The Woodman: A Romance of the Times of Richard III Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  Much did the good nuns wonder, why and wherefore such splendidpreparations had been made by the abbess, for the reception of a youngnobleman and his companions, none of whom, as far as they knew, boreany prominent part in the state. Had it been a bishop, a mitred abbot,or even a dean, they could have understood such a magnificentreception. A duke or a prince would have been worthy of it; but, "Whowas Lord Chartley? What claim had he upon the abbey?"

  If they were surprised, however, at that which went on in thekitchen--and they all found out sooner or later what was taking placethere--previous to the arrival of the guests; if they commented uponthe arrangements made for feasting the number of forty in thestrangers' hall, while the abbess herself with the old prioress, whowas as deaf as a post, proposed to entertain the principal visitors ina room apart, how much more were they surprised when, on its beingannounced that the train was approaching, the lady herself went outinto the court, with her two nieces, and her usual attendants uponstate occasions, and waited nearly opposite the principal door of thechapel to receive her visitors in form. Much did they remark uponthese facts; and much did they whisper among themselves; but still theabbess pursued her course, though, it must be confessed, it was withsome degree of perturbation, which was very evident, in a slightdegree of nervousness of manner, and in a variation of colour whichwas not common with her.

  She was not kept in the court long before the first horseman rodethrough the portal; and, without waiting for grooms or horse-boys tocome up, the young Lord Chartley himself sprang to the ground, andadvancing with an easy and graceful air, bonnet in hand, paid hisrespects to the superior of the convent. Nay, more, with a gay lightsort of gallantry, fitted perhaps rather for the court than thecloister, he pressed his lips upon the hand of the abbess, and lookedvery much as if he would willingly have made them acquainted with thecheeks of the two beautiful girls by whom she was accompanied.

  "A thousand thanks, dear lady," he said, "for your kindly welcome. Letme crave pardon for having detained you so long; but some businessstopped us by the way. Let me present to you my friends, Sir CharlesWeinants, a wise and sage negotiator, deep in the secret mysteries ofcourts, and most discreet in all his doings--trust him with nosecrets, lady," he added, laughing; "for though he may not betraythem, he will use them as his high policy may dictate. Then here isSir Edward Hungerford, the pink of all perfection and the winner ofall hearts, the web of whose courtesy is the most superfine, and whois very dangerous to all ladies not under vows. Then here again is myfriend, Sir William Arden, whose character you must not take fromhimself, whose looks are rougher than his intentions, and his wordsharder than his heart."

  "And his heart harder than your head, my good lord," said thegentleman of whom he last spoke, who had just dismounted from hishorse. "Marry! my lady abbess, I only wonder how you let such arattle-pated young lordling within your gates. I would not, if I wereyou; and were he to ride twenty miles further before he got his supperit would do him good."

  "Not so, I think," said Sir Edward Hungerford. "I never knew any goodcome to a man by riding without his supper, especially when he leftbright eyes and beautiful faces behind him;" and, after fixing hislook for a moment upon the abbess herself, he glanced meaningly to thefaces of her two companions.

  "Peace, peace, my children," said the elder lady. "I must not let youforget where you are, and what ears hear you. This is no court, orhall, or place of light amusement. Cease your fine speeches then, andremember this is the abbey of Atherston St. Clare."

  "Ay, he would soon make it a ribald's den," said Sir William Arden,bluffly; "but you have forgot the priest, my lord. You should make allreverend people acquainted with each other."

  "True, true!" cried Lord Chartley. "This my dear lady, is a veryreverend friend of mine, called Father William, who has lived long inforeign lands. Let me recommend him to your especial care andkindness; for he has but feeble health, and will partake of yourhospitality for the night, while we, I grieve to say, are forced toride forward by the moonlight."

  He laid strong emphasis on some of his words; and the abbess raisedher eyes to the face of the friar, who was gazing at her with a calmand steady look. A glance however seemed enough, for she instantlyturned her eyes away again, welcoming the priest in vague and generalterms. She then proceeded to explain to Lord Chartley and hiscompanions, that, as they had come so late, they must put off theirmeal till after compline, which would be in half an hour. The servicein the chapel, she said, at which she invited them all to attend,would occupy about ten minutes, and in the mean time she gave themover to the lay officers of the abbey, who would attend to theircomfort and convenience. After compline, she added, she would receivethe gentlemen who had been introduced to her, to sup in the smallparlour, while the rest of the party would be entertained in the hall.

  Having given this explanation, she was about to retire; but LordChartley, following her a few steps, said something in a low voice, towhich she replied:--

  "Certainly, my son. You will find me at the grate in five minutes.That passage to the left will lead you."

  "There now," exclaimed Sir Edward Hungerford, who had remarked hiscompanion's proceedings. "Chartley is asking her if she can spare himone of those two fair girls to solace his moonlight ride to Leicester.'Tis thus he always forestalls the market. Upon my life he should giveus poor knights a fair chance."

