CHAPTER V.OF THE COMING TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT.The next morning found Ralph Lisle refreshed and eager for the day's work. His head felt quite well, and had it not been for a piece of plaster which the infirmarer of Hide, who came to dress his wound early in the morning, placed over the cut, he would hardly have remembered the occurrence.Neither the Abbot of Quarr nor Lord Woodville had forgotten him. The former sent some money for his expenses at the worthy citizen's house, and the latter sent him a tabard of white taffeta, embroidered with the badge of the captain of the Island, in all respects like the other pages, with a supply of food from his own table; and the servant who brought these was directed to say that they would start at eight o'clock, and that he was to arrange all matters with his host.Punctually at half-past seven Humphrey brought round Ralph's horse, well brushed and groomed, and Ralph, looking more handsome than ever in his new surcoat, with his sword buckled to his belt, and his silver-hilted poignard, stood in all the pride of conscious importance at the doorstep, the admired of all the little street-boys and burgesses who were up and about at that hour; while he was conscious of many a girlish face looking out from the casements of the houses opposite and above him, glancing down smiles of approval, for all the city knew what he had done, and who he was, the Lisles of Thruxton and Mansbridge being well-known throughout the county.His worthy host and hostess were loud in their regrets at his departure, and at first refused all offer of remuneration, but Ralph pressed it on them with so much gratitude and delicacy, that their scruples yielded, and they accepted it with evident reluctance, and only on condition that when he was a belted knight he would come back and see them. This was touching Ralph in his weakest point. He promised with a conscious smile, and mounted his horse amid the loudly-expressed admiration of the little crowd.As he rode down the street, Humphrey caught sight of a well-known face."Why, there's old Dickon of Andover! Dickon, I say," he called out, "an you be a-going home to-night, go up to Thruxton and say how you seen the young master all well, and say as how he sends greetings to my lord and her leddyship. Ye mind now?""Oh, ay, I'se mind," cried back old Dickon, stopping to gaze upon Ralph. "Well now he do look foine, to be sure."And so they turned into the street where thecortègewas in waiting for the Captain of the Wight to come out.Ralph felt a little shy as he rode up to the large body of archers and men-at-arms that blocked up the street, but he soon felt at ease as he was greeted kindly by Maurice Woodville and Dicky Cheke, who were on the look out for him."Willie Newenhall is still stuffing," said the latter, "and as for Eustace, he is putting the last touch of paint to his cheeks; he's such a coxcomb, you'd never guess half he does."But now all drew up in order. The men-at-arms sat erect, and held their lances upright; the knights and mounted archers drew their swords; the yeomen and billmen held their halberds and bills at attention and a flourish of trumpets announced that the Captain of the Wight was issuing from the house.As Lord Woodville came out, followed by his guests, among whom Ralph recognised his kinsman the Abbot of Quarr, he glanced quickly over the assembled troop. His keen eye took in everything, but with the dignity befitting his rank he never mentioned what he saw amiss at the time, making a note of it in his memory, to call the attention of the proper officer to it privately, while if he saw anything to praise he always publicly expressed his approval.In the present case his eye fell on Ralph, but knowing how trying it would be for the young boy to be called out before all that assembly, he merely nodded to him with a kind smile of recognition, and said,--"Ah, there's my trusty young friend; right glad am I to see him so blythe this morning. Sir John Trenchard, you will see to his comfort, I know."He then mounted his steed, the stirrup being held for him by Willie Newenhall, as the oldest of his pages.The captain of the guard gave the order to march, and the leading files turned down to the right, and directed their way to Southampton.Ralph did not see much of the old city of Winchester, but he had been there several times before, and old buildings had little charms for him, with the animation of life before him. Men, not grey stones, however skilfully carved, or however cunningly piled up, were his attraction.The delicious air of the morning played over his face; the delightful sensation of being part of what men stopped to look at, an object of awe and admiration, this thrilled him, and he yielded to the temptation, so natural to exuberant youth, of giving himself airs, and thinking of his appearance. At first the sense of shyness had kept this feeling of self-admiration down, but as he rode along, and noticed the glance of the passers-by, how they stopped to gaze open-mouthed at them, and how loud were the expressions of approval at the fine appearance of the cavalcade, he began to feel his own importance, and was fast adopting the easy self-satisfaction of the other pages.By the time they had reached Southampton, which they did in rather less than three hours from leaving Winchester, he felt on perfectly easy terms with everyone, including Eustace Bowerman even, who, however, did not seem inclined to be very friendly to him, seeming not to relish the remark of Maurice Woodville when he said,--"Certes, Bowerman, Lisle oweth thee many thanks. Had it not been for thy kind thought, he would never have done so hardily as he hath. He would have been sitting his nag like any stick, such as you and old Pudding Face, when the bull ran at our lord--but now he hath gotten himself a name at the first start; our Captain will never forget."Bowerman bit his lip. It was quite true."Marry, young Maurice, don't you be talking. If Lisle's horse took fright and bolted when the bull came blundering down that alley, I don't see why the Captain should make such a fuss about it.""His horse didn't bolt," said Dicky hotly; "you know right well Lisle spurred him in the way.""Nay, Master Dicky malapert, I know no such thing.""Then you don't know much, as I always said," retorted Dicky."Marry, Dicky, I'll have to wallop thee once more, I see. You're growing saucy again.""Wallop me i' faith!" sneered Dicky; "I'd like to see you doing it.""Wait till we get on board the barge then, and you'll soon be satisfied."Willie Newenhall never engaged in these wordy contests. He only thought of his appearance, when he was going to feed again, or of the danger he was always in from the fair sex, by reason of his own good looks. The other pages knew well his weak points, and would always chaff him on the risks he ran from his many fascinations."I' faith, Willie, there's a pretty lass looking at thee; and that's her brother, or sweetheart, with her. How fierce he looks. Ah, if you look at her that way, he'll be murdering you presently," added Dicky, as Willie looked round nervously, to see the group his comrade was referring to, only to meet with a jeering remark from the apprentice who was standing by the girl, of "Hi, young round knave, pudding chops or pig's eyes, what do you lack here?" or some equally elegant observation, which caused Maurice and Dicky to laugh derisively, and the men-at-arms and archers, who were close behind, to grin broadly.But Willie was far too stupid to make any retort, he only grunted angrily, and leered at the people on the other side of the street.Then they passed through Southampton, under the noble Bargate, with its figure of Bevis of Hampton, and the giant Ascapart, whose reality all true townsfolk believed in, and of whose doughty deeds with Guy of Warwick Ralph had often heard and longed to emulate. The cavalcade rode down the long street under the old west gate tower, and outside the splendid old walls, on to the town quay.Oh, the sight of the gleaming water! Ralph had never seen the sea before--how it glanced and sparkled in the mid-day sun of June. The dim haze of the opposite shore, where stretched the New Forest away and away far into the land and down the coast, with all its memories of ancient times. The splash of the little waves, rippling before the fresh north breeze, as they sparkled against the bluff bows of the unwieldy barges or straighter stems of the swifter galleys. How stately was the curve of a high-prowed, lofty-pooped merchant ship as she came round to the helm, while all her sails fluttered in the breeze as her bows ran up in the wind, and the heavy splash told of the weighty anchor dropping to the muddy bottom of the Teste.Then the smells, the sounds, the cries. Ralph had never enjoyed life before. All the instincts of his race came out in him,--of that ancient race of the island, whose origin was lost in the dim vista of antiquity, whose lands belonged to the mysterious sons of Stur long before the Norman Conquest, and passed by marriage to De Lisle, if indeed De Lisle was not simply the Norman form of expression for the original lord of the island, for who could more worthily be called "de insula" or "of the island" or "De Lisle" than that family which was above all others "of the island?" since the possessions of the "filius Azor" or "Stur" are the most important of any, as recorded in Domesday book.The instincts of his sea-girt ancestors rose in him, and Ralph Lisle gazed at the dancing water with eager delight.The scene of confusion that then followed delighted him still more. The getting the horses on board, the telling off the various parties each to its own barge, the excitement of pushing out into the stream, or warping the larger vessels off to their kedge anchors, which were dropped in the middle of the fairway, all this was delicious, and Ralph felt he was in a wonderful dream."Mind your eye, young Popinjay!" bawled a burly seaman. "Stand clear o' that warp now," as Ralph took his stand on a large coil of rope near the bows. "Such a gay bird as you should know better than to stand on a warp that way. Did yer think 'twas a doormat?"In a few minutes the barge was hauled out into the stream, the anchor was right up and down."Haul away there," called the captain.Out flapped the big foresail in the breeze, the jib was run out, the anchor was up, and hanging at the bows, already the water was chattering under her stem."Now then, my lads, shake out that mainsail. Look alive there!" bawled the skipper, and the great white sail dropped down from the mainmast and longyard, where it had been brailed up, and swelled out in the breeze, louder chattered the wavelets under the bow, and merrily the seamen sheeted home the ropes.Ralph had now time to look round him. He was on the same barge as Lord Woodville and his immediate escort. The horses with the grooms and men-at-arms were on a large barge that was running alongside of them. On their right, but a little astern, was another barge containing the rest of the troop, and among them Ralph was glad to see the beggar man and his daughter.The baggage and vanguard had gone on early in the morning, under the charge of Tom o' Kingston.Ralph looked up at the swelling sails and the tall masts. The barge was bluff-bowed and high-sterned, like those remnants of the Middle Ages the Breton and Normanchasses maréesof modern times, and like them she carried three large lug sails, and one jib, set far out on a high peaked bowsprit.As this was the barge of the captain of the Island, she was far better appointed than the other vessels. Her sails were white, and adorned with the arms of the Lord Woodville, argent, a fess, and canton, gules, while the mainsail bore the arms of Newport, the capital of the Island. The ropes were all white and new, and the decks and bulwarks were scrupulously clean, and the latter fresh varnished.Ralph was never tired of looking aloft at the large blocks or pulleys, the strong ropes, the stout masts, and the swelling sails lazily falling in graceful folds as the breeze died down, or bellying out to the fresher puffs of the fair weather wind.He leaned over the side and watched the ripple of the water as the hull glided through it. How dark green the sea looked on the side where the shadow of the hull and sails fell, how mellow and blue it sparkled on the side where the sunlight shone upon it. He looked at the other barges; they were rippling through the sea, a little fount of water spouting up under the cutwater, and glancing off the bows in a lovely curve of spray, the one vessel all shadow, the other all bright and gleaming in the sun.The tide was running out strongly. Swiftly they flew past Netley, its abbey towers rising out of the green woods, the toll of its bell sounding over the water the hour of nones; gaily they flew past the mouth of the Hamble, and in a short time were gliding out by Calshott Spit, running before the breeze into the stronger ripple of the main tide of the Solent.But long ere this Ralph had been summoned to dinner, and for the first time he was called upon to wait upon his lord. It was his duty to serve him with wine, and deftly he performed his task, for he had been well taught at home. The motion of the vessel was scarcely perceptible, and his hand was very steady. After the Captain of the Wight and his guests had been served, the pages sat down apart to their repast, and Ralph was astonished at his own appetite."I tell you what it is, little eyes," cried Dicky, "you'll have to look after yourself, or Lisle will leave you nothing to eat."To this Willie Newenhall made no answer, but glanced askance at Ralph, and eat away harder than ever."There, there, Willie, dear, don't be afraid; he'll leave you a bit, if you are a good lad, I don't doubt," laughed Maurice.It had been Bowerman's duty to attend closely upon his lord, and he had found no opportunity to put his threat in execution. However, now the repast was over, he began to remember what had passed."Dicky," he said, "come hither.""Not I," said that lively young gentleman. "You can come here, if you want me.""Be quiet, varlets!" called out Sir John Trenchard, who was sitting on a settle on the deck not far off. "If you want to jangle, wait till you get ashore."They were now splashing through the tide, which ran swiftly over the Brambles, the steersman keeping the vessel's head well up to it, so as not to be carried down past the Newport river.Larger and larger loomed up the island. Away to their left lay Portsmouth and the ridge of Portsdown; to their right they could see far down the Solent, point after point standing up in ever-decreasing clearness, until the distant Node Hill, above Freshwater, where the land trended away to the south-west, loomed up faint and grey in the shimmering haze of the lovely afternoon.Nearer and nearer they drew to the island, and as they approached the land Ralph saw that a fine stretch of water opened up ahead."The tide's making out amain yet," said the skipper, approaching Lord Woodville, with cap in hand. "What will be your lordship's pleasure? Shall we run in and anchor, and land your lordship, or will it please you that we try to stem the tide? Natheless it will be but a poor job we shall make of it till the tide turns; and then we sha'n't have water far up for some while.""Run us ashore at Northwood,[*] we will ride up to Carisbrooke. Our baggage can come up afterwards, in the evening, when the tide makes enough to float you up to Newport Quay."