Oh! then I see Queen Mab has been with you.
ROMEO AND JULIET.
The subject on which the mind has last been engaged at night is apt to occupy our thoughts even during slumber, when Imagination, uncorrected by the organs of sense, weaves her own fantastic web out of whatever ideas rise at random in the sleeper. It is not surprising, therefore, that De Lacy in his dreams had some confused idea of being identified with the unlucky Mark of Cornwall; and that he awakened from such unpleasant visions with a brow more clouded than when he was preparing for his couch on the evening before. He was silent, and seemed lost in thought, while his squire assisted at his levee with the respect now only paid to sovereigns. “Guarine,” at length he said, “know you the stout Fleming, who was said to have borne him so well at the siege of the Garde Doloureuse?— a tall, big, brawny man.”
“Surely, my lord,” answered his squire; “I know Wilkin Flammock — I saw him but yesterday.”
“Indeed!” replied the Constable —“Here, meanest thou?— In this city of Gloucester?”
“Assuredly, my good lord. He came hither partly about his merchandise, partly, I think, to see his daughter Rose, who is in attendance on the gracious young Lady Eveline.”
“He is a stout soldier, is he not?”
“Like most of his kind — a rampart to a castle, but rubbish in the field,” said the Norman squire.
“Faithful, also, is he not?” continued the Constable.
“Faithful as most Flemings, while you can pay for their faith,” replied Guarine, wondering a little at the unusual interest taken in one whom he esteemed a being of an inferior order; when, after some farther inquiries, the Constable ordered the Fleming’s attendance to be presently commanded.
Other business of the morning now occurred, (for his speedy departure required many arrangements to be hastily adopted,) when, as the Constable was giving audience to several officers of his troops, the bulky figure of Wilkin Flammock was seen at the entrance of the pavilion, in jerkin of white cloth, and having only a knife by his side.
“Leave the tent, my masters,” said De Lacy, “but continue in attendance in the neighbourhood; for here comes one I must speak to in private.” The officers withdrew, and the Constable and Fleming were left alone. “You are Wilkin Mammock, who fought well against the Welsh at the Garde Doloureuse?”
“I did my best, my lord,” answered Wilkin —“I was bound to it by my bargain; and I hope ever to act like a man of credit.”
“Methinks” said the Constable, “that you, so stout of limb, and, as I hear, so bold in spirit, might look a little higher than this weaving trade of thine.”
“No one is reluctant to mend his station, my lord,” said Wilkin; “yet I am so far from complaining of mine, that I would willingly consent it should never be better, on condition I could be assured it were never worse.”
“Nay, but, Flammock,” said the Constable, “I mean higher things for you than your modesty apprehends — I mean to leave thee in a charge of great trust.”
“Let it concern bales of drapery, my lord, and no one will perform it better,” said the Fleming.
“Away! thou art too lowly minded,” said the Constable. “What think’st thou of being dubbed knight, as thy valour well deserves, and left as Chattelain of the Garde Doloureuse?”
“For the knighthood, my lord, I should crave your forgiveness; for it would sit on me like a gilded helmet on a hog. For any charge, whether of castle or cottage, I trust I might discharge it as well as another.”
“I fear me thy rank must be in some way mended,” said the Constable, surveying the unmilitary dress of the figure before him; “it is at present too mean to befit the protector and guardian of a young lady of high birth and rank.”
“I the guardian of a young lady of birth and rank!” said Flammock, his light large eyes turning larger, lighter, and rounder as he spoke.
“Even thou,” said the Constable. “The Lady Eveline proposes to take up her residence in her castle of the Garde Doloureuse. I have been casting about to whom I may intrust the keeping of her person as well as of the stronghold. Were I to choose some knight of name, as I have many in my household, he would be setting about to do deeds of vassalage upon the Welsh, and engaging himself in turmoils, which would render the safety of the castle precarious; or he would be absent on feats of chivalry, tournaments, and hunting parties; or he would, perchance, have shows of that light nature under the walls, or even within the courts of the castle, turning the secluded and quiet abode, which becomes the situation of the Lady Eveline, into the misrule of a dissolute revel.— Thee I can confide in-thou wilt fight when it is requisite, yet wilt not provoke danger for the sake of danger itself — thy birth, thy habits, will lead thee to avoid those gaieties, which, however fascinating to others, cannot but be distasteful to thee — thy management will be as regular, as I will take care that it shall be honourable; and thy relation to her favourite, Rose, will render thy guardianship more agreeable to the Lady Eveline, than, perchance, one of her own rank — And, to speak to thee a language which, thy nation readily comprehends, the reward, Fleming, for the regular discharge of this most weighty trust, shall be beyond thy most flattering hope.”
The Fleming had listened to the first part of this discourse with an expression of surprise, which gradually gave way to one of deep and anxious reflection. He gazed fixedly on the earth for a minute after the Constable had ceased speaking, and then raising up his eyes suddenly, said, “It is needless to seek for round-about excuses. This cannot be your earnest, my lord — but if it is, the scheme is naught.”
“How and wherefore?” asked the Constable, with displeased surprise.
“Another man may grasp at your bounty,” continued Wilkin, “and leave you to take chance of the value you were to receive for it; but I am a downright dealer, I will not take payment for service I cannot render.”
“But I demand, once more, wherefore thou canst not, or rather wilt not, accept this trust?” said the Constable. “Surely, if I am willing to confer such confidence, it is well thy part to answer it.”