  "You would spoil the fairest chance on earth, with your foppery," saidSir William Arden, a strong-built dark-complexioned man of aboutforty. "The bargain is soon struck at all events, for here he comes;"and the young nobleman, having rejoined the rest, followed some of theservants of the abbey to the rooms allotted to them, where ewers andtowels were prepared to wash before the evening meal.

  A very few minutes afterwards, the young Lord Chartley crossed thecourt, and ascended to the grate across the parlour. There was nobodythere; and he looked to the great bell, hesitating whether he shouldring it or not. Before he decided, however, a light appeared on theother side; and the abbess presented herself, preceded by a nunbearing a taper, who departed as soon as she had set down the light.Lord Chartley was not a man to hesitate or stumble at any step he wasinclined to take; but, for an instant, he did hesitate on the presentoccasion; and, as the abbess hesitated too, the conversation seemednot likely to begin very soon.

  The silence indeed continued so long, that at length the young lordbegan to feel there was something ridiculous in it; and, bursting intoa gay laugh, he said, "Pardon my merriment, lady, for I cannot helpfeeling that it is very absurd to stand thinking of what I shall say,like a school-boy, though the subject I wish to speak upon is aserious one. I almost hoped that you would have helped me, for I couldnot but think that there was a glance of recognition in your eyes,when I introduced to you one of my companions below."

  "Nay, my son," replied the abbess; "it was for you to speak. I couldnot tell that you yourself had cognizance of what you were doing."

  "Then you did remember him?" exclaimed Lord Chartley. "That is allwell! One part of the difficulty is over, and the greatest. You knowthat his liberty, if not his life, is in peril, if he is discovered.Yet it is needful that he should remain in this neighbourhood for somedays, if possible; and he has directed me to ask if you will give himprotection, and, should need be, concealment, on account offriendships long ago."

  "Tell him, my lord, I would do so at peril of my life," replied theabbess; "but, at the same time, it is right he should know to whatsecurity he trusts. The walls of the abbey are strong and solid; but,alas, we have not men enough within call, to defend them in case ofneed; and I have been warned that King Richard's people are huntingfor him shrewdly. Should they track him here, they may use force whichI cannot resist."

  "Then, dear lady, you will be free from all blame, if you arecompelled to give him up," replied Lord Chartley. "Force cannot beresisted without force; and no one can be censured for yielding tonecessity, just as a very brave dog may well turn tail at a lion."


  "Nay, my good lord, not quite so," replied the abbess. "We poor womenknow that wit will often baffle strength; and I think I can providefor his safety, even should the gates be forced and the abbeysearched. There is a way out, which no one knows nor can discover butmyself and two others. By it I can convey him into the heart of thewood, where it would take an army, or a pack of hounds, to find him. Ican provide guidance and assistance for him, and I trust that we canset his persecutors at nought, though there may be some peril and someanxiety. Pray tell him all this, that he may consider and choose whathe will do."

  "Good faith, he has no choice," answered Lord Chartley, "but this, orto go forward to Leicester, into the very lion's mouth. He is braveenough in a good cause, as you would see, if you knew amidst whatperils he travels even now."

  "Ay, my lord, of that I would fain inquire," replied the nun. "'Tisneedful to be cautious--very cautious--in times and circumstances likethese; and not even to you would I have said aught of my remembrance,had you not spoken first. Now, tell me, do your companions know aughtof who it is that journeys with them?"

  "Not one of them," replied the young lord, "unless it be the subtleSir Charles Weinants; and he affects to see nothing. I have somedoubts of him indeed; and if it be as I think, he and the bishop havebeen playing a game against each other during our whole journey forsomewhat mighty stakes. If you can but give our friend security forthree days he has won the game."

  "God grant it," cried the abbess; "and, with the help of the BlessedVirgin, I hope we shall succeed; but I much fear, my noble son, thatwhat we are this day doing may call down upon us the wrath of Richardof Gloucester."

  "I trust not, I trust not, dear lady," replied the young lord. "Were Iand my companions and all our train to stay, it might indeed createsuspicion; but no one will or can know that we leave the good priesthere to-night, so that, if any doubts have arisen, pursuit will followus in the first place, rather than turn towards the abbey. This is intruth the reason why I ride on to-night. I would rather lure enmityaway from you, believe me, than bring it upon you. But, I trust thereis no danger. Everything seemed calm and peaceful, when we leftTamworth--no men at arms about, no appearance of doubt or suspicion."

  "I do not know, my son. I do not know," replied the abbess. "I hadwarning of your coming last night. I had warning, too, that dangermight follow."

  "Indeed!" exclaimed Lord Chartley, with a look of much surprise. "Thisis strange news. May I ask who was your informant?"

