CHAPTER XVI.HOW THE COCKEREL WAS PETTED.Ralph Lisle had now reached the happiest hour of his life, and, in common with all humanity, he discovered that no happiness existed without alloy.As he rode round the lists, somewhat embarrassed at the shouts of applause with which he was greeted, the openly expressed opinions of the more matronly part of the fair sex, and the less public, but scarcely veiled admiration of the younger members of that all-powerful half of humanity, Bowerman, who rode next to him, kept saying, in a tone of intense scorn and hatred,--"Certes, Lisle, you are an impudent braggart, an you take all this balderdash to yourself. You know full well you'd never have gotten off as you did had you not been shamefully favoured."Ralph felt very angry. He was deeply mortified, for he could not help knowing that there was great truth in the assertion, the power and address of the unknown knight having been clearly proved in his joust with Master Meaux."You can't say it was by favour I unhorsed the Sire de la Roche Guemené.""Ay, but I can, and do. 'Twas that minx of a cousin of yours who brought that about.""Bowerman," said Ralph, his face flushing up, and his mouth working, "if you dare to call my cousin a minx, I'll beat you to a jelly.""Marry, will you? Forsooth, this braggart is growing apace! I shall call whom I like what name I like; and if you think you are going to stop me, you had better try. So there, master upstart!" and Bowerman snapped his fingers in Ralph's face in utter contempt and malignant defiance.As they were exchanging these hasty words, they were passing, on their way out of the lists, the little girl and her rough attendant. This latter eyed Bowerman significantly, and seeing that he did not notice him, for both Ralph and Bowerman were too heated with their words to take notice of anyone in the crowd, the man nudged the leg of the latter as he passed, and so drew his attention to him.As soon as Bowerman saw who it was, he changed colour."Hullo, my Trojan, what do you want?" he said, assuming a careless air."Take this, 'twill tell its own tale," said the man, handing Bowerman a dirty scrap of paper.Meanwhile Ralph had noticed the little girl, and seeing how pleased she seemed, he reined up his horse and spoke to her."Well, little maid, and where have you left your old father?"An amused expression passed over the child's face, and her eyes shone with mischief, as she replied,--"Ah, poor old man! He's so infirm, think you, as to be scarce able to walk? Well, 'twas very kind of you to lend us your pony, and you will never be sorry for it.""Where do you live?" asked Ralph, surprised at her voice, and trying to remember where he had heard it."Why, you know you saw me at Appuldurcombe Priory.""Marry, so I did, but I was busy with my Lord Captain then.""Ay, and with some one else, too. No marvel you had no eyes for me."This was a remark Ralph did not appreciate."And what are you doing there?""I'm being brought up by the nuns. But, do you know, Sister Agnes--'twas she who brought out the hippocras--has been ill ever since you came? She did nothing but sigh and weep, and weep and sigh, from the time she got in till now. The only thing that comforts her is when I am with her, and I ought never to have left her to-day, only father sent orders for me to come here.""Why, your poor old father sending orders to the Prioress of Appuldurcombe! that is a likely tale," said Ralph, smiling incredulously."And who do you think my father is?""Why, that poor old beggar whom I put on my pony, sure enough."The girl broke out into a merry laugh."Like enough, like enough," she said; and then went on in a different tone,--"So you found the Hermit of St Catherine's, did you? 'Twas a rare foggy night, wasn't it?""Why, what do you know about that?" cried Ralph, in astonishment.But again the only answer was a merry, mischievous laugh, and before Ralph, who did not like being mystified, could ask her any more questions, the rough man who was taking care of her, having finished his conversation with Bowerman, came up, and led her away, giving Ralph a peculiar look as he passed.The crowd had now become a disorganised mob. The lists were invaded, and children were picking up the broken splinters of the gaily-painted lances, or gazing in awe at the fine ladies who were being escorted from the pavilion. The great centre of attraction was the tent of the knights-challengers. Every one hoped to obtain a glimpse of the mysterious knight as he came out, but in this they were disappointed; no one came out except those who were well known, and at last, after waiting in hopeful curiosity for some time, the people gave it up, and went off in search of other amusements."Certes, Master Ralph," said Dicky Cheke, who met that successful youth as he was dismounting in the courtyard, amid the plaudits of the garrison and the congratulations of the visitors, who were standing about waiting for the evening festivities, which would shortly begin, preluded by a state banquet in the Captain's hall,--"certes, Master Ralph, you are in luck's way; but why that should make a little wench in the crowd pinch my arm, I can't tell. 'Twas the oddest thing! The little quean asked me if I was your friend. I stared at her, and said,--'Ay, marry; but I didn't see that gave her a right to pinch my arm.' Whereupon she laughed. 'What are you laughing for?' said I. 'Because you're such a merry little boy,' said she. 'Grammercy, little girl,' said I. Whereupon she began to laugh more than ever; and I had to say I'd send the leech from the castle to give her something to stop her going on like that before she made an end of it; and when she did, she finished up with,--'Oh, do let me tell you what I wanted to, before I die of laughing at such a merry little tom-tit.' There! I solemnly declare she called me a tom-tit, though, certes, I doubt if you'd credit it.""Well, what's all this about? when are you coming to the point?" said Ralph."Marry! that is just what I said to the little wench, and she did nothing but laugh. At last she quieted down, and said, if I was your friend, I was to be sure and look after you and Bowerman. She said she did not like that boy--fancy Bowerman's joy! I'll tell him she called him a boy; and there I agreed with her. She seemed to think Bowerman meant to do you a mischief, and i'faith I shouldn't marvel. 'Twas he who had something to do with laming Black Tom, I'll wager; and he's as mad with rage and spite against you as 'tis possible to be without choking. I only wish he would! So now, young man, I shall look after you. Don't be down-hearted; I am near you; I'll take care of you. But who'd have thought it! She called me a tom-tit! Dicky Cheke a tom-tit! Richard Cheke, page-in-waiting to the high and mighty Captain of the Wight, tom-tit! Good lack! good lack!""Well, 'tis a comfort you'll take care of me, in sooth," said Ralph, as he went up the narrow winding stairs to his room, which he shared with Dicky, and which was next that of Bowerman, at the top of a turret overlooking the courtyard.Humphrey followed his young master, and unbuckled his armour."Marry! Master Ralph, what'll they say down Thruxton way?""'Tis a piece of luck, Humphrey, and I can't claim any credit in the tilt. But why do you think that unknown knight showed me such favour?""Beshrew me if I know; but 'tis clear enough he did let you off. Well, no matter! I'faith, all the better, say I. You'll be sure to have the ruby ring: I heard every one say so.""Do you think I shall have the prize?" cried Ralph, astonished and delighted."Ay, marry, do I! That rusty one won't have it, albeit he deserves it. They always give it to a young one like you, if they can in reason.""Well, I almost wish I may not get it," said Ralph thoughtfully."And why, Master Ralph?""Because of course I don't deserve it, and 'twill make Bowerman more jealous of me than ever, and he will have cause, certes, for saying I have been favoured.""Oh, never fear him! You take my advice, and give him a good trouncing. You can easily do it, and he'd be all the better for it. Not but what he's a spiteful lad; and 'tisn't only me as thinks he knows more about Black Tom going lame than he'd like any one to say.""Have you heard who that knight was?""Ay, there's a many as knows. Some says 'tis Sir Robert Clifford, him as is a known Yorkist, and who's been looked for for some time past. Others say 'tis my Lord Lovell, who's never been heard of since Stoke field. There's some as say even 'tis King Richard himself, got well of the wounds as laid him low at Bosworth. I'faith, there's no end to the tales they all swear is the truth.""And what do you think, Humphrey?""Well, I doesn't just know what to think; but I'se sure he be a Yorkist, because of his collar. But then I can't think why the Captain didn't have him placed in safe keeping. 