[*] Cowes as yet (1487) was not. The building of the castles by Henry VIII., sixty years afterwards, was the beginning of Cowes."Ay, ay, my lord."Ralph watched the movements of the crew with curiosity. As they ran in before the wind, which was very fitful, he saw them brail up the mainsail, then as they ran up past the land, which was all covered with woods and bush, they took in the foresail, and gently, under the light pressure of the jib, the barge slithered on the mud, close to a shingle hard, where it was possible to disembark at low tide.And now again all was confusion. The other barges ran in alongside the Captain's. The gangways were lowered down. The horses with great difficulty were partly lowered, partly driven out on to the shingle. The grooms and men-at-arms got out, and led the horses up to form their ranks on the grass sward at the foot of the woods, which then stretched in unbroken verdure from Northwood Church to Gurnard Bay and Thorness, forming part of the King's Forest of Alvington, Watchingwell, or Parkhurst.The Lord Woodville, when all was ready, disembarked with his guests, and, attended by his pages, he mounted his horse on the green grass above, great state being observed, and great care taken, by laying down mats and cloths, that he should not soil his feet on the muddy shingle.As soon as he was mounted, the order to advance was given, and the cavalcade set off for Carisbrooke, through the green woods by the side of the blue Medina, glancing through the stems of the trees by the roadside. More than ever Ralph felt grateful to the Abbot of Quarr for having presented him to so puissant a chief, and one under whom he should learn such courtesy and gentleness. He felt sorry to leave the sea and the ships, but rejoiced that their journey lay along the water side.Humphrey had disembarked with him, and Ralph, looking back, saw that the beggar man and his daughter were still on the other barge."We shall have to look sharp after our pony, Master Ralph," grumbled Humphrey.As they rose over the hill by Northwood Church, where the churchyard was being prepared for the approaching consecration, for up to this year the few inhabitants had to go all the way to Carisbrooke to bury their dead, Ralph looked back, and thought he had never seen anything so pretty. Below, lay the Newport creek, clothed in thick woods on each side; beyond, stretched the blue Solent, the yellow line of the Hampshire coast and the grey distance blending with the mellow haze of the sky. The three barges, with their masts sloping at different angles, their great yards swinging athwart each other, and the sails only partially furled, giving animation and picturesqueness to the foreground, while above all spread the blue vault of heaven, cloudless and serene.CHAPTER VI.HOW THEY CAME TO CARISBROOKE CASTLE.The cavalcade as it drew near Newport was formed into more precise array. It behoved the Captain of the Wight to enter the capital of his little kingdom in becoming state.The vanguard, under Tom o' Kingston, had been sent on earlier in the day, the bailiffs and burgesses of Newport had therefore received ample notice to prepare for the reception of their Lord and Captain.The military force of the island at this time was much improved. After the conclusion of the civil war, Edward IV. appointed Anthony Woodville, Lord Scales, the most accomplished knight as well as finished gentlemen of his time, to be lord and Captain of the Wight, in succession to his father, Richard, Lord Woodville, Earl Rivers. Under the martial rule of this skilled warrior, the defences of Carisbrooke Castle and the military force of the island seem to have been put on a sound footing, and the military tenures of the landlords who held their lands of the "honour of Carisbrooke Castle" were carefully inquired into, and their services duly enforced. The large powers possessed by the Warden of the Island, in the reign of Edward III., as evidenced in the commission granted to John de Gattesdon, show that a vigorous Captain had ample means at his disposal for mustering a formidable force, and that only the supineness, or corruption, or absenteeism of the lord of the island or his deputies could have allowed the inhabitants to have fallen into such a state of despair as two petitions, presented to the King and Parliament in 1449, show that they had yielded to. In short, if the Captain of the Wight was a keen soldier and able man, the forces of the island were smart and serviceable, and if he were not, they fell into indiscipline and inefficiency.Sir Edward Woodville, now Captain of the Island, was in all respects a "righte hardie, puissant, and valyant knighte," and took pains that all under his command should be well-appointed and well-disciplined, and as his appointment vested in his person the supreme civil as well as military command, his influence and authority were wide reaching--in other words, he was a "strong" Captain.The chief officials in Newport were the bailiffs, for there was no mayor or court of aldermen for more than a hundred and seventeen years after this date, and they acted as deputies for the Captain of the Wight in all matters relating to the business of the borough of Newport. These officials now came out, arrayed in all the dignity of their office, accompanied by the chief burgesses of the town, and attended by Tom o' Kingston and the body of archers and men-at-arms he commanded. The populace, naturally eager to see all pageants, crowded out of their houses, and by the time the procession, issuing from the town over the bridge to the north, had reached the Priory of St Cross, it had attained to very considerable proportions. Several of the neighbouring gentry had ridden in and joined the concourse, with their servants and dependants. Chief among these was conspicuous a martial figure, attended by a very lovely girl, and followed by four stalwart yeoman, well mounted and appointed. When thecortègehad reached the gate of the Priory of St Cross it halted, and in the meadows at the foot of Hunny Hill the concourse found room to see the reception of their Lord and Captain.Soon after the arrival of the bailiffs and their attendants, the gleam of spear points, bills, and halberds showed over the brow of the steep hill that descended abruptly to the little town. Soon afterwards the Lord Woodville himself appeared, attended by his household and guests, and followed by the main body of his mounted archers and men-at-arms.As Ralph looked down into the valley below he was struck by the gay prospect. The bright tabards and glancing weapons of the men-at-arms gave colour and life to the picture, mingling as they did with the soberer dresses of the townsfolk, with their wives and daughters. The high pointed head-dresses of some of the dames, and the horned caps of others, whence transparent draperies hung in the wind, much to the annoyance of their male relatives, who had either to take care not to become entangled in them, or else to run the risk of sharp reprimand or scornful look, added a quaint variety to the scene. The banner of Newport flaunted its blazon in the breeze, side by side with the arms of Woodville and the royal arms. Beyond were the red tiles of the old houses, the streets, neat and orderly, the tower of the Church of St Thomas, rising above the houses, and, behind all, the steep down of St George's to the left, and the range of downs stretching away to the right, with the vale of the Medina between, from which the mist of approaching evening was already beginning to rise, while from out the valley to the right the noble pile of Carisbrooke Castle rose clear and grand in all its feudal beauty, lately restored, and rendered wellnigh impregnable to the forces of mediæval warfare. How splendid it looked, its walls and battlements, turrets and bastions, lighted up by the westering sun, the dark shadow of the smooth slope of Buccomb down forming a background to the ruddy pile, and the donjon keep standing up grim and distinct amid the lesser towers and roofs, flinging defiance to the assaults of men and time alike in the flag on its summit.Such was the scene Ralph looked upon, but as they descended the steep hill his eyes became fixed on the throng of people awaiting them, and once more he felt a sense of shyness come over him. He was not yet used to being looked at. His fellow-pages, however, were quite unconcerned, and were passing remarks freely among themselves under their breath, as they recognised faces in the crowd."Marry! there's old Billy Gander. How red his nose is! Why didn't he get some of thy powder thou art so fond of, Bowerman?""And look! there's Dicky Shide. By St Anthony! but he's got a worse squint than of old. Poor old Squint Eye!""Willie, my swain, there's Polly Bremeskete. I wouldn't let her see thee, that I wouldn't. She told Tom o' Kingston she meant to marry thee, come next Peter's day. And she always keeps her word.""By'r lady, there's Yolande de Lisle; she looks more lovely than ever!" And Eustace Bowerman drew himself up, and sat his horse with greater importance than before, while even Richard Cheke and Maurice Woodville looked conscious, and glanced at their dress, squared their toes, and sat more erect on their steeds, holding their horses tighter with their knees, and making them step in lighter action.Ralph glanced to where Bowerman had descried the object of all this homage, curious to see who it was that bore his name. He had heard that a great-uncle of his had returned to the island home of his ancestors in King Harry the Fourth's reign, but he had forgotten all about it, and had never given such remote genealogical questions a thought. However, now he heard the name mentioned, he recollected what he had been told, and what his father had said about the disinherited son, and the only daughter.He had not to search long for the young lady who created so much admiration among the pages.Sitting her palfrey with easy grace, and perfectly at home amid the noisy crowd and free manners of the rough troopers, was a girl or rather young woman of about eighteen or twenty, of very graceful, although somewhat robust, proportions, but remarkable for her brilliant complexion, lovely features, and sparkling blue eyes. Fun and health glowed in every line of her face, in her masses of wavy fair hair, which refused to be confined under the prim cap and horned head-dress in which the fashion of the time struggled hard to reduce them to order, in her soft cheeks, red lips, and graceful rounded figure. Ralph thought there never was anyone so lovely in the whole world. He forget everything. He gazed at her in rapt admiration, utterly oblivious of all that was going on."By my halidome, Master Page, whither goest thou?" said the grating voice of Sir John Trenchard, against whom Ralph bumped with a sudden jerk, as the troop stopped for Lord Woodville to receive the homage of his subjects. "Canst not see where thou goest, or keep a fitting distance from thy betters? Draw back to thy fellows, I say."Thus roughly aroused, Ralph, much abashed, reined up his horse, and backed it to a line with the other pages, who were grinning from ear to ear at his luckless mistake; but what made him more uncomfortable still, was that he saw the fair object of his admiration had witnessed it all, and was smiling meaningly at Eustace Bowerman. He began to envy that page in a way he would not have thought possible before.But Bowerman was all smiles and amiability now. He nodded familiarly to one person, haughtily to another, and most expressively to the lady on horseback. But she, after the first glance of recognition and amusement, looked no more his way, being occupied with gazing at the Captain of the Wight and the two French knights who were with him.Ralph, as soon as he had recovered from his mortification, tried to keep his eyes away from Mistress Lisle, and watched what was going on.After the bailiffs had done homage, and congratulated Lord Woodville on the success of his expedition, the burgesses came forward and performed their part of the ceremony, being greeted kindly by the Captain, who was evidently very popular. Ralph noticed that the old knight who sat his horse so firmly, and held up his head so proudly, was greeted with especial respect by Lord Woodville, who