CHAPTER IX.
Welcome, he said:
Oh, long expected, to my dear embrace!--Dryden.
"We must not think ourselves safe," said Longpole, when they had got about two miles from the park, "till we have put five estates between us and that double cunning fox, Sir Payan Wileton; for by break of day his horsemen will be out in every direction, and he will not mind breaking a little law to have us."
"Which way are we going now?" demanded the knight; "I should judge towards Canterbury."
"A little to the left we bear now," replied Longpole; "and yet the left is become the right, for by going left we get right off his land, my lord."
"Call me not my lord, Heartley," said Darnley. "Did I appear before the king as Lord Darnley his grace might be offended, and especially the proud Wolsey; as, after many entreaties, made by the best in the land, the prelate refused to see either my father or myself, that we might plead our own cause; therefore, for the present, I am but Sir Osborne Maurice. Thou hast too much wit I know to give me my lord at every instant, like yon foolish clothier."
"Oh, no! not I," replied Longpole; "I will Sir Osborne you, sir, mightily. But speaking of the clothier, your worship, how wonderfully the fellow used his legs! It seemed as if every step cried out ell-wide; and when he stumbled 'twas but three quarters. I hope he escaped, if 'twere but to glorify his running."
"Even if they took him," said the knight, "Sir Payan would not keep him after he found I was gone."
"If 'twere not for avarice," said Longpole; "the fellow had all his better angels in his bags, and Sir Payan has store of avarice. I've seen him wrangle with a beggar for the change of a halfpenny, when the devil tempted him to commit a charity. And yet avarice, looked upon singly, is not a bad vice for a man to have either. It's a warm, a comfortable solid sin; and if most men will damn their own souls to get money, he can't be much worse off who damns his to keep it. Oh, I like avarice! Give me avarice for my sin. But I tire your worship."
"No, no, faith!" replied the knight. "Thy cheerfulness, together with the freedom of my limbs, give me new spirit, Heartley."
"Oh! good your worship," cried Longpole, "call me something else than Heartley. Since the fit is on us for casting our old names, I'll be after the fashion too, and have a new one."
"Well, then, I will call thee Longpole," said the knight, "which was a name we gave thee this morning, when thou wert watching us on the bank."
"Speak not of it, Sir Osborne," replied he; "that was a bad trick, the worst I ever was in. But call me Longpole, if your worship chooses. When I was with the army they called me Dick Fletcher,[[3]] because I made the arrows; and now I'll be Longpole, till such time as your honour Is established in all your rights again; and then I'll be merry Master Heartley, my lord's man."
"I fear me, Dick, that thou wilt have but little beside thy merriment for thy wages," said the knight, "at least for a while; for yon same Sir Payan has my bags too in safe custody, and also some good letters for his Grace of Buckingham. Yet I hope to receive in London the ransom of a knight and two squires, whom I made prisoners at Bouvines. Till then we must content ourselves on soldiers' fare, and strive not to grow sad because our purses are empty."
"Oh! your worship, my merriment never leaves me," said Longpole. "They say that I laughed when first I came into the world; and, with God's will, I will laugh when I go out of it. When good Dr. Wilbraham, your honour's tutor, used to teach me Latin, you were but a little thing then, some four years old; but, however, I was a great boy of twelve, and he would kindly have taught me, and made a clerk of me; but I laughed so at the gods and goddesses, that he never could get on. The great old fools of antiquity, as I used to call them; and then he would cane me, and laugh too, till he could not cane me for laughing. I was a wicked wag in those days; but since then I have grown to laugh at folks as much as with them. But I think you said, Sir Osborne, that you had letters for the Duke of Buckingham: if we walk on at this pace, we shall soon be upon his land."
"What! has he estates in this county?" asked the knight; "my letters were addressed to him at Thornbury, in Gloucestershire."
"Oh! but he has many a broad acre too in Kent," answered Longpole; "and a fine house, windowed throughout with glass, and four chimneys at each end; not a room but has its fire. They say that he is there even now. And much loved is he of the commons, being no way proud, as some of our lords are, with their upturned noses, as if they scorned to wind their mother earth."
"Were I but sure that his grace were there," said the knight, "I would e'en venture without the letters; for much has he been a friend to my father, and he is also renowned for his courtesy."
