equivalent to loathly - “till death us do part.” +And with failing heart, but still resolute heart, she faltered out her +vow to cleave to him “for better for worse, for richer for poorer, +in sickness or health, and to be bonner (debonair or cheerful) and boughsome +(obedient) till that final parting.”</p> +<p>The troth was plighted, and the silver mark - poor Leonard’s +sole available property at the moment - laid on the priest’s book, +as the words were said, “with worldly cathel I thee endow,” +and the ring, an old one of her mother’s, was held on Grisell’s +finger. It was done, though, alas! the bridegroom could hardly +say with truth, “with my body I thee worship.”</p> +<p>Then followed the procession to the altar, the chilly hands barely +touching one another, and the mass was celebrated, when Latin did not +come home to the pair like English, though both fairly understood it. +Grisell’s feeling was by this time concentrated in the one hope +that she should be dutiful to the poor, unwilling bridegroom, far more +to be pitied than herself, and that she should be guarded by God whatever +befell.</p> +<p>It was over. Signing of registers was not in those days, but +there was some delay, for the darkness was more dense than ever, the +rush of furious hail was heard without, a great blue flash of intense +light filled every corner of the church, the thunder pealed so sharply +and vehemently overhead that the small company looked at one another +and at the church, to ascertain that no stroke had fallen. Then +the Lord of Whitburn, first recovering himself, cried, “Come, +sir knight, kiss your bride. Ha! where is he? Sir Leonard +- here. Who hath seen him? Not vanished in yon flash! +Eh?”</p> +<p>No, but the men without, cowering under the wall, deposed that Sir +Leonard Copeland had rushed out, shouted to them that he had fulfilled +the conditions and was a free man, taken his horse, and galloped away +through the storm.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV - THE LONELY BRIDE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> Grace for the callant<br />If he marries our muckle-mouth +Meg.</p> +<p>BROWNING.</p> +<p>“The recreant! Shall we follow him?” was the cry +of Lord Whitburn’s younger squire, Harry Featherstone, with his +hand on his horse’s neck, in spite of the torrents of rain and +the fresh flash that set the horses quivering.</p> +<p>“No! no!” roared the Baron. “I tell you no! +He has fulfilled his promise; I fulfil mine. He has his freedom. +Let him go! For the rest, we will find the way to make him good +husband to you, my wench,” and as Harry murmured something, “There’s +work enow in hand without spending our horses’ breath and our +own in chasing after a runaway groom. A brief space we will wait +till the storm be over.”</p> +<p>Grisell shrank back to pray at a little side altar, telling her beads, +and repeating the Latin formula, but in her heart all the time giving +thanks that she was going back to Bernard and her mother, whose needs +had been pressing strongly on her, yet that she might do right by this +newly-espoused husband, whose downcast, dejected look had filled her, +not with indignation at the slight to her - she was far past that - +but with yearning compassion for one thus severed from his true love.</p> +<p>When the storm had subsided enough for these hardy northlanders to +ride home, and Grisell was again perched behind old Cuthbert Ridley, +he asked, “Well, my Dame of Copeland, dost peak and pine for thy +runaway bridegroom?”</p> +<p>“Nay, I had far rather be going home to my little Bernard than +be away with yonder stranger I ken not whither.”</p> +<p>“Thou art in the right, my wench. If the lad can break +the marriage by pleading precontract, you may lay your reckoning on +it that so he will.”</p> +<p>When they came home to the attempt at a marriage-feast which Lady +Whitburn had improvised, they found that this was much her opinion.</p> +<p>“He will get the knot untied,” she said. “So +thick as the King and his crew are with the Pope, it will cost him nothing, +but we may, for very shame, force a dowry out of his young knighthood +to get the wench into Whitby withal!”</p> +<p>“So he even proffered on his way,” said the Baron. +“He is a fair and knightly youth. ’Tis pity of him +that he holds with the Frenchwoman. Ha, Bernard, ’tis for +thy good.”</p> +<p>For the boy was clinging tight to his sister, and declaring that +his Grisly should never leave him again, not for twenty vile runaway +husbands.</p> +<p>Grisell returned to all her old habits, and there was no difference +in her position, excepting that she was scrupulously called Dame Grisell +Copeland. Her father was soon called away by the summons to Parliament, +sent forth in the name of King Henry, who was then in the hands of the +Earl of Warwick in London. The Sheriff’s messenger who brought +him the summons plainly said that all the friends of York, Salisbury, +and Warwick were needed for a great change that would dash the hopes +of the Frenchwoman and her son.</p> +<p>He went with all his train, leaving the defence of the castle to +Ridley and the ladies, and assuring Grisell that she need not be downhearted. +He would yet bring her fine husband, Sir Leonard, to his marrow bones +before her.</p> +<p>Grisell had not much time to think of Sir Leonard, for as the summer +waned, both her mother and Bernard sickened with low fever. In +the lady’s case it was intermittent, and she spent only the third +day in her bed, the others in crouching over the fire or hanging over +the child’s bed, where he lay constantly tossing and fevered all +night, sometimes craving to be on his sister’s lap, but too restless +long to lie there. Both manifestly became weaker, in spite of +all Grisell’s simple treatment, and at last she wrung from the +lady permission to send Ridley to Wearmouth to try if it was possible +to bring out Master Lambert Groot to give his advice, or if not, to +obtain medicaments and counsel from him.</p> +<p>The good little man actually came, riding a mule. “Ay, +ay,” quoth Ridley, “I brought him, though he vowed at first +it might never be, but when he heard it concerned you, mistress - I +mean Dame Grisell - he was ready to come to your aid.”</p> +<p>Good little man, standing trim and neat in his burgher’s dress +and little frill-like ruff, he looked quite out of place in the dark +old hall.</p> +<p>Lady Whitburn seemed to think him a sort of magician, though inferior +enough to be under her orders. “Ha! Is that your Poticary?” +she demanded, when Grisell brought him up to the solar. “Look +at my bairn, Master Dutchman; see to healing him,” she continued +imperiously.</p> +<p>Lambert was too well used to incivility from nobles to heed her manner, +though in point of fact a Flemish noble was far more civilised than +this North Country dame. He looked anxiously at Bernard, who moaned +a little and turned his head away. “Nay, now, Bernard,” +entreated his sister; “look up at the good man, he that sent you +the sugar-balls. He is come to try to make you well.”</p> +<p>Bernard let her coax him to give his poor little wasted hand to the +leech, and looked with wonder in his heavy eyes at the stranger, who +felt his pulse, and asked to have him lifted up for better examination. +There was at first a dismal little whine at being touched and moved, +but when a pleasantly acid drop was put into his little parched mouth, +he smiled with brief content. His mother evidently expected that +both he and she herself would be relieved on the spot, but the Apothecary +durst not be hopeful, though he gave the child a draught which he called +a febrifuge, and which put him to sleep, and bade the lady take another +of the like if she wished for a good night’s rest.</p> +<p>He added, however, that the best remedy would be a pilgrimage to +Lindisfarne, which, be it observed, really meant absence from the foul, +close, feverish air of the castle, and all the evil odours of the court. +To the lady he thought it would really be healing, but he doubted whether +the poor little boy was not too far gone for such revival; indeed, he +made no secret that he believed the child was stricken for death.</p> +<p>“Then what boots all your vaunted chirurgery!” cried +the mother passionately. “You outlandish cheat! you! +What did you come here for? You have not even let him blood!”</p> +<p>“Let him blood! good madame,” exclaimed Master Lambert. +“In his state, to take away his blood would be to kill him outright!”</p> +<p>“False fool and pretender,” cried Lady Whitburn; “as +if all did not ken that the first duty of a leech is to take away the +infected humours of the blood! Demented as I was to send for you. +Had you been worth but a pinch of salt, you would have shown me how +to lay hands on Nan the witch-wife, the cause of all the scathe to my +poor bairn.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only protest that he laid no claim to the skill +of a witch-finder, whereupon the lady stormed at him as having come +on false pretences, and at her daughter for having brought him, and +finally fell into a paroxysm of violent weeping, during which Grisell +was thankful to convey her guest out of the chamber, and place him under +the care of Ridley, who would take care he had food and rest, and safe +convoy back to Wearmouth when his mule had been rested and baited.</p> +<p>“Oh, Master Lambert,” she said, “it grieves me +that you should have been thus treated.”</p> +<p>“Heed not that, sweet lady. It oft falls to our share +to brook the like, and I fear me that yours is a weary lot.”</p> +<p>“But my brother! my little brother!” she asked. +“It is all out of my mother’s love for him.”</p> +<p>“Alack, lady, what can I say? The child is sickly, and +little enough is there of peace or joy in this world for such, be he +high or low born. Were it not better that the Saints should take +him to their keeping, while yet a sackless babe?”</p> +<p>Grisell wrung her hands together. “Ah! he hath been all +my joy or bliss through these years; but I will strive to say it is +well, and yield my will.”</p> +<p>The crying of the poor little sufferer for his Grisly called her +back before she could say or hear more. Her mother lay still utterly +exhausted on her bed, and hardly noticed her; but all that evening, +and all the ensuing night, Grisell held the boy, sometimes on her lap, +sometimes on the bed, while all the time his moans grew more and more +feeble, his words more indistinct. By and by, as she sat on the +bed, holding him on her breast, he dropped asleep, and perhaps, outwearied +as she was, she slept too. At any rate all was still, till she +was roused by a cry from Thora, “Holy St. Hilda! the bairn has +passed!”</p> +<p>And indeed when Grisell started, the little head and hand that had +been clasped to her fell utterly prone, and there was a strange cold +at her breast.</p> +<p>Her mother woke with a loud wail. “My bairn! My +bairn!” snatching him to her arms. “This is none other +than your Dutchman’s doings, girl. Have him to the dungeon! +Where are the stocks? Oh, my pretty boy! He breathed, he +is living. Give me the wine!” Then as there was no +opening of the pale lips, she fell into another tempest of tears, during +which Grisell rushed to the stair, where on the lowest step she met +Lambert and Ridley.</p> +<p>“Have him away! Have him away, Cuthbert,” she cried. +“Out of the castle instantly. My mother is distraught with +grief; I know not what she may do to him. O go! Not a word!”</p> +<p>They could but obey, riding away in the early morning, and leaving +the castle to its sorrow.</p> +<p>So, tenderly and sadly was little Bernard carried to the vault in +the church, while Grisell knelt as his chief mourner, for her mother, +after her burst of passion subsided, lay still and listless, hardly +noticing anything, as if there had fallen on her some stroke that affected +her brain. Tidings of the Baron were slow to come, and though +Grisell sent a letter by a wandering friar to York, with information +of the child’s death and the mother’s illness, it was very +doubtful when or whether they would ever reach him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV - WAKEFIELD BRIDGE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I come to tell you things since then befallen.<br />After the bloody +fray at Wakefield fought,<br />Where your brave father breathed his +latest gasp.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>King Henry VI</i>., Part III.</p> +<p>Christmas went by sadly in Whitburn Tower, but the succeeding weeks +were to be sadder still. It was on a long dark evening that a +commotion was heard at the gate, and Lady Whitburn, who had been sitting +by the smouldering fire in her chamber, seemed suddenly startled into +life.</p> +<p>“Tidings,” she cried. “News of my lord and +son. Bring them, Grisell, bring them up.”</p> +<p>Grisell obeyed, and hurried down to the hall. All the household, +men and maids, were gathered round some one freshly come in, and the +first sound she heard was, “Alack! Alack, my lady!”</p> +<p>“How - what - how - ” she asked breathlessly, just recognising +Harry Featherstone, pale, dusty, blood-stained.</p> +<p>“It is evil news, dear lady,” said old Ridley, turning +towards her with outstretched hands, and tears flowing down his cheeks. +“My knight. Oh! my knight! And I was not by!”</p> +<p>“Slain?” almost under her breath, asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Even so! At Wakefield Bridge,” began Featherstone, +but at that instant, walking stiff, upright, and rigid, like a figure +moved by mechanism, Lady Whitburn was among them.</p> +<p>“My lord,” she said, still as if her voice belonged to +some one else. “Slain? And thou, recreant, here to +tell the tale!”</p> +<p>“Madam, he fell before I had time to strike.” She +seemed to hear no word, but again demanded, “My son.”</p> +<p>He hesitated a moment, but she fiercely reiterated.</p> +<p>“My son! Speak out, thou coward loon.”</p> +<p>“Madam, Robert was cut down by the Lord Clifford beside the +Earl of Rutland. ’Tis a lost field! I barely ’scaped +with a dozen men. I came but to bear the tidings, and see whether +you needed an arm to hold out the castle for young Bernard. Or +I would be on my way to my own folk on the Border, for the Queen’s +men will anon be everywhere, since the Duke is slain!”</p> +<p>“The Duke! The Duke of York!” was the cry, as if +a tower were down.</p> +<p>“What would you. We were caught by Somerset like deer +in a buck-stall. Here! Give me a cup of ale, I can scarce +speak for chill.”</p> +<p>He sank upon the settle as one quite worn out. The ale was +brought by some one, and he drank a long draught, while, at a sign from +Ridley, one of the serving-men began to draw off his heavy boots and +greaves, covered with frosted mud, snow, and blood, all melting together, +but all the time he talked, and the hearers remained stunned and listening +to what had hardly yet penetrated their understanding. Lady Whitburn +had collapsed into her own chair, and was as still as the rest.</p> +<p>He spoke incoherently, and Ridley now and then asked a question, +but his fragmentary narrative may be thus expanded.</p> +<p>All had, in Yorkist opinion, gone well in London. Henry was +in the power of the White Rose, and had actually consented that Richard +of York should be his next heir, but in the meantime Queen Margaret +had been striving her utmost to raise the Welsh and the Border lords +on behalf of her son. She had obtained aid from Scotland, and +the Percies, the Dacres of Gilsland, and many more, had followed her +standard. The Duke of York and Earl of Salisbury set forth to +repress what they called a riot, probably unaware of the numbers who +were daily joining the Queen. With them went Lord Whitburn, hoping +thence to return home, and his son Robert, still a squire of the Duke’s +household.</p> +<p>They reached York’s castle of Sendal, and there merrily kept +Christmas, but on St. Thomas of Canterbury’s Day they heard that +the foe were close at hand, many thousands strong, and on the morrow +Queen Margaret, with her boy beside her, and the Duke of Somerset, came +before the gate and called on the Duke to surrender the castle, and +his own vaunting claims with it, or else come out and fight.</p> +<p>Sir Davy Hall entreated the Duke to remain in the castle till his +son Edward, Earl of March, could bring reinforcements up from Wales, +but York held it to be dishonourable to shut himself up on account of +a scolding woman, and the prudence of the Earl of Salisbury was at fault, +since both presumed on the easy victories they had hitherto gained. +Therefore they sallied out towards Wakefield Bridge, to confront the +main body of Margaret’s army, ignorant or careless that she had +two wings in reserve. These closed in on them, and their fate +was certain.</p> +<p>“My lord fell in the melée among the first,” said +Featherstone. “I was down beside him, trying to lift him +up, when a big Scot came with his bill and struck at my head, and I +knew no more till I found my master lying stark dead and stripped of +all his armour. My sword was gone, but I got off save for this +cut” (and he pushed back his hair) “and a horse’s +kick or two, for the whole battle had gone over me, and I heard the +shouting far away. As my lord lay past help, methought I had best +shift myself ere more rascaille came to strip the slain. And as +luck or my good Saint would have it, as I stumbled among the corpses +I heard a whinnying, and saw mine own horse, Brown Weardale, running +masterless. Glad enough was he, poor brute, to have my hand on +his rein.</p> +<p>“The bridge was choked with fighting men, so I was about to +put him to the river, when whom should I see on the bridge but young +Master Robin, and with him young Lord Edmund of Rutland. There, +on the other side, holding parley with them, was the knight Mistress +Grisell wedded, and though he wore the White Rose, he gave his hand +to them, and was letting them go by in safety. I was calling to +Master Rob to let me pass as one of his own, when thundering on came +the grim Lord Clifford, roaring like the wind in Roker caves. +I heard him howl at young Copeland for a traitor, letting go the accursed +spoilers of York. Copeland tried to speak, but Clifford dashed +him aside against the wall, and, ah! woe’s me, lady, when Master +Robin threw himself between, the fellow - a murrain on his name - ran +the fair youth through the neck with his sword, and swept him off into +the river. Then he caught hold of Lord Edmund, crying out, “Thy +father slew mine, and so do I thee,” and dashed out his brains +with his mace. For me, I rode along farther, swam my horse over +the river in the twilight, with much ado to keep clear of the dead horses +and poor slaughtered comrades that cumbered the stream, and what was +even worse, some not yet dead, borne along and crying out. A woful +day it was to all who loved the kindly Duke of York, or this same poor +house! As luck would have it, I fell in with Jock of Redesdale +and a few more honest fellows, who had ’scaped. We found +none but friends when we were well past the river. They succoured +us at the first abbey we came to. The rest have sped to their +homes, and here am I.”</p> +<p>Such was the tenor of Featherstone’s doleful history of that +blood-thirsty Lancastrian victory. All had hung in dire suspense +on his words, and not till they were ended did Grisell become conscious +that her mother was sitting like a stone, with fixed, glassy eyes and +dropped lip, in the high-backed chair, quite senseless, and breathing +strangely.</p> +<p>They took her up and carried her upstairs, as one who had received +her death stroke as surely as had her husband and son on the slopes +between Sendal and Wakefield.</p> +<p>Grisell and Thora did their utmost, but without reviving her, and +they watched by her, hardly conscious of anything else, as they tried +their simple, ineffective remedies one after another, with no thought +or possibility of sending for further help, since the roads would be +impassable in the long January night, and besides, the Lancastrians +might make them doubly perilous. Moreover, this dumb paralysis +was accepted as past cure, and needing not the doctor but the priest. +Before the first streak of dawn on that tardy, northern morning, Ridley’s +ponderous step came up the stair, into the feeble light of the rush +candle which the watchers tried to shelter from the draughts.</p> +<p>The sad question and answer of “No change” passed, and +then Ridley, his gruff voice unnecessarily hushed, said, “Featherstone +would speak with you, lady. He would know whether it be your pleasure +to keep him in your service to hold out the Tower, or whether he is +free to depart.”</p> +<p>“Mine!” said Grisell bewildered.</p> +<p>“Yea!” exclaimed Ridley. “You are Lady of +Whitburn!”</p> +<p>“Ah! It is true,” exclaimed Grisell, clasping her +hands. “Woe is me that it should be so! And oh! +Cuthbert! my husband, if he lives, is a Queen’s man! What +can I do?”</p> +<p>“If it were of any boot I would say hold out the Tower. +He deserves no better after the scurvy way he treated you,” said +Cuthbert grimly. “He may be dead, too, though Harry fears +he was but stunned.”</p> +<p>“But oh!” cried Grisell, as if she saw one gleam of light, +“did not I hear something of his trying to save my brother and +Lord Edmund?”</p> +<p>“You had best come down and hear,” said Ridley. +“Featherstone cannot go till he has spoken with you, and he ought +to depart betimes, lest the Gilsland folk and all the rest of them be +ravening on their way back.”</p> +<p>Grisell looked at her mother, who lay in the same state, entirely +past her reach. The hard, stern woman, who had seemed to have +no affection to bestow on her daughter, had been entirely broken down +and crushed by the loss of her sons and husband.</p> +<p>Probably neither had realised that by forcing Grisell on young Copeland +they might be giving their Tower to their enemy.</p> +<p>She went down to the hall, where Harry Featherstone, whose night +had done him more good than hers had, came to meet her, looking much +freshened, and with a bandage over his forehead. He bent low before +her, and offered her his services, but, as he told her, he and Ridley +had been talking it over, and they thought it vain to try to hold out +the Tower, even if any stout men did straggle back from the battle, +for the country round was chiefly Lancastrian, and it would be scarcely +possible to get provisions, or to be relieved. Moreover, the Gilsland +branch of the family, who would be the male heirs, were on the side +of the King and Queen, and might drive her out if she resisted. +Thus there seemed no occasion for the squire to remain, and he hoped +to reach his own family, and save himself from the risk of being captured.