  "One whom I can trust well," answered the abbess, "though he be a manof humble station; none other than our chief woodman, John Boyd. Byone means or another, he learns all that takes place in the countryround; and he gave me notice, not only that you were on the wayhither, but that you had one with you to whom I should be called uponto give refuge, and for whose safety I must provide. It is to thisvery man's care and guidance, in case of need, that I must trust thebishop."

  "Hush!" cried Lord Chartley, looking round. "Let us mention no names.I am called rash and careless, light and over-gay, but, where afriend's safety is at stake, I must be more thoughtful than I would befor myself. Pardon me for my asking if you are very sure of this goodman."

  The abbess gave him every assurance in her power, bringing forward allthose strong motives for trusting the woodman, which were quiteconclusive in her eyes, as they would indeed have been in the eyes ofmost other ladies, but which did not seem to satisfy her young butmore experienced companion. He asked where the woodman lived, andmused; then enquired how long he had been in the service of the abbey;and was still putting questions when the bell for compline rang, andthe abbess was forced to retire.

  On descending to the court, Lord Chartley found Sir Charles Weinantsand the priest, walking up and down before the chapel, not conversingtogether indeed, for the latter seemed somewhat silent and gloomy.With him the young nobleman much desired to speak; but he thought thatit might be dangerous to connect his conference with the abbess in anydegree with the priest, even by addressing him immediately afterwards;and therefore, turning at once to Sir Charles Weinants, he exclaimed:"Now, Weinants, let us into the chapel. It is quite dark; and I amsomewhat eager for our supper, to fortify us against our evening'sride."

  The priest said not a word, but followed the other two as theyadvanced towards the place of worship, from which the light of tapersand the sweet tones of the chant were beginning to pour forth.

  "I am hungry too," replied Weinants, "and agree with you, my goodlord, that a good supper is a very necessary preparation for a longride. I hope they will sing quick, for by my faith, even from Tamworthhere, I find, has been a good medicine for a slow digestion. You neednot look round for the others. They are all in waiting eagerly forthis grace before meat--except indeed your infidel, who was lolling inthe stable with his arms round his horse's neck. I should not wonderif the beast were a princess in disguise, changed into that shape bysome friendly magician, in order that she might share his captivity."

  "The most probable thing in the world," replied Chartley, "butundoubtedly, were I in his place, I should prefer my lady mistresswith less hair upon her face; but come, let us cease our jokes; forhere we are; and you will perhaps scandalize our reverend friendhere."

  Thus saying, they entered the chapel and placed themselves by one ofthe pillars while the service proceeded.

  If the ceremonial observances of the Romish church are many, theservices have at all events the advantage of being brief; and, on thisoccasion, the visitors of the abbey were detained for even a shorterspace of time than the abbess had mentioned. As soon as the last notesof the chant were over, the abbess and her nuns retired from theirlatticed gallery; and then, for the first time, she notified to hernieces that she expected them to assist her in entertaining herguests.

  "Oh, my dear aunt, pray excuse me," exclaimed Iola, while Constancesubmitted quite quietly. "I would rather a thousandfold sup alone inthe penitential cell, than with all these men. They have frightenedme out of my wits once to-night already, especially that gaygossamer-looking youth, whom the young lord called Hungerford."

  "I must have it so, Iola," replied her aunt. "I have my reasons forit, so no nonsense, child. As for men," she continued, resuming agayer tone, "you will soon find, when more accustomed to them, theyare not such furious wild beasts as they seem. With them, as withbulls and dogs, they are only dangerous to those who are frightened atthem. Treat them boldly and repel them sharply, and they soon comefawning and crouching at your feet. Man is a very contemptible animal,my dear child, if you did but know all. However, you shall sit besidethe priest--between him and the young lord, so you will escape theother, who is but one of the empty courtiers of the day, such as Irecollect them in my youth--a sort of thing that a woman of spiritcould squeeze to death as she would a wasp in a hawking-glove. I daresay Constance does not fear him."

  "I would rather not sit near him," replied the other quietly. "Hisperfumes make me sick. I would rather not live next door neighbour toa civet cat. Let me entertain the bluff old gentleman, aunt. His roughspeeches are much more pleasant to my ear than all the other's softsayings."

  "Don't call him old to his face, Constance," replied her aunt, "or hissayings will be rough enough, depend upon it. Why I do not think he isforty, child; and no man ever thinks himself old till he has told upto seventy, and then he begins to fancy he is growing aged, and hadbetter begin to lead a new life."

  The two girls laughed gaily; and in a few minutes they were seated, ashad been arranged, at the plentiful table which had been prepared fortheir aunt's distinguished guests. I will not pause upon the feast.The reader is well aware of the abundant provision which had been madeby the worthy woodman, and would be but little edified to hear of thestrange ways in which the various dishes were dressed, or the oddsauces with which they were savoured.

