CHAPTER VII.
The withering power of Time--which, in brief space, can make such havoc on man, and all man's works, that friend shall scarce know friend, and grass shall have swallowed up the highways--is impotent against the ever renewing vigour of Nature; and in the forest of Hannut, the twenty years which had passed, seemed scarcely to show the difference of a day. Green oaks were withered, it is true; the lightning had scathed the pine and rent the beech; the woodman's axe had been busy here and there; but, in constant succession, the children of the wood had grown up to take the place of those which had fallen; and the most discerning eye could scarce have traced a single change in all the forest scene around.
Days seemed to have altered, however, and manners to have changed in the forest of Hannut; for, instead of very equivocal looking soldiers, and travellers who wandered on with fear and trembling, there was now to be seen, near the very same cascade by the side of which we opened this book, a gay, light party, whose thoughts appeared all of joy, and to whom terror seemed perfectly a stranger. That party consisted of three principal personages, with their attendants; and, mounted on splendid horses, whose high spirit, though bowed to the most complete obedience to man's will, was in no degree diminished, they rode gaily across the bridge, and paused by the side of the stream.
The first whom we shall notice--a powerful young cavalier, who might be in the thirtieth year of his age, who might be less, sun-burnt, but naturally fair, strong in all his limbs, but easy and graceful in his movements--sprang to the ground as they approached the waterfall; and laying his hand on the gilded bridle of a white jennet, that cantered on by his side, he assisted the person who rode it to dismount.
She was a fair, beautiful girl, of about eighteen or nineteen years of age, round whose broad white forehead fell clusters of glossy light brown hair; her eyebrows and her eyelashes, however, were dark; and through the long deep fringe of the latter looked forth a pair of blue and laughing eyes, which beamed with the same merry happiness that curled the arch of her sweet lips.
Two of the attendants who followed, hurried forward to hold the bridle and the stirrup of the third person of the party, who dismounted more slowly, as became the gravity of his years. Time, indeed, had not broken, and had hardly bent him; but evidences of the ironhanded conqueror's progress were to be traced in the snowy hair and beard, which had once been of the deepest black; and in the long furrows strongly marked across the once smooth brow. In other respects the Lord of Hannut was but little changed. The same dark, grave cast of countenance remained; the same spare, but vigorous form; though, indeed, without appearing to stoop, his height seemed somewhat diminished since last we brought him before the reader's eyes. A gleam of affectionate pleasure lighted up his countenance, as he marked the graceful gallantry with which his young companion aided the fair girl who accompanied them to dismount; and when, after having rendered his service to the lady, the cavalier turned to offer him his arm also, with a sort of half apology for not having done so before, he replied, smiling--"Thou art better employed dear boy; think'st thou I have so far forgotten my chivalry as to grudge the attention thou bestow'st upon a lady? Here, spread out here," he continued, turning to the attendants and pointing to the green short turf which carpeted the bank of the stream just below the waterfall; "we could not find a better place for our meal than this."
By the birds which they carried on their wrists, it was evident that the whole party had been flying their hawks, the favourite amusement, at that time, of the higher classes throughout Flanders. They now, however, seated themselves to a sort of sylvan dinner which was spread upon the turf by the attendants, who--with that mixture of familiarity and respect which were perfectly compatible with each other, and usual in those days, and in such sports--sat down with persons of higher rank, at once to partake of their fare, and assist them at their meal.
The conversation was gay and lively, especially between the two younger persons whom we have noticed. They were evidently in habits of intimacy; and on the cavalier's part there appeared that tender but cheerful attention to his fair companion, which argued feelings of a somewhat warmer nature than kindred affection, yet without any of that apprehension which love, if the return be doubtful, is sure to display. Her manner was of a different kind; it was not less affectionate, it was not less gentle, but it was of that light and playful character, under which very deep and powerful attachment sometimes endeavours to conceal itself: the timidity which hides itself in boldness, the consciousness of feeling deeply, which sometimes leads to the assumption of feeling little. It was understood, however, and appreciated by her lover, who, possibly, had taken some more serious moment, when the light and active guardian of the casket slept, to pry into the secret of the heart within.