"Surely, your worship," answered Longpole, "if his grace have any grace, he must be gracious; and yet I have heard that Sir Payan is the duke's good friend, and it might be dangerous to trust yourself."
"I do not fear," said the knight. "The noble duke would never deliver me into the hands of my enemy; and although, perhaps, Sir Payan may play the sycophant, and cringe to serve his own base purposes with his grace, I cannot believe that the duke would show him any farther favour than such as we yield to a hound that serves us. However, we must find some place to couch us for the night, and to-morrow morning I will determine."
"Still, we must on a little farther to-night," said Longpole. "That Sir Payan has the nose of a bloodhound, and I should fear to rest yet for a couple of hours. But the country I know well, every path and field, so that I will not lead your worship wrong."
For nearly ten miles more, lighted by neither moon nor stars, did the two travellers proceed, through fields, over gates, and in the midst of woods, through which Longpole conducted with such unerring sagacity, that the young knight could not help a suspicion crossing his mind that his guide must have made himself acquainted with the paths by some slight practice in deer-stalking, or other gentle employments of a similar nature. At length, however, they arrived in the bottom of a little valley, where a clear quick stream was dashing along, catching and reflecting all the light that remained in the air. On the edge of the hill hung a portion of old forest ground, in the skirts of which was a group of haystacks; and hither Longpole led his master, seeming quite familiar with all the localities round about. "Here, sir, leap this little ditch and mound. Wait! there is a young hedge: now, between these two hay-stacks is a bed for a prince. Out upon the grumblers who are always finding fault with Fortune! The old lady, with her purblind eyes, gives, it is true, to one man a wisp of straw, and to another a cap and plume; but if he with the wisp wears it as gaily as the other does his bonnet, why fortune's folly is mended by content. I killed a fat buck in that wood not a month since," continued Longpole; "but, good your worship, tell not his Grace of Buckingham thereof."
By such conversation Longpole strove to cheer the spirits of his young lord, upon whose mind all the wayward circumstances of his fate pressed with no easy weight. Laying himself down, however, between the two haystacks, while Heartley found himself a similar bed hard by, the young adventurer contrived soon to forget his sorrows in the arms of sleep; and as he lay there, very inconsiderately began dreaming of Lady Constance de Grey. Sir Payan Wileton also soon took his place on the imaginary scene; and in all the wild romance of a sleeping vision, they both contrived to teaze poor Sir Osborne desperately. At length, however, as if imagination had been having her revel after judgment had fallen asleep, and had then become drowsy herself, the forms melted gradually away, and forgetfulness took possession of the whole.
It was bright daylight when the knight awoke, and all the world was gay with sunshine, and resonant with the universe's matin song. Longpole, however, was still fast asleep, and snoring as if in obstinate mockery of the birds that sat and sang above his head. Yet even in sleep there was a merry smile upon the honest Englishman's face, and the knight could hardly find the heart to wake him from the quiet blessing he was enjoying to the cares, the fears, and the anxieties of active existence. "Wake, Richard!" said he, at length, "wake; the sun has risen this hour."
Up started Longpole. "So he has!" cried he; "well, 'tis a shame, I own, that that same old fellow the sun, who could run alone before I was born, and who has neither sat down nor stood still one hour since, should still be up before me in the morning. But your worship and I did not go to bed last night so early as he did."
"Ay!" replied the knight; "but he will still run on, as bright, as vigorous, and as gay as ever, long after our short race is done."
"More fool he then!" said Longpole; "he'll be lag last. But how have you determined, sir, about visiting the noble duke?"
"I will go, certainly," replied the knight; "but, good Longpole, tell me, is it far from the manor, for all my food yesterday was imprisonment and foul words."
"'Ods life! your worship must not complain of hunger, then, for such diet soon gives a man a surfeit. But, in troth, 'tis more than one good mile. However, surely we can get a nuncheon of bread at some cottage as we go; so shall your worship arrive just in time for his grace's dinner, and I come in for my share of good things in the second or third hall, as it pleases master yeoman-usher. So let us on, sir, i' God's name."
Climbing the hill, they now cut across an angle of the forest, and soon came to a wide open down, whereon a shepherd was feeding a fine flock of sheep, singing lightly as he went along.