'Twill look ugly at Court, I'm thinking, and the King won't be best pleased when he hears of it."By this time Ralph had stripped off all his armour, and was dressing himself in his gay new suit, which set off his well-knit, graceful figure to perfection. As he finished, and Humphrey was admiring his young master, the step of somebody ascending the narrow stairs could be heard, and soon afterwards Bowerman entered his room and shut his door.When Ralph came into the hall he was almost dazzled by the brilliancy of the scene. He found himself the centre of attraction, and it would have been strange if his head had not been a little turned by the attentions he received. While standing in the lower part of the hall, Dicky Cheke, who was now splendidly dressed, but in the livery of a page, came up to him with an air of great importance."Lisle," he said, in a loud tone, and looking superciliously at the guests who were talking to Ralph, "the Lord Captain of the Wight is wishful to discourse with thee."This was a high honour; and Ralph, bowing to the worthy esquire to whom he was talking, followed Dicky to the dais at the end of the hall, where Sir Nicholas Wadham was talking to the Sire de Kervignac, and Yolande was gaily chatting to the Captain of the Wight and the other Breton knight. Ralph felt very shy as he came up, all eyes following his splendidly-dressed, graceful figure. He held his plumed velvet bonnet in his hand, and his wavy brown hair hung in luxuriant masses on each side of his frank, boyish face.Lord Woodville greeted him very kindly."My fair esquire," he said, "I am right joyous at thy gallant bearing. Thou wilt make a good knight ere long; and albeit thou hast won thy fame by the favour of thine adversary, yet thou hast shown to all men how well thou canst tilt, and what promise there is hereafter.""Ma foi!" said the Sire de la Roche Guemené, shrugging his shoulders, and smiling; "I vould zat ze damoiseau had shown me a leetle favour. It vas a rude knock he gave me.""Cousin Ralph," said Yolande, smiling at him with her sunny, radiant smile, "I am full glad thou art so puissant a chevalier, and right proud am I that thou and I bear the same name. 'Tis the noblest name in the island, and full nobly hast thou held up its fame."Ralph could only look intensely pleased; he could not speak a word. He simply gazed at his cousin with eyes brimful of admiration and affection.Seeing his confusion, the Captain of the Wight said,--"Noble Judges, we are all here now. To whom shall we award the prize in this day's tilt?"Sir Nicholas Wadham gave his opinion in favour of the unknown knight, but the Captain of the Wight produced a scrap of paper, part of which was torn off in which it was declared, on behalf of the unknown knight, that he tilted for no prize, looking for a higher guerdon and more deadly tilt a entrance as his reward hereafter."That, then, settles the matter," said Sir John Trenchard, "for the only other man-at-arms who was not unhorsed was Master Lisle.""Then, my noble friends, I may take it that we all agree the prize belongs to Master Lisle?"The others assenting, the Captain of the Wight made a signal to the trumpeters, who gave a prolonged flourish, after which, amid dead silence, the Captain briefly declared the opinion of the Court, praising the courtesy and generosity of the Breton nobles, and significantly declaring that "he knew all men there were right wishful to requite courtesy by courtesy, and would fain send back over the seas such a goodly company as would show their Breton kinsmen how greatly they valued their friendship and good fellowship against their common enemy of France," a sentiment which was received with gravity by the older knights and esquires present, but was rapturously applauded by the younger men. After this Lord Woodville handed to Yolande the ruby ring in its casket, declaring Ralph Lisle to have duly won it by his skill and hardy prowess.There was prolonged cheering as Lord Woodville finished, and the shouts were deafening as Ralph knelt down and received the ring from his cousin, who handed it him with a sweet smile and gentle words. He took it rapturously, and stammered a few words of thanks to her, the queen of the tourney, and to the Breton nobles who had given the prize; and then, before rising from his knee, he gave it back to his cousin, asking her to keep it in remembrance of that day, and for his sake. Yolande took the trinket with evident pleasure, and a well-feigned air of surprise, thanking Ralph cordially, who rose from his kneeling position, and was about to retire, when old Sir William Lisle, who was standing by, a smile of pleasure softening his grim and determined features, said,--"By'r Lady, Ralph, thou art a damoiseau in sooth, or thou wouldest know there is another prize thou canst claim, an thou likest, and the guerdon, by all the laws of the tourney, may not be withholden."Ralph looked up with a puzzled air, while Yolande held down her fair head, and pouted with a half-vexed air."Nay, father, cousin Ralph knows full well what is best to be done. Go, fair cousin, 'tis a custom better honoured in the breach than the observance.""Humph!" chuckled Sir William. "An thou callest it by that--"But Lord Woodville hastily interrupted, well knowing the humour of the old knight."Master Lisle," he said, smiling, "Sir William means that by the laws of the tourney and chivalry the winner the most laud and guerdon may claim a favour from the Queen of the Tilt, which she may not refuse. In other words thou mayest--""Nay, nay, my Lord Captain," broke in Yolande, "thou hast said enough. Cousin Ralph, the ceremony is over," she added hastily, and with a heightened colour; "thou art keeping all the company from their converse and pastime."Ralph stood looking on somewhat abashed, and at last, making a low bow, and dropping once more on one knee, he gracefully took his cousin's fair hand, and imprinted a kiss of respectful love and homage. Then rising, amid the hum of congratulation from the company, he retired into the body of the hall."Well, times are changed," said Sir Nicholas Wadham; "I'd never kiss a fair maid's hand if I could have her lips, and cheek, for the asking or taking.""Then you are a ruder man than I took you for, Sir Nicholas, and I shall tell Lady Wadham what you have said. I am glad my cousin hath learnt better ways," said Yolande, tossing her head, and giving Sir Nicholas a severe look.The guests were now all assembled, and the banquet was ready. A prolonged blast on the silver trumpet of Lord Woodville's trumpet-major announced the beginning of the feast, and soon the hum of voices gave place to the clatter of knives and jingle of plate. There was the usual medley of fish, flesh, and fowl served up in the quaint fashion of the time, and succeeding each other, with fantastic sweets intervening, after the mode of the age. Subtleties and jellies, baked meats and roast; soups of divers sorts, and some resembling rather sweet syrups than the modern soups, rapidly succeeded each other, or adorned the long tables set down the hall, while gaily-dressed serving-men and varlets handed the dishes and washed up the plates, at a large table or dresser at one end. In a gallery above, the musicians played tunes both gay and plaintive, according to the taste of the age, for fair ladies were supposed to be quite as much pleased with the sufferings of their knights as with their valiant deeds, and a gentle knight who could not suffer becomingly, had not learnt a very important part of his education in the court of chivalrous romance. In the intervals of the music a jongleur recited the adventures of Sir Tristram and the fair Yseult, while the jester belonging to the household of the Captain of the Wight interrupted him from time to time with broad jokes, dry remarks, or riddles which he answered himself.After the banquet, the tables were hastily cleared, while most of the company adjourned to the castle-yard and sauntered round the noble quadrangle, where the soft light of the moon threw quaint shadows down over the grass and walls of the castle.The minstrels took up their position on a platform near the wellhouse, and the gentlemen and ladies paired off in readiness for the dancing to begin. The music soon struck up, and away the couples went in the stately "Pas de Brabant."Ralph was standing in a state of dreamy joy watching the graceful figures of the ladies, before whom each chevalier bent the knee as he revolved in the intricacies of the dance. He was thinking how lucky he was, and how kind and lovely Yolande looked as she danced with sweet grace in a set with the Captain of the Wight for her partner, and the Sire de la Roche Guemené, with a pretty girl dressed in exquisite taste, as theirvis-à-vis.As Ralph stood looking on, Newenhall came up to him."Lisle, there's a young damsel wishes to speak with thee. She's outside the main gate, and cannot come in. Jock Osborn's sergeant of the guard; he'll let thee out, an there's any hindrance."Ralph's thoughts instantly flew to the events of the tilt. Somehow this little girl seemed to have a strange influence on his destiny.He went to the gate. The deep shadows of the huge towers were impenetrable in their opaqueness. He stepped out of the bright moonlight, his graceful figure gleaming in its gay attire, and flashing in the silver light, before he disappeared into the black shadow. The guards were keeping but a lazy watch. He pushed aside the little wicket-gate in the huge iron-studded door, and stepped out into the blackness, rendered all the blacker by the brilliancy of the landscape beyond. The shadow of the two noble towers and main ward was thrown clear and distinct across the drawbridge and road outside, while all beyond shone and sparkled in the moonbeams. A silver haze spread over the valley in the distance, and the sounds of music and revelry gaily vibrated behind.Ralph could see no one. He looked into the shadow of the great gate. There was a sound there--a faint rustle."Little maid, is that you?" said Ralph.A sharp spasm, a burning pain, was the sudden answer, and Ralph knew no more.