Love, however, it would appear, is insatiable of assurances; and, probably, it was on some fresh demand for a new, or greater acknowledgment, that the lady replied to a half-whispered speech: "Certainly, dear Hugh! Can you doubt it? I will try, with all my mind, to love you; for, as we are to be married, whether we love each other or not, it is but good policy to strive to do so if it be possible." And as she spoke, she fixed her eyes upon her companion's face, with a look of malicious inquiry, as if to see what effect the lukewarmness of her speech would produce upon a heart she knew to be sufficiently susceptible.
He only laughed, however, and replied, "Sing me a song, then, dear Alice, to cheer these green woods, and make me think you love me better than you do."
"Not I, indeed," replied the young lady. "In the first place, I would not cheat you for the world; and in the next place, neither song nor pastourelle, nor sirvente, nor virelai, will I ever sing, till I am asked in song myself. Sing, sing, Hugh! You have been at the bright court of France, and are, I know, a master of the gaie science. Sing the light lay you sang yester evening; or some other, if you know one. It matters not which."
"Be it so, if you will sing afterwards," replied the young cavalier; and without farther question than an inquiring glance towards the Lord of Hannut, he sang, in a full, rich, melodious voice, one of the common songs of the day, which was not altogether inapplicable to her speech. The words, though in a different language, were somewhat to the following effect:--
SONG.
Sing in the days of the spring-time, beloved;
In those days of sweetness, oh, sing to me!
When all things by one glad spirit are moved,
From the sky-lark to the bee.
Sing in the days, too, of summer-time, dearest;
In those days of fire, oh, sing to me then!
When suns are the brightest, and skies are clearest,
Sing, sing in the woods again.
Sing to me still in the autumn's deep glory;
In the golden fall-time, oh, be not mute!
Some sweet, wand'ring ditty from ancient story,
That well with the time may suit.
Sing to me still in the dark hours of sadness,
When winter across the sky is driven;
But sing not the wild tones of mirth and gladness,
Then sing of peace and heaven.
"A pretty song enough, for a man to sing," observed the young lady, as her lover concluded; "but, as I do not choose to be dictated to by anybody, I shall even sing you such a song as suits me myself, whether in season or out of season. What say you, dearest uncle?" she added, turning to the Lord of Hannut; and laying the fair rounded fingers of her soft hand upon his, "What shall I sing him?" And as she spoke, she raised her eyes towards the sky, as if trying to remember some particular lay from amongst the many that she knew; but scarcely had she done so, when an involuntary cry burst from her lips--"Good Heaven!" she exclaimed, "there are armed men looking at us from the top of the bank: there, there!"
Every one started up, and turned their eyes in the direction which hers had taken. There was, indeed, a rustle heard amongst the trees; and a stone or two, detached from above, rolled down the crag, and plunged into the stream at its foot. But no one was to be seen; and, after gazing for a moment in silence, the lover beckoned one of his attendants to follow, and bounding up the most difficult part of the cliff, notwithstanding the fair girl's entreaty to forbear, he plunged into the brushwood, in pursuit of the person who had disturbed their tranquillity.
"You are dreaming, my fair Alice," said the Lord of Hannut; "and have sent poor Hugh de Mortmar on a foolish errand."
"Nay, indeed, uncle," replied Alice, "I dreamed not at all. I am not one to dream in such a sort. For Heaven's sake! bid one ride to bring us assistance, and send some of the men up to aid poor Hugh; for, as sure as I live, I saw two or three faces with steel caps above, looking through the branches of the trees. Hark! do you not hear voices? Climb up, sirs, if you be men, and aid your young lord."
The attendants looked to the baron; and on his part, the Lord of Hannut only smiled with an air of incredulity; when, much, indeed, to the surprise of Alice, her lover appeared above the moment after; and, springing easily down the rock, declared that all was clear beyond.
She gazed on him for a moment in serious silence, and then merely replied--"It is very strange!" Hugh de Mortmar cast himself down again by her side, and once more pressed her to sing; but it was in vain. Alice was agitated and alarmed; and finding it impossible to shake off her terror, she besought her uncle to break up the party and return to the castle, notwithstanding assurances from all that she must have been deceived by the waving of some of the boughs, or the misty spray of the cataract.