  The meal, as was usual in those days, lasted a long while; and theconversation was somewhat more gay and lively than one would beinclined to imagine was common within the walls of a conven
t. Atfirst, indeed, it was somewhat stiff and restrained; but there was agay, careless, happy spirit in the bosom of the young nobleman, whosat beside the abbess, which soon banished the restraint of freshacquaintance, and made every one feel as if they had known him foryears. This was less difficult to effect with the elder lady than withIola who sat on his other hand; but even she could not resist thecurrent long; and a certain degree of timidity, the natural fruit ofretirement from the world, gave way under the influence of hischeerful tone, till she caught herself laughing and talking gaily withhim, and suffering unconsciously all the fresh thoughts of a brightpure heart to well forth like the waters of a spring. She paused andblushed deeply, when first she suddenly discovered that such was thecase; and, bending down his head, for the conversation at the momentwas general and loud, he said, with a kind and graceful smile, but ina low tone--

  "Nay, nay, close not the casket! The jewels are well worthy of beingseen."

  "I know not what you mean, my lord;" she said, blushing more deeplythan before.

  "I mean," he answered, "that, judging by your look and sudden pause, Ithink you have just found out that the door of the heart and the mindhas been partly opened to the eye of a stranger,--though it is but bya chink,--and I would fain have you not close it against him, with thekey of cold formality. In a word, let us go on as if you had not madethe discovery, and do not draw back into yourself, as if you wereafraid of letting your real nature come abroad lest it should takecold."

  Whether she would or not, a smile came upon her lip; and, after aminute's pause, she answered frankly--

  "Well, I will not. It is but for a little time that it can take theair."

  At that moment the general conversation seemed to drop; and LordChartley saw the eye of the abbess turned towards him.

  "It is excellent good," he said aloud, "made into a pie; but, I hatepasties of all kinds, if it be but for hiding under a thick crust thegood things they contain. Nevertheless, it is excellent good."

  "What?" asked the abbess.

  "A squirrel," replied Lord Chartley. "Oh, there is nothing like yourgay clambering nutcracker, who scrambles about from branch to branch,drinking the dew of heaven, leaping through the free air, and feedingon the topmost fruits, of which he must ever crack the shell to get atthe kernel. He is excellent in a pasty, I assure you. Is he not,Hungerford?"

  "Exceeding good," answered the knight, from the other side of thetable; "but a young pea-fowl is better."

  In this sort of conversation passed the time; and Iola, to say sooth,was amused and pleased. She did not, however, forget to show kindattention to the friar on her right; and he, on his part, seemedpleased and interested by her manner towards him. He spoke little,indeed; but all that he did say was powerful and pointed. Iola,however, could not but remark that he eat hardly anything, while theothers seemed to enjoy the dainties prepared for them highly; and shepressed him kindly to take more food.

  "I am much fatigued, my daughter," he said aloud, "and do not feelwell to-night. The less, therefore, I take perhaps the better."

  Lord Charley instantly caught at the words--

  "Nay, good father," he said, "were it not better for you to take alittle repose in your chamber, before we ride? I have marked all theevening that you seemed ill."

  "Perhaps it were as well," answered the friar, rising; "but let me notabridge your enjoyment. I will find my way to my lodging and lie downfor a while;" and, thus saying, he quitted the room.

  The slightest possible smile curled the lip of Sir Charles Weinants.It passed away instantly; but it had been remarked; and, being themost discreet man in the world, he felt that the smile was anindiscretion, and, to cover it, asked in a gay but ordinary tone--

  "Why, what is the matter with the friar? You have knocked him up, myexcellent lord, with your quick travelling. The poor man, I shouldthink, is not accustomed to the back of a hard-trotting horse; and werode those last ten miles in less than an hour."

  "He seems, indeed, a good deal tired," replied Chartley; "but I thinkit was yesterday's journey, rather than to-day's, that so muchfatigued him. We rode full forty miles before we met with you, andfive or six afterwards. You know, I never think, Weinants, or I shouldhave had more compassion."

  Here the conversation dropped; and, after sitting at table for abouthalf an hour longer, the whole party rose, and Lord Chartley bade agraceful adieu to the abbess, saying--

  "I trust that my poor friend, father William, is by this time wellenough to proceed."

  "Can you not leave him here, my son?" said the abbess. "He shall bewell tended, and gladly entertained."

  "Oh, no, no;" replied the young nobleman. "I dare say he is wellenough now; and I am bound to my own paternal castle, dear lady, andabout to establish for the first time therein a regular household. Imust take him with me; therefore, if it be possible, for an almoner isthe first great requisite. Farewell then, with many grateful thanksfor your hospitality. I will not forget the subjects on which wespoke; and they shall have immediate attention."