</p> +<p>“No, sir, we do not need you,” said Grisell. “If +Sir Leonard Copeland lives and claims this Tower, there is no choice +save to yield it to him. I would not delay you in seeking your +own safety, but only thank you for your true service to my lord and +father.”</p> +<p>She held out her hand, which Featherstone kissed on his knee.</p> +<p>His horse was terribly jaded, and he thought he could make his way +more safely on foot than in the panoply of an esquire, for in this war, +the poorer sort were hardly touched; the attacks were chiefly made on +nobles and gentlemen. So he prepared to set forth, but Grisell +obtained from him what she had scarcely understood the night before, +the entire history of the fall of her father and brother, and how gallantly +Leonard Copeland had tried to withstand Clifford’s rage.</p> +<p>“He did his best for them,” she said, as if it were her +one drop of hope and comfort.</p> +<p>Ridley very decidedly hoped that Clifford’s blow had freed +her from her reluctant husband; and mayhap the marriage would give her +claims on the Copeland property. But Grisell somehow could not +join in the wish. She could only remember the merry boy at Amesbury +and the fair face she had seen sleeping in the hall, and she dwelt on +Featherstone’s assurance that no wound had pierced the knight, +and that he would probably be little the worse for his fall against +the parapet of the bridge. Use her as he might, she could not +wish him dead, though it was a worthy death in defence of his old playfellow +and of her own brother.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI - A NEW MASTER</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>In the dark chambère, if the bride was fair,<br /> Ye +wis, I could not see.<br /> . . . .<br /> And +the bride rose from her knee<br />And kissed the smile of her mother +dead.</p> +<p>E. B. BROWNING, <i>The Romaunt of the Page.</i></p> +<p>The Lady of Whitburn lingered from day to day, sometimes showing +signs of consciousness, and of knowing her daughter, but never really +reviving. At the end of a fortnight she seemed for one day somewhat +better, but that night she had a fresh attack, and was so evidently +dying that the priest, Sir Lucas, was sent for to bring her the last +Sacrament. The passing bell rang out from the church, and the +old man, with his little server before him, came up the stair, and was +received by Grisell, Thora, and one or two other servants on their knees.</p> +<p>Ridley was not there. For even then, while the priest was crossing +the hall, a party of spearmen, with a young knight at their head, rode +to the gate and demanded entrance.</p> +<p>The frightened porter hurried to call Master Ridley, who, instead +of escorting the priest with the Host to his dying lady, had to go to +the gate, where he recognised Sir Leonard Copeland, far from dead, in +very different guise from that in which he had been brought to the castle +before. He looked, however, awed, as he said, bending his head +-</p> +<p>“Is it sooth, Master Ridley? Is death beforehand with +me?”</p> +<p>“My old lady is <i>in extremis</i>, sir,” replied Ridley. +“Poor soul, she hath never spoken since she heard of my lord’s +death and his son’s.”</p> +<p>“The younger lad? Lives here?” demanded Copeland. +“Is it as I have heard?”</p> +<p>“Aye, sir. The child passed away on the Eve of St. Luke. +I have my lady’s orders,” he added reluctantly, “to +open the castle to you, as of right.”</p> +<p>“It is well,” returned Sir Leonard. Then, turning +round to the twenty men who followed him, he said, “Men-at-arms, +as you saw and heard, there is death here. Draw up here in silence. +This good esquire will see that you have food and fodder for the horses. +Kemp, Hardcastle,” to his squires, “see that all is done +with honour and respect as to the lady of the castle and mine. +Aught unseemly shall be punished.”</p> +<p>Wherewith he dismounted, and entered the narrow little court, looking +about him with a keen, critical, soldierly eye, but speaking with low, +grave tones.</p> +<p>“I may not tarry,” he said to Ridley, “but this +place, since it falls to me and mine, must be held for the King and +Queen.”</p> +<p>“My lady bows to your will, sir,” returned Ridley.</p> +<p>Copeland continued to survey the walls and very antiquated defences, +observing that there could have been few alarms there. This lasted +till the rites in the sick-room were ended, and the priest came forth.</p> +<p>“Sir,” he said to Copeland, “you will pardon the +young lady. Her mother is <i>in articulo mortis</i>, and she cannot +leave her.”</p> +<p>“I would not disturb her,” said Leonard. “The +Saints forbid that I should vex her. I come but as in duty bound +to damn this Tower on behalf of King Harry, Queen Margaret, and the +Prince of Wales against all traitors. I will not tarry here longer +than to put it into hands who will hold it for them and for me. +How say you, Sir Squire?” he added, turning to Ridley, not discourteously.</p> +<p>“We ever did hold for King Harry, sir,” returned the +old esquire.</p> +<p>“Yea, but against his true friends, York and Warwick. +One is cut off, ay, and his aider and defender, Salisbury, who should +rather have stood by his King, has suffered a traitor’s end at +Pomfret.”</p> +<p>“My Lord of Salisbury! Ah! that will grieve my poor young +lady,” sighed Ridley.</p> +<p>“He was a kind lord, save for his treason to the King,” +said Leonard. “We of his household long ago were happy enough, +though strangely divided now. For the rest, till that young wolf +cub, Edward of March, and his mischief-stirring cousin of Warwick be +put down, this place must be held against them and theirs - whosoever +bears the White Rose. Wilt do so, Master Seneschal?”</p> +<p>“I hold for my lady. That is all I know,” said +Ridley, “and she holds herself bound to you, sir.”</p> +<p>“Faithful. Ay? You will be her guardian, I see; +but I must leave half a score of fellows for the defence, and will charge +them that they show all respect and honour to the lady, and leave to +you, as seneschal, all the household, and of all save the wardship of +the Tower, calling on you first to make oath of faith to me, and to +do nought to the prejudice of King Henry, the Queen, or Prince, nor +to favour the friends of York or Warwick.”</p> +<p>“I am willing, sir,” returned Ridley, who cared a great +deal more for the house of Whitburn than for either party, whose cause +he by no means understood, perhaps no more than they had hitherto done +themselves. As long as he was left to protect his lady it was +all he asked, and more than he expected, and the courtesy, not to say +delicacy, of the young knight greatly impressed both him and the priest, +though he suspected that it was a relief to Sir Leonard not to be obliged +to see his bride of a few months.</p> +<p>The selected garrison were called in. Ridley would rather have +seen them more of the North Country yeoman type than of the regular +weather-beaten men-at-arms whom wars always bred up; but their officer +was a slender, dainty-looking, pale young squire, with his arm in a +sling, named Pierce Hardcastle, selected apparently because his wound +rendered rest desirable. Sir Leonard reiterated his charge that +all honour and respect was to be paid to the Lady of Whitburn, and that +she was free to come and go as she chose, and to be obeyed in every +respect, save in what regarded the defence of the Tower. He himself +was going on to Monks Wearmouth, where he had a kinsman among the monks.</p> +<p>With an effort, just as he remounted his horse, he said to Ridley, +“Commend me to the lady. Tell her that I am grieved for +her sorrow and to be compelled to trouble her at such a time; but ’tis +for my Queen’s service, and when this troublous times be ended, +she shall hear more from me.” Turning to the priest he added, +“I have no coin to spare, but let all be done that is needed for +the souls of the departed lord and lady, and I will be answerable.”</p> +<p>Nothing could be more courteous, but as he rode off priest and squire +looked at one another, and Ridley said, “He will untie your knot, +Sir Lucas.”</p> +<p>“He takes kindly to castle and lands,” was the answer, +with a smile; “they may make the lady to be swallowed.”</p> +<p>“I trow ’tis for his cause’s sake,” replied +Ridley. “Mark you, he never once said ‘My lady,’ +nor ‘My wife.’”</p> +<p>“May the sweet lady come safely out of it any way,” sighed +the priest. “She would fain give herself and her lands to +the Church.”</p> +<p>“May be ’tis the best that is like to befall her,” +said Ridley; “but if that young featherpate only had the wit to +guess it, he would find that he might seek Christendom over for a better +wife.”</p> +<p>They were interrupted by a servant, who came hurrying down to say +that my lady was even now departing, and to call Sir Lucas to the bedside.</p> +<p>All was over a few moments after he reached the apartment, and Grisell +was left alone in her desolation. The only real, deep, mutual +love had been between her and poor little Bernard; her elder brother +she had barely seen; her father had been indifferent, chiefly regarding +her as a damaged piece of property, a burthen to the estate; her mother +had been a hard, masculine, untender woman, only softened in her latter +days by the dependence of ill health and her passion for her sickly +youngest; but on her Grisell had experienced Sister Avice’s lesson +that ministry to others begets and fosters love.</p> +<p>And now she was alone in her house, last of her household, her work +for her mother over, a wife, but loathed and deserted except so far +as that the tie had sanctioned the occupation of her home by a hostile +garrison. Her spirit sank within her, and she bitterly felt the +impoverishment of the always scanty means, which deprived her of the +power of laying out sums of money on those rites which were universally +deemed needful for the repose of souls snatched away in battle. +It was a mercenary age among the clergy, and besides, it was the depth +of a northern winter, and the funeral rites of the Lady of Whitburn +would have been poor and maimed indeed if a whole band of black Benedictine +monks had not arrived from Wearmouth, saying they had been despatched +at special request and charge of Sir Leonard Copeland.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII - STRANGE GUESTS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The needle, having nought to do,<br /> Was pleased +to let the magnet wheedle,<br />Till closer still the tempter drew,<br /> And +off at length eloped the needle.</p> +<p>T. MOORE.</p> +<p>The nine days of mourning were spent in entire seclusion by Grisell, +who went through every round of devotions prescribed or recommended +by the Church, and felt relief and rest in them. She shrank when +Ridley on the tenth day begged her no longer to seclude herself in the +solar, but to come down to the hall and take her place as Lady of the +Castle, otherwise he said he could not answer for the conduct of Copeland’s +men.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle desires it too,” he said. “He +is a good lad enough, but I doubt me whether his hand is strong enough +over those fellows! You need not look for aught save courtesy +from him! Come down, lady, or you will never have your rights.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Cuthbert, what are my rights?”</p> +<p>“To be mistress of your own castle,” returned Ridley, +“and that you will never be unless you take the upper hand. +Here are all our household eating with these rogues of Copeland’s, +and who is to keep rule if the lady comes not?”</p> +<p>“Alack, and how am I to do so?”</p> +<p>However, the consideration brought her to appear at the very early +dinner, the first meal of the day, which followed on the return from +mass. Pierce Hardcastle met her shyly. He was a tall slender +stripling, looking weak and ill, and he bowed very low as he said, “Greet +you well, lady,” and looked up for a moment as if in fear of what +he might encounter. Grisell indeed was worn down with long watching +and grief, and looked haggard and drawn so as to enhance all her scars +and distortion of feature into more uncomeliness than her wont. +She saw him shudder a little, but his lame arm and wan looks interested +her kind heart. “I fear me you are still feeling your wound, +sir,” she said, in the sweet voice which was evidently a surprise +to him.</p> +<p>“It is my plea for having been a slug-a-bed this morning,” +he answered.</p> +<p>They sat down at the table. Grisell between Ridley and Hardcastle, +the servants and men-at-arms beyond. Porridge and broth and very +small ale were the fare, and salted meat would be for supper, and as +Grisell knew but too well already, her own retainers were grumbling +at the voracious appetites of the men-at-arms as much as did their unwilling +guests at the plainness and niggardliness of the supply.</p> +<p>Thora had begged for a further allowance of beer for them, or even +to broach a cask of wine. “For,” said she, “they +are none such fiends as we thought, if one knows how to take them courteously.”</p> +<p>“There is no need that you should have any dealings with them, +Thora,” said her lady, with some displeasure; “Master Ridley +sees to their provision.”</p> +<p>Thora tossed up her head a little and muttered something about not +being mewed out of sight and speech of all men. And when she attended +her lady to the hall there certainly were glances between her and a +slim young archer.</p> +<p>The lady’s presence was certainly a restraint on the rude men-at-arms, +though two or three of them seemed to her rough, reckless-looking men. +After the meal all her kindly instincts were aroused to ask what she +could do for the young squire, and he willingly put himself into her +hands, for his hurt had become much more painful within the last day +or two, as indeed it proved to be festering, and in great need of treatment.</p> +<p>Before the day was over the two had made friends, and Grisell had +found him to be a gentle, scholarly youth, whom the defence of the Queen +had snatched from his studies into the battlefield. He told her +a great deal about the good King, and his encouragement of his beloved +scholars at Eton, and he spoke of Queen Margaret with an enthusiasm +new to Grisell, who had only heard her reviled as the Frenchwoman. +Pierce could speak with the greatest admiration, too, of his own knight, +Sir Leonard, whom he viewed as the pink of chivalry, assuring Lady Copeland, +as he called her, that she need never doubt for a moment of his true +honour and courtesy. Grisell longed to know, but modest pride +forbade her to ask, whether he knew how matters stood with her rival, +Lady Eleanor Audley. Ridley, however, had no such feeling, and +he reported to Grisell what he had discovered.</p> +<p>Young Hardcastle had only once seen the lady, and had thought her +very beautiful, as she looked from a balcony when King Henry was riding +to his Parliament. Leonard Copeland, then a squire, was standing +beside her, and it had been currently reported that he was to be her +bridegroom.</p> +<p>He had returned from his captivity after the battle of Northampton +exceedingly downcast, but striving vehemently in the cause of Lancaster, +and Hardcastle had heard that the question had been discussed whether +the forced marriage had been valid, or could be dissolved; but since +the bodies of Lord Whitburn and his son had been found on the ground +at Wakefield, this had ceased, and it was believed that Queen Margaret +had commanded Sir Leonard, on his allegiance, to go and take possession +of Whitburn and its vassals in her cause.</p> +<p>But Pierce Hardcastle had come to Ridley’s opinion, that did +his knight but shut his eyes, the Lady Grisell was as good a mate as +man could wish both in word and deed.</p> +<p>“I would fain,” said he, “have the Lady Eleanor +to look at, but this lady to dress my hurts, ay, and talk with me. +Never met I woman who was so good company! She might almost be +a scholar at Oxford for her wit.”</p> +<p>However much solace the lady might find in the courtesy of Master +Hardcastle, she was not pleased to find that her hand-maiden Thora exchanged +glances with the young men-at-arms; and in a few days Ridley spoke to +Grisell, and assured her that mischief would ensue if the silly wench +were not checked in her habit of loitering and chattering whenever she +could escape from her lady’s presence in the solar, which Grisell +used as her bower, only descending to the hall at meal-times.</p> +<p>Grisell accordingly rebuked her the next time she delayed unreasonably +over a message, but the girl pouted and muttered something about young +Ralph Hart helping her with the heavy pitcher up the stair.</p> +<p>“It is unseemly for a maiden to linger and get help from strange +soldiers,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“No more unseemly than for the dame to be ever holding converse +with their captain,” retorted the North Country hand-maiden, free +of speech and with a toss of the head.</p> +<p>“Whist, Thora! or you must take a buffet,” said Grisell, +clenching a fist unused to striking, and trying to regard chastisement +as a duty. “You know full well that my only speech with +Master Hardcastle is as his hostess.”</p> +<p>Thora laughed. “Ay, lady; I ken well what the men say. +How that poor youth is spell-bound, and that you are casting your glamour +over him as of old over my poor old lady and little Master Bernard.”</p> +<p>“For shame, Thora, to bring me such tales!” and Grisell’s +hand actually descended on her maiden’s face, but so slight was +the force that it only caused a contemptuous laugh, which so angered +the young mistress as to give her energy to strike again with all her +might.</p> +<p>“And you’d beat me,” observed her victim, roused +to anger. “You are so ill favoured yourself that you cannot +bear a man to look on a fair maid!”</p> +<p>“What insolence is this?” cried Grisell, utterly amazed. +“Go into the turret room, spin out this hank, and stay there till +I call you to supper. Say your Ave, and recollect what beseems +a modest maiden.”</p> +<p>She spoke with authority, which Thora durst not resist, and withdrew +still pouting and grumbling.</p> +<p>Grisell was indeed young herself and inexperienced, and knew not +that her wrath with the girl might be perilous to herself, while sympathy +might have evoked wholesome confidence.</p> +<p>For the maiden, just developing into northern comeliness, was attractive +enough to win the admiration of soldiers in garrison with nothing to +do, and on her side their notice, their rough compliments, and even +their jests, were delightful compared with the dulness of her mistress’s +mourning chamber, and court enough was paid to her completely to turn +her head. If there were love and gratitude lurking in the bottom +of her heart towards the lady who had made a fair and skilful maiden +out of the wild fisher girl, all was smothered in the first strong impulse +of love for this young Ralph Hart, the first to awaken the woman out +of the child.</p> +<p>The obstacles which Grisell, like other prudent mistresses in all +times, placed in the course of this true love, did but serve to alienate +the girl and place her in opposition. The creature had grown up +as wild and untamed as one of the seals on the shore, and though she +had had a little training and teaching of late years, it was entirely +powerless when once the passion was evoked in her by the new intercourse +and rough compliments of the young archer, and she was for the time +at his beck and call, regarding her lady as her tyrant and enemy. +It was the old story of many a household.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII - WITCHERY</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>The lady has gone to her secret bower,<br />The bower that was guarded +by word and by spell.</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel.</i></p> +<p>“Master Squire,” said the principal man-at-arms of the +garrison to Pierce Hardcastle, “is it known to you what this laidly +dame’s practices be?”</p> +<p>“I know her for a dame worthy of all honour and esteem,” +returned the esquire, turning hastily round in wrath. He much +disliked this man, a regular mercenary of the free lance description, +a fellow of French or Alsatian birth, of middle age, much strength, +and on account of a great gash and sideways twist of his snub nose always +known as Tordu, and strongly suspected that he had been sent as a sort +of spy or check on Sir Leonard Copeland and on himself. The man +replied with a growl:</p> +<p>“Ah ha! Sans doubt she makes her niggard fare seem dainty +cakes to those under her art.”</p> +<p>In fact the evident pleasure young Hardcastle took in the Lady Castellane’s +society, the great improvement in his wound under her treatment, and +the manner in which the serfs around came to ask her aid in their maladies, +had excited the suspicion of the men-at-arms. They were older +men, hardened and roughened, inclined to despise his youth, and to resent +the orderly discipline of the household, which under Ridley went on +as before, and the murmurs of Thora led to inquiries, answered after +the exaggerated fashion of gossip.</p> +<p>There were outcries about provisions and wine or ale, and shouts +demanding more, and when Pierce declared that he would not have the +lady insulted, there was a hoarse loud laugh. He was about to +order Tordu as ringleader into custody, but Ridley said to him aside, +“Best not, sir; his fellows will not lay a finger on him, and +if we did so, there would be a brawl, and we might come by the worst.”</p> +<p>So Pierce could only say, with all the force he could, “Bear +in mind that Sir Leonard Copeland is lord here, and all miscourtesy +to his lady is an offence to himself, which will be visited with his +wrath.”</p> +<p>The sneering laugh came again, and Tordu made answer, “Ay, +ay, sir; she has bewitched you, and we’ll soon have him and you +free.”</p> +<p>Pierce was angered into flying at the man with his sword, but the +other men came between, and Ridley held him back.</p> +<p>“You are still a maimed man, sir. To be foiled would +be worse than to let it pass.”</p> +<p>“There, fellow, I’ll spare you, so you ask pardon of +me and the lady.”</p> +<p>Perhaps they thought they had gone too far, for there was a sulky +growl that might pass for an apology, and Ridley’s counsel was +decided that Pierce had better not pursue the matter.