also exchanged very courteous salutations with the lovely lady of the golden hair, to whom he presented the two French knights, who, with their proverbial gallantry, seemed to be paying her compliments which, as they could not be too flattering, seemed not unwillingly received.The ceremonies over, the cavalcade reformed. The bailiffs and the burgesses heading the procession, they then defiled over the bridge, and passed into the town.Ralph had now recovered himself sufficiently to ask who that old knight was who looked so striking, and to whom Lord Woodville had paid so much attention."Ay, certes, you may well ask," said Maurice Woodville, "for he is, or ought to be, a kinsman of thine own, seeing he beareth the same name as thyself, and, for aught I know, the same coat armour.""Nay, for the fair lady weareth on her mantle a coat argent with a chief gules charged with three lions rampant of the field, whereas my father beareth or a fess between two chevrons sable.""Well, you must e'en settle that as best pleaseth you; all I know is that he is called Sir William de Lisle of the Wood, or, as our chaplain would have it, 'Dominus de Insula de Bosco,' which, to my thinking, isn't half as pretty as the English.""And is that his daughter?" asked Ralph shyly, thinking of his father's words with keener interest."Ay, marry is she, and the loveliest demoiselle in all the Wight, and the world to boot, say I!" answered Maurice, with enthusiasm.At the corner of St James Street, where it intersected the High Street, there was a halt. Here the Abbot of Quarr took leave of Lord Woodville, for his road lay down High Street, and so to his monastery. Sir William Lisle and his daughter, much to her regret, also took leave; but Lord Woodville, before parting with the Abbot and the old knight, called to Ralph to come up; who, with some embarrassment, rode forward, and was by Lord Woodville presented to Sir William Lisle and the fair Yolande."Sir William, I have a kinsman of yours I would fain make you acquainted with. This fair youth hath already begun right manfully, and I dare vouch will prove a full knightly twig of thy own worshipful stock."Sir William de Lisle looked at Ralph, as he thought somewhat sternly, but his words were kind."Fair young sir, I am right pleased to hear thee so well reported of. 'Twill give our daughter and me joy to see thee at our poor home of Briddlesford, whenever thy noble Captain can spare thee. Thou wilt find good sport for thy hawk in the woods and creek of Wodyton, and along the banks of King's Quay; only beware how thou fliest him over the lands of the Abbot of Quarr, for he is a strict preserver of his own demesne."As Sir William said this, he glanced at the Lord Abbot, and a merry twinkle was in his eye, for many had been the discussions over the rights of the respective demesnes, for the lands of the Lisles bordered on those of Quarr Abbey, and hot had been the complaints of Sir William that idle monks had been caught setting traps in his lands, which had led to counter charges on the part of the monks."And forget not, fair cousin, if thou shouldest be tempted our way, to bring over some of thy fellow pages with thee; for without them thou wilt be parlous dull, seeing there is naught at home to amuse thee saving my poor self; and one poor girl is but sorry sport for a merry page," said Yolande, with a demure smile, as she turned her palfrey to accompany her father.Ralph longed to say something that would become him, but he felt very shy amid all that concourse of people, with his comrades watching, and the French knights and Lord Woodville all looking at him; he could only stammer out his thanks, and bow low over his saddle."Fare-thee-well, kinsman mine," said the Abbot; "give diligent heed to thy instructors, reverence those in authority over thee, and attend carefully to the ministrations of worthy Sir Simon Halberd, who will give me frequent account of thee when he cometh to Quarr.""Grammercy, my Lord Abbot, I owe thee many thanks for thy great kindness in giving me to so noble a lord," said Ralph, who, now that the bright eyes of his fair kinswoman were not gazing at him with the amused look which so disconcerted him, felt his presence of mind returning, and was able to answer with his customary boldness.And so the cavalcades parted, Mistress Yolande giving a farewell glance of Parthian destructiveness at the French knights, but deigning no more to notice such simple things as innocent pages."By St Nicholas, Bowerman, you are always to be luckless now!" laughed Maurice. "But yestere'en you helped Lisle to the best bit of good fortune he's likely to have for some time; and now he's called up before all of us to be presented to our fair princess of the golden hair. Didst see how kindly she smiled on him?" he added mischievously."Body o' me! an' you hold not your jabbering tongue, I'll flay you when we get to the castle!" said Bowerman savagely."Nay, fair youth, be not wroth; 'tis not I who got Lisle all this good luck. Virtue is its own reward. Be happy! sweet damoiseau, and rejoice in thy good nature. 'Tis true, 'tis not often you do a fellow a good turn; so be happy when you do.""All right, my young cockerel, tarry but the nonce. My time will come anon," said Eustace, in furious dudgeon.Ralph had fallen back as the procession moved on. All the pages were well known in Newport, and the doings of the little court at the castle were intimately discussed. The characters of each of the principal members of the garrison were well known, and any new arrival was critically examined and freely talked about.[image]THE CAPTAIN OF THE WIGHT ENTERING CARISBROOKE CASTLE.The worthy burgesses' wives and their fair daughters much regretted that the Captain of the Island was not married. The lady of Sir John Trenchard presided over the domestic part of the castle, and did the honours when ladies paid it a visit. But she was not of an amiable disposition, and it was popularly reported that her worthy lord's little asperities of temper, and sourness of look, arose in great measure from the austere frigidity of this eminently respectable matron, who, however, as Ralph subsequently found, was at heart a very kind and sweet lady. The reasons for Lord Woodville being still a bachelor were variously stated, and all hotly asserted by their different supporters, who one and all had their information on undoubted private authority, which they were not at liberty to divulge. The only fact that really was known, however, was the simple one that there was no Lady Woodville. The head of the column was now mounting the steep ascent to the castle, and Ralph noticed the splendid position of this noble fortress. The sun was getting low on the western horizon; the level rays bathed all the long valley away to the west in a rich golden haze, falling full on the grandly-proportioned towers of the main guard. The massive walls, pierced for archery, and crowned with their projecting machicolations and graceful parapets, were not yet clothed with the growth of yellow and grey lichen which has been slowly painting them for the last four hundred years. The stone was yet fresh from the hand of the mason, and above the great gate, high up on the parapet, could be seen the arms of Lord Scales."My grandfather had that done!" said Maurice proudly, pointing up to the noble gateway as they tramped over the drawbridge, and passed out of the warmth of the sunlight under the heavy portcullis, and between the massive iron-studded oak doors, which were swung back to allow the Captain of the Wight and his "meynie" to enter, and then slowly and harshly swung back as the last man-at-arms clanked over the drawbridge, shutting out the sunlight and the outside world.The guard under the archway presented arms, the trumpets sounded a flourish, and out into the sunlight, whose rays just passed between the towers, and touched his plume, rode the lord of the castle, and of all those stalwart men.CHAPTER VII.HOW THE COCKEREL SHOWED FIGHT.The days passed rapidly by after Ralph Lisle had become part of the retinue of the Captain of the Wight. Each day brought its busy round of occupation. There was the early practice, before the morning meal, at throwing the bar, running at the quintain, and leaping over the wooden horse. Every exercise was directed to bringing fully into play all the muscles of the body, and especially such as were most needed in the handling of the lance, and the management of the war horse. After the morning meal, at which the pages had their table apart in the hall of the Lord Woodville's apartments, which at that period were very much in the same position as the Governor's lodgings were at a later time, when added to and repaired by Sir George Carey, those pages who were not on duty went through a course of "grammar and rhetoric," under the instruction of Sir Simon Halbard, the chaplain of St Nicholas within the walls. The whole garrison, or at least such part of it as could be spared from their duties, always attended mass every morning, for the Lord Woodville was a strict disciplinarian, and enforced the precept of the Church with the rigid punctuality of a Grand-Master of the Temple.The "book-learning," as the pages called it, occupied about three hours, and then preparations were made for the mid-day meal, the most important of all the meals of the day. This repast was served in much state, all the pages being required to attend to carve and hand the dishes, and pour out the wine for the Captain of the Wight and his guests, or the knights of his household. After those of highest rank were served, the pages sat down to their repast, presided over by the senior esquire.The afternoons were spent either in attendance on their lord, or in private amusements and exercises of their own. No one of the pages was allowed out of the precincts of the castle without Sir John Trenchard's leave, but this was usually very easily obtained.So passed the days in healthy exercise and wholesome occupation. There had been many little bickerings, and even personal struggles between the pages, but, boy-like, they had been brief, and, on the whole, the life was very pleasant. Ralph had ridden over with Maurice Woodville to pay his relatives a visit at Briddlesford. They had met his fair cousin, who was riding out to fly her hawk; and as they accompanied her to a high hill, whence a lovely view was obtained all over the Solent and far inland from the New Forest and Beaulieu on the left to Chichester and even the hills above Arundel on the right, they were surprised to meet one of the Breton, or French Knights, as they called them, riding out there, quite unattended.There had been much talk about the business of these Bretons with the Captain of the Island. Merchant ships, bringing salt and other commodities to Newport from Nantes and St Malo, had reported how unsettled was the state of Brittany, how the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Orange, both nephews of the old Duke of Brittany, had fled to him, to his castle of Malestroit, and how the armies of the King of France, who was himself but a boy, but whose affairs were wonderfully managed by that very wise and puissant lady the Dame de Beaujeu, his sister, had entered the country, and how all would go to utter ruin, unless King Henry sent force of knights and men-at-arms to assist the Duke of Brittany and his fair young daughter the Duchess Anne. Such news was bruited abroad, and there was no young knight in England who did not burn with ardour to lay lance in rest for so great a princess, and against the hereditary foe of England. All men knew, therefore, that the Sire de Kervignac and the Vicomte de la Roche Guemené were come to solicit men-at-arms and archers, and there was not one of the garrison of Carisbroke Castle who did not heartily wish they might succeed, and perhaps no one wished it more than Master Eustace Bowerman.After the customary courtesies had been exchanged, Mistress Yolande urged the two pages to fly their hawks at a heron, which was busily feeding on the rich weeds far out on the mud at the mouth of a creek called King's Quay. The boys, nothing loth, cast off their birds, and rode eagerly after them. But whether it were that the wood was too thick, or the country too rough, the lady did not follow them, while the knight stayed, as in duty bound, to escort her, and so the boys lost sight of them for the rest of the afternoon. And not only did they suffer this disappointment, but, what was almost worse, Ralph's falcon killed the bird, but fell with it so far out on the mud that it was impossible to get at it, although the boys did everything they could to urge their dogs to go on to the treacherous slime, and bring the quarry to land. The tide was quite low, and they had to give up all hopes of obtaining more sport. It was with much difficulty, and after long waiting, that they were able to get the falcon to fly back to fist, for it was taught not to leave its prey until some one came to take it. When at last they did recover the bird, the afternoon was too far advanced for them to return by Briddlesford to inquire after Mistress Yolande, and bid good-bye to Sir William de Lisle, which Ralph would dearly have liked to do; and he was, besides, in such a state of mud from having tried to recover the bird, that they thought it best to return to Carisbroke without being seen by any one. Riding home as fast as they could, they made adétour, to avoid passing through Newport, and reached the castle just before the gates were shut for the evening. When they got back, and related the events of the afternoon, they found Eustace Bowerman, who was already sulky enough at not having been asked by Ralph to accompany him instead of Maurice Woodville, in a towering temper."You blind moles," he growled, "why did ye not cleave to Mistress Lisle and that jackanapes of a Frenchman? What geese ye must have been, to