It was about a month after the tourney, when Ralph, who had entirely recovered from his wound, was summoned to attend the Captain of the Wight.
On entering the Lord Woodville's room, he found that nobleman standing before the fire in a contemplative attitude, and Ralph stood for a few moments in respectful silence.
Presently Lord Woodville looked up, and, noticing Ralph, resumed at once his usual manner.
"My young esquire," he said, "I have sent for thee because there is no one of my household whom I can trust more than thee."
Ralph coloured up with pleasure; he noticed with pride the change of title. He was no longer a page, but esquire to his lord. But what went to his heart far more than this was being addressed in such affectionate and trusting terms. Lord Woodville had won the boy's heart from the first by his noble bearing, handsome appearance, and lonely life. In the midst of a gay and martial household, always dignified, placid, and reserved, Lord Woodville seemed to him like some hero of romance, some knight-templar who had consecrated his life to God, and, unlike the common herd of monks, who withdrew from the world in timidity or selfish sloth, he remained in it to face the temptations, the pleasures, and the vices, and to face them not merely as an idle spectator, but as a splendid protest against the vanity of the world. Not pledged or bound by any such bonds as those by which weaker mortals sought to guard themselves from the allurements of life; not fleeing for protection to the feeble chains of monastic institutions, or even the semi-monastic life of the great military order which alone survived, but like a stout pinnacle of indestructible granite round which some stream for ever dashes its ceaseless waves, now striving to wear it away with the soft embrace and gentle murmurs of its softly wooing current, then dashing against the calm rock in the wild tumult of its turbid waters, and seeking to topple it from its base with the rage of its fierce turmoil, so stood out the life of the Lord Woodville in its tranquil strength.
Outwardly cold, but inwardly burning with the desire of martial fame; always the first in all warlike enterprise; a strict disciplinarian, but a most kind and gentle knight to all in distress or suffering, the Captain of the Wight was the beau ideal of a preux chevalier. In every battle of the fierce civil wars he had shown himself a daring man-at-arms, as well as a prudent chieftain, and, like his accomplished brother, he was devoted to the arts in times of peace. He was a strict observer of the religious life of the times, and although not blind to the many shortcomings of the clergy, yet he did all in his power to promote the influence of religion, and to improve all with whom he came in contact.
A deep sorrow had fallen upon him in his domestic relations. His gallant father, the Earl of Rivers, together with his brother, Sir John Woodville, had been beheaded barbarously by the orders of the great Earl of Warwick. His brilliant brother, the Lord Scales, died under the executioner's sword at the cruel mandate of Richard, Duke of Gloucester, for no other crime than attachment to his nephews and his widowed sister. His two nephews had perished, no man knew how, in the Tower of London; and he himself had been blighted in his affections at an early age. His mother had laboured under the accusation of sorcery and witchcraft--a most dangerous charge in those days. His sister, the lovely Elizabeth Woodville, was mistrusted by the cold and calculating Henry; while his niece, the young and still more beautiful Elizabeth, although consort of the King, was not yet crowned Queen, in spite of having been married more than a year and a half, and having borne an heir to the two rival houses.
To relieve his active mind and vigorous frame from these anxieties, the Captain of the Wight welcomed every chance of wielding his sword or plying his lance in the stern excitement of war.
At this moment there was going on across the water a contest which had peculiar fascinations for a chivalrous mind. The aged and weak Francis, Duke of Brittany, with his young daughter, the celebrated Anne, the future wife of two kings, and mother of one Queen of France, was now being besieged by the whole force of that kingdom. The English King was repeatedly solicited to bring or send over assistance, and he was strongly tempted to interfere in the quarrel, on the urgent grounds of private gratitude and national policy; but, only just secured on his throne by a victorious battle over a desperate enemy, and well aware how many secret foes he had, Henry VII. was unwilling to draw upon himself the active hostility of France, as well as the perpetual machinations of the Dowager Duchess of Burgundy. He therefore listened to the ambassadors of both the contending powers, but publicly refused to interfere by men or money.