</p> +<p>What had been said, however, alarmed him, and set him on the watch, +and the next evening, when Hardcastle was walking along the cliffs beyond +the castle, the lad who acted as his page came to him, with round, wondering +eyes, “Sir,” said he, after a little hesitation, “is +it sooth that the lady spake a spell over your arm?”</p> +<p>“Not to my knowledge,” said Pierce smiling.</p> +<p>“It might be without your knowledge,” said the boy. +“They say it healed as no chirurgeon could have healed it, and +by magic arts.”</p> +<p>“Ha! the lubbard oafs. You know better than to believe +them, Dick.”</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but ’tis her bower-woman and Madge, the cook’s +wife. Both aver that the lady hath bewitched whoever comes in +her way ever since she crossed the door. She hath wrought strange +things with her father, mother, and brothers. They say she bound +them to her; that the little one could not brook to have her out of +sight; yet she worked on him so that he was crooked and shrivelled. +Yet he wept and cried to have her ever with him, while he peaked and +pined and dwindled away. And her mother, who was once a fine, +stately, masterful dame, pined to mere skin and bone, and lay in lethargy; +and now she is winding her charms on you, sir!”</p> +<p>Pierce made an exclamation of loathing and contempt. Dick lowered +his voice to a whisper of awe.</p> +<p>“Nay, sir, but Le Tordu and Ned of the Bludgeon purpose to +ride over to Shields to the wise, and they will deal with her when he +has found the witch’s mark.”</p> +<p>“The lady!” cried Hardcastle in horror. “You +see her what she is! A holy woman if ever there was one! +At mass each morning.”</p> +<p>“Ay, but the wench Thora told Ralph that ’tis prayers +backward she says there. Thora has oft heard her at night, and +’twas no Ave nor Credo as they say them here.”</p> +<p>Pierce burst out laughing. “I should think not. +They speak gibberish, and she, for I have heard her in Church, speaks +words with a meaning, as her priest and nuns taught her.”</p> +<p>“But her face, sir. There’s the Evil One’s +mark. One side says nay to the other.”</p> +<p>“The Evil One! Nay, Dick, he is none other than Sir Leonard +himself. ’Twas he that all unwittingly, when a boy, fired +a barrel of powder close to her and marred her countenance. You +are not fool and ass enough to give credence to these tales.”</p> +<p>“I said not that I did, sir,” replied the page; “but +it is what the men-at-arms swear to, having drawn it from the serving-maid.”</p> +<p>“The adder,” muttered Pierce.</p> +<p>“Moreover,” continued the boy, “they have found +out that there is a wise man witch-finder at Shields. They mean +to be revenged for the scanty fare and mean providings; and they deem +it will be a merry jest in this weary hold, and that Sir Leonard will +be too glad to be quit of his gruesome dame to call them to account.”</p> +<p>It was fearful news, for Pierce well knew his own incompetence to +restrain these strong and violent men. He did not know where his +knight was to be found, and, if he had known, it was only too likely +that these terrible intentions might be carried out before any messenger +could reach him. Indeed, the belief in sorcery was universal, +and no rank was exempt from the danger of the accusation. Thora’s +treachery was specially perilous. All that the young man could +do was to seek counsel with Cuthbert Ridley, and even this he was obliged +to do in the stable, bidding Dick keep watch outside. Ridley too +had heard a spiteful whisper or two, but it had seemed too preposterous +for him to attend to it. “You are young, Hardcastle,” +he said, with a smile, “or you would know that there is nothing +a grumbler will not say, nor how far men’s tongues lie from their +hands.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but if their hands <i>did</i> begin to act, how should +we save the lady? There’s nothing Tordu would not do. +Could we get her away to some nunnery?”</p> +<p>“There is no nunnery nearer at hand than Gateshead, and there +the Prioress is a Musgrove, no friend to my lord. She might give +her up, on such a charge, for holy Church is no guardian in them. +My poor bairn! That ingrate Thora too! I would fain wring +her neck! Yet here are our fisher folk, who love her for her bounty.”</p> +<p>“Would they hide her?” asked Pierce.</p> +<p>“That serving-wench - would I had drowned her ere bringing +her here - might turn them, and, were she tracked, I ken not who might +not be scared or tortured into giving her up!”</p> +<p>Here Dick looked in. “Tordu is crossing the yard,” +he said.</p> +<p>They both became immediately absorbed in studying the condition of +Featherstone’s horse, which had never wholly recovered the flight +from Wakefield.</p> +<p>After a time Ridley was able to steal away, and visit Grisell in +her apartment. She came to meet him, and he read alarm, incredulous +alarm, in her face. She put her hands in his. “Is +it sooth?” she said, in a strange, awe-stricken voice.</p> +<p>“You have heard, then, my wench?”</p> +<p>“Thora speaks in a strange tone, as though evil were brewing +against me. But you, and Master Hardcastle, and Sir Lucas, and +the rest would never let them touch me?”</p> +<p>“They should only do so through my heart’s blood, dear +child; but mine would be soon shed, and Hardcastle is a weakly lad, +whom those fellows believe to be bewitched. We must find some +other way!”</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard would save me if he knew. Alas! the good +Earl of Salisbury is dead.”</p> +<p>“’Tis true. If we could hide you till we be rid +of these men. But where?” and he made a despairing gesture.</p> +<p>Grisell stood stunned and dazed as the horrible prospect rose before +her of being seized by these lawless men, tortured by the savage hands +of the witch-finder, subjected to a cruel death, by fire, or at best +by water. She pressed her hands together, feeling utterly desolate, +and prayed her prayer to the God of the fatherless to save her or brace +her to endure.</p> +<p>Presently Cuthbert exclaimed, “Would Master Groats, the Poticary, +shelter you till this is over-past? His wife is deaf and must +perforce keep counsel.”</p> +<p>“He would! I verily believe he would,” exclaimed +Grisell; “and no suspicion would light on him. How soon +can I go to him, and how?”</p> +<p>“If it may be, this very night,” said Ridley. “I +missed two of the rogues, and who knows whither they may have gone?”</p> +<p>“Will there be time?” said the poor girl, looking round +in terror.</p> +<p>“Certes. The nearest witch-finder is at Shields, and +they cannot get there and back under two days. Have you jewels, +lady? And hark you, trust not to Thora. She is the worst +traitor of all. Ask me no more, but be ready to come down when +you hear a whistle.”</p> +<p>That Thora could be a traitress and turn against her - the girl whom +she had taught, trained, and civilised - was too much to believe. +She would almost, in spite of cautions, have asked her if it were possible, +and tried to explain the true character of the services that were so +cruelly misinterpreted; but as she descended the dark winding stair +to supper, she heard the following colloquy:</p> +<p>“You will not deal hardly with her, good Ralph, dear Ralph?”</p> +<p>“That thou shalt see, maid! On thy life, not a word to +her.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but she is a white witch! she does no evil.”</p> +<p>“What! Going back on what thou saidst of her brother +and her mother. Take thou heed, or they will take order with thee.”</p> +<p>“Thou wilt take care of me, good Ralph. Oh! I have +done it for thee.”</p> +<p>“Never fear, little one; only shut thy pretty little mouth;” +and there was a sound of kissing.</p> +<p>“What will they do to her?” in a lower voice.</p> +<p>“Thou wilt see! Sink or swim thou knowst. Ha! ha! +She will have enough of the draught that is so free to us.”</p> +<p>Grisell, trembling and horror-stricken, could only lean against the +wall hoping that her beating heart did not sound loud enough to betray +her, till a call from the hall put an end to the terrible whispers.</p> +<p>She hurried upwards lest Thora should come up and perceive how near +she had been, then descended and took her seat at supper, trying to +converse with Pierce as usual, but noting with terror the absence of +the two soldiers.</p> +<p>How her evasion was to be effected she knew not. The castle +keys were never delivered to her, but always to Hardcastle, and she +saw him take them; but she received from Ridley a look and sign which +meant that she was to be ready, and when she left the hall she made +up a bundle of needments, and in it her precious books and all the jewels +she had inherited. That Thora did not follow her was a boon.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX - A MARCH HARE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Yonder is a man in sight -<br />Yonder is a house - but where?<br />No. +she must not enter there.<br />To the caves, and to the brooks,<br />To +the clouds of heaven she looks.</p> +<p>WORDSWORTH, <i>Feast of Brougham Castle.</i></p> +<p>Long, long did Grisell kneel in an agony of prayer and terror, as +she seemed already to feel savage hands putting her to the ordeal.</p> +<p>The castle had long been quiet and dark, so far as she knew, when +there was a faint sound and a low whistle. She sprang to the door +and held Ridley’s hand.</p> +<p>“Now is the time,” he said, under his breath; “the +squire waits. That treacherous little baggage is safe locked into +the cellar, whither I lured her to find some malvoisie for the rascaille +crew. Come.”</p> +<p>He was without his boots, and silently led the way along the narrow +passage to the postern door, where stood young Hardcastle with the keys. +He let them out and crossed the court with them to the little door leading +to a steep descent of the cliffs by a narrow path. Not till the +sands were reached did any of the three dare to speak, and then Grisell +held out her hands in thanks and farewell.</p> +<p>“May I not guard you on your way, lady?” said Pierce.</p> +<p>“Best not, sir,” returned Ridley; “best not know +whither she is gone. I shall be back again before I am missed +or your rogues are stirring.”</p> +<p>“When Sir Leonard knows of their devices, lady,” said +Pierce, “then will Ridley tell him where to find you and bring +you back in all honour.”</p> +<p>Grisell could only sigh, and try to speak her thanks to the young +man, who kissed her hand, and stood watching her and Ridley as the waning +moon lighted them over the glistening sands, till they sought the friendly +shadows of the cliffs. And thus Grisell Dacre parted from the +home of her fathers.</p> +<p>“Cuthbert,” she said, “should you see Sir Leonard, +let him know that if - if he would be free from any bond to me I will +aid in breaking it, and ask only dowry enough to obtain entrance to +a convent, while he weds the lady he loves.”</p> +<p>Ridley interrupted her with imprecations on the knight, and exhortations +to her to hold her own, and not abandon her rights. “If +he keep the lands, he should keep the wife,” was his cry.</p> +<p>“His word and heart - ” began Grisell.</p> +<p>“Folly, my wench. No question but she is bestowed on +some one else. You do not want to be quit of him and be mewed +in a nunnery.”</p> +<p>“I only crave to hide my head and not be the bane of his life.”</p> +<p>“Pshaw! You have seen for yourself. Once get over +the first glance and you are worth the fairest dame that ever was jousted +for in the lists. Send him at least a message as though it were +not your will to cast him off.”</p> +<p>“If you will have it so, then,” said Grisell, “tell +him that if it be his desire, I will strive to make him a true, loyal, +and loving wife.”</p> +<p>The last words came with a sob, and Ridley gave a little inward chuckle, +as of one who suspected that the duties of the good and loving wife +would not be unwillingly undertaken.</p> +<p>Castle-bred ladies were not much given to long walks, and though +the distance was only two miles, it was a good deal for Grisell, and +she plodded on wearily, to the sound of the lap of the sea and the cries +of the gulls. The caverns of the rock looked very black and gloomy, +and she clung to Ridley, almost expecting something to spring out on +her; but all was still, and the pale eastward light began to be seen +over the sea before they turned away from it to ascend to the scattered +houses of the little rising town.</p> +<p>The bells of the convent had begun to ring for lauds, but it was +only twilight when they reached the wall of Lambert’s garden of +herbs, where there was a little door that yielded to Ridley’s +push. The house was still closed, and hoar frost lay on the leaves, +but Grisell proposed to hide herself in the little shed which served +the purpose of tool-house and summer-house till she could make her entrance. +She felt sure of a welcome, and almost constrained Cuthbert to leave +her, so as to return to the Tower early enough to avert suspicion - +an easier matter as the men-at-arms were given to sleeping as late as +they could. He would make an errand to the Apothecary’s +as soon as he could, so as to bring intelligence.</p> +<p>There sat Grisell, looking out on the brightening sky, while the +blackbirds and thrushes were bursting into song, and sweet odours rising +from the spring buds of the aromatic plants around, and a morning bell +rang from the great monastery church. With that she saw the house +door open, and Master Lambert in a fur cap and gown turned up with lambs’-wool +come out into the garden, basket in hand, and chirp to the birds to +come down and be fed.</p> +<p>It was pretty to see how the mavis and the merle, the sparrow, chaffinch, +robin, and tit fluttered round, and Grisell waited a moment to watch +them before she stepped forth and said, “Ah! Master Groot, +here is another poor bird to implore your bounty.”</p> +<p>“Lady Grisell,” he cried, with a start.</p> +<p>“Ah! not that name,” she said; “not a word. +O Master Lambert, I came by night; none have seen me, none but good +Cuthbert Ridley ken where I am. There can be no peril to you or +yours if you will give shelter for a little while to a poor maid.”</p> +<p>“Dear lady, we will do all we can,” returned Lambert. +“Fear not. How pale you are. You have walked all night! +Come and rest. None will follow. You are sore spent! +Clemence shall bring you a warm drink! Condescend, dear lady,” +and he made her lean on his arm, and brought her into his large living +room, and placed her in the comfortable cross-legged chair with straps +and cushions as a back, while he went into some back settlement to inform +his wife of her visitor; and presently they brought her warm water, +with some refreshing perfume, in a brass basin, and he knelt on one +knee to hold it to her, while she bathed her face and hands with a sponge +- a rare luxury. She started at every sound, but Lambert assured +her that she was safe, as no one ever came beyond the booth. His +Clemence had no gossips, and the garden could not be overlooked. +While some broth was heated for her she began to explain her peril, +but he exclaimed, “Methinks I know, lady, if it was thereanent +that a great strapping Hollander fellow from your Tower came to ask +me for a charm against gramarie, with hints that ’twas in high +places. ’Twas enough to make one laugh to see the big lubber +try to whisper hints, and shiver and shake, as he showed me a knot in +his matted locks and asked if it were not the enemy’s tying. +I told him ’twas tied by the enemy indeed, the deadly sin of sloth, +and that a stout Dutchman ought to be ashamed of himself for carrying +such a head within or without. But I scarce bethought me the impudent +Schelm could have thought of you, lady.”</p> +<p>“Hush again. Forget the word! They are gone to +Shields in search of the witch-finder, to pinch me, and probe me, and +drown me, or burn me,” cried Grisell, clasping her hands. +“Oh! take me somewhere if you cannot safely hide me; I would not +bring trouble on you!”</p> +<p>“You need not fear,” he answered. “None will +enter here but by my goodwill, and I will bar the garden door lest any +idle lad should pry in; but they come not here. The tortoise who +crawls about in the summer fills them with too much terror for them +to venture, and is better than any watch-dog. Now, let me touch +your pulse. Ah! I would prescribe lying down on the bed +and resting for the day.”</p> +<p>She complied, and Clemence took her to the upper floor, where it +was the pride of the Flemish housewife to keep a guest-chamber, absolutely +neat, though very little furnished, and indeed seldom or never used; +but she solicitously stroked the big bed, and signed to Grisell to lie +down in the midst of pillows of down, above and below, taking off her +hood, mantle, and shoes, and smoothing her down with nods and sweet +smiles, so that she fell sound asleep.</p> +<p>When she awoke the sun was at the meridian, and she came down to +the noontide meal. Master Groot was looking much entertained.</p> +<p>Wearmouth, he said, was in a commotion. The great Dutch Whitburn +man-at-arms had come in full of the wonderful story. Not only +had the grisly lady vanished, but a cross-bow man had shot an enormous +hare on the moor, a creature with one ear torn off, and a seam on its +face, and Masters Hardcastle and Ridley altogether favoured the belief +that it was the sorceress herself without time to change her shape. +Did Mynheer Groot hold with them?</p> +<p>For though Dutch and Flemings were not wholly friendly at home, yet +in a strange country they held together, and remembered that they were +both Netherlanders, and Hannekin would fain know what thought the wise +man.</p> +<p>“Depend on it, there was no time for a change,” gravely +said Groot. “Have not Nostradamus, Albertus Magnus, and +Rogerus Bacon” (he was heaping names together as he saw Hannekin’s +big gray eyes grow rounder and rounder) “all averred that the +great Diabolus can give his minions power to change themselves at will +into hares, cats, or toads to transport themselves to the Sabbath on +Walpurgs’ night?”</p> +<p>“You deem it in sooth,” said the Dutchman, “for +know you that the parish priest swears, and so do the more part of the +villein fisher folk, that there’s no sorcery in the matter, but +that she is a true and holy maid, with no powers save what the Saints +had given her, and that her cures were by skill. Yet such was +scarce like to a mere Jungvrow.”</p> +<p>It went sorely against Master Lambert’s feelings, as well as +somewhat against his conscience, to encourage the notion of the death +of his guest as a hare, though it ensured her safety and prevented a +search. He replied that her skill certainly was uncommon in a +Jungvrow, beyond nature, no doubt, and if they were unholy, it was well +that the arblaster had made a riddance of her.</p> +<p>“By the same token,” added Hannekin, “the elf lock +came out of my hair this very morn, I having, as you bade me, combed +it each morn with the horse’s currycomb.”</p> +<p>Proof positive, as Lambert was glad to allow him to believe. +And the next day all Sunderland and the two Wearmouths believed that +the dead hare had shrieked in a human voice on being thrown on a fire, +and had actually shown the hands and feet of a woman before it was consumed.</p> +<p>It was all the safer for Grisell as long as she was not recognised, +and of this there was little danger. She was scarcely known in +Wearmouth, and could go to mass at the Abbey Church in a deep black +hood and veil. Master Lambert sometimes received pilgrims from +his own country on their way to English shrines, and she could easily +pass for one of these if her presence were perceived, but except to +mass in very early morning, she never went beyond the garden, where +the spring beauty was enjoyment to her in the midst of her loneliness +and entire doubt as to her future.</p> +<p>It was a grand old church, too, with low-browed arches, reminding +her of the dear old chapel of Wilton, and with a lofty though undecorated +square tower, entered by an archway adorned with curious twisted snakes +with long beaks, stretching over and under one another.</p> +<p>The low heavy columns, the round circles, and the small windows, +casting a very dim religious light, gave Grisell a sense of being in +the atmosphere of that best beloved place, Wilton Abbey. She longed +after Sister Avice’s wisdom and tenderness, and wondered whether +her lands would purchase from her knight, power to return thither with +dower enough to satisfy the demands of the Proctor. It was a hope +that seemed like an inlet of light in her loneliness, when no one was +faithful save Cuthbert Ridley, and she felt cut to the heart above all +by Thora’s defection and cruel accusations, not knowing that half +was owning to the intoxication of love, and the other half to a gossiping +tongue.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX - A BLIGHT ON THE WHITE ROSE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Witness Aire’s unhappy water<br /> Where the +ruthless Clifford fell,<br />And when Wharfe ran red with slaughter<br /> On +the day of Towton’s field.<br />Gathering in its guilty flood<br />The +carnage and the ill spilt blood<br /> That forty thousand +lives could yield.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Funeral Song of Princess Charlotte.</i></p> +<p>Grisell from the first took her part in the Apothecary’s household. +Occupation was a boon to her, and she not only spun and made lace with +Clemence, but showed her new patterns learned in old days at Wilton; +and still more did she enjoy assisting the master of the house in making +his compounds, learning new nostrums herself, and imparting others to +him, showing a delicacy of finger which the old Fleming could not emulate. +In the fabrication of perfumes for the pouncet box, and sweetmeats prepared +with honey and sugar, she proved to have a dainty hand, so that Lambert, +who would not touch her jewels, declared that she was fully earning +her maintenance by the assistance that she gave to him.</p> +<p>They were not molested by the war, which was decidedly a war of battles, +not of sieges, but they heard far more of tidings than were wont to +reach Whitburn Tower. They knew of the advance of Edward to London; +and the terrible battle of Towton begun, was fought out while the snow +fell far from bloodless, on Palm Sunday; and while the choir boys had +been singing their <i>Gloria</i>, <i>laus et honor</i> in the gallery +over the church door, shivering a little at the untimely blast, there +had been grim and awful work, when for miles around the Wharfe and Aire +the snow lay mixed with blood. That the Yorkists had gained was +known, and that the Queen and Prince had fled; but nothing was heard +of the fate of individuals, and Master Lambert was much occupied with +tidings from Bruges, whence information came, in a messenger sent by +a notary that his uncle, an old miser, whose harsh displeasure at his +marriage had driven him forth, was just dead, leaving him heir to a +fairly prosperous business and a house in the city.