[image]A SHARP SPASM WAS THE SUDDEN ANSWER.Half a minute after, and Dicky Cheke sprang through the door."Ralph," he cried, "Ralph, come back, 'tis a trap!" but all he saw was a figure disappearing in the silver haze over the brow of the steep hill.CHAPTER XVII.HOW THEY WERE AT FAULT.As Dicky Cheke darted after the figure which disappeared in the mist, he stumbled over some obstacle on the ground, and nearly fell. Recovering himself hastily, he stooped down to see what it was. The moon had risen higher, and the black edge of the shadow of the castle was receding before the silver light."Holy Saints!" gasped Dicky, as he stooped down, and saw with horror that what had caused him to tumble was the body of Ralph Lisle, the gleam of his gay dress plainly telling who it was. "I have come too late."Then springing up, he called to the guard to bring a light, and run for a leech. The shouts of the boy soon brought assistance. Three archers on guard hurried out of the gate, carrying a lighted cresset with them. By the lurid glare of the smoky light Dicky, who was kneeling down by his insensible friend, could see a dark stain marring the rich colours of the tunic, and a black pool under the right side of the prostrate boy."He's been hard stricken," said one of the men."Here's been foul play. But who'd hurt Master Lisle?" said another."Now, none of your talking," said Dicky. "Get some water and cloths." At the same time he tore up his fine white linen tabard and laid the pieces over the small puncture from which the blood was welling in ominous streams. "I' faith, the poor lad will bleed to death, an the leech comes not.""Here he comes," said the other archer, as a tall figure in a long fur gown came out of the wicket-gate, attended by several others, among whom the weather-beaten face of Sir John Trenchard was visible."How's this? how's this?" he inquired peremptorily. "How came the lad out here?"No one answered."Which of you men was on guard?""Please your worship, 'twas my guard," said one of the men, knowing that Sir John Trenchard would be sure to find out, and thinking it best to make a virtue of necessity."Then how came this about?" said the Seneschal sternly."Marry, Sir John, 'tis more than I know. 'Tis parlous dark under the gateway, and belike he slipped out while my back was turned.""Get you to the guard-room. There'll be more of this anon," said Sir John sharply. Then turning to the leech, he asked, "Is the boy dead?""Nay, Sir John; 'tis a deep wound, but not mortal. There's no artery severed, as thou mayest see by the darker colour of the blood. Had it been of a scarlet colour, 'twould have been useless for me to come. The flow is already stayed. We must get him to his bed, but that gently."While the archers were raising Ralph with great care, Sir John Trenchard closely questioned Dicky Cheke as to how he came to find Ralph, and elicited from the page how the mysterious warning had been given him by the little girl, and how Bowerman had been designated as cherishing vengeful designs on Ralph."Where is Bowerman?" said Sir John Trenchard."Nay, I have seen him not," answered Dicky Cheke."Bid the pages be called to my apartment," said Sir John to one of the yeomen who attended on him. Then turning to Dicky, he said, "And who is this little wench?""I know not, Sir John. I never saw her before to-day.""Hast thou any cause to suspect any one? Thou mayest speak freely; 'tis a case will have to be carefully inquired into."Dicky Cheke hesitated; he had the natural disinclination all honest, manly natures have to incriminate any one, or harbour a thought that might do an injustice to another. Like all the rest of the garrison, he strongly suspected that Bowerman was at the bottom of the cruel trick which had been played on Black Tom, and he more than mistrusted him in this present case."Well, Master Cheke, hast thou no answer to give? 'Tis a grave matter. Thou wilt have to answer. Dost thou mistrust Eustace Bowerman?""Yes, Sir John," said Dicky, slowly and reluctantly."Ay, marry, and so do I. But we shall see anon."They had now entered the courtyard. At the sight of the little procession--the four stalwart men walking in time, and the pale face of the insensible boy--the dancers all stopped, and came crowding round; but at a word from Sir John Trenchard, and a polite request from the Captain of the Wight to continue their festivity, the guests resumed their dancing, only Yolande insisted on going into the hall with her injured cousin, and old Sir William Lisle attended her. The leech now carefully examined the wound, and his verdict was anxiously awaited.The usual remedies were resorted to for restoring animation, and, to the joy of Yolande, after a little quiver of the eyelids, they slowly opened, and Ralph once more looked upon the world.The leech, seeing that all immediate danger was over, and that the hæmorrhage was yielding to the treatment, directed a bed to be made ready in a room adjoining the hall, and then dilated upon the excellencies of his remedies, to the great impatience of Yolande."But, Master Leech, will he get well? Is it a dangerous wound?""Nay, fair Mistress Lisle, science answereth not such bold questions as these but with silence. To get well is in the hands of God; we can but speak of how science and medicine knoweth what is the best course to adopt. 'Tis well known to those admitted to the occult arcana of the heavenly influences that the celestial bodies exercise a strange influence on our poor bodies of clay. Sol draweth unto him during the day the blood of our systems, gentle Mater Nox appeaseth the heat of our sanguine flow, and settleth the blood in our extremities. As at the third hour the bile subsideth, so that its acrid properties be not blended with the flow of the blood, so also at the second hour the atrabilis subsides, and in the eventime the phlegm abateth--""Marry, Master Surgeon Barber, thy discourse causeth my head to buzz. Tell me plainly an thou canst, is my cousin in danger of death?""Noble lady, to give a short answer becometh not the dignity of my art. There are hopes in that chaste Luna is in the ascendant, and Æsculapius ruleth the seventh house, that what is natheless a deadly thrust may yield to my remedies. But as the learned Averroes--than whom my old master, the worshipful Master Thomas Morstede, knew no--""Beshrew me, Master Barber, thou wilt drive me mad!" cried the impatient Yolande. "Canst thou not answer me plainly, instead of talking thy jaw-breaking jargon?"But the leech or barber was incensed at this want of respect, especially coming from a young lady, and he briefly replied he must wait before giving an opinion until Aldeboran reached the third house.Compelled to be satisfied with this answer, Yolande saw her cousin moved to his new couch, and then, recognising the absolute necessity of not disturbing him, she returned to the festivities, over which a cloud had been cast by this strange event.Meanwhile Sir John Trenchard had gone to his apartment, and thither Maurice Woodville, Willie Newenhall and Dicky Cheke followed him."Where's Master Bowerman?" inquired the Seneschal.No one answered."Who saw him last?" was the next question.Newenhall moved uneasily, but looked as stolid as ever."Master Newenhall, thou art the eldest; tell me where you last saw Master Bowerman.""An it please you, Sir John, 'twas after the banquet was over.""Well, where was he? Was he dancing?""He was dancing.""How long agone was that?"Newenhall twisted his cap round, and looked more stupid and vacant than ever."Come, Master Newenhall, brush up thy wits and give a short answer--time presses.""Maybe 'twas an hour ago," said the page sullenly.Sir John Trenchard, seeing that Newenhall, either through stupidity or on purpose, would give no useful information, turned to Dicky Cheke and bid him narrate all the circumstances of his finding Ralph.When he heard of the figure disappearing over the steep declivity on the other side of the road, Sir John rated Master Cheke soundly for not having bid one of the archers pursue him; and in spite of Dicky's protestations that he was so flurried by the sight of Ralph's body lying bleeding in the road, as to think only of helping him, that young gentleman was severely reprimanded for his absence of mind."One who would be a useful knight, and serve his prince well, should never forget what is the right course, never mind what may be the obstacles," said the Seneschal, with stern sententiousness.Maurice Woodville could give no information; he had been in close attendance on the Captain of the Wight, and had not seen Bowerman at all.Orders were now issued to have the castle searched for the missing page, but with no result. He was not found, and no one had any doubt that it was Eustace Bowerman who had struck the blow.The guests all dispersed to their homes soon afterwards, many of them being accommodated for the night in the castle as guests of the Captain of the Wight; among whom Sir William Lisle and his daughter, with the Abbot of Quarr, were the most honoured.The next morning, the first visitor to inquire