have been shaken off like that. But I'll talk to that jackanapes anon, that I will. What does he mean by coming over here and sporting in our covers?" and Eustace Bowerman flung himself out of his chair, and went to the oriel window, which looked out into the courtyard of the castle."I' faith, Eustace, my Trojan, don't you call me a goose again," said Ralph good-humouredly, but with a determination in his tone."And prythee why not?" said Eustace, who was glad of anything to vent his ill-humour upon. "None but a goose would show the white feather as you did, riding away from that dandified Frenchman.""I never showed the white feather yet," said Maurice hotly, "and if you say that I did, you lie in your throat."Eustace was not in a humour to take things quietly. In a passion at these words of Maurice, he rushed across the room, and would have flung himself upon him, had not Ralph put out his foot, and tripped him up. He fell heavily to the ground, greeted by a roar of laughter from Dicky Cheke, who scented the battle from afar, and chuckled at the approaching crisis."Oh, cocks and pies, my swaggering imp, look you there! You've split your new trunk hose all down the leg. Fie, man, you're not fit to be seen; run away and get old Gammer Tibet to sew it up for you."But Eustace rose in a more towering rage than ever. He turned upon Ralph, and struck at him with all his force. But Ralph had not been learning martial exercises for nothing, and although he was four years junior to Eustace Bowerman, yet in height and activity he was in no way his inferior, although his frame was not as well set, or his weight and strength as great as that of his assailant. With ease, therefore, he knocked down the blow that Eustace aimed at him, but refrained from replying by a blow in return."Bowerman, I don't want to fight," said Ralph quietly; "why get into a rage about nothing?""So you don't want to fight, eh? I thought not," sneered Eustace, who was in a very evil mood. "Then I want to thrash you, so you'd best take it quietly."Ralph, seeing that there really was nothing else for it, although he was of a very peace-loving, happy disposition, stepped back, and awaited his antagonist's assault.Bowerman, who saw how reluctant Ralph was to fight, mistook this backwardness for cowardice, utterly forgetting, or else wilfully misinterpreting, the brave action of the boy at Winchester.He advanced upon him with a fierce scowl of concentrated hate, and aimed a blow right at Ralph's face; but the boy guarded it with his right arm, and at the same time with his left dealt his assailant a swift and well-planted blow full in his chest, causing him to stagger back and gasp for breath."Well done, Lisle!" cried Dicky Cheke, in an ecstasy of joy and excitement. "Do it again, my lusty lambkin; follow it up with one on his nose that'll spoil his beauty for some time.""Why don't you give it those little bodikins?" stormed Eustace to his ally Willie Newenhall, as he prepared to attack Ralph again."Because he's afraid, the big booby," laughed Dicky derisively.Bowerman, seeing that his antagonist was not to be despised, determined to close with him and overpower him by his superior weight. Stepping back therefore, to gather way for a rush, he was about to spring upon Ralph, when that boy, with the instinct of a general, anticipated him, darting forward to meet him, and pounding him with blows.The delight of Dicky was a treat to behold. He danced, jumped, sang, whistled, and at last, forgetting everything in the wild madness of the moment, he flung himself upon Willie, and belaboured him right manfully. That stolid youth was looking on with a lack-lustre expression on his fat face, and marvelling to see how Ralph dared to stand up to Bowerman, whom he had always looked upon as invincible. He was roughly aroused from his stupid contemplation of the contest, by Dicky Cheke's unprovoked assault. When once aroused, however, his greater age and weight told heavily in his favour, and poor Dicky would have paid dearly for his temerity, by being crushed under the dead weight of "Pig's Eyes," as he called him, had not Maurice Woodville assailed him with vigour in the rear.The uproar now waxed furious. Ralph, who had gained a decided advantage by becoming the assailant, was pounding his adversary with hearty alacrity, not without receiving, however, very severe blows in return. The two smaller boys had got Willie down, and were pummelling him with right good will, while he roared lustily to Bowerman to come and take "these little fiends off him."In the midst of the confusion the door opened, and the Captain of the Wight appeared, attended by the other Breton knight, the Sire Alain de Kervignac.So busy were the combatants, that none of them noticed the interruption, and for a second or two fierce blows were exchanged before any one was aware that there were spectators.Dicky Cheke was the first to catch sight of the calm face of his lord, over which an amused expression flitted."Holy saints!" he gasped, suddenly stopping in the act of planting a well-directed blow in the prostrate Willie's eye, who was at the same moment pounding Maurice in the chest, "here's the Captain," and he sprang up, breathless and confused, hastily adjusting his disordered dress as best he could.The others were equally startled, and for a second or two there was a very awkward pause."Well, young gentlemen, I see you have taken the lessons of the tilt-yard to heart; but I should wish you to remember that it better becomes you to tilt at the quintain, or even at each other, with lances, than grovel on the ground, and spoil your clothes in this unseemly brawl."The youths all looked very much abashed, but Lord Woodville would not see that it was a real fight that was going on; he treated it as a mere trial of strength, and continued:--"I have brought this noble Breton knight to see you, for he purposes, together with his right valiant companion in arms, the sire de la Roche Guemené, to hold a joust against all comers, and he fain would see if I cannot spare the stoutest of my pages to make a trial of arms before the ladies of our island. How like you this, my varlets?"There was no need to ask. The flushed faces and bright eyes showed how welcome such news was; only the three younger boys looked a little crestfallen, for they knew they were too young to be allowed to tilt in the lists, even supposing the two others were so highly favoured."I see by your looks you like the news well. Master Bowerman and Master Newenhall, I hear from Sir John Trenchard that you are now of an age when you may make public trial of arms, I therefore appoint you my esquires, and give you permission to joust with spears on the first six courses, but not to take part in the tourney with swords." Then seeing the looks of disappointment in the faces of Ralph Lisle, and his two comrades, he added,--"And you, fair pages, must rest you content for another year, when you be grown older. And now, my masters, set your dress in order--contend no more; and do thou, Ralph Lisle, come hither with me." So saying, Lord Woodville left the room, followed by the Breton knight, and speedily joined by Ralph, who stayed a second to put his dress tidy."My page," said Lord Woodville to Ralph, as soon as he had come up with them, "take this missive to the hermit who dwells on St Catherine's hill. Thou knowest the way--'tis where thou wentest hunting with me last week. Take the best horse out of my stable, and ride like the wind; wait for an answer, and bring me back word right quickly. I have chosen thee for thy good riding, and fealty to me. Talk to no man, but do my bidding straightway."Ralph was delighted at this mark of confidence. He took the note, and turned away to go to the stables. As he was going out of the door of the hall, he heard Lord Woodville say,--"I marvel where sire Amand de la Roche Guemené hath gotten to? I have not seen him all day."Ralph paused."My lord, I saw him this afternoon. He met us with Mistress Lisle, and we left them together when we flew our hawks.""Marry you did!" said the Captain of the Wight, glancing at his companion; and adding, in a voice not intended for Ralph's ear,--"Fair knight, we shall have to take care that thy gentle companion doth not spoil our island of its comeliest damoiselle."As Ralph rode across the courtyard, he met Humphrey, who was astonished to see his young master riding forth so late, for the sun was just setting, and the gates were shut for the night; but Ralph with great pride told him, he was riding forth in all haste on the business of the Captain, and the worthy varlet shared in his young master's importance.At the sight of the pass given to Ralph by Sir John Trenchard, the captain of the guard ordered the gates to open, and the heavy rattle of the chains showed that the drawbridge was being let down, and in another moment Ralph rode out into the glorious light of the after-glow which illumined all the sky to the west.With a light heart he heard the heavy drawbridge creak up again, and, rejoicing in his freedom, he put spurs to his horse and rode fast over the hill, away towards the distant downs to the south. His horse was fresh, and, under Ralph's light weight, cantered swiftly along. He knew the way, or at least thought he did, and took no notice of objects; his mind was full of the approaching tilt, and his one idea was how he could obtain leave from Lord Woodville to let him splinter a lance. And so he cantered on in the ever-increasing gloom, not seeing how dim it was growing, or how damp a mist from the sea was drifting down the valley. The few roads that went through the island were bad in the most frequented parts, but in the cross tracks over the downs to the back of the island they were little more than muddy quagmires in wet weather, and ruts hard as rock in fine. Ralph galloped past Gatcombe, belonging to the Bremshotts, the last male of which family was then very old, and his lands were about to pass away to other names. Little did Ralph know that he was passing what once had belonged to his ancestors, and how that fair manor had come down, through three successive ladies, from the Fitz Stuar to the Lisles, and thence, in the female line, to the Bremshotts, whose daughters again would share it with the Dudleys and the Pakenhams. He breathed his horse up the steep slope that led past Chillerton Down, and as he descended on the further side, he first felt how damp was the night air, and noticed how difficult it was to find his way. Mindful, however, of his lord's injunction to make all the speed he could, he urged his horse to a reckless pace, and it was not until he had ridden for another half-hour that he began to be anxious as to his whereabouts. The air seemed much keener than it had been, and there was a salt freshness in it, that ought to have told him he must be near the sea. Could he have mistaken his way? There was no building he could see anywhere, and the track had entirely ceased. Ralph got off his horse to examine the ground. He was on rough, coarse grass, with large stones cropping up here and there. This might be the slope of St Catherine's down, or it might be anywhere. Ralph mounted his horse again. The mist was dense, there was no star or light to be seen in any direction, nor was there any sound of human life. But there was a sound--what was it? Ralph could hear a dull roar, and seething, swishing sound. He could not tell what it was. He had never lived by the sea, or he would have known that it was the swell of the Channel rolling on the shore, and breaking in surf among the rocks of that dangerous coast. He spurred on his horse once more. But after a few strides the horse refused to go further, and backed and reared, as he had never done before. In vain Ralph struck his spurs into his flanks, and urged him or by word and rein. The horse only reared and snorted the more, and swung round on his hind legs, plunging in utterly uncontrolled rebellion.Ralph could not make it out. Never since the animal had been given to him had he known him to be so unmanageable. Seeing how useless it was to press the horse any further, he ceased to try to subdue him to his will, trusting to get the mastery when he had quieted down.As the horse stood still, his flanks quivering with excitement, Ralph noticed a smell of smoke: his senses had become keener since he had lost his way.This smell of smoke caused him to feel more hopeful; where there was smoke there must be a fire, and probably a human habitation. He turned his head round to ascertain where the smell came from, and, as he sniffed the air in various directions, he came to the conclusion that it must be in front of him.Once more he urged his horse forward, but the animal was as determined as ever not to go that way."What can it be?" thought Ralph, who was beginning to feel a little superstitious, as the tales of goblins and spirits came back to his mind, suggested by the unaccountable noise, the mysterious smoke, and, above all, the remarkable stubbornness of his horse, usually so docile and manageable.For the third time he stuck his spurs against his horse's sides, encouraging him by his voice at the same time, but with the same result--not one step forward would the animal take."Young man, didst thou never hear of Balaam?" said a deep voice, proceeding, apparently, directly from under the horse's head, and in another moment a tall black figure rose out of the darkness, so close as almost to touch Ralph, who could not restrain a shudder of supernatural dread at the suddenness of the strange appearance.
CHAPTER V.
OF THE COMING TO THE ISLE OF WIGHT.
The next morning found Ralph Lisle refreshed and eager for the day's work. His head felt quite well, and had it not been for a piece of plaster which the infirmarer of Hide, who came to dress his wound early in the morning, placed over the cut, he would hardly have remembered the occurrence.