</p> +<p>To return thither was of course Lambert’s intention as soon +as he could dispose of his English property. He entreated Grisell +to accompany him and Clemence, assuming her that at the chief city of +so great a prince as Duke Philip of Burgundy, she would have a better +hope of hearing tidings of her husband than in a remote town like Sunderland; +and that if she still wished to dispose of her jewels she would have +a far better chance of so doing. He was arguing the point with +her, when there was a voice in the stall outside which made Grisell +start, and Lambert, going out, brought in Cuthbert Ridley, staggering +under the weight of his best suit of armour, and with a bundle and bag +under his mantle.</p> +<p>Grisell sprang up eagerly to meet him, but as she put her hands into +his he looked sorrowfully at her, and she asked under her breath, “Ah! +Sir Leonard - ?”</p> +<p>“No tidings of the recreant,” growled Ridley, “but +ill tidings for both of you. The Dacres of Gilsland are on us, +claiming your castle and lands as male heirs to your father.”</p> +<p>“Do they know that I live?” asked Grisell, “or” +- unable to control a little laugh - “do they deem that I was +slain in the shape of a hare?”</p> +<p>“Or better than that,” put in Lambert; “they have +it now in the wharves that the corpse of the hare took the shape and +hands of a woman when in the hall.”</p> +<p>“I ken not, the long-tongued rogues,” said Ridley; “but +if my young lady were standing living and life-like before them as, +thank St. Hilda, I see her now, they would claim it all the more as +male heirs, and this new King Edward has granted old Sir John seisin, +being that she is the wife of one of King Henry’s men!”</p> +<p>“Are they there? How did you escape?”</p> +<p>“I got timely notice,” said Cuthbert. “Twenty +strong halted over the night at Yeoman Kester’s farm on Heather +Gill - a fellow that would do anything for me since we fought side by +side on the day of the Herrings. So he sends out his two grandsons +to tell me what they were after, while they were drinking his good ale +to health of their King Edward. So forewarned, forearmed. +We have left them empty walls, get in as they can or may - unless that +traitor Tordu chooses to stay and make terms with them.”</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle! Would he fly? Surely not!” +asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Master Hardcastle, with Dutch Hannekin and some of the better +sort, went off long since to join their knight’s banner, and the +Saints know how the poor young lad sped in all the bloody work they +have had. For my part, I felt not bound to hold out the castle +against my old lord’s side, when there was no saving it for you, +so I put what belonged to me together, and took poor old Roan, and my +young lady’s pony, and made my way hither, no one letting me. +I doubt me much, lady, that there is little hope of winning back your +lands, whatever side may be uppermost, yet there be true hearts among +our villeins, who say they will never pay dues to any save their lord’s +daughter.”</p> +<p>“Then I am landless and homeless,” sighed Grisell.</p> +<p>“The greater cause that you should make your home with us, +lady,” returned Lambert Groot; and he went on to lay before Ridley +the state of the case, and his own plans. House and business, +possibly a seat in the city council, were waiting for him at Bruges, +and the vessel from Ostend which had continually brought him supplies +for his traffic was daily expected. He intended, so soon as she +had made up her cargo of wool, to return in her to his native country, +and he was urgent that the Lady Grisell should go with him, representing +that all the changes of fortune in the convulsed kingdom of England +were sure to be quickly known there, and that she was as near the centre +of action in Flanders as in Durham, besides that she would be out of +reach of any enemies who might disbelieve the hare transformation.</p> +<p>After learning the fate of her castle, Grisell much inclined to the +proposal which kept her with those whom she had learnt to trust and +love, and she knew that she need be no burthen to them, since she had +profitable skill in their own craft, and besides she had her jewels. +Ridley, moreover, gave her hopes of a certain portion of her dues on +the herring-boats and the wool.</p> +<p>“Will not you come with the lady, sir?” asked Lambert.</p> +<p>“Oh, come!” cried Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay, a squire of dames hath scarce been heard of in a Poticar’s +shop,” said Ridley, and there was an irresistible laugh at the +rugged old gentleman so terming himself; but as Lambert and Grisell +were both about to speak he went on, “I can serve her better elsewhere. +I am going first to my home at Willimoteswick. I have not seen +it these forty year, and whether my brother or my nephew make me welcome +or no, I shall have seen the old moors and mosses. Then methought +I would come hither, or to some of the towns about, and see how it fares +with the old Tower and the folk; and if they be as good as their word, +and keep their dues for my lady, I could gather them, and take or bring +them to her, with any other matter which might concern her nearly.”</p> +<p>This was thoroughly approved by Grisell’s little council, and +Lambert undertook to make known to the good esquire the best means of +communication, whether in person, or by the transmission of payments, +since all the eastern ports of England had connections with Dutch and +Flemish traffic, which made the payment of monies possible.</p> +<p>Grisell meantime was asking for Thora. Her uncle, Ridley said, +had come up, laid hands on her, and soundly scourged her for her foul +practices. He had dragged her home, and when Ralph Hart had come +after her, had threatened him with a quarter-staff, called out a mob +of fishermen, and finally had brought him to Sir Lucas, who married +them willy-nilly. He was the runaway son of a currier in York, +and had taken her <i>en croupe</i>, and ridden off to his parents at +the sign of the Hart, to bespeak their favour.</p> +<p>Grisell grieved deeply over Thora’s ingratitude to her, and +the two elder men foreboded no favourable reception for the pair, and +hoped that Thora would sup sorrow.</p> +<p>Ridley spent the night at the sign of tire Green Serpent, and before +he set out for Willimoteswick, he confided to Master Groot a bag containing +a silver cup or two, and a variety of coins, mostly French. They +were, he said, spoils of his wars under King Harry the Fifth and the +two Lord Salisburys, which he had never had occasion to spend, and he +desired that they might be laid out on the Lady Grisell in case of need, +leaving her to think they were the dues from her faithful tenantry. +To the Hausvrow Clemence it was a great grief to leave the peaceful +home of her married life, and go among kindred who had shown their scorn +in neglect and cold looks; but she kept a cheerful face for her husband, +and only shed tears over the budding roses and other plants she had +to leave; and she made her guest understand how great a comfort and +solace was her company.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI - THE WOUNDED KNIGHT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Belted Will Howard is marching here,<br />And hot Lord Dacre with +many a spear</p> +<p>SCOTT, <i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel.</i></p> +<p>“Master Groot, a word with you.” A lay brother +in the coarse, dark robe of St. Benedict was standing in the booth of +the Green Serpent.</p> +<p>Groot knew him for Brother Christopher of Monks Wearmouth, and touched +his brow in recognition.</p> +<p>“Have you here any balsam fit for a plaguey shot with an arquebuss, +the like of which our poor peaceful house never looked to harbour?”</p> +<p>“For whom is it needed, good brother?”</p> +<p>“Best not ask,” said Brother Christopher, who was, however, +an inveterate gossip, and went on in reply to Lambert’s question +as to the place of the wound. “In the shoulder is the worst, +the bullet wound where the Brother Infirmarer has poured in hot oil. +St. Bede! How the poor knight howled, though he tried to stop +it, and brought it down to moaning. His leg is broken beside, +but we could deal with that. His horse went down with him, you +see, when he was overtaken and shot down by the Gilsland folk.”</p> +<p>“The Gilsland folk!”</p> +<p>“Even so, poor lad; and he was only on his way to see after +his own, or his wife’s, since all the Whitburn sons are at an +end, and the Tower gone to the spindle side. They say, too, that +the damsel he wedded perforce was given to magic, and fled in form of +a hare. But be that as it will, young Copeland - St. Bede, pardon +me! What have I let out?”</p> +<p>“Reck not of that, brother. The tale is all over the +town. How of Copeland?”</p> +<p>“As I said even now, he was on his way to the Tower, when the +Dacres - Will and Harry - fell on him, and left him for dead; but by +the Saints’ good providence, his squire and groom put him on a +horse, and brought him to our Abbey at night, knowing that he is kin +to our Sub-Prior. And there he lies, whether for life or death +only Heaven knows, but for death it will be if only King Edward gets +a scent of him; so hold your peace, Master Groats, as to who it be, +as you live, or as you would not have his blood on you.”</p> +<p>Master Groats promised silence, and gave numerous directions as to +the application of his medicaments, and Brother Kit took his leave, +reiterating assurances that Sir Leonard’s life depended on his +secrecy.</p> +<p>Whatever was said in the booth was plainly audible in the inner room. +Grisell and Clemence were packing linen, and the little shutter of the +wooden partition was open. Thus Lambert found Grisell standing +with clasped hands, and a face of intense attention and suspense.</p> +<p>“You have heard, lady,” he said.</p> +<p>“Oh, yea, yea! Alas, poor Leonard!” she cried.</p> +<p>“The Saints grant him recovery.”</p> +<p>“Methought you would be glad to hear you were like to be free +from such a yoke. Were you rid of him, you, of a Yorkist house, +might win back your lands, above all, since, as you once told me, you +were a playmate of the King’s sister.”</p> +<p>“Ah! dear master, speak not so! Think of him! treacherously +wounded, and lying moaning. That gruesome oil! Oh! my poor +Leonard!” and she burst into tears. “So fair, and +comely, and young, thus stricken down!”</p> +<p>“Bah!” exclaimed Lambert. “Such are women! +One would think she loved him, who flouted her!”</p> +<p>“I cannot brook the thought of his lying there in sore pain +and dolour, he who has had so sad a life, baulked of his true love.”</p> +<p>Master Lambert could only hold up his hands at the perversity of +womankind, and declare to his Clemence that he verily believed that +had the knight been a true and devoted Tristram himself, ever at her +feet, the lady could not have been so sore troubled.</p> +<p>The next day brought Brother Kit back with an earnest request from +the Infirmarer and the Sub-Prior that “Master Groats” would +come to the monastery, and give them the benefit of his advice on the +wounds and the fever which was setting in, since gun-shot wounds were +beyond the scope of the monastic surgery.</p> +<p>To refuse would not have been possible, even without the earnest +entreaty of Grisell; and Lambert, who had that medical instinct which +no training can supply, went on his way with the lay brother.</p> +<p>He came back after many hours, sorely perturbed by the request that +had been made to him. Sir Leonard, he said, was indeed sick nigh +unto death, grievously hurt, and distraught by the fever, or it might +be by the blow on his head in the fall with his horse, which seemed +to have kicked him; but there was no reason that with good guidance +and rest he should not recover. But, on the other hand, King Edward +was known to be on his progress to Durham, and he was understood to +be especially virulent against Sir Leonard Copeland, under the impression +that the young knight had assisted in Clifford’s slaughter of +his brother Edmund of Rutland. It was true that a monastery was +a sanctuary, but if all that was reported of Edward Plantagenet were +true, he might, if he tracked Copeland to the Abbey, insist on his being +yielded up, or might make Abbot and monks suffer severely for the protection +given to his enemy; and there was much fear that the Dacres might be +on the scent. The Abbot and Father Copeland were anxious to be +able to answer that Sir Leonard was not within their precincts, and, +having heard that Master Groats was about to sail for Flanders, the +Sub-Prior made the entreaty that his nephew might thus be conveyed to +the Low Countries, where the fugitives of each party in turn found a +refuge. Father Copeland promised to be at charges, and, in truth, +the scheme was the best hope for Leonard’s chances of life. +Master Groot had hesitated, seeing various difficulties in the way of +such a charge, and being by no means disposed towards Lady Grisell’s +unwilling husband, as such, though in a professional capacity he was +interested in his treatment of his patient, and was likewise touched +by the good mien of the fine, handsome, straight-limbed young man, who +was lying unconscious on his pallet in a narrow cell.</p> +<p>He had replied that he would answer the next day, when he had consulted +his wife and the ship-master, whose consent was needful; and there was +of course another, whom he did not mention.</p> +<p>As he told all the colour rose in Grisell’s face, rosy on one +side, purple, alas, on the other. “O master, good master, +you will, you will!”</p> +<p>“Is it your pleasure, then, mistress? I should have held +that the kindness to you would be to rid you of him.”</p> +<p>“No, no, no! You are mocking me! You know too well +what I think! Is not this my best hope of making him know me, +and becoming his true and - and - ”</p> +<p>A sob cut her short, but she cried, “I will be at all the pains +and all the cost, if only you will consent, dear Master Lambert, good +Master Groot.”</p> +<p>“Ah, would I knew what is well for her!” said Lambert, +turning to his wife, and making rapid signs with face and fingers in +their mutual language, but Grisell burst in -</p> +<p>“Good for her,” cried she. “Can it be good +for a wife to leave her husband to be slain by the cruel men of York +and Warwick, him who strove to save the young Lord Edmund? Master, +you will suffer no such foul wrong. O master, if you did, I would +stay behind, in some poor hovel on the shore, where none would track +him, and tend him there. I will! I vow it to St. Mary.”</p> +<p>“Hush, hush, lady! Cease this strange passion. +You could not be more moved if he were the tenderest spouse who ever +breathed.”</p> +<p>“But you will have pity, sir. You will aid us. +You will save us. Give him the chance for life.”</p> +<p>“What say you, housewife?” said Groot, turning to the +silent Clemence, whom his signs and their looks had made to perceive +the point at issue. Her reply was to seize Grisell’s two +hands, kiss them fervently, clasp both together, and utter in her deaf +voice two Flemish words, “<i>Goot Vrow</i>.” Grisell +eagerly embraced her in tears.</p> +<p>“We have still to see what Skipper Vrowst says. He may +not choose to meddle with English outlaws.”</p> +<p>“If you cannot win him to take my knight, he will not take +me,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>There was no more to be said except something about the waywardness +of the affections of women and dogs; but Master Groot was not ill-pleased +at the bottom that both the females of the household took part against +him, and they had a merry supper that night, amid the chests in which +their domestic apparatus and stock-in-trade were packed, with the dried +lizard, who passed for a crocodile, sitting on the settle as if he were +one of the company. Grisell’s spirits rose with an undefined +hope that, like Sir Gawaine’s bride, or her own namesake, Griselda +the patient, she should at last win her lord’s love; and, deprived +as she was of all her own relatives, there arose strongly within her +the affection that ten long years ago had made her haunt the footsteps +of the boy at Amesbury Manor.</p> +<p>Groot was made to promise to say not a word of her presence in his +family. He was out all day, while Clemence worked hard at her +<i>démenagement</i>, and only with scruples accepted the assistance +of her guest, who was glad to work away her anxiety in the folding of +curtains and stuffing of mails.</p> +<p>At last Lambert returned, having been backwards and forwards many +times between the <i>Vrow Gudule</i> and the Abbey, for Skipper Vrowst +drove a hard bargain, and made the most of the inconvenience and danger +of getting into ill odour with the authorities; and, however anxious +Father Copeland might be to save his nephew, Abbot and bursar demurred +at gratifying extortion, above all when the King might at any time be +squeezing them for contributions hard to come by.</p> +<p>However, it had been finally fixed that a boat should put in to the +Abbey steps to receive the fleeces of the sheep-shearing of the home +grange, and that, rolled in one of these fleeces, the wounded knight +should be brought on board the <i>Vrow Gudule</i>, where Groot and the +women would await him, their freight being already embarked, and all +ready to weigh anchor.</p> +<p>The chief danger was in a King’s officer coming on board to +weigh the fleeces, and obtaining the toll on them. But Sunderland +either had no King, or had two just at that time, and Father Copeland +handed Master Groot a sum which might bribe one or both; while it was +to the interest of the captain to make off without being overhauled +by either.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII - THE CITY OF BRIDGES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>So for long hours sat Enid by her lord,<br />There in the naked hall, +propping his head,<br />And chafing his pale hands, and calling to him.<br />And +at the last he waken’d from his swoon.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Enid.</i></p> +<p>The transit was happily effected, and closely hidden in wool, Leonard +Copeland was lifted out the boat, more than half unconscious, and afterwards +transferred to the vessel, and placed in wrappings as softly and securely +as Grisell and Clemence could arrange before King Edward’s men +came to exact their poundage on the freight, but happily did not concern +themselves about the sick man.</p> +<p>He might almost be congratulated on his semi-insensibility, for though +he suffered, he would not retain the recollection of his suffering, +and the voyage was very miserable to every one, though the weather was +far from unfavourable, as the captain declared. Grisell indeed +was so entirely taken up with ministering to her knight that she seemed +impervious to sickness or discomfort. It was a great relief to +enter on the smooth waters of the great canal from Ostend, and Lambert +stood on the deck recognising old landmarks, and pointing them out with +the joy of homecoming to Clemence, who perhaps felt less delight, since +the joys of her life had only begun when she turned her back on her +unkind kinsfolk.</p> +<p>Nor did her face light up as his did while he pointed out to Grisell +the beauteous belfry, rising on high above the many-peaked gables, though +she did smile when a long-billed, long-legged stork flapped his wings +overhead, and her husband signed that it was in greeting. The +greeting that delighted him she could not hear, the sweet chimes from +that same tower, which floated down the stream, when he doffed his cap, +crossed himself, and clasped his hands in devout thanksgiving.</p> +<p>It was a wonderful scene of bustle; where vessels of all kinds thronged +together were drawn up to the wharf, the beautiful tall painted ships +of Venice and Genoa pre-eminent among the stoutly-built Netherlanders +and the English traders. Shouts in all languages were heard, and +Grisell looked round in wonder and bewilderment as to how the helpless +and precious charge on the deck was ever to be safely landed.</p> +<p>Lambert, however, was truly at home and equal to the occasion. +He secured some of the men who came round the vessel in barges clamouring +for employment, and - Grisell scarce knew how - Leonard on his bed was +lifted down, and laid in the bottom of the barge. The big bundles +and cases were committed to the care of another barge, to follow close +after theirs, and on they went under, one after another, the numerous +high-peaked bridges to which Bruges owes its name, while tall sharp-gabled +houses, walls, or sometimes pleasant green gardens, bounded the margins, +with a narrow foot-way between. The houses had often pavement +leading by stone steps to the river, and stone steps up to the door, +which was under the deep projecting eaves running along the front of +the house - a stoop, as the Low Countries called it. At one of +these - not one of the largest or handsomest, but far superior to the +old home at Sunderland - hung the large handsome painted and gilded +sign of the same serpent which Grisell had learnt to know so well, and +here the barge hove to, while two servants, the man in a brown belted +jerkin, the old woman in a narrow, tight, white hood, came out on the +steps with outstretched hands.</p> +<p>“Mein Herr, my dear Master Lambert. Oh, joy! Greet +thee well. Thanks to our Lady that I have lived to see this day,” +was the old woman’s cry.</p> +<p>“Greet thee well, dear old Mother Abra. Greet thee, trusty +Anton. You had my message? Have you a bed and chamber ready +for this gentleman?”</p> +<p>Such was Lambert’s hasty though still cordial greeting, as +he gave his hand to the man-servant, his cheek to his old nurse, who +was mother to Anton. Clemence in her gentle dumb show shared the +welcome, and directed as Leonard was carried up an outside stone stair +to a guest-chamber, and deposited in a stately bed with fresh, cool, +lace-bordered, lavender-scented sheets, and Grisell put between his +lips a spoonful of the cordial with which Lambert had supplied her.</p> +<p>More distinctly than before he murmured, “Thanks, sweet Eleanor.”