after Ralph was his cousin Yolande. It was joyful news to her to hear that he had passed a quiet night, and, although very weak and faint from loss of blood, was doing well. No one had as yet questioned him on the strange accident, and it was still a mystery why he had gone outside the castle at all."'Tis a rare mischance, Maurice," said Dicky Cheke, as they went downstairs together to begin the duties of the day; "Ralph might have gotten the prize of this day's tourney also.""'Twas Bowerman that dealt the foul stroke," said Maurice, without heeding the other's remark. "Where can he have gotten to?""Ay, where indeed? But he can't escape; I hear there's orders been sent out to search all boats that leave the island.""Marry! why he could have gotten clear off before the alarm was raised. They ought to have scoured the country for him last night, they'd have taken him then withouten any doubt."Dicky looked rather foolish. He remembered how he had been rated by Sir John Trenchard the night before."Dost think Newenhall knows aught of the matter?""Humph!" answered Dicky. "He didn't like Ralph, and he wouldn't stop any harm coming to him, but I don't think he's got the pluck to do him a wrong himself.""His ways were odd last night. Didst mark how he couldn't answer old Jack-in-Harness's questions?""Couldn't? Wouldn't, you mean," said Dicky. "Ay, I marked it sure enough. Well, old Jack's as sharp as a needle--he'll find it all out."The conversation was interrupted by their arriving at the door of their lord's apartment, and being ordered to enter by the archer on guard.The account of Ralph Lisle's favourable condition was joyfully received throughout the garrison, and the news had already spread to Newport."So I hear there was a young lad slain last night in a drunken brawl after the revels," said the same rough fisherman who had spoken with Bowerman the day before, to a countryman whom he met coming out of Carisbroke."Ay, so they say; leastways, if it warn't two or three as was killed. Holy Thomas! they castle folk be a woundy lot of gallants. They'd as soon kill each other as the French, so long as there's nought else to kill.""Marry, and you're right; but I hear there'll be blows anon.""Ay, sayest so? Well, well; but where away? All's quiet i' the land, bean't it?"Seemingly. But there's them as'll be moving soon. They've not done with the White Rose yet. Howsever, 'tis blows in France as'll soon be going. 'Tis rumoured over t'other side o' the water that our Captain's a-going over there with a power of men.""No! you don't say so; and who's he going to fight?""Why the French, to be sure; all along o' the Duke of Bretagne having helped King Henry when he were in hiding there.""Then 'tis the King of France as backs the t'other side--eh?""Ay, ay; and another powerful princess.""Oh! and who's that?""Why, 'tis the good Duchess of Burgundy, as was sister to our brave king, to be sure.""What, she as I heard say gave that Simnel lad so much money? Well, now, she be a kind lady. But, i' faith! I'm sick o' wars. 'Tis the ruin of all our lives and fortunes; and surely we've had enough i' the past years.""Marry! my lad, there's always a picking when knights are pricking. 'Tis wars makes poor men rich, and rich men poor, an you only know the way.""Ay, ay, but you beant as old as I be. I've worked on Swainston Manor for a matter o' twenty-four year come next Lammas. My lord then were the great King-maker, as he were called--Old Bear and Ragged Staff. And what came to him? why, he were slain in battle at Barnet field. Then arter him, my lord were the Duke of Clarence. Well what came to him? why, all along o' being a king's brother, and not having such a good headpiece as t'other brother, he were put i' a butt o' Malmsey--so they sez, leastways--and so were drowned. And now, who's my master? why him, poor lad, as they've got mewed up i' Lunnon Tower. And all for what? because, poor lad, he's his father's son, and bears the name of Warwick, like his grandfather; and like enough he'll come to a bloody end too."[*][*] He was executed for trying to escape from the Tower with Perkin Warbeck, in 1498."Well, well, I shall be late for the sword strokes an I stop here. Are you coming, gaffer?""Marry am I. There'll be a sight worth seeing, I hear. Who'll win the prize to-day, think you?""Certes, there's not much question. 'Twill be the stout knight in the plain armour.""Oh, ay! and who be he?""That'll be known soon enough; but come along."So saying, they walked off to the place of arms, where the tilting had taken place the previous day.There was the same concourse of spectators, but the interest was not nearly so great as it had been the day before, the hand-to-hand encounter with swords not affording such opportunities for spectacular effect as the mounted contests.However, there were some very fierce encounters, Sir Alain de Kervignac exchanging several hard blows with Sir John Dudley, who had recovered sufficiently to take part in the proceedings. It was unfortunate that the only combatants on the assailants' side who could fight at all on equal terms were incapacitated by the severe wounds they had received; and in order to prevent the sport becoming too tame, permission was given by the Judges to Sir Richard Cornwall and the unknown knight to meet the two Breton knights.That evening Ralph was so much better that Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were allowed to see him. The lively account given of the day's proceedings by the former young gentleman will describe the fighting better than a mere narrative of the sword-strokes exchanged."'Tis a pity, Ralph, thou wast not there. 'Twas rare sport. Sir Richard Cornwall caught the Breton--the Sire de Kervignac, I mean--such a crack over the costard, I thought he had split his skull; but he's a tough little wight, that he is. He no more minded it than if it had been a fleabite. Up he sprang, and waving his sword in the air, he brought it down like a flash of lightning right athwart Sir Richard's sword, which he held to guard his head; he hit so hard that he cut it right in two, and then, swinging it round, he gave him a buffet on the side of his salade--for he wore a salade and not a burgonnet to-day--that, big man as Sir Richard Cornwall is, he staggered, so that I verily bethought me he was going to fall to the ground, and thou knowest how big a man Sir Richard is. And all the while Sir Richard had no sword to smite in turn; but he made a brave fight of it, for he rushed out round the barrier and seized the small Breton in his arms. Then we did shout; oh, how I shouted!""Yea, and got rapped over the costard for doing it," said Maurice Woodville. "And serves you right, too; I felt quite grieved for thy want of manners.""Now that is a scurvy tale! Why, Maurice, thou knowest thou wast going to shout too, only thy mouth was so full of apple puff that thou hadst filched from Polly Bremeskete's basket, which was open as thou chancest to pass, that thou couldst not make a sound saving a gruesome, pig-like snort. Come, that won't do.""Marry will it. I did not make a braying jackass of myself, as thou didst.""No, because thou hadst already made a pig of thyself. But there! 'twill be long ere I finish my tale, if thou breakest in in this way.""Then cut it short, Dicky, or, better still, I'll go on. Well, Ralph, the Marshal stopped them. He bade Sir Richard let go, and said both had done their devoir full well. But the best sport of the whole was when the Rusty Knight--I marvel who he is--tackled the other Breton--him whom thou toppledst over, thou knowest. There was a slashing and rashing! The sparks flew like the sparks at the armourer's forge when Tom works the bellows, and at last the Rusty one smote the Breton so fierce a blow that he fell to the ground and never moved, and all men thought him dead. Then the people shouted, and--""Yes! and thou hadst finished thine apple puff then, so thou shoutedst too," broke in Dicky, who was fuming and fidgetting at the story being taken out of his mouth."Thou wert told to be still, and not make a noise, Dicky. We shall have old Mother Trenchard after us an thou art not quiet. Well, as I was saying, the Rusty Knight having no--""You weren't saying it!" broke in Dicky again. "You were saying--""What an egg thou art, Dicky! Wilt thou be still, and let me finish?""Why, 'twas I who began, and I ought to finish."But here Lady Trenchard was attracted by the rising voices, and coming in, bade both the boys begone.Placing her cool hand on Ralph's brow, the kind lady remarked she was glad to see him looking so well; and then, sitting by his side, she went on with her work, while she told him, in a more connected way, the events of the day.Ralph was relieved to hear that Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené was not seriously hurt, only stunned by the terrific blow of his antagonist."But who is he, Lady Trenchard?--knowest thou?""'Tis a deadly foe to the Lord Captain, for he openly challenged him to mortal combat," said Lady Trenchard gravely."What! he dared to challenge the Captain of the Wight?" cried Ralph, in amaze; "and what said he?""He accepted his challenge."
CHAPTER XVI.
HOW THE COCKEREL WAS PETTED.
Ralph Lisle had now reached the happiest hour of his life, and, in common with all humanity, he discovered that no happiness existed without alloy.