Finding, at length, that to reason with her was fruitless, her uncle agreed to return; and the horses being led forward, the whole party remounted, and, with their hawks once more upon their hands, made the best of their way back towards the castle of Hannut. For the first two or three miles, Alice continued anxiously to watch every opening of the trees on either side of the road; remaining in such a state of alarm, that her falcon's wings were continually flapping, from the agitated haste with which she turned to gaze on every object that they passed on the road. It was only when they came within sight of the vassal town, and the castle on its high rock, about half a mile beyond, that she seemed to consider herself in safety; and the long, deep breath she drew, as they passed through the barbacan, announced what a load was taken off her mind when she found herself within the walls of her uncle's castle.
"You have dwelt so long in cities, dear Alice," said the Lord of Hannut, laughing, "that the forest is a strange world to you; and your imagination peoples it with creatures of its own. I shall write to your father, my good Lord of Imbercourt, to say, that he must leave you many a month with me yet, till we have cured you of seeing these wild men of the woods."
"Nay, uncle," replied the young lady, who had by this time recovered her playful spirits, and looked up in his face as she spoke, with a smile of arch meaning; "if I were to be terrified with imaginary things, I can tell you I should not have come at all; for my maids have got many a goodly story of the castle of Hannut and its forest, ay, and of its lord to boot; and, on the morning after our arrival, I found that they had all burnt shoes and twisted necks, with sitting the whole of the night before, with their feet in the fire and their heads turned over their shoulders."
The Lord of Hannut heard her with a melancholy smile. "And hadst thou no fear thyself, my fair Alice?" he demanded; "didst thy imagination never fill the dark end of the chamber with sprites and hobgoblins?"
"Nay, nay, in truth, not I!" replied the young lady; "such things have no terrors for me; but, when I saw three armed men looking down upon us in the forest, and thought that there might be thirty more behind, there was some cause for terror."
The Lord of Hannut and Hugh de Mortmar--in whom the reader has, doubtless, by this time discovered that Hugh of Guildres, who, twenty years before, was found sleeping by the cascade--looked at each other with a meaning smile, but replied nothing; and, indeed, the conversation was here brought to a conclusion by a variety of unwonted sounds which now suddenly rose up from the forest below. Seldom was it, in truth, that those wild woods rang with the clang of charging horse, and echoed to the blast of the trumpets; but such was the case in the present instance; and, as the sounds came borne upon the wind through the open windows, the brow of the Lord of Hannut darkened, and his eye flashed, while the cheek of the younger cavalier flushed as if with anger.
"By the Lord! our fair Alice is right, it would seem!" cried Hugh de Mortmar; "there are more men in the wood than we thought for. What, ho! warder!" he exclaimed, leaning from the narrow window and shouting to some one stationed in the gallery of a tall slender tower, which, more like some Moorish minaret than anything else, rose, towering above all the others on the opposite side of the court-yard. "What, ho! warder, what seest thou down in the woods below? By the Lord! there is another blast," he added, as the trumpets again echoed through the woods.
The next moment the loud voice of the warder was heard in reply: "I see a plump of spears under the arms of Burgundy, running down a handful of the green riders; but they have not caught them yet. They come closer: they come closer," he added; "but the riders make face; they turn again, and spur on; the men-at-arms are thrown out; but I can see no more, my lord; they have all got beneath the haggard hill."
"Sound the ban-cloche, ho!" exclaimed the young cavalier: "arm, and saddle! arm, and saddle, below there!" he continued, shouting to some of the groups who were assembled in the court-yard. "I would fain see who it is," he added, turning to the Lord of Hannut, "who dares to hunt down any men in these woods, your free domain, without your good leave, my lord."
"Beware, Hugh, beware!" said the Lord of Hannut, holding up his hand with a monitory gesture.