</p> +<p>The move in the open air had partly revived him, partly made him +feverish, and he continued to murmur complacently his thanks to Eleanor +for tending her “wounded knight,” little knowing whom he +wounded by his thanks.</p> +<p>On one point this decided Grisell. She looked up at Lambert, +and when he used her title of “Lady,” in begging her to +leave old Mother Abra in charge and to come down to supper, she made +a gesture of silence, and as she came down the broad stair - a refinement +scarce known in England - she entreated him to let her be Grisell still.</p> +<p>“Unless he accept me as his wife I will never bear his name,” +she said.</p> +<p>“Nay, madame, you are Lady of Whitburn by right.”</p> +<p>“By right, may be, but not in fact, nor could I be known as +mine own self without cumbering him with my claims. No, let me +alone to be Grisell as ever before, an English orphan, bower-woman to +Vrow Clemence if she will have me.”</p> +<p>Clemence would not consent to treat her as bower-woman, and it was +agreed that she should remain as one of the many orphans made by the +civil war in England, without precise definition of her rank, and be +only called by her Christian name. She was astonished at the status +of Master Groot, the size and furniture of the house, and the servants +who awaited him; all so unlike his little English establishment, for +the refinements and even luxuries were not only far beyond those of +Whitburn, but almost beyond all that she had seen even in the households +of the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. He had indeed been bred +to all this, for the burghers of Bruges were some of the most prosperous +of all the rich citizens of Flanders in the golden days of the Dukes +of Burgundy; and he had left it all for the sake of his Clemence, but +without forfeiting his place in his Guild, or his right to his inheritance.</p> +<p>He was, however, far from being a rich man, on a level with the great +merchants, though he had succeeded to a modest, not unprosperous trade +in spices, drugs, condiments and other delicacies.</p> +<p>He fetched a skilful Jewish physician to visit Sir Leonard Copeland, +but there was no great difference in the young man’s condition +for many days. Grisell nursed him indefatigably, sitting by him +so as to hear the sweet bells chime again and again, and the storks +clatter on the roofs at sunrise.</p> +<p>Still, whenever her hand brought him some relief, or she held drink +to his lips, his words and thanks were for Eleanor, and more and more +did the sense sink down upon her like lead that she must give him up +to Eleanor.</p> +<p>Yes, it was like lead, for, as she watched his face on the pillow +her love went out to him. It might have done so even had he been +disfigured like herself; but his was a beautiful countenance of noble +outlines, and she felt a certain pride in it as hers, while she longed +to see it light up with reason, and glow once more with health. +Then she thought she could rejoice, even if there were no look of love +for her.</p> +<p>The eyes did turn towards her again with the mind looking out of +them, and he knew her for the nurse on whom he depended for comfort +and relief. He thanked her courteously, so that she felt a thrill +of pleasure every time. He even learnt her name of Grisell, and +once he asked whether she were not English, to which she replied simply +that she was, and on a further question she said that she had been at +Sunderland with Master Groot, and that she had lost her home in the +course of the wars.</p> +<p>There for some time it rested - rested at least with the knight. +But with the lady there was far from rest, for every hour she was watching +for some favourable token which might draw them nearer, and give opportunity +for making herself known. Nearer they certainly drew, for he often +smiled at her. He liked her to wait on him, and to beguile the +weariness of his recovery by singing to him, telling some of her store +of tales, or reading to him, for books were more plentiful at Bruges +than at Sunderland, and there were even whispers of a wonderful mode +of multiplying them far more quickly than by the scrivener’s hand.</p> +<p>How her heart beat every time she thus ministered to him, or heard +his voice call to her, but it was all, as she could plainly see, just +as he would have spoken to Clemence, if she could have heard him, and +he evidently thought her likewise of burgher quality, and much of the +same age as the Vrow Groot. Indeed, the long toil and wear of +the past months had made her thin and haggard, and the traces of her +disaster were all the more apparent, so that no one would have guessed +her years to be eighteen.</p> +<p>She had taken her wedding-ring from her finger, and wore it on a +chain, within her kirtle, so as to excite no inquiry. But many +a night, ere she lay down, she looked at it, and even kissed it, as +she asked herself whether her knight would ever bid her wear it. +Until he did so her finger should never again be encircled by it.</p> +<p>Meantime she scarcely ever went beyond the nearest church and the +garden, which amply compensated Clemence for that which she had left +at Sunderland. Indeed, that had been as close an imitation of +this one as Lambert could contrive in a colder climate with smaller +means. Here was a fountain trellised over by a framework rich +in roses and our lady’s bower; here were pinks, gilly-flowers, +pansies, lavender, and the new snowball shrub recently produced at Gueldres, +and a little bush shown with great pride by Anton, the snow-white rose +grown in King Réne’s garden of Provence.</p> +<p>These served as borders to the green walks dividing the beds of useful +vegetables and fruits and aromatic herbs which the Groots had long been +in the habit of collecting from all parts and experimenting on. +Much did Lambert rejoice to find himself among the familiar plants he +had often needed and could not procure in England, and for some of which +he had a real individual love. The big improved distillery and +all the jars and bottles of his youth were a joy to him, almost as much +as the old friends who accepted him again after a long “wander +year.”</p> +<p>Clemence had her place too, but she shrank from the society she could +not share, and while most of the burghers’ wives spent the summer +evening sitting spinning or knitting on the steps of the stoop, conversing +with their gossips, she preferred to take her distaff or needle among +the roses, sometimes tending them, sometimes beguiling Grisell to come +and take the air in company with her, for they understood one another’s +mute language; and when Lambert Groot was with his old friends they +sufficed for one another - so far as Grisell’s anxious heart could +find solace, and perhaps in none so much as the gentle matron who could +caress but could not talk.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII - THE CANKERED OAK GALL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>That Walter was no fool, though that him list<br />To change his +wif, for it was for the best;<br />For she is fairer, so they demen +all,<br />Than his Griselde, and more tendre of age.</p> +<p>CHAUCER, <i>The Clerke’s Tale.</i></p> +<p>It was on an early autumn evening when the belfry stood out beautiful +against the sunset sky, and the storks with their young fledglings were +wheeling homewards to their nest on the roof, that Leonard was lying +on the deep oriel window of the guest-chamber, and Grisell sat opposite +to him with a lace pillow on her lap, weaving after the pattern of Wilton +for a Church vestment.</p> +<p>“The storks fly home,” he said. “I marvel +whether we have still a home in England, or ever shall have one!”</p> +<p>“I heard tell that the new King of France is friendly to the +Queen and her son,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“He is near of kin to them, but he must keep terms with this +old Duke who sheltered him so long. Still, when he is firm fixed +on his throne he may yet bring home our brave young Prince and set the +blessed King on his throne once more.”</p> +<p>“Ah! You love the King.”</p> +<p>“I revere him as a saint, and feel as though I drew my sword +in a holy cause when I fight for him,” said Leonard, raising himself +with glittering eyes.</p> +<p>“And the Queen?”</p> +<p>“Queen Margaret! Ah! by my troth she is a dame who makes +swords fly out of their scabbards by her brave stirring words and her +noble mien. Her bright eyes and undaunted courage fire each man’s +heart in her cause till there is nothing he would not do or dare, ay, +or give up for her, and those she loves better than herself, her husband, +and her son.”</p> +<p>“You have done so,” faltered Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! have I not? Mistress, I would that you bore any +other name. You mind me of the bane and grief of my life.”</p> +<p>“Verily?” uttered Grisell with some difficulty.</p> +<p>“Yea! Tell me, mistress, have I ever, when my brains +were astray, uttered any name?”</p> +<p>“By times, even so!” she confessed.</p> +<p>“I thought so! I deemed at times that she was here! +I have never told you of the deed that marred my life.”</p> +<p>“Nay,” she said, letting her bobbins fall though she +drooped her head, not daring to look him in the face.</p> +<p>“I was a mere lad, a page in the Earl of Salisbury’s +house. A good man was he, but the jealousies and hatreds of the +nobles had begun long ago, and the good King hoped, as he ever hoped, +to compose them. So he brought about a compact between my father +and the Dacre of Whitburn for a marriage between their children, and +caused us both to be bred up in the Lady of Salisbury’s household, +meaning, I trow, that we should enter into solemn contract when we were +of less tender age; but there never was betrothal; and before any fit +time for it had come, I had the mishap to have the maid close to me +- she was ever besetting and running after me - when by some prank, +unhappily of mine, a barrel of gunpowder blew up and wellnigh tore her +to pieces. My father came, and her mother, an unnurtured, uncouth +woman, who would have forced me to wed her on the spot, but my father +would not hear of it, more especially as there were then two male heirs, +so that I should not have gained her grim old Tower and bare moorlands. +All held that I was not bound to her; the Queen herself owned it, and +that whatever the damsel might be, the mother was a mere northern she-bear, +whose child none would wish to wed, and of the White Rose besides. +So the King had me to his school at Eton, and then I was a squire of +my Lord of Somerset, and there I saw my fairest Eleanor Audley. +The Queen and the Duke of Somerset - rest his soul - would have had +us wedded. On the love day, when all walked together to St. Paul’s, +and the King hoped all was peace, we spoke our vows to one another in +the garden of Westminster. She gave me this rook, I gave her the +jewel of my cap; I read her true love in her eyes, like our limpid northern +brooks. Oh! she was fair, fairer than yonder star in the sunset, +but her father, the Lord Audley, was absent, and we could go no farther; +and therewith came the Queen’s summons to her liegemen to come +and arrest Salisbury at Bloreheath. There never was rest again, +as you know. My father was slain at Northampton, I yielded me +to young Falconberg; but I found the Yorkists had set headsmen to work +as though we had been traitors, and I was begging for a priest to hear +my shrift, when who should come into the foul, wretched barn where we +lay awaiting the rope, but old Dacre of Whitburn. He had craved +me from the Duke of York, it seems, and gained my life on what condition +he did not tell me, but he bound my feet beneath my horse, and thus +bore me out of the camp for all the first day. Then, I own he +let me ride as became a knight, on my word of honour not to escape; +but much did I marvel whether it were revenge or ransom that he wanted; +and as to ransom, all our gold had all been riding on horseback with +my poor father. What he had devised I knew not nor guessed till +late at night we were at his rat-hole of a Tower, where I looked for +a taste of the dungeons; but no such thing. The choice that the +old robber - ”</p> +<p>Grisell could not repress a dissentient murmur of indignation.</p> +<p>“Ah, well, you are from Sunderland, and may know better of +him. But any way the choice he left me was the halter that dangled +from the roof and his grisly daughter!”</p> +<p>“Did you see her?” Grisell contrived to ask.</p> +<p>“I thank the Saints, no. To hear of her was enow. +They say she has a face like a cankered oak gall or a rotten apple lying +cracked on the ground among the wasps. Mayhap though you have +seen her.”</p> +<p>Grisell could truly say, in a half-choked voice, “Never since +she was a child,” for no mirror had come in her way since she +was at Warwick House. She was upborne by the thought that it would +be a relief to him not to see anything like a rotten apple. He +went on -</p> +<p>“My first answer and first thought was rather death - and of +my word to my Eleanor. Ah! you marvel to see me here now. +I felt as though nothing would make me a recreant to her. Her +sweet smile and shining eyes rose up before me, and half the night I +dreamt of them, and knew that I would rather die than be given to another +and be false to them. Ah! but you will deem me a recreant. +With the waking hours I thought of my King and Queen. My elder +brother died with Lord Shrewsbury in Gascony, and after me the next +heir is a devoted Yorkist who would turn my castle, the key of Cleveland, +against the Queen. I knew the defeat would make faithful swords +more than ever needful to her, and that it was my bounden duty, if it +were possible, to save my life, my sword, and my lands for her. +Mistress, you are a good woman. Did I act as a coward?”</p> +<p>“You offered up yourself,” said Grisell, looking up.</p> +<p>“So it was! I gave my consent, on condition that I should +be free at once. We were wedded in the gloom - ere sunrise - a +thunderstorm coming up, which so darkened the church that if she had +been a peerless beauty, fair as Cressid herself, I could not have seen +her, and even had she been beauty itself, nought can to me be such as +my Eleanor. So I was free to gallop off through the storm for +Wearmouth when the rite was over, and none pursued me, for old Whitburn +was a man of his word. Mine uncle held the marriage as nought, +but next I made for the Queen at Durham, and, if aught could comfort +my spirit, it was her thanks, and assurances that it would cost nothing +but the dispensation of the Pope to set me free. So said Dr. Morton, +her chaplain, one of the most learned men in England. I told him +all, and he declared that no wedlock was valid without the heartfelt +consent of each party.”</p> +<p>“Said he so?” Poor Grisell could not repress the inquiry.</p> +<p>“Yea, and that though no actual troth had passed between me +and Lord Audley’s daughter, yet that the vows we had of our own +free will exchanged would be quite enough to annul my forced marriage.”</p> +<p>“You think it evil in me, the more that it was I who had defaced +that countenance. I thought of that! I would have endowed +her with all I had if she would set me free. I trusted yet so +to do, when, for my misfortune as well as hers, the day of Wakefield +cut off her father and brother, and a groom was taken who was on his +way to Sendal with tidings of the other brother’s death. +Then, what do the Queen and Sir Pierre de Brezé but command me +to ride off instantly to claim Whitburn Tower! In vain did I refuse; +in vain did I plead that if I were about to renounce the lady it were +unknightly to seize on her inheritance. They would not hear me. +They said it would serve as a door to England, and that it must be secured +for the King, or the Dacres would hold it for York. They bade +me on my allegiance, and commanded me to take it in King Henry’s +name, as though it were a mere stranger’s castle, and gave me +a crew of hired men-at-arms, as I verily believe to watch over what +I did. But ere I started I made a vow in Dr. Morton’s hands, +to take it only for the King, and so soon as the troubles be ended to +restore it to the lady, when our marriage is dissolved. As it +fell out, I never saw the lady. Her mother lay a-dying, and there +was no summoning her. I bade them show her all due honour, hoisted +my pennon, rode on to my uncle at Wearmouth, and thence to mine own +lands, whence I joined the Queen on her way to London. As you +well know, all was over with our cause at Towton Moor; and it was on +my way northward after the deadly fight that half a dozen of the men-at-arms +brought me tidings, not only that the Gilsland Dacres had, as had been +feared, claimed the castle, but that this same so-called lady of mine +had been shown to deal in sorcery and magic. They sent for a wise +man from Shields, but she found by her arts what they were doing, fled, +and was slain by an arquebuss in the form of a hare!</p> +<p>“Do you believe it was herself in sooth?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ah! you are bred by Master Lambert, who, like his kind, hath +little faith in sorcery, but verily, old women do change into hares. +All have known them.”</p> +<p>“She was scarce old,” Grisell trusted herself to say.</p> +<p>“That skills not. They said she made strange cures by +no rules of art. Ay, and said her prayers backward, and had unknown +books.”</p> +<p>“Did your squire tell this, or was it only the men?”</p> +<p>“My squire! Poor Pierce, I never saw him. He was +made captive by a White Rose party, so far as I could hear, and St. +Peter knows where he may be. But look you, the lady, for all her +foul looks, had cast her spell over him, and held him as bound and entranced +as by a true love, so that he was ready to defend her beauty - her beauty! +look you! - against all the world in the lists. He was neither +to have nor to hold if any man durst utter a word against her! +And it was the same with her tirewoman and her own old squire.”</p> +<p>“Then, sir, you deem that in slaying the hare, the arquebusier +rid you of your witch wife?” There was a little bitterness, +even scorn, in the tone.</p> +<p>“I say not so, mistress. I know men-at-arms too well +to credit all they say, and I was on my way to inquire into the matter +and learn the truth when these same Dacres fell on me; and that I lie +here is due to you and good Master Lambert. Many a woman whose +face is ill favoured has learnt to keep up her power by unhallowed arts, +and if it be so with her whom in my boyish prank I have marred, Heaven +forgive her and me. If I can ever return I shall strive to trace +her life or death, without which mayhap I could scarce win my true bride.”</p> +<p>Grisell could bear no more of this crushing of her hopes. She +crept away murmuring something about the vesper bell at the convent +chapel near, for it was there that she could best kneel, while thoughts +and strength and resolution came to her.</p> +<p>The one thing clear to her was that Sir Leonard did not view her, +or rather the creature at Whitburn Tower, as his wife, but as a hag, +mayhap a sorceress from whom he desired to be released, and that his +love to Eleanor Audley was as strong as ever.</p> +<p>Should she make herself known and set him free? Nay, but then +what would become of him? He still needed her care, which he accepted +as that of a nurse, and while he believed himself to be living on the +means supplied by his uncle at Wearmouth to the Apothecary, this had +soon been exhausted, and Grisell had partly supplied what was wanting +from Ridley’s bag, partly from what the old squire had sent her +as the fishermen’s dues; and she was perceiving how to supplement +this, or replace it by her own skill, by her assistance to Lambert in +his concoctions, and likewise by her lace-work, which was of a device +learnt at Wilton and not known at Bruges. There was something +strangely delightful to her in thus supporting Leonard even though he +knew it not, and she determined to persist in her present course till +there was some change. Suppose he heard of Eleanor’s marriage +to some one else! Then? But, ah, the cracked apple face. +She must find a glass, or even a pail of water, and judge! Or +the Lancastrian fortunes might revive, he might go home in triumph, +and then would she give him her ring and her renunciation, and either +earn enough to obtain entrance to a convent or perhaps be accepted for +the sake of her handiwork!</p> +<p>Any way the prospect was dreary, and the affection which grew upon +her as Leonard recovered only made it sadder. To reveal herself +would only be misery to him, and in his present state of mind would +deprive him of all he needed, since he would never be base enough to +let her toil for him and then cast her off.</p> +<p>She thought it best, or rather she yearned so much for counsel, that +at night, over the fire in the stove, she told what Leonard had said, +to which her host listened with the fatherly sympathy that had grown +up towards her. He was quite determined against her making herself +known. The accusation of sorcery really alarmed him. He +said that to be known as the fugitive heiress of Whitburn who had bewitched +the young squire and many more might bring both her and himself into +imminent danger; and there were Lancastrian exiles who might take up +the report. Her only safety was in being known, to the few who +did meet her, as the convent-bred maiden whose home had been destroyed, +and who was content to gain a livelihood as the assistant whom his wife’s +infirmity made needful. As to Sir Leonard, the knight’s +own grace and gratitude had endeared him, as well as the professional +pleasure of curing him, and for the lady’s sake he should still +be made welcome.</p> +<p>So matters subsided. No one knew Grisell’s story except +Master Lambert and her Father Confessor, and whether he really knew +it, through the medium of her imperfect French, might be doubted. +Even Clemence, though of course aware of her identity, did not know +all the details, since no one who could communicate with her had thought +it well to distress her with the witchcraft story.</p> +<p>Few came beyond the open booth, which served as shop, though sometimes +there would be admitted to walk in the garden and converse with Master +Groot, a young Englishman who wanted his counsel on giving permanence +and clearness to the ink he was using in that new art of printing which +he was trying to perfect, but which there were some who averred to be +a work of the Evil One, imparted to the magician Dr. Faustus.