As he rode round the lists, somewhat embarrassed at the shouts of applause with which he was greeted, the openly expressed opinions of the more matronly part of the fair sex, and the less public, but scarcely veiled admiration of the younger members of that all-powerful half of humanity, Bowerman, who rode next to him, kept saying, in a tone of intense scorn and hatred,--
"Certes, Lisle, you are an impudent braggart, an you take all this balderdash to yourself. You know full well you'd never have gotten off as you did had you not been shamefully favoured."
Ralph felt very angry. He was deeply mortified, for he could not help knowing that there was great truth in the assertion, the power and address of the unknown knight having been clearly proved in his joust with Master Meaux.
"You can't say it was by favour I unhorsed the Sire de la Roche Guemené."
"Ay, but I can, and do. 'Twas that minx of a cousin of yours who brought that about."
"Bowerman," said Ralph, his face flushing up, and his mouth working, "if you dare to call my cousin a minx, I'll beat you to a jelly."
"Marry, will you? Forsooth, this braggart is growing apace! I shall call whom I like what name I like; and if you think you are going to stop me, you had better try. So there, master upstart!" and Bowerman snapped his fingers in Ralph's face in utter contempt and malignant defiance.
As they were exchanging these hasty words, they were passing, on their way out of the lists, the little girl and her rough attendant. This latter eyed Bowerman significantly, and seeing that he did not notice him, for both Ralph and Bowerman were too heated with their words to take notice of anyone in the crowd, the man nudged the leg of the latter as he passed, and so drew his attention to him.
As soon as Bowerman saw who it was, he changed colour.
"Hullo, my Trojan, what do you want?" he said, assuming a careless air.
"Take this, 'twill tell its own tale," said the man, handing Bowerman a dirty scrap of paper.
Meanwhile Ralph had noticed the little girl, and seeing how pleased she seemed, he reined up his horse and spoke to her.
"Well, little maid, and where have you left your old father?"
An amused expression passed over the child's face, and her eyes shone with mischief, as she replied,--
"Ah, poor old man! He's so infirm, think you, as to be scarce able to walk? Well, 'twas very kind of you to lend us your pony, and you will never be sorry for it."
"Where do you live?" asked Ralph, surprised at her voice, and trying to remember where he had heard it.
"Why, you know you saw me at Appuldurcombe Priory."
"Marry, so I did, but I was busy with my Lord Captain then."
"Ay, and with some one else, too. No marvel you had no eyes for me."
This was a remark Ralph did not appreciate.
"And what are you doing there?"
"I'm being brought up by the nuns. But, do you know, Sister Agnes--'twas she who brought out the hippocras--has been ill ever since you came? She did nothing but sigh and weep, and weep and sigh, from the time she got in till now. The only thing that comforts her is when I am with her, and I ought never to have left her to-day, only father sent orders for me to come here."
"Why, your poor old father sending orders to the Prioress of Appuldurcombe! that is a likely tale," said Ralph, smiling incredulously.
"And who do you think my father is?"
"Why, that poor old beggar whom I put on my pony, sure enough."
The girl broke out into a merry laugh.
"Like enough, like enough," she said; and then went on in a different tone,--"So you found the Hermit of St Catherine's, did you? 'Twas a rare foggy night, wasn't it?"
"Why, what do you know about that?" cried Ralph, in astonishment.
But again the only answer was a merry, mischievous laugh, and before Ralph, who did not like being mystified, could ask her any more questions, the rough man who was taking care of her, having finished his conversation with Bowerman, came up, and led her away, giving Ralph a peculiar look as he passed.
The crowd had now become a disorganised mob. The lists were invaded, and children were picking up the broken splinters of the gaily-painted lances, or gazing in awe at the fine ladies who were being escorted from the pavilion. The great centre of attraction was the tent of the knights-challengers. Every one hoped to obtain a glimpse of the mysterious knight as he came out, but in this they were disappointed; no one came out except those who were well known, and at last, after waiting in hopeful curiosity for some time, the people gave it up, and went off in search of other amusements.
"Certes, Master Ralph," said Dicky Cheke, who met that successful youth as he was dismounting in the courtyard, amid the plaudits of the garrison and the congratulations of the visitors, who were standing about waiting for the evening festivities, which would shortly begin, preluded by a state banquet in the Captain's hall,--"certes, Master Ralph, you are in luck's way; but why that should make a little wench in the crowd pinch my arm, I can't tell. 'Twas the oddest thing! The little quean asked me if I was your friend. I stared at her, and said,--'Ay, marry; but I didn't see that gave her a right to pinch my arm.' Whereupon she laughed. 'What are you laughing for?' said I. 'Because you're such a merry little boy,' said she. 'Grammercy, little girl,' said I. Whereupon she began to laugh more than ever; and I had to say I'd send the leech from the castle to give her something to stop her going on like that before she made an end of it; and when she did, she finished up with,--'Oh, do let me tell you what I wanted to, before I die of laughing at such a merry little tom-tit.' There! I solemnly declare she called me a tom-tit, though, certes, I doubt if you'd credit it."
"Well, what's all this about? when are you coming to the point?" said Ralph.
"Marry! that is just what I said to the little wench, and she did nothing but laugh. At last she quieted down, and said, if I was your friend, I was to be sure and look after you and Bowerman. She said she did not like that boy--fancy Bowerman's joy! I'll tell him she called him a boy; and there I agreed with her. She seemed to think Bowerman meant to do you a mischief, and i'faith I shouldn't marvel. 'Twas he who had something to do with laming Black Tom, I'll wager; and he's as mad with rage and spite against you as 'tis possible to be without choking. I only wish he would! So now, young man, I shall look after you. Don't be down-hearted; I am near you; I'll take care of you. But who'd have thought it! She called me a tom-tit! Dicky Cheke a tom-tit! Richard Cheke, page-in-waiting to the high and mighty Captain of the Wight, tom-tit! Good lack! good lack!"
"Well, 'tis a comfort you'll take care of me, in sooth," said Ralph, as he went up the narrow winding stairs to his room, which he shared with Dicky, and which was next that of Bowerman, at the top of a turret overlooking the courtyard.
Humphrey followed his young master, and unbuckled his armour.
"Marry! Master Ralph, what'll they say down Thruxton way?"
"'Tis a piece of luck, Humphrey, and I can't claim any credit in the tilt. But why do you think that unknown knight showed me such favour?"
"Beshrew me if I know; but 'tis clear enough he did let you off. Well, no matter! I'faith, all the better, say I. You'll be sure to have the ruby ring: I heard every one say so."
"Do you think I shall have the prize?" cried Ralph, astonished and delighted.
"Ay, marry, do I! That rusty one won't have it, albeit he deserves it. They always give it to a young one like you, if they can in reason."
"Well, I almost wish I may not get it," said Ralph thoughtfully.
"And why, Master Ralph?"
"Because of course I don't deserve it, and 'twill make Bowerman more jealous of me than ever, and he will have cause, certes, for saying I have been favoured."
"Oh, never fear him! You take my advice, and give him a good trouncing. You can easily do it, and he'd be all the better for it. Not but what he's a spiteful lad; and 'tisn't only me as thinks he knows more about Black Tom going lame than he'd like any one to say."
"Have you heard who that knight was?"
"Ay, there's a many as knows. Some says 'tis Sir Robert Clifford, him as is a known Yorkist, and who's been looked for for some time past. Others say 'tis my Lord Lovell, who's never been heard of since Stoke field. There's some as say even 'tis King Richard himself, got well of the wounds as laid him low at Bosworth. I'faith, there's no end to the tales they all swear is the truth."
"And what do you think, Humphrey?"
"Well, I doesn't just know what to think; but I'se sure he be a Yorkist, because of his collar. But then I can't think why the Captain didn't have him placed in safe keeping. 'Twill look ugly at Court, I'm thinking, and the King won't be best pleased when he hears of it."
By this time Ralph had stripped off all his armour, and was dressing himself in his gay new suit, which set off his well-knit, graceful figure to perfection. As he finished, and Humphrey was admiring his young master, the step of somebody ascending the narrow stairs could be heard, and soon afterwards Bowerman entered his room and shut his door.
When Ralph came into the hall he was almost dazzled by the brilliancy of the scene. He found himself the centre of attraction, and it would have been strange if his head had not been a little turned by the attentions he received. While standing in the lower part of the hall, Dicky Cheke, who was now splendidly dressed, but in the livery of a page, came up to him with an air of great importance.