Neither the Abbot of Quarr nor Lord Woodville had forgotten him. The former sent some money for his expenses at the worthy citizen's house, and the latter sent him a tabard of white taffeta, embroidered with the badge of the captain of the Island, in all respects like the other pages, with a supply of food from his own table; and the servant who brought these was directed to say that they would start at eight o'clock, and that he was to arrange all matters with his host.
Punctually at half-past seven Humphrey brought round Ralph's horse, well brushed and groomed, and Ralph, looking more handsome than ever in his new surcoat, with his sword buckled to his belt, and his silver-hilted poignard, stood in all the pride of conscious importance at the doorstep, the admired of all the little street-boys and burgesses who were up and about at that hour; while he was conscious of many a girlish face looking out from the casements of the houses opposite and above him, glancing down smiles of approval, for all the city knew what he had done, and who he was, the Lisles of Thruxton and Mansbridge being well-known throughout the county.
His worthy host and hostess were loud in their regrets at his departure, and at first refused all offer of remuneration, but Ralph pressed it on them with so much gratitude and delicacy, that their scruples yielded, and they accepted it with evident reluctance, and only on condition that when he was a belted knight he would come back and see them. This was touching Ralph in his weakest point. He promised with a conscious smile, and mounted his horse amid the loudly-expressed admiration of the little crowd.
As he rode down the street, Humphrey caught sight of a well-known face.
"Why, there's old Dickon of Andover! Dickon, I say," he called out, "an you be a-going home to-night, go up to Thruxton and say how you seen the young master all well, and say as how he sends greetings to my lord and her leddyship. Ye mind now?"
"Oh, ay, I'se mind," cried back old Dickon, stopping to gaze upon Ralph. "Well now he do look foine, to be sure."
And so they turned into the street where thecortègewas in waiting for the Captain of the Wight to come out.
Ralph felt a little shy as he rode up to the large body of archers and men-at-arms that blocked up the street, but he soon felt at ease as he was greeted kindly by Maurice Woodville and Dicky Cheke, who were on the look out for him.
"Willie Newenhall is still stuffing," said the latter, "and as for Eustace, he is putting the last touch of paint to his cheeks; he's such a coxcomb, you'd never guess half he does."
But now all drew up in order. The men-at-arms sat erect, and held their lances upright; the knights and mounted archers drew their swords; the yeomen and billmen held their halberds and bills at attention and a flourish of trumpets announced that the Captain of the Wight was issuing from the house.
As Lord Woodville came out, followed by his guests, among whom Ralph recognised his kinsman the Abbot of Quarr, he glanced quickly over the assembled troop. His keen eye took in everything, but with the dignity befitting his rank he never mentioned what he saw amiss at the time, making a note of it in his memory, to call the attention of the proper officer to it privately, while if he saw anything to praise he always publicly expressed his approval.
In the present case his eye fell on Ralph, but knowing how trying it would be for the young boy to be called out before all that assembly, he merely nodded to him with a kind smile of recognition, and said,--
"Ah, there's my trusty young friend; right glad am I to see him so blythe this morning. Sir John Trenchard, you will see to his comfort, I know."
He then mounted his steed, the stirrup being held for him by Willie Newenhall, as the oldest of his pages.
The captain of the guard gave the order to march, and the leading files turned down to the right, and directed their way to Southampton.
Ralph did not see much of the old city of Winchester, but he had been there several times before, and old buildings had little charms for him, with the animation of life before him. Men, not grey stones, however skilfully carved, or however cunningly piled up, were his attraction.
The delicious air of the morning played over his face; the delightful sensation of being part of what men stopped to look at, an object of awe and admiration, this thrilled him, and he yielded to the temptation, so natural to exuberant youth, of giving himself airs, and thinking of his appearance. At first the sense of shyness had kept this feeling of self-admiration down, but as he rode along, and noticed the glance of the passers-by, how they stopped to gaze open-mouthed at them, and how loud were the expressions of approval at the fine appearance of the cavalcade, he began to feel his own importance, and was fast adopting the easy self-satisfaction of the other pages.
By the time they had reached Southampton, which they did in rather less than three hours from leaving Winchester, he felt on perfectly easy terms with everyone, including Eustace Bowerman even, who, however, did not seem inclined to be very friendly to him, seeming not to relish the remark of Maurice Woodville when he said,--
"Certes, Bowerman, Lisle oweth thee many thanks. Had it not been for thy kind thought, he would never have done so hardily as he hath. He would have been sitting his nag like any stick, such as you and old Pudding Face, when the bull ran at our lord--but now he hath gotten himself a name at the first start; our Captain will never forget."
Bowerman bit his lip. It was quite true.
"Marry, young Maurice, don't you be talking. If Lisle's horse took fright and bolted when the bull came blundering down that alley, I don't see why the Captain should make such a fuss about it."
"His horse didn't bolt," said Dicky hotly; "you know right well Lisle spurred him in the way."
"Nay, Master Dicky malapert, I know no such thing."
"Then you don't know much, as I always said," retorted Dicky.
"Marry, Dicky, I'll have to wallop thee once more, I see. You're growing saucy again."
"Wallop me i' faith!" sneered Dicky; "I'd like to see you doing it."
"Wait till we get on board the barge then, and you'll soon be satisfied."
Willie Newenhall never engaged in these wordy contests. He only thought of his appearance, when he was going to feed again, or of the danger he was always in from the fair sex, by reason of his own good looks. The other pages knew well his weak points, and would always chaff him on the risks he ran from his many fascinations.
"I' faith, Willie, there's a pretty lass looking at thee; and that's her brother, or sweetheart, with her. How fierce he looks. Ah, if you look at her that way, he'll be murdering you presently," added Dicky, as Willie looked round nervously, to see the group his comrade was referring to, only to meet with a jeering remark from the apprentice who was standing by the girl, of "Hi, young round knave, pudding chops or pig's eyes, what do you lack here?" or some equally elegant observation, which caused Maurice and Dicky to laugh derisively, and the men-at-arms and archers, who were close behind, to grin broadly.
But Willie was far too stupid to make any retort, he only grunted angrily, and leered at the people on the other side of the street.
Then they passed through Southampton, under the noble Bargate, with its figure of Bevis of Hampton, and the giant Ascapart, whose reality all true townsfolk believed in, and of whose doughty deeds with Guy of Warwick Ralph had often heard and longed to emulate. The cavalcade rode down the long street under the old west gate tower, and outside the splendid old walls, on to the town quay.
Oh, the sight of the gleaming water! Ralph had never seen the sea before--how it glanced and sparkled in the mid-day sun of June. The dim haze of the opposite shore, where stretched the New Forest away and away far into the land and down the coast, with all its memories of ancient times. The splash of the little waves, rippling before the fresh north breeze, as they sparkled against the bluff bows of the unwieldy barges or straighter stems of the swifter galleys. How stately was the curve of a high-prowed, lofty-pooped merchant ship as she came round to the helm, while all her sails fluttered in the breeze as her bows ran up in the wind, and the heavy splash told of the weighty anchor dropping to the muddy bottom of the Teste.
Then the smells, the sounds, the cries. Ralph had never enjoyed life before. All the instincts of his race came out in him,--of that ancient race of the island, whose origin was lost in the dim vista of antiquity, whose lands belonged to the mysterious sons of Stur long before the Norman Conquest, and passed by marriage to De Lisle, if indeed De Lisle was not simply the Norman form of expression for the original lord of the island, for who could more worthily be called "de insula" or "of the island" or "De Lisle" than that family which was above all others "of the island?" since the possessions of the "filius Azor" or "Stur" are the most important of any, as recorded in Domesday book.
The instincts of his sea-girt ancestors rose in him, and Ralph Lisle gazed at the dancing water with eager delight.
The scene of confusion that then followed delighted him still more. The getting the horses on board, the telling off the various parties each to its own barge, the excitement of pushing out into the stream, or warping the larger vessels off to their kedge anchors, which were dropped in the middle of the fairway, all this was delicious, and Ralph felt he was in a wonderful dream.
"Mind your eye, young Popinjay!" bawled a burly seaman. "Stand clear o' that warp now," as Ralph took his stand on a large coil of rope near the bows. "Such a gay bird as you should know better than to stand on a warp that way. Did yer think 'twas a doormat?"
In a few minutes the barge was hauled out into the stream, the anchor was right up and down.
"Haul away there," called the captain.
Out flapped the big foresail in the breeze, the jib was run out, the anchor was up, and hanging at the bows, already the water was chattering under her stem.
"Now then, my lads, shake out that mainsail. Look alive there!" bawled the skipper, and the great white sail dropped down from the mainmast and longyard, where it had been brailed up, and swelled out in the breeze, louder chattered the wavelets under the bow, and merrily the seamen sheeted home the ropes.
Ralph had now time to look round him. He was on the same barge as Lord Woodville and his immediate escort. The horses with the grooms and men-at-arms were on a large barge that was running alongside of them. On their right, but a little astern, was another barge containing the rest of the troop, and among them Ralph was glad to see the beggar man and his daughter.
The baggage and vanguard had gone on early in the morning, under the charge of Tom o' Kingston.
Ralph looked up at the swelling sails and the tall masts. The barge was bluff-bowed and high-sterned, like those remnants of the Middle Ages the Breton and Normanchasses maréesof modern times, and like them she carried three large lug sails, and one jib, set far out on a high peaked bowsprit.
As this was the barge of the captain of the Island, she was far better appointed than the other vessels. Her sails were white, and adorned with the arms of the Lord Woodville, argent, a fess, and canton, gules, while the mainsail bore the arms of Newport, the capital of the Island. The ropes were all white and new, and the decks and bulwarks were scrupulously clean, and the latter fresh varnished.
Ralph was never tired of looking aloft at the large blocks or pulleys, the strong ropes, the stout masts, and the swelling sails lazily falling in graceful folds as the breeze died down, or bellying out to the fresher puffs of the fair weather wind.
He leaned over the side and watched the ripple of the water as the hull glided through it. How dark green the sea looked on the side where the shadow of the hull and sails fell, how mellow and blue it sparkled on the side where the sunlight shone upon it. He looked at the other barges; they were rippling through the sea, a little fount of water spouting up under the cutwater, and glancing off the bows in a lovely curve of spray, the one vessel all shadow, the other all bright and gleaming in the sun.
The tide was running out strongly. Swiftly they flew past Netley, its abbey towers rising out of the green woods, the toll of its bell sounding over the water the hour of nones; gaily they flew past the mouth of the Hamble, and in a short time were gliding out by Calshott Spit, running before the breeze into the stronger ripple of the main tide of the Solent.
But long ere this Ralph had been summoned to dinner, and for the first time he was called upon to wait upon his lord. It was his duty to serve him with wine, and deftly he performed his task, for he had been well taught at home. The motion of the vessel was scarcely perceptible, and his hand was very steady. After the Captain of the Wight and his guests had been served, the pages sat down apart to their repast, and Ralph was astonished at his own appetite.
"I tell you what it is, little eyes," cried Dicky, "you'll have to look after yourself, or Lisle will leave you nothing to eat."
To this Willie Newenhall made no answer, but glanced askance at Ralph, and eat away harder than ever.
"There, there, Willie, dear, don't be afraid; he'll leave you a bit, if you are a good lad, I don't doubt," laughed Maurice.
It had been Bowerman's duty to attend closely upon his lord, and he had found no opportunity to put his threat in execution. However, now the repast was over, he began to remember what had passed.
"Dicky," he said, "come hither."