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV - GRISELL’S PATIENCE</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When silent were both voice and chords,<br /> The +strain seemed doubly dear,<br />Yet sad as sweet, - for English words<br /> Had +fallen upon the ear.</p> +<p>WORDSWORTH, <i>Incident at Bruges.</i></p> +<p>Meanwhile Leonard was recovering and vexing himself as to his future +course, inclining chiefly to making his way back to Wearmouth to ascertain +how matters were going in England.</p> +<p>One afternoon, however, as he sat close to thine window, while Grisell +sang to him one of her sweet old ballads, a face, attracted by the English +words and voice, was turned up to him. He exclaimed, “By +St. Mary, Philip Scrope,” and starting up, began to feel for the +stick which he still needed.</p> +<p>A voice was almost at the same moment heard from the outer shop inquiring +in halting French, “Did I see the face of the Beau Sire Leonard +Copeland?”</p> +<p>By the time Leonard had hobbled to the door into the booth, a tall +perfectly-equipped man-at-arms, in velvet bonnet with the Burgundian +Cross, bright cuirass, rich crimson surcoat, and handsome sword belt, +had advanced, and the two embraced as old friends did embrace in the +middle ages, especially when each had believed the other dead.</p> +<p>“I deemed thee dead at Towton!”</p> +<p>“Methought you were slain in the north! You have not +come off scot-free.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but I had a narrow escape. My honest fellows took +me to my uncle at Wearmouth, and he shipped me off with the good folk +here, and cares for my maintenance. How didst thou ’scape?”</p> +<p>“Half a dozen of us - Will Percy and a few more - made off +from the woful field under cover of night, and got to the sea-shore, +to a village - I know not the name - and laid hands on a fisher’s +smack, which Jock of Hull was seaman enough to steer with the aid of +the lad on board, as far as Friesland, and thence we made our way as +best we could to Utrecht, where we had the luck to fall in with one +of the Duke’s captains, who was glad enough to meet with a few +stout fellows to make up his company of men-at-arms.”</p> +<p>“Oh! Methought it was the Cross of Burgundy. How +art thou so well attired, Phil?”</p> +<p>“We have all been pranked out to guard our Duke to the King +of France’s sacring at Rheims. I promise thee the jewels +and gold blazed as we never saw the like - and as to the rascaille Scots +archers, every one of them was arrayed so as the sight was enough to +drive an honest Borderer crazy. Half their own kingdom’s +worth was on their beggarly backs. But do what they might, our +Duke surpassed them all with his largesses and splendour.”</p> +<p>“Your Duke!” grumbled Leonard.</p> +<p>“Aye, mine for the nonce, and a right open-handed lord is he. +Better be under him than under the shrivelled skinflint of France, who +wore his fine robes as though they galled him. Come and take service +here when thou art whole of thine hurt, Leonard.”</p> +<p>“I thought thy Duke was disinclined to Lancaster.”</p> +<p>“He may be to the Queen and the poor King, whom the Saints +guard, but he likes English hearts and thews in his pay well enough.”</p> +<p>“Thou knowst I am a knight, worse luck.”</p> +<p>“Heed not for thy knighthood. The Duke of Exeter and +my Lord of Oxford have put their honours in their pouch and are serving +him. Thy lame leg is a worse hindrance than the gold spur on it, +but I trow that will pass.”</p> +<p>The comrades talked on, over the fate of English friends and homes, +and the hopelessness of their cause. It was agreed in this, and +in many subsequent visits from Scrope, that so soon as Leonard should +have shaken off his lameness he should begin service under one of the +Duke’s captains. A man-at-arms in the splendid suite of +the Burgundian Dukes was generally of good birth, and was attended by +two grooms and a page when in the field; his pay was fairly sufficient, +and his accoutrements and arms were required to be such as to do honour +to his employer. It was the refuge sooner or later of many a Lancastrian, +and Leonard, who doubted of the regularity of his uncle’s supplies, +decided that he could do no better for himself while waiting for better +times for his Queen, though Master Lambert told him that he need not +distress himself, there were ample means for him still.</p> +<p>Grisell spun and sewed for his outfit, with a strange sad pleasure +in working for him, and she was absolutely proud of him when he stood +before her, perfectly recovered, with the glow of health on his cheek +and a light in his eye, his length of limb arrayed in his own armour, +furbished and mended, his bright helmet alone new and of her own providing +(out of her mother’s pearl necklace), his surcoat and silken scarf +all her own embroidering. As he truly said, he made a much finer +appearance than he had done on the morn of his melancholy knighthood, +in the poverty-stricken army of King Henry at Northampton.</p> +<p>“Thanks,” he said, with a courteous bow, “to his +good friends and hosts, who had a wonderful power over the purse.” +He added special thanks to “Mistress Grisell for her deft stitchery,” +and she responded with downcast face, and a low courtesy, while her +heart throbbed high.</p> +<p>Such a cavalier was sure of enlistment, and Leonard came to take +leave of his host, and announced that he had been sent off with his +friend to garrison Neufchâtel, where the castle, being a border +one, was always carefully watched over.</p> +<p>His friends at Bruges rejoiced in his absence, since it prevented +his knowledge of the arrival of his beloved Queen Margaret and her son +at Sluys, with only seven attendants, denuded of almost everything, +having lost her last castles, and sometimes having had to exist on a +single herring a day.</p> +<p>Perhaps Leonard would have laid his single sword at her feet if he +had known of her presence, but tidings travelled slowly, and before +they ever reached Neufchâtel the Duke had bestowed on her wherewithal +to continue her journey to her father’s Court at Bar.</p> +<p>However, he did not move. Indeed be did not hear of the Queen’s +journey to Scotland and fresh attempt till all had been again lost at +Hedgeley Moor and Hexham. He was so good and efficient a man-at-arms +that he rose in promotion, and attracted the notice of the Count of +Charolais, the eldest son of the Duke, who made him one of his own bodyguard. +His time was chiefly spent in escorting the Count from one castle or +city to another, but whenever Charles the Bold was at Bruges, Leonard +came to the sign of the Green Serpent not only for lodging, nor only +to take up the money that Lambert had in charge for him, but as to a +home where he was sure of a welcome, and of kindly woman’s care +of his wardrobe, and where he grew more and more to look to the sympathy +and understanding of his English and Burgundian interests alike, which +he found in the maiden who sat by the hearth.</p> +<p>From time to time old Ridley came to see her. He was clad in +a pilgrim’s gown and broad hat, and looked much older. He +had had free quarters at Willimoteswick, but the wild young Borderers +had not suited his old age well, except one clerkly youth, who reminded +him of little Bernard, and who, later, was the patron of his nephew, +the famous Nicolas. He had thus set out on pilgrimage, as the +best means of visiting his dear lady. The first time he came, +under his robe he carried a girdle, where was sewn up a small supply +from Father Copeland for his nephew, and another sum, very meagre, but +collected from the faithful retainers of Whitburn for their lady. +He meant to visit the Three Kings at Cologne, and then to go on to St. +Gall, and to the various nearer shrines in France, but to return again +to see Grisell; and from time to time he showed his honest face, more +and more weather-beaten, though a pilgrim was never in want; but Grisell +delighted in preparing new gowns, clean linen, and fresh hats for him.</p> +<p>Public events passed while she still lived and worked in the Apothecary’s +house at Bruges. There were wars in which Sir Leonard Copeland +had his share, not very perilous to a knight in full armour, but falling +very heavily on poor citizens. Bruges, however, was at peace and +exceedingly prosperous, with its fifty-two guilds of citizens, and wonderful +trade and wealth. The bells seemed to be always chiming from its +many beautiful steeples, and there was one convent lately founded which +began to have a special interest for Grisell.</p> +<p>It was the house of the Hospitalier Grey Sisters, which if not actually +founded had been much embellished by Isabel of Portugal, the wife of +the Duke of Burgundy. Philip, though called the Good, from his +genial manners, and bounteous liberality, was a man of violent temper +and terrible severity when offended. He had a fierce quarrel with +his only son, who was equally hot tempered. The Duchess took part +with her son, and fell under such furious displeasure from her husband +that she retired into the house of Grey Sisters. She was first +cousin once removed to Henry VI. - her mother, the admirable Philippa, +having been a daughter of John of Gaunt - and she was the sister of +the noble Princes, King Edward of Portugal, Henry the great voyager, +and Ferdinand the Constant Prince; and she had never been thoroughly +at home or happy in Flanders, where her husband was of a far coarser +nature than her own family; and, in her own words, after many years, +she always felt herself a stranger.</p> +<p>Some of Grisell’s lace had found its way to the convent, and +was at once recognised by her as English, such as her mother had always +prized. She wished to give the Chaplain a set of robes adorned +with lace after a pattern of her own devising, bringing in the five +crosses of Portugal, with appropriate wreaths of flowers and emblems. +Being told that the English maiden in Master Groot’s house could +devise her own patterns, she desired to see her and explain the design +in person.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV - THE OLD DUCHESS</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Temples that rear their stately heads on high,<br />Canals that intersect +the fertile plain,<br />Wide streets and squares, with many a court +and hall,<br />Spacious and undefined, but ancient all.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo.</i></p> +<p>The kind couple of Groots were exceedingly solicitous about Grisell’s +appearance before the Duchess, and much concerned that she could not +be induced to wear the head-gear a foot or more in height, with veils +depending from the peak, which was the fashion of the Netherlands. +Her black robe and hood, permitted but not enjoined in the external +or third Order of St. Francis, were, as usual, her dress, and under +it might be seen a face, with something peculiar on one side, but still +full of sweetness and intelligence; and the years of comfort and quiet +had, in spite of anxiety, done much to obliterate the likeness to a +cankered oak gall. Lambert wanted to drench her with perfumes, +but she only submitted to have a little essence in the pouncet box given +her long ago by Lady Margaret at their parting at Amesbury. Master +Groot himself chose to conduct her on this first great occasion, and +they made their way to the old gateway, sculptured above with figures +that still remain, into the great cloistered court, with its chapel, +chapter-house, and splendid great airy hall, in which the Hospital Sisters +received their patients.</p> +<p>They were seen flitting about, giving a general effect of gray, whence +they were known as Sœurs Grises, though, in fact, their dress +was white, with a black hood and mantle. The Duchess, however, +lived in a set of chambers on one side of the court, which she had built +and fitted for herself.</p> +<p>A lay sister became Grisell’s guide, and just then, coming +down from the Duchess’s apartments, with a board with a chalk +sketch in his hand, appeared a young man, whom Groot greeted as Master +Hans Memling, and who had been receiving orders, and showing designs +to the Duchess for the ornamentation of the convent, which in later +years he so splendidly carried out. With him Lambert remained.</p> +<p>There was a broad stone stair, leading to a large apartment hung +with stamped Spanish leather, representing the history of King David, +and with a window, glazed as usual below with circles and lozenges, +but the upper part glowing with coloured glass. At the farther +end was a dais with a sort of throne, like the tester and canopy of +a four-post bed, with curtains looped up at each side. Here the +Duchess sat, surrounded by her ladies, all in the sober dress suitable +with monastic life.</p> +<p>Grisell knew her duty too well not to kneel down when admitted. +A dark-complexioned lady came to lead her forward, and directed her +to kneel twice on her way to the Duchess. She obeyed, and in that +indescribable manner which betrayed something of her breeding, so that +after her second obeisance, the manner of the lady altered visibly from +what it had been at first as to a burgher maiden. The wealth and +luxury of the citizen world of the Low Countries caused the proud and +jealous nobility to treat them with the greater distance of manner. +And, as Grisell afterwards learnt, this was Isabel de Souza, Countess +of Poitiers, a Portuguese lady who had come over with her Infanta; and +whose daughter produced <i>Les Honneurs de la Cour</i>, the most wonderful +of all descriptions of the formalities of the Court.</p> +<p>Grisell remained kneeling on the steps of the dais, while the Duchess +addressed her in much more imperfect Flemish than she could by this +time speak herself.</p> +<p>“You are the lace weaver, maiden. Can you speak French?”</p> +<p>“<i>Oui</i>, <i>si madame</i>, <i>son Altese le veut</i>,” +replied Grisell, for her tongue had likewise become accustomed to French +in this city of many tongues.</p> +<p>“This is English make,” said the Duchess, not with a +very good French accent either, looking at the specimens handed by her +lady. “Are you English?”</p> +<p>“So please your Highness, I am.”</p> +<p>“An exile?” the Princess added kindly.</p> +<p>“Yes, madame. All my family perished in our wars, and +I owe shelter to the good Apothecary, Master Lambert.”</p> +<p>“Purveyor of drugs to the sisters. Yes, I have heard +of him;” and she then proceeded with her orders, desiring to see +the first piece Grisell should produce in the pattern she wished, which +was to be of roses in honour of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, whom the Peninsular +Isabels reckoned as their namesake and patroness.</p> +<p>It was a pattern which would require fresh pricking out, and much +skill; but Grisell thought she could accomplish it, and took her leave, +kissing the Duchess’s hand - a great favour to be granted to her +- curtseying three times, and walking backwards, after the old training +that seemed to come back to her with the atmosphere.</p> +<p>Master Lambert was overjoyed when he heard all. “Now +you will find your way back to your proper station and rank,” +he said.</p> +<p>“It may do more than that,” said Grisell. “If +I could plead his cause.”</p> +<p>Lambert only sighed. “I would fain your way was not won +by a base, mechanical art,” he said.</p> +<p>“Out on you, my master. The needle and the bobbin are +unworthy of none; and as to the honour of the matter, what did Sir Leonard +tell us but that the Countess of Oxford, as now she is, was maintaining +her husband by her needle?” and Grisell ended with a sigh at thought +of the happy woman whose husband knew of, and was grateful for, her +toils.</p> +<p>The pattern needed much care, and Lambert induced Hans Memling himself, +who drew it so that it could be pricked out for the cushion. In +after times it might have been held a greater honour to work from his +pattern than for the Duchess, who sent to inquire after it more than +once, and finally desired that Mistress Grisell should bring her cushion +and show her progress.</p> +<p>She was received with all the same ceremonies as before, and even +the small fragment that was finished delighted the Princess, who begged +to see her at work. As it could not well be done kneeling, a footstool, +covered in tapestry with the many Burgundian quarterings, was brought, +and here Grisell was seated, the Duchess bending over her, and asking +questions as her fingers flew, at first about the work, but afterwards, +“Where did you learn this art, maiden?”</p> +<p>“At Wilton, so please your Highness. The nunnery of St. +Edith, near to Salisbury.”</p> +<p>“St. Edith! I think my mother, whom the Saints rest, +spoke of her; but I have not heard of her in Portugal nor here. +Where did she suffer?”</p> +<p>“She was not martyred, madame, but she has a fair legend.”</p> +<p>And on encouragement Grisell related the legend of St. Edith and +the christening.</p> +<p>“You speak well, maiden,” said the Duchess. “It +is easy to perceive that you are convent trained. Have the wars +in England hindered your being professed?”</p> +<p>“Nay, madame; it was the Proctor of the Italian Abbess.”</p> +<p>Therewith the inquiries of the Duchess elicited all Grisell’s +early story, with the exception of her name and whose was the iron that +caused the explosion, and likewise of her marriage, and the accusation +of sorcery. That male heirs of the opposite party should have +expelled the orphan heiress was only too natural an occurrence. +Nor did Grisell conceal her home; but Whitburn was an impossible word +to Portuguese lips, and Dacre they pronounced after its crusading derivation +De Acor.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI - THE DUKE’S DEATH</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish;<br />If you contend, +a thousand lives must wither.</p> +<p>SHAKESPEARE, <i>King Henry VI</i>., Part III.</p> +<p>So time went on, and the rule of the House of York in England seemed +established, while the exiles had settled down in Burgundy, Grisell +to her lace pillow, Leonard to the suite of the Count de Charolais. +Indeed there was reason to think that he had come to acquiesce in the +change of dynasty, or at any rate to think it unwise and cruel to bring +on another desperate civil war. In fact, many of the Red Rose +party were making their peace with Edward IV. Meanwhile the Duchess +Isabel became extremely fond of Grisell, and often summoned her to come +and work by her side, and talk to her; and thus came on the summer of +1467, when Duke Philip returned from the sack of unhappy Dinant in a +weakened state, and soon after was taken fatally ill. All the +city of Bruges watched in anxiety for tidings, for the kindly Duke was +really loved where his hand did not press. One evening during +the suspense when Master Lambert was gone out to gather tidings, there +was the step with clank of spurs which had grown familiar, and Leonard +Copeland strode in hot and dusty, greeting Vrow Clemence as usual with +a touch of the hand and inclination of the head, and Grisell with hand +and courteous voice, as he threw himself on the settle, heated and weary, +and began with tired fingers to unfasten his heavy steel cap.</p> +<p>Grisell hastened to help him, Clemence to fetch a cup of cooling +Rhine wine. “There, thanks, mistress. We have ridden +all day from Ghent, in the heat and dust, and after all the Count got +before us.”</p> +<p>“To the Duke?”</p> +<p>“Ay! He was like one demented at tidings of his father’s +sickness. Say what they will of hot words and fierce passages +between them, that father and son have hearts loving one another truly.”</p> +<p>“It is well they should agree at the last,” said Grisell, +“or the Count will carry with him the sorest of memories.”</p> +<p>And indeed Charles the Bold was on his knees beside the bed of his +speechless father in an agony of grief.</p> +<p>Presently all the bells in Bruges began to clash out their warning +that a soul was passing to the unseen land, and Grisell made signs to +Clemence, while Leonard lifted himself upright, and all breathed the +same for the mighty Prince as for the poorest beggar, the intercession +for the dying. Then the solemn note became a knell, and their +prayer changed to the De Profundis, “Out of the depths.”</p> +<p>Presently Lambert Groot came in, grave and saddened, with the intelligence +that Philip the Good had departed in peace, with his wife and son on +either side of him, and his little granddaughter kneeling beside the +Duchess.</p> +<p>There was bitter weeping all over Bruges, and soon all over Flanders +and the other domains united under the Dukedom of Burgundy, for though +Philip had often deeply erred, he had been a fair ruler, balancing discordant +interests justly, and maintaining peace, while all that was splendid +or luxurious prospered and throve under him. There was a certain +dread of the future under his successor.</p> +<p>“A better man at heart,” said Leonard, who had learnt +to love the Count de Charolais. “He loathes the vices and +revelry that have stained the Court.”</p> +<p>“That is true,” said Lambert. “Yet he is +a man of violence, and with none of the skill and dexterity with which +Duke Philip steered his course.”</p> +<p>“A plague on such skill,” muttered Leonard. “Caring +solely for his own gain, not for the right!”</p> +<p>“Yet your Count has a heavy hand,” said Lambert. +“Witness Dinant! unhappy Dinant.”</p> +<p>“The rogues insulted his mother,” said Leonard. +“He offered them terms which they would not have in their stubborn +pride! But speak not of that! I never saw the like in England. +There we strike at the great, not at the small. Ah well, with +all our wars and troubles England was the better place to live in. +Shall we ever see it more?”</p> +<p>There was something delightful to Grisell in that “we,” +but she made answer, “So far as I hear, there has been quiet there +for the last two years under King Edward.”</p> +<p>“Ay, and after all he has the right of blood,” said Leonard. +“Our King Henry is a saint, and Queen Margaret a peerless dame +of romance, but since I have come to years of understanding I have seen +that they neither had true claim of inheritance nor power to rule a +realm.”</p> +<p>“Then would you make your peace with the White Rose?”</p> +<p>“The <i>rose en soleil</i> that wrought us so much evil at +Mortimer’s Cross? Methinks I would. I never swore +allegiance to King Henry. My father was still living when last +I saw that sweet and gracious countenance which I must defend for love +and reverence’ sake.”