“True, my lord,” said the Fleming; “but methinks the noble Lord de Lacy should feel, and the wise Lord de Lacy should foresee, that a Flemish weaver is no fitting guardian for his plighted bride. Think her shut up in yonder solitary castle, under such respectable protection, and reflect how long the place will be solitary in this land of love and of adventure! We shall have minstrels singing ballads by the threave under our windows, and such twangling of harps as would be enough to frighten our walls from their foundations, as clerks say happened to those of Jericho — We shall have as many knights-errant around us as ever had Charlemagne, or King Arthur. Mercy on me! A less matter than a fine and noble recluse immured — so will they term it — in a tower, under the guardianship of an old Flemish weaver, would bring half the chivalry in England round us, to break lances, vow vows, display love-liveries, and I know not what follies besides.— Think you such gallants, with the blood flying through their veins like quicksilver, would much mind my bidding them begone?”
“Draw bolts, up with the drawbridge, drop portcullis,” said the Constable, with a constrained smile.
“And thinks your lordship such gallants would mind these impediments? such are the very essence of the adventures which they come to seek.— The Knight of the Swan would swim through the moat — he of the Eagle would fly over the wails — he of the Thunderbolt would burst open the gates.”
“Ply crossbow and mangonel,” said de Lacy.
“And be besieged in form,” said the Fleming, “like the Castle of Tintadgel in the old hangings, all for the love of fair lady?— And then those gay dames and demoiselles, who go upon adventure from castle to castle, from tournament to tournament, with bare bosoms, flaunting plumes, poniards at their sides, and javelins in their hands, chattering like magpies, and fluttering like jays, and, ever and anon, cooing like doves — how am I to exclude such from the Lady Eveline’s privacy?”
“By keeping doors shut, I tell thee,” answered the Constable, still in the same tone of forced jocularity; “a wooden bar will be thy warrant.”
“Ay, but,” answered Flammock, “if the Flemish weaver say shut , when the Norman young lady says open , think which has best chance of being obeyed. At a word, my lord, for the matter of guardianship, and such like, I wash my hands of it — I would not undertake to be guardian to the chaste Susannah, though she lived in an enchanted castle, which no living thing could approach.”
“Thou holdest the language and thoughts,” said De Lacy, “of a vulgar debauchee, who laughs at female constancy, because he has lived only with the most worthless of the sex. Yet thou shouldst know the contrary, having, as I know, a most virtuous daughter —”
“Whose mother was not less so,” said Wilkin, breaking in upon the Constable’s speech with somewhat more emotion than he usually displayed, “But law, my lord, gave me authority to govern and direct my wife, as both law and nature give me power and charge over my daughter. That which I can govern, I can be answerable for; but how to discharge me so well of a delegated trust, is another question.— Stay at home, my good lord,” continued the honest Fleming, observing that his speech made some impression upon De Lacy; “let a fool’s advice for once be of avail to change a wise man’s purpose, taken, let me say, in no wise hour. Remain in your own land, rule your own vassals, and protect your own bride. You only can claim her cheerful love and ready obedience; and sure I am, that, without pretending to guess what she may do if separated from you, she will, under your own eye, do the duty of a faithful and a loving spouse.”
“And the Holy Sepulchre?” said the Constable, with a sigh, his heart confessing the wisdom of the advice, which circumstances prevented him from following.
“Let those who lost the Holy Sepulchre regain it, my lord,” replied Flammock. “If those Latins and Greeks, as they call them, are no better men than I have heard, it signifies very little whether they or the heathen have the country that has cost Europe so much blood and treasure.” “In good faith,” said the Constable, “there is sense in what thou say’st; but I caution thee to repeat it not, lest thou be taken for a heretic or a Jew. For me, my word and oath are pledged beyond retreat, and I have only to consider whom I may best name for that important station, which thy caution has — not without some shadow of reason — induced thee to decline.”
“There is no man to whom your lordship can so naturally or honourably transfer such a charge,” said Wilkin Flammock, “as to the kinsman near to you, and possessed of your trust; yet much better would it be were there no such trust to be reposed in any one.”
“If,” said the Constable, “by my near kinsman, you mean Randal de Lacy, I care not if I tell you, that I consider him as totally worthless, and undeserving of honourable confidence.”
“Nay, I mean another,” said Flammock, “nearer to you by blood, and, unless I greatly mistake, much nigher also in affection — I had in mind your lordship’s nephew, Damian de Lacy.”
The Constable started as if a wasp had stung him; but instantly replied, with forced composure, “Damian was to have gone in my stead to Palestine — it now seems I must go in his; for, since this last illness, the leeches have totally changed their minds, and consider that warmth of the climate as dangerous, which they formerly decided to be salutary. But our learned doctors, like our learned priests, must ever be in the right, change their counsels as they may; and we poor laymen still in the wrong. I can, it is true, rely on Damian with the utmost confidence; but he is young, Flammock — very young — and in that particular, resembles but too nearly the party who might be otherwise committed to his charge.”
“Then once more, my lord,” said the plain-spoken Fleming, “remain at home, and be yourself the protector of what is naturally so dear to you.”
“Once more, I repeat, that I cannot,” answered the Constable. “The step which I have adopted as a great duty, may perhaps be a great error — I only know that it is irretrievable.”