"Not I," said that lively young gentleman. "You can come here, if you want me."
"Be quiet, varlets!" called out Sir John Trenchard, who was sitting on a settle on the deck not far off. "If you want to jangle, wait till you get ashore."
They were now splashing through the tide, which ran swiftly over the Brambles, the steersman keeping the vessel's head well up to it, so as not to be carried down past the Newport river.
Larger and larger loomed up the island. Away to their left lay Portsmouth and the ridge of Portsdown; to their right they could see far down the Solent, point after point standing up in ever-decreasing clearness, until the distant Node Hill, above Freshwater, where the land trended away to the south-west, loomed up faint and grey in the shimmering haze of the lovely afternoon.
Nearer and nearer they drew to the island, and as they approached the land Ralph saw that a fine stretch of water opened up ahead.
"The tide's making out amain yet," said the skipper, approaching Lord Woodville, with cap in hand. "What will be your lordship's pleasure? Shall we run in and anchor, and land your lordship, or will it please you that we try to stem the tide? Natheless it will be but a poor job we shall make of it till the tide turns; and then we sha'n't have water far up for some while."
"Run us ashore at Northwood,[*] we will ride up to Carisbrooke. Our baggage can come up afterwards, in the evening, when the tide makes enough to float you up to Newport Quay."
[*] Cowes as yet (1487) was not. The building of the castles by Henry VIII., sixty years afterwards, was the beginning of Cowes.
"Ay, ay, my lord."
Ralph watched the movements of the crew with curiosity. As they ran in before the wind, which was very fitful, he saw them brail up the mainsail, then as they ran up past the land, which was all covered with woods and bush, they took in the foresail, and gently, under the light pressure of the jib, the barge slithered on the mud, close to a shingle hard, where it was possible to disembark at low tide.
And now again all was confusion. The other barges ran in alongside the Captain's. The gangways were lowered down. The horses with great difficulty were partly lowered, partly driven out on to the shingle. The grooms and men-at-arms got out, and led the horses up to form their ranks on the grass sward at the foot of the woods, which then stretched in unbroken verdure from Northwood Church to Gurnard Bay and Thorness, forming part of the King's Forest of Alvington, Watchingwell, or Parkhurst.
The Lord Woodville, when all was ready, disembarked with his guests, and, attended by his pages, he mounted his horse on the green grass above, great state being observed, and great care taken, by laying down mats and cloths, that he should not soil his feet on the muddy shingle.
As soon as he was mounted, the order to advance was given, and the cavalcade set off for Carisbrooke, through the green woods by the side of the blue Medina, glancing through the stems of the trees by the roadside. More than ever Ralph felt grateful to the Abbot of Quarr for having presented him to so puissant a chief, and one under whom he should learn such courtesy and gentleness. He felt sorry to leave the sea and the ships, but rejoiced that their journey lay along the water side.
Humphrey had disembarked with him, and Ralph, looking back, saw that the beggar man and his daughter were still on the other barge.
"We shall have to look sharp after our pony, Master Ralph," grumbled Humphrey.
As they rose over the hill by Northwood Church, where the churchyard was being prepared for the approaching consecration, for up to this year the few inhabitants had to go all the way to Carisbrooke to bury their dead, Ralph looked back, and thought he had never seen anything so pretty. Below, lay the Newport creek, clothed in thick woods on each side; beyond, stretched the blue Solent, the yellow line of the Hampshire coast and the grey distance blending with the mellow haze of the sky. The three barges, with their masts sloping at different angles, their great yards swinging athwart each other, and the sails only partially furled, giving animation and picturesqueness to the foreground, while above all spread the blue vault of heaven, cloudless and serene.
CHAPTER VI.
HOW THEY CAME TO CARISBROOKE CASTLE.
The cavalcade as it drew near Newport was formed into more precise array. It behoved the Captain of the Wight to enter the capital of his little kingdom in becoming state.
The vanguard, under Tom o' Kingston, had been sent on earlier in the day, the bailiffs and burgesses of Newport had therefore received ample notice to prepare for the reception of their Lord and Captain.
The military force of the island at this time was much improved. After the conclusion of the civil war, Edward IV. appointed Anthony Woodville, Lord Scales, the most accomplished knight as well as finished gentlemen of his time, to be lord and Captain of the Wight, in succession to his father, Richard, Lord Woodville, Earl Rivers. Under the martial rule of this skilled warrior, the defences of Carisbrooke Castle and the military force of the island seem to have been put on a sound footing, and the military tenures of the landlords who held their lands of the "honour of Carisbrooke Castle" were carefully inquired into, and their services duly enforced. The large powers possessed by the Warden of the Island, in the reign of Edward III., as evidenced in the commission granted to John de Gattesdon, show that a vigorous Captain had ample means at his disposal for mustering a formidable force, and that only the supineness, or corruption, or absenteeism of the lord of the island or his deputies could have allowed the inhabitants to have fallen into such a state of despair as two petitions, presented to the King and Parliament in 1449, show that they had yielded to. In short, if the Captain of the Wight was a keen soldier and able man, the forces of the island were smart and serviceable, and if he were not, they fell into indiscipline and inefficiency.
Sir Edward Woodville, now Captain of the Island, was in all respects a "righte hardie, puissant, and valyant knighte," and took pains that all under his command should be well-appointed and well-disciplined, and as his appointment vested in his person the supreme civil as well as military command, his influence and authority were wide reaching--in other words, he was a "strong" Captain.
The chief officials in Newport were the bailiffs, for there was no mayor or court of aldermen for more than a hundred and seventeen years after this date, and they acted as deputies for the Captain of the Wight in all matters relating to the business of the borough of Newport. These officials now came out, arrayed in all the dignity of their office, accompanied by the chief burgesses of the town, and attended by Tom o' Kingston and the body of archers and men-at-arms he commanded. The populace, naturally eager to see all pageants, crowded out of their houses, and by the time the procession, issuing from the town over the bridge to the north, had reached the Priory of St Cross, it had attained to very considerable proportions. Several of the neighbouring gentry had ridden in and joined the concourse, with their servants and dependants. Chief among these was conspicuous a martial figure, attended by a very lovely girl, and followed by four stalwart yeoman, well mounted and appointed. When thecortègehad reached the gate of the Priory of St Cross it halted, and in the meadows at the foot of Hunny Hill the concourse found room to see the reception of their Lord and Captain.
Soon after the arrival of the bailiffs and their attendants, the gleam of spear points, bills, and halberds showed over the brow of the steep hill that descended abruptly to the little town. Soon afterwards the Lord Woodville himself appeared, attended by his household and guests, and followed by the main body of his mounted archers and men-at-arms.
As Ralph looked down into the valley below he was struck by the gay prospect. The bright tabards and glancing weapons of the men-at-arms gave colour and life to the picture, mingling as they did with the soberer dresses of the townsfolk, with their wives and daughters. The high pointed head-dresses of some of the dames, and the horned caps of others, whence transparent draperies hung in the wind, much to the annoyance of their male relatives, who had either to take care not to become entangled in them, or else to run the risk of sharp reprimand or scornful look, added a quaint variety to the scene. The banner of Newport flaunted its blazon in the breeze, side by side with the arms of Woodville and the royal arms. Beyond were the red tiles of the old houses, the streets, neat and orderly, the tower of the Church of St Thomas, rising above the houses, and, behind all, the steep down of St George's to the left, and the range of downs stretching away to the right, with the vale of the Medina between, from which the mist of approaching evening was already beginning to rise, while from out the valley to the right the noble pile of Carisbrooke Castle rose clear and grand in all its feudal beauty, lately restored, and rendered wellnigh impregnable to the forces of mediæval warfare. How splendid it looked, its walls and battlements, turrets and bastions, lighted up by the westering sun, the dark shadow of the smooth slope of Buccomb down forming a background to the ruddy pile, and the donjon keep standing up grim and distinct amid the lesser towers and roofs, flinging defiance to the assaults of men and time alike in the flag on its summit.
Such was the scene Ralph looked upon, but as they descended the steep hill his eyes became fixed on the throng of people awaiting them, and once more he felt a sense of shyness come over him. He was not yet used to being looked at. His fellow-pages, however, were quite unconcerned, and were passing remarks freely among themselves under their breath, as they recognised faces in the crowd.
"Marry! there's old Billy Gander. How red his nose is! Why didn't he get some of thy powder thou art so fond of, Bowerman?"
"And look! there's Dicky Shide. By St Anthony! but he's got a worse squint than of old. Poor old Squint Eye!"
"Willie, my swain, there's Polly Bremeskete. I wouldn't let her see thee, that I wouldn't. She told Tom o' Kingston she meant to marry thee, come next Peter's day. And she always keeps her word."
"By'r lady, there's Yolande de Lisle; she looks more lovely than ever!" And Eustace Bowerman drew himself up, and sat his horse with greater importance than before, while even Richard Cheke and Maurice Woodville looked conscious, and glanced at their dress, squared their toes, and sat more erect on their steeds, holding their horses tighter with their knees, and making them step in lighter action.
Ralph glanced to where Bowerman had descried the object of all this homage, curious to see who it was that bore his name. He had heard that a great-uncle of his had returned to the island home of his ancestors in King Harry the Fourth's reign, but he had forgotten all about it, and had never given such remote genealogical questions a thought. However, now he heard the name mentioned, he recollected what he had been told, and what his father had said about the disinherited son, and the only daughter.
He had not to search long for the young lady who created so much admiration among the pages.
Sitting her palfrey with easy grace, and perfectly at home amid the noisy crowd and free manners of the rough troopers, was a girl or rather young woman of about eighteen or twenty, of very graceful, although somewhat robust, proportions, but remarkable for her brilliant complexion, lovely features, and sparkling blue eyes. Fun and health glowed in every line of her face, in her masses of wavy fair hair, which refused to be confined under the prim cap and horned head-dress in which the fashion of the time struggled hard to reduce them to order, in her soft cheeks, red lips, and graceful rounded figure. Ralph thought there never was anyone so lovely in the whole world. He forget everything. He gazed at her in rapt admiration, utterly oblivious of all that was going on.
"By my halidome, Master Page, whither goest thou?" said the grating voice of Sir John Trenchard, against whom Ralph bumped with a sudden jerk, as the troop stopped for Lord Woodville to receive the homage of his subjects. "Canst not see where thou goest, or keep a fitting distance from thy betters? Draw back to thy fellows, I say."
Thus roughly aroused, Ralph, much abashed, reined up his horse, and backed it to a line with the other pages, who were grinning from ear to ear at his luckless mistake; but what made him more uncomfortable still, was that he saw the fair object of his admiration had witnessed it all, and was smiling meaningly at Eustace Bowerman. He began to envy that page in a way he would not have thought possible before.
But Bowerman was all smiles and amiability now. He nodded familiarly to one person, haughtily to another, and most expressively to the lady on horseback. But she, after the first glance of recognition and amusement, looked no more his way, being occupied with gazing at the Captain of the Wight and the two French knights who were with him.
Ralph, as soon as he had recovered from his mortification, tried to keep his eyes away from Mistress Lisle, and watched what was going on.
After the bailiffs had done homage, and congratulated Lord Woodville on the success of his expedition, the burgesses came forward and performed their part of the ceremony, being greeted kindly by the Captain, who was evidently very popular. Ralph noticed that the old knight who sat his horse so firmly, and held up his head so proudly, was greeted with especial respect by Lord Woodville, who also exchanged very courteous salutations with the lovely lady of the golden hair, to whom he presented the two French knights, who, with their proverbial gallantry, seemed to be paying her compliments which, as they could not be too flattering, seemed not unwillingly received.