"Lisle," he said, in a loud tone, and looking superciliously at the guests who were talking to Ralph, "the Lord Captain of the Wight is wishful to discourse with thee."
This was a high honour; and Ralph, bowing to the worthy esquire to whom he was talking, followed Dicky to the dais at the end of the hall, where Sir Nicholas Wadham was talking to the Sire de Kervignac, and Yolande was gaily chatting to the Captain of the Wight and the other Breton knight. Ralph felt very shy as he came up, all eyes following his splendidly-dressed, graceful figure. He held his plumed velvet bonnet in his hand, and his wavy brown hair hung in luxuriant masses on each side of his frank, boyish face.
Lord Woodville greeted him very kindly.
"My fair esquire," he said, "I am right joyous at thy gallant bearing. Thou wilt make a good knight ere long; and albeit thou hast won thy fame by the favour of thine adversary, yet thou hast shown to all men how well thou canst tilt, and what promise there is hereafter."
"Ma foi!" said the Sire de la Roche Guemené, shrugging his shoulders, and smiling; "I vould zat ze damoiseau had shown me a leetle favour. It vas a rude knock he gave me."
"Cousin Ralph," said Yolande, smiling at him with her sunny, radiant smile, "I am full glad thou art so puissant a chevalier, and right proud am I that thou and I bear the same name. 'Tis the noblest name in the island, and full nobly hast thou held up its fame."
Ralph could only look intensely pleased; he could not speak a word. He simply gazed at his cousin with eyes brimful of admiration and affection.
Seeing his confusion, the Captain of the Wight said,--
"Noble Judges, we are all here now. To whom shall we award the prize in this day's tilt?"
Sir Nicholas Wadham gave his opinion in favour of the unknown knight, but the Captain of the Wight produced a scrap of paper, part of which was torn off in which it was declared, on behalf of the unknown knight, that he tilted for no prize, looking for a higher guerdon and more deadly tilt a entrance as his reward hereafter.
"That, then, settles the matter," said Sir John Trenchard, "for the only other man-at-arms who was not unhorsed was Master Lisle."
"Then, my noble friends, I may take it that we all agree the prize belongs to Master Lisle?"
The others assenting, the Captain of the Wight made a signal to the trumpeters, who gave a prolonged flourish, after which, amid dead silence, the Captain briefly declared the opinion of the Court, praising the courtesy and generosity of the Breton nobles, and significantly declaring that "he knew all men there were right wishful to requite courtesy by courtesy, and would fain send back over the seas such a goodly company as would show their Breton kinsmen how greatly they valued their friendship and good fellowship against their common enemy of France," a sentiment which was received with gravity by the older knights and esquires present, but was rapturously applauded by the younger men. After this Lord Woodville handed to Yolande the ruby ring in its casket, declaring Ralph Lisle to have duly won it by his skill and hardy prowess.
There was prolonged cheering as Lord Woodville finished, and the shouts were deafening as Ralph knelt down and received the ring from his cousin, who handed it him with a sweet smile and gentle words. He took it rapturously, and stammered a few words of thanks to her, the queen of the tourney, and to the Breton nobles who had given the prize; and then, before rising from his knee, he gave it back to his cousin, asking her to keep it in remembrance of that day, and for his sake. Yolande took the trinket with evident pleasure, and a well-feigned air of surprise, thanking Ralph cordially, who rose from his kneeling position, and was about to retire, when old Sir William Lisle, who was standing by, a smile of pleasure softening his grim and determined features, said,--
"By'r Lady, Ralph, thou art a damoiseau in sooth, or thou wouldest know there is another prize thou canst claim, an thou likest, and the guerdon, by all the laws of the tourney, may not be withholden."
Ralph looked up with a puzzled air, while Yolande held down her fair head, and pouted with a half-vexed air.
"Nay, father, cousin Ralph knows full well what is best to be done. Go, fair cousin, 'tis a custom better honoured in the breach than the observance."
"Humph!" chuckled Sir William. "An thou callest it by that--"
But Lord Woodville hastily interrupted, well knowing the humour of the old knight.
"Master Lisle," he said, smiling, "Sir William means that by the laws of the tourney and chivalry the winner the most laud and guerdon may claim a favour from the Queen of the Tilt, which she may not refuse. In other words thou mayest--"
"Nay, nay, my Lord Captain," broke in Yolande, "thou hast said enough. Cousin Ralph, the ceremony is over," she added hastily, and with a heightened colour; "thou art keeping all the company from their converse and pastime."
Ralph stood looking on somewhat abashed, and at last, making a low bow, and dropping once more on one knee, he gracefully took his cousin's fair hand, and imprinted a kiss of respectful love and homage. Then rising, amid the hum of congratulation from the company, he retired into the body of the hall.
"Well, times are changed," said Sir Nicholas Wadham; "I'd never kiss a fair maid's hand if I could have her lips, and cheek, for the asking or taking."
"Then you are a ruder man than I took you for, Sir Nicholas, and I shall tell Lady Wadham what you have said. I am glad my cousin hath learnt better ways," said Yolande, tossing her head, and giving Sir Nicholas a severe look.
The guests were now all assembled, and the banquet was ready. A prolonged blast on the silver trumpet of Lord Woodville's trumpet-major announced the beginning of the feast, and soon the hum of voices gave place to the clatter of knives and jingle of plate. There was the usual medley of fish, flesh, and fowl served up in the quaint fashion of the time, and succeeding each other, with fantastic sweets intervening, after the mode of the age. Subtleties and jellies, baked meats and roast; soups of divers sorts, and some resembling rather sweet syrups than the modern soups, rapidly succeeded each other, or adorned the long tables set down the hall, while gaily-dressed serving-men and varlets handed the dishes and washed up the plates, at a large table or dresser at one end. In a gallery above, the musicians played tunes both gay and plaintive, according to the taste of the age, for fair ladies were supposed to be quite as much pleased with the sufferings of their knights as with their valiant deeds, and a gentle knight who could not suffer becomingly, had not learnt a very important part of his education in the court of chivalrous romance. In the intervals of the music a jongleur recited the adventures of Sir Tristram and the fair Yseult, while the jester belonging to the household of the Captain of the Wight interrupted him from time to time with broad jokes, dry remarks, or riddles which he answered himself.
After the banquet, the tables were hastily cleared, while most of the company adjourned to the castle-yard and sauntered round the noble quadrangle, where the soft light of the moon threw quaint shadows down over the grass and walls of the castle.
The minstrels took up their position on a platform near the wellhouse, and the gentlemen and ladies paired off in readiness for the dancing to begin. The music soon struck up, and away the couples went in the stately "Pas de Brabant."
Ralph was standing in a state of dreamy joy watching the graceful figures of the ladies, before whom each chevalier bent the knee as he revolved in the intricacies of the dance. He was thinking how lucky he was, and how kind and lovely Yolande looked as she danced with sweet grace in a set with the Captain of the Wight for her partner, and the Sire de la Roche Guemené, with a pretty girl dressed in exquisite taste, as theirvis-à-vis.
As Ralph stood looking on, Newenhall came up to him.
"Lisle, there's a young damsel wishes to speak with thee. She's outside the main gate, and cannot come in. Jock Osborn's sergeant of the guard; he'll let thee out, an there's any hindrance."
Ralph's thoughts instantly flew to the events of the tilt. Somehow this little girl seemed to have a strange influence on his destiny.
He went to the gate. The deep shadows of the huge towers were impenetrable in their opaqueness. He stepped out of the bright moonlight, his graceful figure gleaming in its gay attire, and flashing in the silver light, before he disappeared into the black shadow. The guards were keeping but a lazy watch. He pushed aside the little wicket-gate in the huge iron-studded door, and stepped out into the blackness, rendered all the blacker by the brilliancy of the landscape beyond. The shadow of the two noble towers and main ward was thrown clear and distinct across the drawbridge and road outside, while all beyond shone and sparkled in the moonbeams. A silver haze spread over the valley in the distance, and the sounds of music and revelry gaily vibrated behind.
Ralph could see no one. He looked into the shadow of the great gate. There was a sound there--a faint rustle.
"Little maid, is that you?" said Ralph.
A sharp spasm, a burning pain, was the sudden answer, and Ralph knew no more.
[image]A SHARP SPASM WAS THE SUDDEN ANSWER.
