The King and Prince Edward stood in the great hall of Nottingham Castle, about to go forth on horseback. But few attendants, comparatively, were around them; and a good deal of unmeaning merriment was upon the King\'s countenance, as he jested with a horribly contorted humpback, who, tricked forth in outrageous finery, displayed upon his own deformed person more ribands, feathers, and lace, than all the rest of the Court put together. Full of malice, wit, and impudence, every tale of scandal, every scurvy jest and ribald story of the Court, were familiar to him, and with these he entertained the leisure hours of the King, when the monarch was not seeking amusement in the society of his foreign favourites.
The brow of Edward, on the contrary, was somewhat stern and sad. Many things had gone contrary to his wishes; his father seemed resolved not to perform any of the promises which he had made to the more patriotic noblemen who had supported the royal cause; and though Edward carried filial respect and deference to an extent which his commanding mind, high purposes, and great achievements, might perhaps have justified him in stopping short of, yet he could not but suffer his countenance to show his disappointment and disapprobation.
The King had descended from his apartments before his horses had been brought into the court; and when the door at the farther end of the hall opened, he took a few steps towards it, followed by the gentlemen who were with him, supposing that some of the attendants were coming to announce that all was ready.
Two or three of the royal officers did certainly appear, but in the midst was seen the tall and powerful form of Hugh de Monthermer, with an old knight, Sir John Hardy, on one side, and a page on the other. He advanced with a quick step up the hall, and, bowing reverently to the King and to the Prince, he said--
"I have come, your grace, according to the tenour of the safe-conduct I have received, with one well known in feats of arms to be my god-father in chivalry, and with twenty-five attendants and no more, to meet my accuser face to face, to declare that his charge is false before God and man, and to do battle with him in this behalf--my body against his, according to the law of arms. I do beseech you, my lord, let me know my accuser."
"\'Tis I," answered a voice from behind the King, and Alured de Ashby stepped forward to Henry\'s side--"\'tis I, Alured de Ashby, who do accuse you, Hugh of Monthermer, of feloniously and maliciously doing to death William de Ashby, my noble father. I put myself on the decision of Heaven, and God defend the right!"
Hugh of Monthermer had turned very pale. His lip quivered, his eye grew anxious and haggard, and for a moment or two he remained in deep silence. At length, however, he replied--
"You do me bitter wrong, Alured de Ashby--you should know better."
"How so?" demanded his opponent; "there is strong and dark suspicion against you."
"Which I can disperse in a moment," said Hugh de Monthermer, "like clouds scattered by a searching wind. But even were there suspicions ten times as strong, I say that you, of all men, should not receive them."
"How pale he turns!" observed one of the noblemen near, loud enough for Hugh to hear.
"Ay, sir, I do turn pale," replied the young nobleman, looking sternly at him "I turn pale to find that one against whom I would less willingly draw the sword than any man living, is he, who, by a false and baseless suspicion, forces me to do so. Alured de Ashby, you knew right well when you concealed the name of my accuser that no provocation would induce me to dip my hand in the blood of your sister\'s brother."
"I did," replied Alured de Ashby; "that was the reason I concealed it."
"Then should you not have likewise known," demanded Hugh, "that the same reason which makes me shrink from injuring her brother, would still more withhold my arm, if raised, to spill the blood of her father. You know it, Alured de Ashby--in your heart you know it well. Nothing, so help me God, would have made me do one act to injure him, even if there had been quarrel or dispute between us, when, I call Heaven to witness, there was none."
"This is all vain," answered Alured de Ashby, with an unmoved countenance; "you, Hugh de Monthermer, underlie my challenge; you have accepted it, and I will make it good. There lies my glove!" and he cast it down before the King.
Sir John Hardy instantly advanced and took it up, saying, "In the name of the most noble lord Hugh de Monthermer, Baron of Amesbury, I take your gage, Alured, Earl of Ashby, and do promise on his behalf that he will do battle with you in his quarrel when and where the king shall appoint, on horse or foot, with the usual arms and equipments, according to the law of arms, and the customs of the court of England."
Hugh de Monthermer folded his arms on his chest, and bent down his eyes upon the ground; and oh, how bitter were his feelings at that moment! The deed was done--the irretrievable engagement was made; he must either dip his hand in the kindred blood of her he loved best on earth, or he must abandon honour, and name, and station, for ever--ay, and remain gained with the imputation of a base and horrible act, which would equally put a barrier between him and the object of his long-cherished hopes.
Darkness was round him on every side, Between two black alternatives, both equally menacing and fearful, he could but go on upon the course before him--upon the course to which he seemed driven by fate. He must meet his accuser in arms, he must do battle with him at outrance, he must conquer, he must slay him. He knew well his own powers and his own skill, and he doubted not that he should obtain the victory; but he also knew that Alured de Ashby was not one to be overthrown with ease, that he was not one whom he should be able to wound, disarm, or save. Once in the field together, it was hand against hand, body against body, life against life, till one or the other was no more. Death was the only warder that would part them after the barrier of the lists fell behind him. Nor could he hesitate, nor could he spare his adversary, even though he were willing to risk or lose his own life rather than slay the brother of Lucy de Ashby; for with the accused, ignominy, and condemnation followed overthrow, and it was not alone death, but disgrace, that was the mead of the vanquished. No; his fate was sealed, his doom determined, with his own hand was he destined to destroy his own happiness, to tear the sweetest ties of the heart asunder, and to consign himself to grief, and disappointment, and solitude through life.