The ceremonies over, the cavalcade reformed. The bailiffs and the burgesses heading the procession, they then defiled over the bridge, and passed into the town.
Ralph had now recovered himself sufficiently to ask who that old knight was who looked so striking, and to whom Lord Woodville had paid so much attention.
"Ay, certes, you may well ask," said Maurice Woodville, "for he is, or ought to be, a kinsman of thine own, seeing he beareth the same name as thyself, and, for aught I know, the same coat armour."
"Nay, for the fair lady weareth on her mantle a coat argent with a chief gules charged with three lions rampant of the field, whereas my father beareth or a fess between two chevrons sable."
"Well, you must e'en settle that as best pleaseth you; all I know is that he is called Sir William de Lisle of the Wood, or, as our chaplain would have it, 'Dominus de Insula de Bosco,' which, to my thinking, isn't half as pretty as the English."
"And is that his daughter?" asked Ralph shyly, thinking of his father's words with keener interest.
"Ay, marry is she, and the loveliest demoiselle in all the Wight, and the world to boot, say I!" answered Maurice, with enthusiasm.
At the corner of St James Street, where it intersected the High Street, there was a halt. Here the Abbot of Quarr took leave of Lord Woodville, for his road lay down High Street, and so to his monastery. Sir William Lisle and his daughter, much to her regret, also took leave; but Lord Woodville, before parting with the Abbot and the old knight, called to Ralph to come up; who, with some embarrassment, rode forward, and was by Lord Woodville presented to Sir William Lisle and the fair Yolande.
"Sir William, I have a kinsman of yours I would fain make you acquainted with. This fair youth hath already begun right manfully, and I dare vouch will prove a full knightly twig of thy own worshipful stock."
Sir William de Lisle looked at Ralph, as he thought somewhat sternly, but his words were kind.
"Fair young sir, I am right pleased to hear thee so well reported of. 'Twill give our daughter and me joy to see thee at our poor home of Briddlesford, whenever thy noble Captain can spare thee. Thou wilt find good sport for thy hawk in the woods and creek of Wodyton, and along the banks of King's Quay; only beware how thou fliest him over the lands of the Abbot of Quarr, for he is a strict preserver of his own demesne."
As Sir William said this, he glanced at the Lord Abbot, and a merry twinkle was in his eye, for many had been the discussions over the rights of the respective demesnes, for the lands of the Lisles bordered on those of Quarr Abbey, and hot had been the complaints of Sir William that idle monks had been caught setting traps in his lands, which had led to counter charges on the part of the monks.
"And forget not, fair cousin, if thou shouldest be tempted our way, to bring over some of thy fellow pages with thee; for without them thou wilt be parlous dull, seeing there is naught at home to amuse thee saving my poor self; and one poor girl is but sorry sport for a merry page," said Yolande, with a demure smile, as she turned her palfrey to accompany her father.
Ralph longed to say something that would become him, but he felt very shy amid all that concourse of people, with his comrades watching, and the French knights and Lord Woodville all looking at him; he could only stammer out his thanks, and bow low over his saddle.
"Fare-thee-well, kinsman mine," said the Abbot; "give diligent heed to thy instructors, reverence those in authority over thee, and attend carefully to the ministrations of worthy Sir Simon Halberd, who will give me frequent account of thee when he cometh to Quarr."
"Grammercy, my Lord Abbot, I owe thee many thanks for thy great kindness in giving me to so noble a lord," said Ralph, who, now that the bright eyes of his fair kinswoman were not gazing at him with the amused look which so disconcerted him, felt his presence of mind returning, and was able to answer with his customary boldness.
And so the cavalcades parted, Mistress Yolande giving a farewell glance of Parthian destructiveness at the French knights, but deigning no more to notice such simple things as innocent pages.
"By St Nicholas, Bowerman, you are always to be luckless now!" laughed Maurice. "But yestere'en you helped Lisle to the best bit of good fortune he's likely to have for some time; and now he's called up before all of us to be presented to our fair princess of the golden hair. Didst see how kindly she smiled on him?" he added mischievously.
"Body o' me! an' you hold not your jabbering tongue, I'll flay you when we get to the castle!" said Bowerman savagely.
"Nay, fair youth, be not wroth; 'tis not I who got Lisle all this good luck. Virtue is its own reward. Be happy! sweet damoiseau, and rejoice in thy good nature. 'Tis true, 'tis not often you do a fellow a good turn; so be happy when you do."
"All right, my young cockerel, tarry but the nonce. My time will come anon," said Eustace, in furious dudgeon.
Ralph had fallen back as the procession moved on. All the pages were well known in Newport, and the doings of the little court at the castle were intimately discussed. The characters of each of the principal members of the garrison were well known, and any new arrival was critically examined and freely talked about.
[image]THE CAPTAIN OF THE WIGHT ENTERING CARISBROOKE CASTLE.
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[image]
THE CAPTAIN OF THE WIGHT ENTERING CARISBROOKE CASTLE.
The worthy burgesses' wives and their fair daughters much regretted that the Captain of the Island was not married. The lady of Sir John Trenchard presided over the domestic part of the castle, and did the honours when ladies paid it a visit. But she was not of an amiable disposition, and it was popularly reported that her worthy lord's little asperities of temper, and sourness of look, arose in great measure from the austere frigidity of this eminently respectable matron, who, however, as Ralph subsequently found, was at heart a very kind and sweet lady. The reasons for Lord Woodville being still a bachelor were variously stated, and all hotly asserted by their different supporters, who one and all had their information on undoubted private authority, which they were not at liberty to divulge. The only fact that really was known, however, was the simple one that there was no Lady Woodville. The head of the column was now mounting the steep ascent to the castle, and Ralph noticed the splendid position of this noble fortress. The sun was getting low on the western horizon; the level rays bathed all the long valley away to the west in a rich golden haze, falling full on the grandly-proportioned towers of the main guard. The massive walls, pierced for archery, and crowned with their projecting machicolations and graceful parapets, were not yet clothed with the growth of yellow and grey lichen which has been slowly painting them for the last four hundred years. The stone was yet fresh from the hand of the mason, and above the great gate, high up on the parapet, could be seen the arms of Lord Scales.
"My grandfather had that done!" said Maurice proudly, pointing up to the noble gateway as they tramped over the drawbridge, and passed out of the warmth of the sunlight under the heavy portcullis, and between the massive iron-studded oak doors, which were swung back to allow the Captain of the Wight and his "meynie" to enter, and then slowly and harshly swung back as the last man-at-arms clanked over the drawbridge, shutting out the sunlight and the outside world.
The guard under the archway presented arms, the trumpets sounded a flourish, and out into the sunlight, whose rays just passed between the towers, and touched his plume, rode the lord of the castle, and of all those stalwart men.
CHAPTER VII.
HOW THE COCKEREL SHOWED FIGHT.
The days passed rapidly by after Ralph Lisle had become part of the retinue of the Captain of the Wight. Each day brought its busy round of occupation. There was the early practice, before the morning meal, at throwing the bar, running at the quintain, and leaping over the wooden horse. Every exercise was directed to bringing fully into play all the muscles of the body, and especially such as were most needed in the handling of the lance, and the management of the war horse. After the morning meal, at which the pages had their table apart in the hall of the Lord Woodville's apartments, which at that period were very much in the same position as the Governor's lodgings were at a later time, when added to and repaired by Sir George Carey, those pages who were not on duty went through a course of "grammar and rhetoric," under the instruction of Sir Simon Halbard, the chaplain of St Nicholas within the walls. The whole garrison, or at least such part of it as could be spared from their duties, always attended mass every morning, for the Lord Woodville was a strict disciplinarian, and enforced the precept of the Church with the rigid punctuality of a Grand-Master of the Temple.
The "book-learning," as the pages called it, occupied about three hours, and then preparations were made for the mid-day meal, the most important of all the meals of the day. This repast was served in much state, all the pages being required to attend to carve and hand the dishes, and pour out the wine for the Captain of the Wight and his guests, or the knights of his household. After those of highest rank were served, the pages sat down to their repast, presided over by the senior esquire.
The afternoons were spent either in attendance on their lord, or in private amusements and exercises of their own. No one of the pages was allowed out of the precincts of the castle without Sir John Trenchard's leave, but this was usually very easily obtained.
So passed the days in healthy exercise and wholesome occupation. There had been many little bickerings, and even personal struggles between the pages, but, boy-like, they had been brief, and, on the whole, the life was very pleasant. Ralph had ridden over with Maurice Woodville to pay his relatives a visit at Briddlesford. They had met his fair cousin, who was riding out to fly her hawk; and as they accompanied her to a high hill, whence a lovely view was obtained all over the Solent and far inland from the New Forest and Beaulieu on the left to Chichester and even the hills above Arundel on the right, they were surprised to meet one of the Breton, or French Knights, as they called them, riding out there, quite unattended.
There had been much talk about the business of these Bretons with the Captain of the Island. Merchant ships, bringing salt and other commodities to Newport from Nantes and St Malo, had reported how unsettled was the state of Brittany, how the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Orange, both nephews of the old Duke of Brittany, had fled to him, to his castle of Malestroit, and how the armies of the King of France, who was himself but a boy, but whose affairs were wonderfully managed by that very wise and puissant lady the Dame de Beaujeu, his sister, had entered the country, and how all would go to utter ruin, unless King Henry sent force of knights and men-at-arms to assist the Duke of Brittany and his fair young daughter the Duchess Anne. Such news was bruited abroad, and there was no young knight in England who did not burn with ardour to lay lance in rest for so great a princess, and against the hereditary foe of England. All men knew, therefore, that the Sire de Kervignac and the Vicomte de la Roche Guemené were come to solicit men-at-arms and archers, and there was not one of the garrison of Carisbroke Castle who did not heartily wish they might succeed, and perhaps no one wished it more than Master Eustace Bowerman.
After the customary courtesies had been exchanged, Mistress Yolande urged the two pages to fly their hawks at a heron, which was busily feeding on the rich weeds far out on the mud at the mouth of a creek called King's Quay. The boys, nothing loth, cast off their birds, and rode eagerly after them. But whether it were that the wood was too thick, or the country too rough, the lady did not follow them, while the knight stayed, as in duty bound, to escort her, and so the boys lost sight of them for the rest of the afternoon. And not only did they suffer this disappointment, but, what was almost worse, Ralph's falcon killed the bird, but fell with it so far out on the mud that it was impossible to get at it, although the boys did everything they could to urge their dogs to go on to the treacherous slime, and bring the quarry to land. The tide was quite low, and they had to give up all hopes of obtaining more sport. It was with much difficulty, and after long waiting, that they were able to get the falcon to fly back to fist, for it was taught not to leave its prey until some one came to take it. When at last they did recover the bird, the afternoon was too far advanced for them to return by Briddlesford to inquire after Mistress Yolande, and bid good-bye to Sir William de Lisle, which Ralph would dearly have liked to do; and he was, besides, in such a state of mud from having tried to recover the bird, that they thought it best to return to Carisbroke without being seen by any one. Riding home as fast as they could, they made adétour, to avoid passing through Newport, and reached the castle just before the gates were shut for the evening. When they got back, and related the events of the afternoon, they found Eustace Bowerman, who was already sulky enough at not having been asked by Ralph to accompany him instead of Maurice Woodville, in a towering temper.