[image]
[image]
A SHARP SPASM WAS THE SUDDEN ANSWER.
Half a minute after, and Dicky Cheke sprang through the door.
"Ralph," he cried, "Ralph, come back, 'tis a trap!" but all he saw was a figure disappearing in the silver haze over the brow of the steep hill.
CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THEY WERE AT FAULT.
As Dicky Cheke darted after the figure which disappeared in the mist, he stumbled over some obstacle on the ground, and nearly fell. Recovering himself hastily, he stooped down to see what it was. The moon had risen higher, and the black edge of the shadow of the castle was receding before the silver light.
"Holy Saints!" gasped Dicky, as he stooped down, and saw with horror that what had caused him to tumble was the body of Ralph Lisle, the gleam of his gay dress plainly telling who it was. "I have come too late."
Then springing up, he called to the guard to bring a light, and run for a leech. The shouts of the boy soon brought assistance. Three archers on guard hurried out of the gate, carrying a lighted cresset with them. By the lurid glare of the smoky light Dicky, who was kneeling down by his insensible friend, could see a dark stain marring the rich colours of the tunic, and a black pool under the right side of the prostrate boy.
"He's been hard stricken," said one of the men.
"Here's been foul play. But who'd hurt Master Lisle?" said another.
"Now, none of your talking," said Dicky. "Get some water and cloths." At the same time he tore up his fine white linen tabard and laid the pieces over the small puncture from which the blood was welling in ominous streams. "I' faith, the poor lad will bleed to death, an the leech comes not."
"Here he comes," said the other archer, as a tall figure in a long fur gown came out of the wicket-gate, attended by several others, among whom the weather-beaten face of Sir John Trenchard was visible.
"How's this? how's this?" he inquired peremptorily. "How came the lad out here?"
No one answered.
"Which of you men was on guard?"
"Please your worship, 'twas my guard," said one of the men, knowing that Sir John Trenchard would be sure to find out, and thinking it best to make a virtue of necessity.
"Then how came this about?" said the Seneschal sternly.
"Marry, Sir John, 'tis more than I know. 'Tis parlous dark under the gateway, and belike he slipped out while my back was turned."
"Get you to the guard-room. There'll be more of this anon," said Sir John sharply. Then turning to the leech, he asked, "Is the boy dead?"
"Nay, Sir John; 'tis a deep wound, but not mortal. There's no artery severed, as thou mayest see by the darker colour of the blood. Had it been of a scarlet colour, 'twould have been useless for me to come. The flow is already stayed. We must get him to his bed, but that gently."
While the archers were raising Ralph with great care, Sir John Trenchard closely questioned Dicky Cheke as to how he came to find Ralph, and elicited from the page how the mysterious warning had been given him by the little girl, and how Bowerman had been designated as cherishing vengeful designs on Ralph.
"Where is Bowerman?" said Sir John Trenchard.
"Nay, I have seen him not," answered Dicky Cheke.
"Bid the pages be called to my apartment," said Sir John to one of the yeomen who attended on him. Then turning to Dicky, he said, "And who is this little wench?"
"I know not, Sir John. I never saw her before to-day."
"Hast thou any cause to suspect any one? Thou mayest speak freely; 'tis a case will have to be carefully inquired into."
Dicky Cheke hesitated; he had the natural disinclination all honest, manly natures have to incriminate any one, or harbour a thought that might do an injustice to another. Like all the rest of the garrison, he strongly suspected that Bowerman was at the bottom of the cruel trick which had been played on Black Tom, and he more than mistrusted him in this present case.
"Well, Master Cheke, hast thou no answer to give? 'Tis a grave matter. Thou wilt have to answer. Dost thou mistrust Eustace Bowerman?"
"Yes, Sir John," said Dicky, slowly and reluctantly.
"Ay, marry, and so do I. But we shall see anon."
They had now entered the courtyard. At the sight of the little procession--the four stalwart men walking in time, and the pale face of the insensible boy--the dancers all stopped, and came crowding round; but at a word from Sir John Trenchard, and a polite request from the Captain of the Wight to continue their festivity, the guests resumed their dancing, only Yolande insisted on going into the hall with her injured cousin, and old Sir William Lisle attended her. The leech now carefully examined the wound, and his verdict was anxiously awaited.
The usual remedies were resorted to for restoring animation, and, to the joy of Yolande, after a little quiver of the eyelids, they slowly opened, and Ralph once more looked upon the world.
The leech, seeing that all immediate danger was over, and that the hæmorrhage was yielding to the treatment, directed a bed to be made ready in a room adjoining the hall, and then dilated upon the excellencies of his remedies, to the great impatience of Yolande.
"But, Master Leech, will he get well? Is it a dangerous wound?"
"Nay, fair Mistress Lisle, science answereth not such bold questions as these but with silence. To get well is in the hands of God; we can but speak of how science and medicine knoweth what is the best course to adopt. 'Tis well known to those admitted to the occult arcana of the heavenly influences that the celestial bodies exercise a strange influence on our poor bodies of clay. Sol draweth unto him during the day the blood of our systems, gentle Mater Nox appeaseth the heat of our sanguine flow, and settleth the blood in our extremities. As at the third hour the bile subsideth, so that its acrid properties be not blended with the flow of the blood, so also at the second hour the atrabilis subsides, and in the eventime the phlegm abateth--"
"Marry, Master Surgeon Barber, thy discourse causeth my head to buzz. Tell me plainly an thou canst, is my cousin in danger of death?"
"Noble lady, to give a short answer becometh not the dignity of my art. There are hopes in that chaste Luna is in the ascendant, and Æsculapius ruleth the seventh house, that what is natheless a deadly thrust may yield to my remedies. But as the learned Averroes--than whom my old master, the worshipful Master Thomas Morstede, knew no--"
"Beshrew me, Master Barber, thou wilt drive me mad!" cried the impatient Yolande. "Canst thou not answer me plainly, instead of talking thy jaw-breaking jargon?"
But the leech or barber was incensed at this want of respect, especially coming from a young lady, and he briefly replied he must wait before giving an opinion until Aldeboran reached the third house.
Compelled to be satisfied with this answer, Yolande saw her cousin moved to his new couch, and then, recognising the absolute necessity of not disturbing him, she returned to the festivities, over which a cloud had been cast by this strange event.
Meanwhile Sir John Trenchard had gone to his apartment, and thither Maurice Woodville, Willie Newenhall and Dicky Cheke followed him.
"Where's Master Bowerman?" inquired the Seneschal.
No one answered.
"Who saw him last?" was the next question.
Newenhall moved uneasily, but looked as stolid as ever.
"Master Newenhall, thou art the eldest; tell me where you last saw Master Bowerman."
"An it please you, Sir John, 'twas after the banquet was over."
"Well, where was he? Was he dancing?"
"He was dancing."
"How long agone was that?"
Newenhall twisted his cap round, and looked more stupid and vacant than ever.
"Come, Master Newenhall, brush up thy wits and give a short answer--time presses."
"Maybe 'twas an hour ago," said the page sullenly.
Sir John Trenchard, seeing that Newenhall, either through stupidity or on purpose, would give no useful information, turned to Dicky Cheke and bid him narrate all the circumstances of his finding Ralph.
When he heard of the figure disappearing over the steep declivity on the other side of the road, Sir John rated Master Cheke soundly for not having bid one of the archers pursue him; and in spite of Dicky's protestations that he was so flurried by the sight of Ralph's body lying bleeding in the road, as to think only of helping him, that young gentleman was severely reprimanded for his absence of mind.
"One who would be a useful knight, and serve his prince well, should never forget what is the right course, never mind what may be the obstacles," said the Seneschal, with stern sententiousness.
Maurice Woodville could give no information; he had been in close attendance on the Captain of the Wight, and had not seen Bowerman at all.
Orders were now issued to have the castle searched for the missing page, but with no result. He was not found, and no one had any doubt that it was Eustace Bowerman who had struck the blow.
The guests all dispersed to their homes soon afterwards, many of them being accommodated for the night in the castle as guests of the Captain of the Wight; among whom Sir William Lisle and his daughter, with the Abbot of Quarr, were the most honoured.