As the last words broke from the lip of Sir John Hardy, the scene around him seemed to disappear from his eyes. He felt like one of those, who, on some bitter sorrow, forswear the world and the world\'s joys for the dark cell of the monastery, the living tomb of the heart. He felt like one of them, when the vow is pronounced, when their fate is sealed, and when all earth\'s things are given up for ever. The whole hall and all that it contained swam indistinctly before him, and he bent down his eyes lest their giddy vacancy should betray the intensity of his feelings to these who watched him.
In the meanwhile Henry and the Prince conferred for a moment apart; and the King turned first to the accuser, then to the accused, saying, "My lords, we will name Monday next for the decision of this wager of battle; the place to be the Butts by the side of Trent, below the bridge. We will take care that fitting lists be prepared; and, until the day of combat, we charge you both to keep the peace one towards the other, to live in tranquil amity, as noble knights and gallant gentlemen may do, although there be mortal quarrel between them, to be decided at a future time."
Thus speaking, the King turned to leave the hall, but Edward paused a moment, and took Hugh de Monthermer\'s hand. "I grieve, Hugh," he said, "most deeply that by some sad mistake--ay, and by some reckless conduct," he continued, aloud, "on the part of some gentlemen of this court, a false and wrongful charge was brought against you in the first instance, out of which this second accusation has in some degree arisen. Of the first charge you have cleared yourself, to the satisfaction of the King and every honourable man; and of the second, I know you will clear yourself also as becomes you. In the meantime, you are my guest; one of the towers on the lower wall is prepared for you and your people, and as the day fixed is somewhat early for this trial, my armourer is at your command, to furnish you with such things as may be needful; for your own dwelling is too far distant to send for harness; and we know this gallant Earl too well," he added, turning towards Alured de Ashby, "not to feel sure that his opponent in the lists must use every caution and defence which the law of arms permits."
The young Earl smiled proudly, and followed the King, who, together with his son and the rest of the court, quitted the hall, leaving Hugh de Monthermer standing in the midst, paying but little attention to anything but his own sad thoughts.
"My lord, I have charge to show you your apartments," said an attendant, approaching with a simpering air. "The tower is very convenient, but the stables are not quite so good, and you must put six of your horses in the town. This way, my lord, if you so please."
Hugh de Monthermer followed in silence, and the man led him accordingly across the court to one of the towers, which stood as an independent building, only connected with the rest of the castle by the walls.
"This, sir," said the servant, entering with him, "is the hall for your people, who will be supplied by the King\'s purveyors with all they need. Here are two sleeping chambers behind, and here a chamber for this gallant knight. Now, up these steps, my lord--Here is a vacant room for you to range your arms, and see that all be well prepared for man and horse; here is a pinion for your hood and chapel-de-fer, here are stays for your lances, and nowhere will you find better wood than in Nottingham; a hook for your shield, and a block for the hauberk and other harness. This way is the ante-room, my lord, with truckle-beds for a yeoman and a page. That door leads direct through the wall to the apartments of the Prince, and this to your bed-room."
Hugh gave him some money; and, saying, "Largesse, my lord, largesse," the man withdrew, promising to send in the young nobleman\'s followers, and to show them where to stable their horses.
"Take heart, my lord--take heart," said Sir John Hardy, after the royal attendant was gone; "this is a bitter change of adversaries, it is true; but now \'tis done, it cannot be helped, and you must do your devoir against this Earl, who will bring his fate upon his own head."
"I thought him two hundred miles away," replied Hugh; "but, as you say, I must do my devoir. See to all things necessary, Hardy; for I have no heart to think of anything but one. A good plain harness is all I want: the horse that brought me hither will do as well as another."
"Nay, my lord, you must not be rash," answered the old. Knight, "lest some misfortune happen."
"The worst misfortune that life has in store for me is sure to befal," replied Hugh de Monthermer: "it is, to slay the brother of Lucy de Ashby, Hardy; for he fights with a desperate man, one to whom all things on earth are indifferent--who must live, though life be hateful to him--who cannot die, as he would fain do, lest ignominy should cleave unto his name. I will trust all to you, Hardy--I will trust all to you; but I cannot think or talk of anything at present, so I betake me to my chamber. If any one should come, tell them I am busy--busy enough, indeed, with dark and bitter fancies."
Thus saying, he retreated to the bed-room which had been assigned him, and casting himself down on a settle, he spread his arms upon the table, and buried his eyes in them.
It were vain to attempt by any words of ours to depict the state of Hugh de Monthermer\'s heart, as he sat there, given up entirely to sad memories and gloomy expectations. Oh, how his thoughts warred with one another--how the idea of flying from the task he had undertaken was met by the repugnance of an honourable spirit to disgrace and shame--how the image of Lucy de Ashby\'s brother dying benea............