</p> +<p>“And he knighted you,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“True,” with a sharp glance, as if he wondered how she +was aware of the fact; “but only as my father’s heir. +My poor old house and tenants! I would I knew how they fare; but +mine uncle sends me no letters, though he does supply me.”</p> +<p>“Then you do not feel bound in honour to Lancaster?” +said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Nay; I did not stir or strive to join the Queen when last +she called up the Scots - the Scots indeed! - to aid her. I could +not join them in a foray on England. I fear me she will move heaven +and earth again when her son is of age to bear arms; but my spirit rises +against allies among Scots or French, and I cannot think it well to +bring back bloodshed and slaughter.”</p> +<p>“I shall pray for peace,” said Grisell. All this +was happiness to her, as she felt that he was treating her with confidence. +Would she ever be nearer to him?</p> +<p>He was a graver, more thoughtful man at seven and twenty than he +had been at the time of his hurried marriage, and had conversed with +men of real understanding of the welfare of their country. Such +talks as these made Grisell feel that she could look up to him as most +truly her lord and guide. But how was it with the fair Eleanor, +and whither did his heart incline? An English merchant, who came +for spices, had said that the Lord Audley had changed sides, and it +was thus probable that the damsel was bestowed in marriage to a Yorkist; +but there was no knowing, nor did Grisell dare to feel her way to discovering +whether Leonard knew, or felt himself still bound to constancy, outwardly +and in heart.</p> +<p>Every one was taken up with the funeral solemnities of Duke Philip; +he was to be finally interred with his father and grandfather in the +grand tombs at Dijon, but for the present the body was to be placed +in the Church of St. Donatus at Bruges, at night.</p> +<p>Sir Leonard rode at a foot’s pace in the troop of men-at-arms, +all in full armour, which glanced in the light of the sixteen hundred +torches which were borne before, behind, and in the midst of the procession, +which escorted the bier. Outside the coffin, arrayed in ducal +coronet and robes, with the Golden Fleece collar round the neck, lay +the exact likeness of the aged Duke, and on shields around the pall, +as well as on banners borne waving aloft, were the armorial bearings +of all his honours, his four dukedoms, seven counties, lordships innumerable, +besides the banners of all the guilds carried to do him honour.</p> +<p>More than twenty prelates were present, and shared in the mass, which +began in the morning hour, and in the requiem. The heralds of +all the domains broke their white staves and threw them on the bier, +proclaiming that Philip, lord of all these lands, was deceased. +Then, as in the case of royalty, Charles his son was proclaimed; and +the organ led an acclamation of jubilee from all the assembly which +filled the church, and a shout as of thunder arose, “Vivat Carolus.”</p> +<p>Charles knelt meanwhile with hands clasped over his brow, silent, +immovable. Was he crushed at thought of the whirlwinds of passion +that had raged between him and the father whom he had loved all the +time? or was there on him the weight of a foreboding that he, though +free from the grosser faults of his father, would never win and keep +hearts in the same manner, and that a sad, tumultuous, troubled career +and piteous, untimely end lay before him?</p> +<p>His mother, Grisell’s Duchess, according to the rule of the +Court, lay in bed for six weeks - at least she was bound to lie there +whenever she was not in entire privacy. The room and bed were +hung with black, but a white covering was over her, and she was fully +dressed in the black and white weeds of royal widowhood. The light +of day was excluded, and hosts of wax candles burnt around.</p> +<p>Grisell did not see her during this first period of stately mourning, +but she heard that the good lady had spent her time in weeping and praying +for her husband, all the more earnestly that she had little cause personally +to mourn him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII - FORGET ME NOT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p> And added, of her wit,<br />A border fantasy of +branch and flower,<br />And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.</p> +<p>TENNYSON, <i>Elaine.</i></p> +<p>The Duchess Isabel sent for Grisell as soon as the rules of etiquette +permitted, and her own mind was free, to attend to the suite of lace +hangings, with which much progress had been made in the interval. +She was in the palace now, greatly honoured, for her son loved her with +devoted affection, and Grisell had to pass through tapestry-hung halls +and chambers, one after another, with persons in mourning, all filled +with men-at-arms first, then servants still in black dresses. +Next pages and squires, knights of the lady, and lastly ladies in black +velvet, who sat at their work, with a chaplain reading to them. +One of these, the Countess of Poitiers, whom Grisell had known at the +Grey Sisters’ convent, rose, graciously received her obeisance, +and conducted her into the great State bedroom, likewise very sombre, +with black hangings worked and edged, however, with white, and the window +was permitted to let in the light of day. The bed was raised on +steps in an alcove, and was splendidly draped and covered with black +embroidered with white, but the Duchess did not occupy it. A curtain +was lifted, and she came forward in her deepest robes of widowhood, +leading her little granddaughter Mary, a child of eight or nine years +old. Grisell knelt to kiss the hands of each, and the Duchess +said -</p> +<p>“Good Griselda, it is long since I have seen you. Have +you finished the border?”</p> +<p>“Yes, your Highness; and I have begun the edging of the corporal.”</p> +<p>The Duchess looked at the work with admiration, and bade the little +Mary, the damsel of Burgundy, look on and see how the dainty web was +woven, while she signed the maker to seat herself on a step of the alcove.</p> +<p>When the child’s questions and interest were exhausted, and +she began to be somewhat perilously curious about the carved weights +of the bobbins, her grandmother sent her to play with the ladies in +the ante-room, desiring Grisell to continue the work. After a +few kindly words the Duchess said, “The poor child is to have +a stepdame so soon as the year of mourning is passed. May she +be good to her! Hath the rumour thereof reached you in the city, +Maid Griselda, that my son is in treaty with your English King, though +he loves not the house of York? But princely alliances must be +looked for in marriage.”</p> +<p>“Madge!” exclaimed Grisell; then colouring, “I +should say the Lady Margaret of York.”</p> +<p>“You knew her?”</p> +<p>“Oh! I knew her. We loved each other well in the +Lord of Salisbury’s house! There never was a maid whom I +knew or loved like her!”</p> +<p>“In the Count of Salisbury’s house,” repeated the +Duchess. “Were you there as the Lady Margaret’s fellow-pupil?” +she said, as though perceiving that her lace maker must be of higher +quality than she had supposed.</p> +<p>“It was while my father was alive, madame, and before her father +had fixed his eyes on the throne, your Highness.”</p> +<p>“And your father was, you said, the knight De - De - D’Acor.”</p> +<p>“So please you, madame,” said Grisell kneeling, “not +to mention my poor name to the lady.”</p> +<p>“We are a good way from speech of her,” said the Duchess +smiling. “Our year of doole must pass, and mayhap the treaty +will not hold in the meantime. The King of France would fain hinder +it. But if the Demoiselle loved you of old would she not give +you preferment in her train if she knew?”</p> +<p>“Oh! madame, I pray you name me not till she be here! +There is much that hangs on it, more than I can tell at present, without +doing harm; but I have a petition to prefer to her.”</p> +<p>“An affair of true love,” said the Duchess smiling.</p> +<p>“I know not. Oh! ask me not, madame!”</p> +<p>When Grisell was dismissed, she began designing a pattern, in which +in spray after spray of rich point, she displayed in the pure frostwork-like +web, the Daisy of Margaret, the Rose of York, and moreover, combined +therewith, the saltire of Nevil and the three scallops of Dacre, and +each connected with ramifications of the forget-me-not flower shaped +like the turquoises of her pouncet box, and with the letter G to be +traced by ingenious eyes, though the uninitiated might observe nothing.</p> +<p>She had plenty of time, though the treaty soon made it as much of +a certainty as royal betrothals ever were, but it was not till July +came round again that Bruges was in a crisis of the fever of preparation +to receive the bride. Sculptors, painters, carvers were desperately +at work at the Duke’s palace. Weavers, tapestry-workers, +embroiderers, sempstresses were toiling day and night, armourers and +jewellers had no rest, and the bright July sunshine lay glittering on +the canals, graceful skiffs, and gorgeous barges, and bringing out in +full detail the glories of the architecture above, the tapestry-hung +windows in the midst, the gaily-clad Vrows beneath, while the bells +rang out their merriest carillons from every steeple, whence fluttered +the banners of the guilds.</p> +<p>The bride, escorted by Sir Antony Wydville, was to land at Sluys, +and Duchess Isabel, with little Mary, went to receive her.</p> +<p>“Will you go with me as one of my maids, or as a tirewoman +perchance?” asked the Duchess kindly.</p> +<p>Grisell fell on her knee and thanked her, but begged to be permitted +to remain where she was until the bride should have some leisure. +And indeed her doubts and suspense grew more overwhelming. As +she freshly trimmed and broidered Leonard’s surcoat and sword-belt, +she heard one of the many gossips who delighted to recount the members +of the English suite as picked up from the subordinates of the heralds +and pursuivants who had to marshal the procession and order the banquet. +“Fair ladies too,” he said, “from England. There +is the Lord Audley’s daughter with her father. They say +she is the very pearl of beauties. We shall see whether our fair +dames do not surpass her.”</p> +<p>“The Lord Audley’s daughter did you say?” asked +Grisell.</p> +<p>“His daughter, yea; but she is a widow, bearing in her lozenge, +per pale with Audley, gules three herrings haurient argent, for Heringham. +She is one of the Duchess Margaret’s dames-of-honour.”</p> +<p>To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her +self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness on the +other.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII - THE PAGEANT</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>When I may read of tilts in days of old,<br /> And +tourneys graced by chieftains of renown,<br />Fair dames, grave citoyens, +and warriors bold -<br /> If fancy would pourtray some +stately town,<br />Which for such pomp fit theatre would be,<br />Fair +Bruges, I shall then remember thee.</p> +<p>SOUTHEY, <i>Pilgrimage to Waterloo.</i></p> +<p>Leonard Copeland was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not +give a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that there +was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. +Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, +and here the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony took +place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des Princes, leaving +to the bride all the splendour of the entrance.</p> +<p>The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. +The Grey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the +presenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with great pleasure +Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert’s lovely white +Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried by the youngest +novice, a fair white rosebud herself.</p> +<p>Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from +window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and silver +thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners +and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of +bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had +been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the final touches +began with the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. +To Grisell’s great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the +hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. “Ah! +my ladybird,” said he, “in good health as ever.”</p> +<p>“All the better for seeing you, mine old friend,” she +cried. “I thought you were far away at Compostella.”</p> +<p>“So verily I was. Here’s St. James’s cockle +to wit - Santiago as they call him there, and show the stone coffin +he steered across the sea. No small miracle that! And I’ve +crossed France, and looked at many a field of battle of the good old +times, and thought and said a prayer for the brave knights who broke +lances there. But as I was making for St. Martha’s cave +in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of the goodly gathering there +was like to be here; and I would fain see whether I could hap upon old +friends, or at any rate hear a smack of our kindly English tongue, so +I made the best of my way hither.”</p> +<p>“In good time,” said Lambert. “You will take +the lady and the housewife to the stoop at Master Caxton’s house, +where he has promised them seats whence they may view the entrance. +I myself am bound to walk with my fellows of the Apothecaries’ +Society, and it will be well for them to have another guard in the throng, +besides old Anton.”</p> +<p>“Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show,” said +Ridley, looking at his russet gown.</p> +<p>“We will see to that anon,” said Lambert; and ere supper +was over, old Anton had purveyed a loose blue gown from the neighbouring +merchants, with gold lace seams and girdle, peaked boots, and the hideous +brimless hat which was then highly fashionable. Ridley’s +trusty sword he had always worn under his pilgrim’s gown, and +with the dagger always used as a knife, he made his appearance once +more as a squire of degree, still putting the scallop into his hat, +in honour of Dacre as well as of St. James.</p> +<p>The party had to set forth very early in the morning, slowly gliding +along several streets in a barge, watching the motley crowds thronging +banks and bridges - a far more brilliant crowd than in these later centuries, +since both sexes were alike gay in plumage. From every house, +even those out of the line of the procession, hung tapestry, or coloured +cloths, and the garlands of flowers, of all bright lines, with their +fresh greenery, were still unfaded by the clear morning sun, while joyous +carillons echoed and re-echoed from the belfry and all the steeples. +Ridley owned that he had never seen the like since King Harry rode home +from Agincourt - perhaps hardly even then, for Bruges was at the height +of its splendour, as were the Burgundian Dukes at the very climax of +their magnificence.</p> +<p>After landing from the barge Ridley, with Grisell on his arm, and +Anton with his mistress, had a severe struggle with the crowd before +they gained the ascent of the stoop, where the upper steps had been +railed in, and seats arranged under the shelter of the projecting roof.</p> +<p>Master Caxton was a gray-eyed, thin-cheeked, neatly-made Kentishman, +who had lived long abroad, and was always ready to make an Englishman +welcome. He listened politely to Grisell’s introduction +of Master Ridley, exchanged silent greetings with Vrow Clemence, and +insisted on their coming into the chamber within, where a repast of +cold pasty, marchpane, strawberries, and wine, awaited them - to be +eaten while as yet there was nothing to see save the expectant multitudes.</p> +<p>Moreover, he wanted to show Mistress Grisell, as one of the few who +cared for it, the manuscripts he had collected on the history of Troy +town, and likewise the strange machine on which he was experimenting +for multiplying copies of the translation he had in hand, with blocks +for the woodcuts which Grisell could not in conscience say would be +as beautiful as the gorgeous illuminations of his books.</p> +<p>Acclamations summoned them to the front, of course at first to see +only scattered bodies of the persons on the way to meet the bride at +the gate of St. Croix.</p> +<p>By and by, however, came the “gang,” as Ridley called +it, in earnest. Every body of ecclesiastics was there: monks and +friars, black, white, and gray; nuns, black, white, and blue; the clergy +in their richest robes, with costly crucifixes of gold, silver, and +ivory held aloft, and reliquaries of the most exquisite workmanship, +sparkling with precious jewels, diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire +flashing in the sun; the fifty-two guilds in gowns, each headed by their +Master and their banner, gorgeous in tint, but with homely devices, +such as stockings, saw and compasses, weavers’ shuttles, and the +like. Master Lambert looked up and nodded a smile from beneath +a banner with Apollo and the Python, which Ridley might be excused for +taking for St. Michael and the Dragon. The Mayor in scarlet, white +fur and with gold collar, surrounded by his burgomasters in almost equally +radiant garments, marched on.</p> +<p>Next followed the ducal household, trumpets and all sorts of instruments +before them, making the most festive din, through which came bursts +of the joy bells. Violet and black arrayed the inferiors, setting +off the crimson satin pourpoints of the higher officers, on whose brimless +hats each waved with a single ostrich plume in a shining brooch.</p> +<p>Then came more instruments, and a body of gay green archers; next +heralds and pursuivants, one for each of the Duke’s domains, glittering +back and front in the tabard of his county’s armorial bearings, +and with its banner borne beside him. Then a division of the Duke’s +bodyguard, all like himself in burnished armour with scarves across +them. The nobles of Burgundy, Flanders, Hainault, Holland, and +Alsace, the most splendid body then existing, came in endless numbers, +their horses, feather-crested as well as themselves, with every bridle +tinkling with silver bells, and the animals invisible all but their +heads and tails under their magnificent housings, while the knights +seemed to be pillars of radiance. Yet even more gorgeous were +the knights of the Golden Fleece, who left between them a lane in which +moved six white horses, caparisoned in cloth of gold, drawing an open +litter in which sat, as on a throne, herself dazzling in cloth of silver, +the brown-eyed Margaret of old, her dark hair bride fashion flowing +on her shoulders, and around it a marvellously-glancing diamond coronet, +above it, however, the wreath of white roses, which her own hands had +placed there when presented by the novice. Clemence squeezed Grisell’s +hand with delight as she recognised her own white rose, the finest of +the garland.</p> +<p>Immediately after the car came Margaret’s English attendants, +the stately, handsome Antony Wydville riding nearest to her, and then +a bevy of dames and damsels on horseback, but moving so slowly that +Grisell had full time to discover the silver herrings on the caparisons +of one of the palfreys, and then to raise her eyes to the face of the +tall stately lady whose long veil, flowing down from her towered head-gear, +by no means concealed a beautiful complexion and fair perfect features, +such as her own could never have rivalled even if they had never been +defaced. Her heart sank within her, everything swam before her +eyes, she scarcely saw the white doves let loose from the triumphant +arch beyond to greet the royal lady, and was first roused by Ridley’s +exclamation as the knights with their attendants began to pass.</p> +<p>“Ha! the lad kens me! ’Tis Harry Featherstone as +I live.”</p> +<p>Much more altered in these seven years than was Cuthbert Ridley, +there rode as a fully-equipped squire in the rear of a splendid knight, +Harry Featherstone, the survivor of the dismal Bridge of Wakefield. +He was lowering his lance in greeting, but there was no knowing whether +it was to Ridley or to Grisell, or whether he recognised her, as she +wore her veil far over her face.</p> +<p>This to Grisell closed the whole. She did not see the figure +which was more to her than all the rest, for he was among the knights +and guards waiting at the Cour des Princes to receive the bride when +the final ceremonies of the marriage were to be performed.</p> +<p>Ridley declared his intention of seeking out young Featherstone, +but Grisell impressed on him that she wished to remain unknown for the +present, above all to Sir Leonard Copeland, and he had been quite sufficiently +alarmed by the accusations of sorcery to believe in the danger of her +becoming known among the English.</p> +<p>“More by token,” said he, “that the house of this +Master Caxton as you call him seems to me no canny haunt. Tell +me what you will of making manifold good books or bad, I’ll never +believe but that Dr. Faustus and the Devil hatched the notion between +them for the bewilderment of men’s brains and the slackening of +their hands.”</p> +<p>Thus Ridley made little more attempt to persuade his young lady to +come forth to the spectacles of the next fortnight to which he rushed, +through crowds and jostling, to behold, with the ardour of an old warrior, +the various tilts and tourneys, though he grumbled that they were nothing +but child’s play and vain show, no earnest in them fit for a man.</p> +<p>Clemence, however, was all eyes, and revelled in the sight of the +wonders, the view of the Tree of Gold, and the champion thereof in the +lists of the Hôtel de Ville, and again, some days later, of the +banquet, when the table decorations were mosaic gardens with silver +trees, laden with enamelled fruit, and where, as an interlude, a whale +sixty feet long made its entrance and emitted from its jaws a troop +of Moorish youths and maidens, who danced a saraband to the sound of +tambourines and cymbals! Such scenes were bliss to the deaf housewife, +and would enliven the silent world of her memory all the rest of her +life.</p> +<p>The Duchess Isabel had retired to the Grey Sisters, such scenes being +inappropriate to her mourning, and besides her apartments being needed +for the influx of guests. There, in early morning, before the +revels began, Grisell ventured to ask for an audience, and was permitted +to follow the Duchess when she returned from mass to her own apartments.