The next morning, the first visitor to inquire after Ralph was his cousin Yolande. It was joyful news to her to hear that he had passed a quiet night, and, although very weak and faint from loss of blood, was doing well. No one had as yet questioned him on the strange accident, and it was still a mystery why he had gone outside the castle at all.
"'Tis a rare mischance, Maurice," said Dicky Cheke, as they went downstairs together to begin the duties of the day; "Ralph might have gotten the prize of this day's tourney also."
"'Twas Bowerman that dealt the foul stroke," said Maurice, without heeding the other's remark. "Where can he have gotten to?"
"Ay, where indeed? But he can't escape; I hear there's orders been sent out to search all boats that leave the island."
"Marry! why he could have gotten clear off before the alarm was raised. They ought to have scoured the country for him last night, they'd have taken him then withouten any doubt."
Dicky looked rather foolish. He remembered how he had been rated by Sir John Trenchard the night before.
"Dost think Newenhall knows aught of the matter?"
"Humph!" answered Dicky. "He didn't like Ralph, and he wouldn't stop any harm coming to him, but I don't think he's got the pluck to do him a wrong himself."
"His ways were odd last night. Didst mark how he couldn't answer old Jack-in-Harness's questions?"
"Couldn't? Wouldn't, you mean," said Dicky. "Ay, I marked it sure enough. Well, old Jack's as sharp as a needle--he'll find it all out."
The conversation was interrupted by their arriving at the door of their lord's apartment, and being ordered to enter by the archer on guard.
The account of Ralph Lisle's favourable condition was joyfully received throughout the garrison, and the news had already spread to Newport.
"So I hear there was a young lad slain last night in a drunken brawl after the revels," said the same rough fisherman who had spoken with Bowerman the day before, to a countryman whom he met coming out of Carisbroke.
"Ay, so they say; leastways, if it warn't two or three as was killed. Holy Thomas! they castle folk be a woundy lot of gallants. They'd as soon kill each other as the French, so long as there's nought else to kill."
"Marry, and you're right; but I hear there'll be blows anon."
"Ay, sayest so? Well, well; but where away? All's quiet i' the land, bean't it?
"Seemingly. But there's them as'll be moving soon. They've not done with the White Rose yet. Howsever, 'tis blows in France as'll soon be going. 'Tis rumoured over t'other side o' the water that our Captain's a-going over there with a power of men."
"No! you don't say so; and who's he going to fight?"
"Why the French, to be sure; all along o' the Duke of Bretagne having helped King Henry when he were in hiding there."
"Then 'tis the King of France as backs the t'other side--eh?"
"Ay, ay; and another powerful princess."
"Oh! and who's that?"
"Why, 'tis the good Duchess of Burgundy, as was sister to our brave king, to be sure."
"What, she as I heard say gave that Simnel lad so much money? Well, now, she be a kind lady. But, i' faith! I'm sick o' wars. 'Tis the ruin of all our lives and fortunes; and surely we've had enough i' the past years."
"Marry! my lad, there's always a picking when knights are pricking. 'Tis wars makes poor men rich, and rich men poor, an you only know the way."
"Ay, ay, but you beant as old as I be. I've worked on Swainston Manor for a matter o' twenty-four year come next Lammas. My lord then were the great King-maker, as he were called--Old Bear and Ragged Staff. And what came to him? why, he were slain in battle at Barnet field. Then arter him, my lord were the Duke of Clarence. Well what came to him? why, all along o' being a king's brother, and not having such a good headpiece as t'other brother, he were put i' a butt o' Malmsey--so they sez, leastways--and so were drowned. And now, who's my master? why him, poor lad, as they've got mewed up i' Lunnon Tower. And all for what? because, poor lad, he's his father's son, and bears the name of Warwick, like his grandfather; and like enough he'll come to a bloody end too."[*]
[*] He was executed for trying to escape from the Tower with Perkin Warbeck, in 1498.
"Well, well, I shall be late for the sword strokes an I stop here. Are you coming, gaffer?"
"Marry am I. There'll be a sight worth seeing, I hear. Who'll win the prize to-day, think you?"
"Certes, there's not much question. 'Twill be the stout knight in the plain armour."
"Oh, ay! and who be he?"
"That'll be known soon enough; but come along."
So saying, they walked off to the place of arms, where the tilting had taken place the previous day.
There was the same concourse of spectators, but the interest was not nearly so great as it had been the day before, the hand-to-hand encounter with swords not affording such opportunities for spectacular effect as the mounted contests.
However, there were some very fierce encounters, Sir Alain de Kervignac exchanging several hard blows with Sir John Dudley, who had recovered sufficiently to take part in the proceedings. It was unfortunate that the only combatants on the assailants' side who could fight at all on equal terms were incapacitated by the severe wounds they had received; and in order to prevent the sport becoming too tame, permission was given by the Judges to Sir Richard Cornwall and the unknown knight to meet the two Breton knights.
That evening Ralph was so much better that Dicky Cheke and Maurice Woodville were allowed to see him. The lively account given of the day's proceedings by the former young gentleman will describe the fighting better than a mere narrative of the sword-strokes exchanged.
"'Tis a pity, Ralph, thou wast not there. 'Twas rare sport. Sir Richard Cornwall caught the Breton--the Sire de Kervignac, I mean--such a crack over the costard, I thought he had split his skull; but he's a tough little wight, that he is. He no more minded it than if it had been a fleabite. Up he sprang, and waving his sword in the air, he brought it down like a flash of lightning right athwart Sir Richard's sword, which he held to guard his head; he hit so hard that he cut it right in two, and then, swinging it round, he gave him a buffet on the side of his salade--for he wore a salade and not a burgonnet to-day--that, big man as Sir Richard Cornwall is, he staggered, so that I verily bethought me he was going to fall to the ground, and thou knowest how big a man Sir Richard is. And all the while Sir Richard had no sword to smite in turn; but he made a brave fight of it, for he rushed out round the barrier and seized the small Breton in his arms. Then we did shout; oh, how I shouted!"
"Yea, and got rapped over the costard for doing it," said Maurice Woodville. "And serves you right, too; I felt quite grieved for thy want of manners."
"Now that is a scurvy tale! Why, Maurice, thou knowest thou wast going to shout too, only thy mouth was so full of apple puff that thou hadst filched from Polly Bremeskete's basket, which was open as thou chancest to pass, that thou couldst not make a sound saving a gruesome, pig-like snort. Come, that won't do."
"Marry will it. I did not make a braying jackass of myself, as thou didst."
"No, because thou hadst already made a pig of thyself. But there! 'twill be long ere I finish my tale, if thou breakest in in this way."
"Then cut it short, Dicky, or, better still, I'll go on. Well, Ralph, the Marshal stopped them. He bade Sir Richard let go, and said both had done their devoir full well. But the best sport of the whole was when the Rusty Knight--I marvel who he is--tackled the other Breton--him whom thou toppledst over, thou knowest. There was a slashing and rashing! The sparks flew like the sparks at the armourer's forge when Tom works the bellows, and at last the Rusty one smote the Breton so fierce a blow that he fell to the ground and never moved, and all men thought him dead. Then the people shouted, and--"
"Yes! and thou hadst finished thine apple puff then, so thou shoutedst too," broke in Dicky, who was fuming and fidgetting at the story being taken out of his mouth.
"Thou wert told to be still, and not make a noise, Dicky. We shall have old Mother Trenchard after us an thou art not quiet. Well, as I was saying, the Rusty Knight having no--"
"You weren't saying it!" broke in Dicky again. "You were saying--"
"What an egg thou art, Dicky! Wilt thou be still, and let me finish?"
"Why, 'twas I who began, and I ought to finish."
But here Lady Trenchard was attracted by the rising voices, and coming in, bade both the boys begone.
Placing her cool hand on Ralph's brow, the kind lady remarked she was glad to see him looking so well; and then, sitting by his side, she went on with her work, while she told him, in a more connected way, the events of the day.
Ralph was relieved to hear that Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené was not seriously hurt, only stunned by the terrific blow of his antagonist.
"But who is he, Lady Trenchard?--knowest thou?"
"'Tis a deadly foe to the Lord Captain, for he openly challenged him to mortal combat," said Lady Trenchard gravely.
"What! he dared to challenge the Captain of the Wight?" cried Ralph, in amaze; "and what said he?"
"He accepted his challenge."