"I will, I will, indeed, my lord," he replied; "I will be most cautious." So saying, he sprang down the steps into the court-yard, and, while the great bell or ban-cloche rang out its warning peal over hill and dale, he gave rapid orders for arming a small body of men; and was springing on his own horse to lead them down to the valley, when the warder called from above, announcing that the party of Burgundians he had before seen, together with a considerable troop of strangers, were winding up the steep road that led directly to the castle.
Hugh de Mortmar paused; and the instant after, a trumpet was blown at the barbacan, by a squire sent forward by the party to give notice of the approach of the noble Lord of Imbercourt to the dwelling of his good brother-in-law of Hannut.
The gates of the castle were immediately thrown open; the armed retainers of its lord were drawn up to receive his honoured guest; and Alice ran down to meet her father, whose unexpected coming seemed a gratifying event to all. Hugh de Mortmar, however, lingered behind, conversing for a few moments in a low and hurried tone with the Lord of Hannut; and the only words which were heard, "It is strange that he should have done so in your domains, my lord, a man so careful in his conduct as he is in general. They surely would never dare to attack him," seemed to show that the two gentlemen spoke of the events which had just taken place in the forest.
While thus conversing, they overtook Alice of Imbercourt, whose impatience had hurried her forward; and then dropping the subject, they advanced with her even beyond the grate of the barbacan, and stood on the edge of the hill, looking down upon the large party that approached, as it wound slowly up the steep ascent which led to the castle.
The cavalcade soon came near; and it became evident, as it did so, that it comprised two distinct bodies: the one being but partially armed, and riding under the banner of the Lord of Imbercourt; the other being clothed in steel from head to heel, and bearing conspicuous the cognizance of the house of Burgundy. The first band, however, was the most numerous, and might consist, perhaps, of a hundred men-at-arms, independent of a number of grooms, horse-boys, and varlets, as they were called, leading several spare horses, some perfectly unburdened, and some loaded with large quantities of armour tied together confusedly with ropes and chains, and so disposed as to be little burdensome to the horse. The other party seemed to have no baggage of any kind; and the arms of all sorts which they employed, they bore about their own persons.
Thus accoutred, both bodies wound on up the slope, glancing in and out of the scattered wood, which, tinted with all the thousand shades of the declining sun, clothed the ascent, and cast long marking shadows across the winding road of yellow sand. Now, the horsemen passing through the depths of the wood could scarcely be distinguished from the trees amidst which they advanced; now, emerging from the overhanging boughs, they stood out clear upon the evening sky, as their path skirted along the edge of the cliff. At first all appeared indistinct: one confused mass of horses and riders; but, soon coming nearer, the form of each individual horseman became defined; and gradually their features, as they wore their helmets up, could be distinguished by those who stood and watched their approach.
At the head of the first party rode a tall, handsome, middle-aged man, with a countenance which was grave, without being austere. When within a few yards of the top of the hill, he threw his horse's rein to a squire, and, springing lightly to the ground, advanced with a quick step towards the little group of persons assembled to meet him. Yielding first to natural affection, he cast his arms round his daughter, Alice of Imbercourt, and pressed her to his bosom. He then saluted frankly and kindly the Lord of Hannut and Hugh de Mortmar; and, as he held their hands in each of his, he said, in a low and hurried tone intended to meet their ear, and their ear alone, before the rest of the party came up, "I beseech you, my good brother, and you, my dear Hugh, whom one day I shall call my son, whatever you may hear presently, bridle your anger. Your rights have been somewhat violated by the leader of that band behind; but I have prevailed upon him to desist: and both because he is a high officer of our sovereign lord the duke, and because these times are too threatening from abroad to admit of feuds between subjects at home, I entreat you to govern your indignation as much as may be."
The followers of Imbercourt had halted as soon as they reached the level ground or terrace in face of the barbacan; and the leader of the second band, having by this time gained the brow of the hill, now rode quickly up to the party at the gate. He was a tall, gaunt, bony man of about forty, with keen eagle's features, and a look of that bold assurance which proceeds more from animal courage, and a mind continually upon its guard, than from conscious rectitude of action or design. He was armed at all points except the head, which was covered alone by its short curly grizzled hair, while his basinet hung beside his axe at the saddle-bow. Such was the appearance now borne by Maillotin du Bac, the famous Prevot Marechal of Burgundy, who, having been himself one of the most notorious plunderers of the time, had been appointed by Charles of Burgundy to root out the bands by which the country was infested, probably on the faith of the old adage, which recommends us to set a thief to catch a thief.