"You blind moles," he growled, "why did ye not cleave to Mistress Lisle and that jackanapes of a Frenchman? What geese ye must have been, to have been shaken off like that. But I'll talk to that jackanapes anon, that I will. What does he mean by coming over here and sporting in our covers?" and Eustace Bowerman flung himself out of his chair, and went to the oriel window, which looked out into the courtyard of the castle.
"I' faith, Eustace, my Trojan, don't you call me a goose again," said Ralph good-humouredly, but with a determination in his tone.
"And prythee why not?" said Eustace, who was glad of anything to vent his ill-humour upon. "None but a goose would show the white feather as you did, riding away from that dandified Frenchman."
"I never showed the white feather yet," said Maurice hotly, "and if you say that I did, you lie in your throat."
Eustace was not in a humour to take things quietly. In a passion at these words of Maurice, he rushed across the room, and would have flung himself upon him, had not Ralph put out his foot, and tripped him up. He fell heavily to the ground, greeted by a roar of laughter from Dicky Cheke, who scented the battle from afar, and chuckled at the approaching crisis.
"Oh, cocks and pies, my swaggering imp, look you there! You've split your new trunk hose all down the leg. Fie, man, you're not fit to be seen; run away and get old Gammer Tibet to sew it up for you."
But Eustace rose in a more towering rage than ever. He turned upon Ralph, and struck at him with all his force. But Ralph had not been learning martial exercises for nothing, and although he was four years junior to Eustace Bowerman, yet in height and activity he was in no way his inferior, although his frame was not as well set, or his weight and strength as great as that of his assailant. With ease, therefore, he knocked down the blow that Eustace aimed at him, but refrained from replying by a blow in return.
"Bowerman, I don't want to fight," said Ralph quietly; "why get into a rage about nothing?"
"So you don't want to fight, eh? I thought not," sneered Eustace, who was in a very evil mood. "Then I want to thrash you, so you'd best take it quietly."
Ralph, seeing that there really was nothing else for it, although he was of a very peace-loving, happy disposition, stepped back, and awaited his antagonist's assault.
Bowerman, who saw how reluctant Ralph was to fight, mistook this backwardness for cowardice, utterly forgetting, or else wilfully misinterpreting, the brave action of the boy at Winchester.
He advanced upon him with a fierce scowl of concentrated hate, and aimed a blow right at Ralph's face; but the boy guarded it with his right arm, and at the same time with his left dealt his assailant a swift and well-planted blow full in his chest, causing him to stagger back and gasp for breath.
"Well done, Lisle!" cried Dicky Cheke, in an ecstasy of joy and excitement. "Do it again, my lusty lambkin; follow it up with one on his nose that'll spoil his beauty for some time."
"Why don't you give it those little bodikins?" stormed Eustace to his ally Willie Newenhall, as he prepared to attack Ralph again.
"Because he's afraid, the big booby," laughed Dicky derisively.
Bowerman, seeing that his antagonist was not to be despised, determined to close with him and overpower him by his superior weight. Stepping back therefore, to gather way for a rush, he was about to spring upon Ralph, when that boy, with the instinct of a general, anticipated him, darting forward to meet him, and pounding him with blows.
The delight of Dicky was a treat to behold. He danced, jumped, sang, whistled, and at last, forgetting everything in the wild madness of the moment, he flung himself upon Willie, and belaboured him right manfully. That stolid youth was looking on with a lack-lustre expression on his fat face, and marvelling to see how Ralph dared to stand up to Bowerman, whom he had always looked upon as invincible. He was roughly aroused from his stupid contemplation of the contest, by Dicky Cheke's unprovoked assault. When once aroused, however, his greater age and weight told heavily in his favour, and poor Dicky would have paid dearly for his temerity, by being crushed under the dead weight of "Pig's Eyes," as he called him, had not Maurice Woodville assailed him with vigour in the rear.
The uproar now waxed furious. Ralph, who had gained a decided advantage by becoming the assailant, was pounding his adversary with hearty alacrity, not without receiving, however, very severe blows in return. The two smaller boys had got Willie down, and were pummelling him with right good will, while he roared lustily to Bowerman to come and take "these little fiends off him."
In the midst of the confusion the door opened, and the Captain of the Wight appeared, attended by the other Breton knight, the Sire Alain de Kervignac.
So busy were the combatants, that none of them noticed the interruption, and for a second or two fierce blows were exchanged before any one was aware that there were spectators.
Dicky Cheke was the first to catch sight of the calm face of his lord, over which an amused expression flitted.
"Holy saints!" he gasped, suddenly stopping in the act of planting a well-directed blow in the prostrate Willie's eye, who was at the same moment pounding Maurice in the chest, "here's the Captain," and he sprang up, breathless and confused, hastily adjusting his disordered dress as best he could.
The others were equally startled, and for a second or two there was a very awkward pause.
"Well, young gentlemen, I see you have taken the lessons of the tilt-yard to heart; but I should wish you to remember that it better becomes you to tilt at the quintain, or even at each other, with lances, than grovel on the ground, and spoil your clothes in this unseemly brawl."
The youths all looked very much abashed, but Lord Woodville would not see that it was a real fight that was going on; he treated it as a mere trial of strength, and continued:--
"I have brought this noble Breton knight to see you, for he purposes, together with his right valiant companion in arms, the sire de la Roche Guemené, to hold a joust against all comers, and he fain would see if I cannot spare the stoutest of my pages to make a trial of arms before the ladies of our island. How like you this, my varlets?"
There was no need to ask. The flushed faces and bright eyes showed how welcome such news was; only the three younger boys looked a little crestfallen, for they knew they were too young to be allowed to tilt in the lists, even supposing the two others were so highly favoured.
"I see by your looks you like the news well. Master Bowerman and Master Newenhall, I hear from Sir John Trenchard that you are now of an age when you may make public trial of arms, I therefore appoint you my esquires, and give you permission to joust with spears on the first six courses, but not to take part in the tourney with swords." Then seeing the looks of disappointment in the faces of Ralph Lisle, and his two comrades, he added,--"And you, fair pages, must rest you content for another year, when you be grown older. And now, my masters, set your dress in order--contend no more; and do thou, Ralph Lisle, come hither with me." So saying, Lord Woodville left the room, followed by the Breton knight, and speedily joined by Ralph, who stayed a second to put his dress tidy.
"My page," said Lord Woodville to Ralph, as soon as he had come up with them, "take this missive to the hermit who dwells on St Catherine's hill. Thou knowest the way--'tis where thou wentest hunting with me last week. Take the best horse out of my stable, and ride like the wind; wait for an answer, and bring me back word right quickly. I have chosen thee for thy good riding, and fealty to me. Talk to no man, but do my bidding straightway."
Ralph was delighted at this mark of confidence. He took the note, and turned away to go to the stables. As he was going out of the door of the hall, he heard Lord Woodville say,--
"I marvel where sire Amand de la Roche Guemené hath gotten to? I have not seen him all day."
Ralph paused.
"My lord, I saw him this afternoon. He met us with Mistress Lisle, and we left them together when we flew our hawks."
"Marry you did!" said the Captain of the Wight, glancing at his companion; and adding, in a voice not intended for Ralph's ear,--"Fair knight, we shall have to take care that thy gentle companion doth not spoil our island of its comeliest damoiselle."
As Ralph rode across the courtyard, he met Humphrey, who was astonished to see his young master riding forth so late, for the sun was just setting, and the gates were shut for the night; but Ralph with great pride told him, he was riding forth in all haste on the business of the Captain, and the worthy varlet shared in his young master's importance.
At the sight of the pass given to Ralph by Sir John Trenchard, the captain of the guard ordered the gates to open, and the heavy rattle of the chains showed that the drawbridge was being let down, and in another moment Ralph rode out into the glorious light of the after-glow which illumined all the sky to the west.
With a light heart he heard the heavy drawbridge creak up again, and, rejoicing in his freedom, he put spurs to his horse and rode fast over the hill, away towards the distant downs to the south. His horse was fresh, and, under Ralph's light weight, cantered swiftly along. He knew the way, or at least thought he did, and took no notice of objects; his mind was full of the approaching tilt, and his one idea was how he could obtain leave from Lord Woodville to let him splinter a lance. And so he cantered on in the ever-increasing gloom, not seeing how dim it was growing, or how damp a mist from the sea was drifting down the valley. The few roads that went through the island were bad in the most frequented parts, but in the cross tracks over the downs to the back of the island they were little more than muddy quagmires in wet weather, and ruts hard as rock in fine. Ralph galloped past Gatcombe, belonging to the Bremshotts, the last male of which family was then very old, and his lands were about to pass away to other names. Little did Ralph know that he was passing what once had belonged to his ancestors, and how that fair manor had come down, through three successive ladies, from the Fitz Stuar to the Lisles, and thence, in the female line, to the Bremshotts, whose daughters again would share it with the Dudleys and the Pakenhams. He breathed his horse up the steep slope that led past Chillerton Down, and as he descended on the further side, he first felt how damp was the night air, and noticed how difficult it was to find his way. Mindful, however, of his lord's injunction to make all the speed he could, he urged his horse to a reckless pace, and it was not until he had ridden for another half-hour that he began to be anxious as to his whereabouts. The air seemed much keener than it had been, and there was a salt freshness in it, that ought to have told him he must be near the sea. Could he have mistaken his way? There was no building he could see anywhere, and the track had entirely ceased. Ralph got off his horse to examine the ground. He was on rough, coarse grass, with large stones cropping up here and there. This might be the slope of St Catherine's down, or it might be anywhere. Ralph mounted his horse again. The mist was dense, there was no star or light to be seen in any direction, nor was there any sound of human life. But there was a sound--what was it? Ralph could hear a dull roar, and seething, swishing sound. He could not tell what it was. He had never lived by the sea, or he would have known that it was the swell of the Channel rolling on the shore, and breaking in surf among the rocks of that dangerous coast. He spurred on his horse once more. But after a few strides the horse refused to go further, and backed and reared, as he had never done before. In vain Ralph struck his spurs into his flanks, and urged him or by word and rein. The horse only reared and snorted the more, and swung round on his hind legs, plunging in utterly uncontrolled rebellion.
Ralph could not make it out. Never since the animal had been given to him had he known him to be so unmanageable. Seeing how useless it was to press the horse any further, he ceased to try to subdue him to his will, trusting to get the mastery when he had quieted down.
As the horse stood still, his flanks quivering with excitement, Ralph noticed a smell of smoke: his senses had become keener since he had lost his way.
This smell of smoke caused him to feel more hopeful; where there was smoke there must be a fire, and probably a human habitation. He turned his head round to ascertain where the smell came from, and, as he sniffed the air in various directions, he came to the conclusion that it must be in front of him.
Once more he urged his horse forward, but the animal was as determined as ever not to go that way.
"What can it be?" thought Ralph, who was beginning to feel a little superstitious, as the tales of goblins and spirits came back to his mind, suggested by the unaccountable noise, the mysterious smoke, and, above all, the remarkable stubbornness of his horse, usually so docile and manageable.
For the third time he stuck his spurs against his horse's sides, encouraging him by his voice at the same time, but with the same result--not one step forward would the animal take.
"Young man, didst thou never hear of Balaam?" said a deep voice, proceeding, apparently, directly from under the horse's head, and in another moment a tall black figure rose out of the darkness, so close as almost to touch Ralph, who could not restrain a shudder of supernatural dread at the suddenness of the strange appearance.