Many, however, of Henry's subjects, tired of inaction, and early inured to arms, longed to take part in the struggle, and no one believed that the King would really be sorry if private adventurers undertook what he was prevented from doing ostensibly from reasons of State policy.
The Lord Woodville was well acquainted with the cautious, cold, and calculating disposition of Henry VII. He had known him in exile, when they both fled to the hospitable Court of the Duke of Brittany, where the young Earl of Richmond had given promise of his virtues and his faults, and he had little doubt that, although he would forbid publicly any interference in the wars in Brittany, he would secretly be grateful to any one who would help to save that province from becoming an actual part of France, and thus inflict another blow on England's hereditary enemy. For no one then doubted that whatever weakened a neighbour was a gain to oneself.
The Captain of the Wight had lately pondered deeply over these matters, and he was urged by his inclination, as well as by motives of ambition, to take part in this struggle. He was also influenced by a strong impulse. His life had latterly become well nigh unbearable. Old memories of the lady he had loved so ardently had been strangely stirred. He had been strongly reminded of her by the face of the nun. He knew he was accused by his lost love's husband of having received her when she fled from her home--driven away by her own misery and the cruelty of her husband. Pledged to each other by mutual affection in early youth, Sir Edward Woodville had been separated by the animosities of the time, and his own want of fortune, from the object of his youthful love. Her father, a fierce Lancastrian, had died in the merciless battle of Towton, and the young lady, by the death of her father now become a ward of the Crown, was given, as a reward for his support, to young George Lisle, who had disobeyed his father, and taken part in the civil wars, on the side of the White Rose. The young esquire was knighted by Edward IV. on the battlefield, and from that time forward was first in tilt and fight, and the most devoted of the adherents of the House of York. But as the marriage was the result of compulsion on the one side, and of ambition on the other, no happiness could ensue; and the neglect of the husband, combined with his fierce temper and ungovernable ways, acting upon the passionate disposition of his wife, who fought against her destiny like some imprisoned bird against the bars of its cage, caused such misery to result, that at last, after the birth of an only daughter, the wretched wife fled, no one knew whither; but all men who knew her story suspected to her old love, Sir Edward Woodville, who was in exile. The successful fight of Bosworth Field reversed the situation, and the husband had to become the exile in turn, while Sir Edward Woodville, restored to his rank and position, succeeded his murdered brother in the lordship of the Wight. The two rivals had never met since the marriage, excepting once, about a month after that event. It was at a tournament, and Sir Edward Woodville purposely chose the opposite side to that on which Sir George Lisle was challenger. The shock was fierce, and both knights were unhorsed; but Sir Edward Woodville, in the second encounter, hurled his antagonist from the saddle, and carried off the prize of the tourney. After this, Sir Edward Woodville was employed on affairs of State which kept him away from the Court, and during the whole of the last reign he had resided abroad.
Equally with the rest of the world he was ignorant as to what had become of Lady Lisle; and although he was well aware that he was credited with aiding in her flight, and, indeed, of secretly providing her with a refuge, he was far too haughty to take any steps to contradict this statement, merely contenting himself by remarking that, 'if men wished to believe lies, certes he could not prevent them.'
"Ralph," said Lord Woodville, "I have need of a trusty esquire. I have noticed thy hardihood and devotion to me; wouldst thou wish to be put still more to the proof?"
"My lord, only try me; there is naught I would not do in thy service."
"Then, my fair esquire, as thou art now full strong again, and art in good trim to ride forth in harness, at ten o' the clock this evening thou must be on the road to Gatcombe, armed cap-à-pié, and mounted on thy stoutest charger. Thou wilt wait there, at about a mile from the castle, until I meet thee, and wilt go forth with me where I shall lead. It may be a dangerous service; that, I know well, will only make thee all the more wishful to go. But I would not willingly imperil thy young life, and I fain trust there is naught that will do thee hurt. Thou must tell no man, and prepare thee for the coming venture. Go now, therefore, and take rest, eat well, and make all ready against the time appointed."
Full of joyful pride at the thought of his lord's confidence, and delighted at the prospect of the mysterious adventure to be undertaken alone with the Captain of the Wight, ............