</p> +<p>“Ah! my lace weaver. Have you had your share in the revels +and pageantries?”</p> +<p>“I saw the procession, so please your Grace.”</p> +<p>“And your old playmate in her glory?”</p> +<p>“Yea, madame. It almost forestalled the glories of Heaven!”</p> +<p>“Ah! child, may the aping of such glory beforehand not unfit +us for the veritable everlasting glories, when all these things shall +be no more.”</p> +<p>The Duchess clasped her hands, almost as a foreboding of the day +when her son’s corpse should lie, forsaken, gashed, and stripped, +beside the marsh.</p> +<p>But she turned to Grisell asking if she had come with any petition.</p> +<p>“Only, madame, that it would please your Highness to put into +the hands of the new Duchess herself, this offering, without naming +me.”</p> +<p>She produced her exquisite fabric, which was tied with ribbons of +blue and silver in an outer case, worked with the White Rose.</p> +<p>The Dowager-Duchess exclaimed, “Nay, but this is more beauteous +than all you have wrought before. Ah! here is your own device! +I see there is purpose in these patterns of your web. And am I +not to name you?”</p> +<p>“I pray your Highness to be silent, unless the Duchess should +divine the worker. Nay, it is scarce to be thought that she will.”</p> +<p>“Yet you have put the flower that my English mother called +‘Forget-me-not.’ Ah, maiden, has it a purpose?”</p> +<p>“Madame, madame, ask me no questions. Only remember in +your prayers to ask that I may do the right,” said Grisell, with +clasped hands and weeping eyes.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX - DUCHESS MARGARET</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>I beheld the pageants splendid, that adorned those days of old;<br />Stately +dames, like queens attended, knights who bore the Fleece of Gold.</p> +<p>LONGFELLOW, <i>The Belfry of Bruges.</i></p> +<p>In another week the festivities were over, and she waited anxiously, +dreading each day more and more that her gift had been forgotten or +misunderstood, or that her old companion disdained or refused to take +notice of her; then trying to console herself by remembering the manifold +engagements and distractions of the bride.</p> +<p>Happily, Grisell thought, Ridley was absent when Leonard Copeland +came one evening to supper. He was lodged among the guards of +the Duke in the palace, and had much less time at his disposal than +formerly, for Duke Charles insisted on the most strict order and discipline +among all his attendants. Moreover, there were tokens of enmity +on the part of the French on the border of the Somme, and Leonard expected +to be despatched to the camp which was being formed there. He +was out of spirits. The sight and speech of so many of his countrymen +had increased the longing for home.</p> +<p>“I loathe the mincing French and the fat Flemish tongues,” +he owned, when Master Lambert was out of hearing. “I should +feel at home if I could but hear an honest carter shout ‘Woa’ +to his horses.”</p> +<p>“Did you have any speech with the ladies?” asked Grisell.</p> +<p>“I? No! What reck they of a poor knight adventurer?”</p> +<p>“Methought all the chivalry were peers, and that a belted knight +was a comrade for a king,” said Grisell.</p> +<p>“Ay, in the days of the Round Table; but when Dukes and Counts, +and great Marquesses and Barons swarm like mayflies by a trout stream, +what chance is there that a poor, landless exile will have a word or +a glance?”</p> +<p>Did this mean that the fair Eleanor had scorned him? Grisell +longed to know, but for that very reason she faltered when about to +ask, and turned her query into one whether he had heard any news of +his English relations.</p> +<p>“My good uncle at Wearmouth hath been dead these four years +- so far as I can gather. Amply must he have supplied Master Groot. +I must account with him. For mine inheritance I can gather nothing +clearly. I fancy the truth is that George Copeland, who holds +it, is little better than a reiver on either side, and that King Edward +might grant it back to me if I paid my homage, save that he is sworn +never to pardon any who had a share in the death of his brother of Rutland.”</p> +<p>“You had not! I know you had not!”</p> +<p>“Hurt Ned? I’d as soon have hurt my own brother! +Nay, I got this blow from Clifford for coming between,” said he, +pushing back his hair so as to show a mark near his temple. “But +how did you know?”</p> +<p>“Harry Featherstone told me.” She had all but said, +“My father’s squire.”</p> +<p>“You knew Featherstone? Belike when he was at Whitburn. +He is here now; a good man of his hands,” muttered Leonard. +“Anyway the King believes I had a hand in that cruel business +of Wakefield Bridge, and nought but his witness would save my neck if +once I ventured into England - if that would. So I may resign +myself to be the Duke’s captain of archers for the rest of my +days. Heigh ho! And a lonely man; I fear me in debt to good +Master Lambert, or may be to Mistress Grisell, to whom I owe more than +coin will pay. Ha! was that - ” interrupting himself, for +a trumpet blast was ringing out at intervals, the signal of summons +to the men-at-arms. Leonard started up, waved farewell, and rushed +off.</p> +<p>The summons proved to be a call to the men-at-arms to attend the +Duke early the next morning on an expedition to visit his fortresses +in Picardy, and as the household of the Green Serpent returned from +mass, they heard the tramp and clatter, and saw the armour flash in +the sun as the troop passed along the main street, and became visible +at the opening of that up which they walked.</p> +<p>The next day came a summons from the convent of the Grey Sisters +that Mistress Griselda was to attend the Duchess Isabel.</p> +<p>She longed to fly through the air, but her limbs trembled. +Indeed, she shook so that she could not stand still nor walk slowly. +She hurried on so that the lay sister who had been sent for her was +quite out of breath, and panted after her within gasps of “Stay! +stay, mistress! No bear is after us! She runs as though +a mad ox had got loose!”</p> +<p>Her heart was wild enough for anything! She might have to hear +from her kind Duchess that all was vain and unnoticed.</p> +<p>Up the stair she went, to the accustomed chamber, where an additional +chair was on the dais under the canopy, the half circle of ladies as +usual, but before she had seen more with her dazzled, swimming eyes, +even as she rose from her first genuflection, she found herself in a +pair of soft arms, kisses rained on her cheeks and brow, and there was +a tender cry in her own tongue of “My Grisell! my dear old Grisell! +I have found you at last! Oh! that was good in you. I knew +the forget-me-nots, and all your little devices. Ah!” as +Grisell, unable to speak for tears of joy, held up the pouncet box, +the childish gift.</p> +<p>The soft pink velvet bodice girdled and clasped with diamonds was +pressed to her, the deep hanging silken sleeves were round her, the +white satin broidered skirt swept about her feet, the pearl-edged matronly +cap on the youthful head leant fondly against her, as Margaret led her +up, still in her embrace, and cried, “It is she, it is she! +Dear belle mère, thanks indeed for bringing us together!”</p> +<p>The Countess of Poitiers looked on scandalised at English impulsiveness, +and the elder Duchess herself looked for a moment stiff, as her lace-maker +slipped to her knees to kiss her hand and murmur her thanks.</p> +<p>“Let me look at you,” cried Margaret. “Ah! +have you recovered that terrible mishap? By my troth, ’tis +nearly gone. I should never have found it out had I not known!”</p> +<p>This was rather an exaggeration, but joy did make a good deal of +difference in Grisell’s face, and the Duchess Margaret was one +of the most eager and warm-hearted people living, fervent alike in love +and in hate, ready both to act on slight evidence for those whose cause +she took up, and to nourish bitter hatred against the enemies of her +house.</p> +<p>“Now, tell me all,” she continued in English. “I +heard that you had been driven out of Wilton, and my uncle of Warwick +had sped you northward. How is it that you are here, weaving lace +like any mechanical sempstress? Nay, nay! I cannot listen +to you on your knees. We have hugged one another too often for +that.”</p> +<p>Grisell, with the elder Duchess’s permission, seated herself +on the cushion at Margaret’s feet. “Speak English,” +continued the bride. “I am wearying already of French! +Ma belle mère, you will not find fault. You know a little +of our own honest tongue.”</p> +<p>Duchess Isabel smiled, and Grisell, in answer to the questions of +Margaret, told her story. When she came to the mention of her +marriage to Leonard Copeland, there was the vindictive exclamation, +“Bound to that blood-thirsty traitor! Never! After +the way he treated you, no marvel that he fell on my sweet Edmund!”</p> +<p>“Ah! madame, he did not! He tried to save him.”</p> +<p>“He! A follower of King Henry! Never!”</p> +<p>“Truly, madame! He had ever loved Lord Edmund. +He strove to stay Lord Clifford’s hand, and threw himself between, +but Clifford dashed him aside, and he bears still the scar where he +fell against the parapet of the bridge. Harry Featherstone told +me, when he fled from the piteous field, where died my father and brother +Robin.”</p> +<p>“Your brother, Robin Dacre! I remember him. I would +have made him good cheer for your sake, but my mother was ever strict, +and rapped our fingers, nay, treated us to the rod, if we ever spake +to any of my father’s meiné. Tell on, Grisell,” +as her hand found its way under the hood, and stroked the fair hair. +“Poor lonely one!”</p> +<p>Her indignation was great when she heard of Copeland’s love, +and still more of his mission to seize Whitburn, saying, truly enough, +that he should have taken both lady and Tower, or given both up, and +lending a most unwilling ear to the plea that he had never thought his +relations to Grisell binding. She had never loved Lady Heringham, +and it was plainly with good cause.</p> +<p>Then followed the rest of the story, and when it appeared that Grisell +had been instrumental in saving Copeland, and close inquiries elicited +that she had been maintaining him all this while, actually for seven +years, all unknown to him, the young Duchess could not contain herself. +“Grisell! Grisell of patience indeed. Belle mère, +belle mère, do you understand?” and in rapid French she +recounted all.</p> +<p>“He is my husband,” said Grisell simply, as the two Duchesses +showed their wonder and admiration.</p> +<p>“Never did tale or ballad show a more saintly wife,” +cried Margaret. “And now what would you have me do for you, +my most patient of Grisells? Write to my brother the King to restore +your lands, and - and I suppose you would have this recreant fellow’s +given back since you say he has seen the error of following that make-bate +Queen. But can you prove him free of Edmund’s blood? +Aught but that might be forgiven.”</p> +<p>“Master Featherstone is gone back to England,” said Grisell, +“but he can bear witness; but my father’s old squire, Cuthbert +Ridley, is here, who heard his story when he came to us from Wakefield. +Moreover, I have seen the mark on Sir Leonard’s brow.”</p> +<p>“Let be. I will write to Edward an you will. He +has been more prone to Lancaster folk since he was caught by the wiles +of Lady Grey; but I would that I could hear what would clear this knight +of yours by other testimony than such as your loving heart may frame. +But you must come and be one of mine, my own ladies, Grisell, and never +go back to your Poticary - Faugh!”</p> +<p>This, however, Grisell would not hear of; and Margaret really reverenced +her too much to press her.</p> +<p>However, Ridley was sent for to the Cour des Princes, and returned +with a letter to be borne to King Edward, and likewise a mission to +find Featherstone, and if possible Red Jock.</p> +<p>“’Tis working for that rogue Copeland,” he growled. +“I would it were for you, my sweet lady.”</p> +<p>“It is working for me! Think so with all your heart, +good Cuthbert.”</p> +<p>“Well, end as it may, you will at least ken who and what you +are, wed or unwed, fish, flesh or good red herring, and cease to live +nameless, like the Poticary’s serving-woman,” concluded +Ridley as his parting grumble.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX - THE WEDDING CHIMES</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Low at times and loud at times,<br />Changing like a poet’s +rhymes,<br />Rang the beautiful wild chimes,<br />From the belfry in +the market<br />Of the ancient town of Bruges.</p> +<p>LONGFELLOW, <i>The Carillon.</i></p> +<p>No more was heard of the Duchess for some weeks. Leonard was +absent with the Duke, who was engaged in that unhappy affair of Peroune +and Liège, the romantic version of which may be read in <i>Quentin +Durward</i>, and with which the present tale dares not to meddle, though +it seemed to blast the life of Charles the Bold, all unknowing.</p> +<p>The Duchess Margaret was youthful enough to have a strong taste for +effect, and it was after a long and vexatious delay that Grisell was +suddenly summoned to her presence, to be escorted by Master Groot. +There she sat, on her chair of state, with the high tapestried back +and the square canopy, and in the throng of gentlemen around her Grisell +at a glance recognised Sir Leonard, and likewise Cuthbert Ridley and +Harry Featherstone, though of course it was not etiquette to exchange +any greetings.</p> +<p>She knelt to kiss the Duchess’s hand, and as she did so Margaret +raised her, kissing her brow, and saying with a clear full voice, “I +greet you, Lady Copeland, Baroness of Whitburn. Here is a letter +from my brother, King Edward, calling on the Bishop of Durham, Count +Palatine, to put you in possession of thy castle and lands, whoever +may gainsay it.”</p> +<p>That Leonard started with amazement and made a step forward Grisell +was conscious, as she bent again to kiss the hand that gave the letter; +but there was more to come, and Margaret continued -</p> +<p>“Also, to you, as to one who has the best right, I give this +parchment, sealed and signed by my brother, the King, containing his +full and free pardon to the good knight, Sir Leonard Copeland, and his +restoration to all his honours and his manors. Take it, Lady of +Whitburn. It was you, his true wife, who won it for him. +It is you who should give it to him. Stand forth, Sir Leonard.”</p> +<p>He did stand forth, faltering a little, as his first impulse had +been to kneel to Grisell, then recollecting himself, to fall at the +Duchess’s feet in thanks.</p> +<p>“To her, to her,” said the Duchess; but Grisell, as he +turned, spoke, trying to clear her voice from a rising sob.</p> +<p>“Sir Leonard, wait, I pray. Her Highness hath not spoken +all. I am well advised that the wedlock into which you were forced +against your will was of no avail to bind us, as you in mind and will +were contracted to the Lady Eleanor Audley.”</p> +<p>Leonard opened his lips, but she waved him to silence. “True, +I know that she was likewise constrained to wed; but she is a widow, +and free to choose for herself. Therefore, either by the bishop, +or it may be through our Holy Father the Pope, by mutual consent, shall +the marriage at Whitburn be annulled and declared void, and I pray you +to accept seisin thereof, while my lady, her Highness the Duchess Isabel, +with the Lady Prioress, will accept me as a Grey Sister.”</p> +<p>There was a murmur. Margaret utterly amazed would have sprung +forward and exclaimed, but Leonard was beforehand with her.</p> +<p>“Never! never!” he cried, throwing himself on his knees +and mastering his wife’s hand. “Grisell, Grisell, +dost think I could turn to the feather-pated, dull-souled, fickle-hearted +thing I know now Eleanor of Audley to be, instead of you?”</p> +<p>There was a murmur of applause, led by the young Duchess herself, +but Grisell tried still to withdraw her hand, and say in low broken +tones, “Nay, nay; she is fair, I am loathly.”</p> +<p>“What is her fair skin to me?” he cried; “to me, +who have learnt to know, and love, and trust to you with a very different +love from the boy’s passion I felt for Eleanor in youth, and the +cure whereof was the sight and words of the Lady Heringham! Grisell, +Grisell, I was about to lay my very heart at your feet when the Duke’s +trumpet called me away, ere I guessed, fool that I was, that mine was +the hand that left the scar that now I love, but which once I treated +with a brute’s or a boy’s lightness. Oh! pardon me! +Still less did I know that it was my own forsaken wife who saved my +life, who tended my sickness, nay, as I verily believed, toiled for +me and my bread through these long seven years, all in secret. +Yea, and won my entire soul and deep devotion or ever I knew that it +was to you alone that they were due. Grisell, Grisell,” +as she could not speak for tears. “Oh forgive! Pardon +me! Turn not away to be a Grey Sister. I cannot do without +you! Take me! Let me strive throughout my life to merit +a little better all that you have done and suffered for one so unworthy!”</p> +<p>Grisell could not speak, but she turned towards him, and regardless +of all spectators, she was for the first time clasped in her husband’s +arms, and the joyful tears of her friends high and low.</p> +<p>What more shall be told of that victory? Shall it be narrated +how this wedlock was blest in the chapel, while all the lovely bells +of Bruges rang out in rejoicing, how Mynheer Groot and Clemence rejoiced +though they lost their guest, how Caxton gave them a choice specimen +of his printing, how Ridley doffed his pilgrim’s garb and came +out as a squire of dames, how the farewells were sorrowfully exchanged +with the Duchess, and how the Duke growled that from whichever party +he took his stout English he was sure to lose them?</p> +<p>Then there was homage to King Edward paid not very willingly, and +a progress northward. At York, Thora, looking worn and haggard, +came and entreated forgiveness, declaring that she had little guessed +what her talk was doing, and that Ralph made her believe whatever he +chose! She had a hard life, treated like a slave by the burgesses, +who despised the fisher maid. Oh that she could go back to serve +her dear good lady!</p> +<p>There was a triumph at Whitburn to welcome the lady after the late +reign of misrule, and so did the knight and dame govern their estates +that for long years the time of ‘Grisly Grisell’ was remembered +as Whitburn’s golden age.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, GRISLY GRISELL ***</p> +<pre> + +******This file should be named grgr10h.htm or grgr10h.zip****** +Corrected EDITIONS of our EBooks get a new NUMBER, grgr11h.htm +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, grgr10ah.htm + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we usually do not +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections, +even years after the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our Web sites at: +http://gutenberg.net or +http://promo.net/pg + +These Web sites include award-winning information about Project +Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new +eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!). + + +Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement +can get to them as follows, and just download by date. This is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext04 + +Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. Our +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If the value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text +files per month: 1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+ +We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002 +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks! +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated): + +eBooks Year Month + + 1 1971 July + 10 1991 January + 100 1994 January + 1000 1997 August + 1500 1998 October + 2000 1999 December + 2500 2000 December + 3000 2001 November + 4000 2001 October/November + 6000 2002 December* + 9000 2003 November* +10000 2004 January* + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people +and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut, +Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois, +Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, +Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New +Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio, +Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South +Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West +Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list +will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states. +Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally +request donations in all 50 states. If your state is not listed and +you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have, +just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are +not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting +donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to +donate. + +International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about +how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made +deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are +ways. + +Donations by check or money order may be sent to: + + PROJECT GUTENBERG LITERARY ARCHIVE FOUNDATION + 809 North 1500 West + Salt Lake City, UT 84116 + +Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment +method other than by check or money order. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by +the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN +[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154. Donations are +tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law. As fund-raising +requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be +made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information online at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart hart@pobox.com + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this eBook, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + eBook or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the eBook (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only +when distributed free of all fees. Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by +Michael S. Hart. Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be +used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be +they hardware or software or any other related product without +express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* +</pre></body> +</html> |