"You are my Lord of Hannut, fair sir, I presume?" said the Prevot, dismounting, and speaking in a coarse, sharp, jarring tone of voice, only fit for a hangman.
The Lord of Hannut answered by a stately bow, and the other proceeded: "My good Lord of Imbercourt, here, whom I reverence and respect, as in duty bound, he being as stout a soldier as he is a worthy counsellor, has but now prayed, or rather commanded, for he having taken the responsibility upon himself, I have yielded to his injunctions, has commanded me to desist from pursuing the brigands and plunderers who, for many years past, have haunted this forest of Hannut."
"Sir," replied the Lord of Hannut, "I, living within the precincts of the wood itself, am, it appears, sadly ignorant of what goes on beneath its shade; for during nearly twenty years I have heard of no outrage whatsoever committed within the bounds of my domain. Had I done so, had any tale of robbery or pillage met my ears, I, as supreme lord, holding a right of exercising justice both high and low, would not have failed to clear the territory within my jurisdiction of such gentry as you mention; nor shall I certainly suffer any one else to interfere with my rights, within my own lands."
"My lord! my lord!" replied the Prevot; "I will easily furnish you with proof that your forest is tenanted as I say. Did we not, within this half hour, encounter a whole party of as undoubted brigands as ever lived?"
"That you attacked some persons in the forest, Sir Prevot, was well enough seen from the belfry of the castle," rejoined Hugh de Mortmar, with a frowning brow; "but whether they were not as honest or honester persons than yourself, remains to be proved, and shall be inquired into most strictly. At all events, sir, you have infringed upon the rights of my uncle, which must be inquired into also. Well, well, my dear lord," he added, noticing a sign by which the Lord of Hannut required him to be silent; "well, well, I say no more, than that these thief-catchers grow too insolent."
The brow of Maillotin du Bac bent, his eyebrows almost met, and his left hand played ominously with the hilt of his dagger, as he muttered, "Thief-catchers!" But farther discussion was cut short by the Lord of Hannut, who exclaimed, "Peace, Hugh! peace! we must not show scanty hospitality to any one. Sir Maillotin du Bac, we will speak farther with you hereafter, on the subjects that you mention; and if you can prove to us that any outrage of any kind has been committed within the limits of my domain, both my nephew and myself will do our best to punish the offenders. But neither duke nor king shall exercise, within my lordship, the rights which belong alone to me."
"Outrage, sir!" rejoined the Prevot; "did not the men who burnt the house of the Lord of Harghen take refuge in your forests within this month?"
"Whether they did or not, I cannot say," replied the Lord of Hannut; "but their burning the house of that audacious villain, the oppressor of the poor, the plunderer of the widow and the orphan, was no very evil deed in my eyes. However, let us not bandy words here at the gate; we will speak farther this evening."
The whole party now passed through the barbacan, and the Lord of Hannut gave special order to his seneschal to attend to the comfort of the soldiers, while he himself led his brother-in-law, the Lord of Imbercourt, and a few of that nobleman's most distinguished attendants, towards the great hall of the castle.
Maillotin du Bac followed boldly, as one of the chief guests; and finding that no great courtesy was shown him in marshalling the way, he exclaimed, in a loud and intrusive voice, "My lord! my lord! before we leave our men, I must crave that you would yield me the use of a dungeon."
"For your own abode, sir?" demanded Hugh de Mortmar, with not the most gracious smile in the world.
"No, no," replied the Prevot, "but for yon prisoner there;" and he pointed to a part of the court-yard, where two of his followers were aiding a young man of a powerful frame and striking appearance to dismount from his horse, which was rendered difficult by his arms being tightly pinioned behind.
"That can be no thief, surely," said Hugh de Mortmar; "I never saw a nobler countenance. By his dress, too, he seems a burgher of the first order."
"The gown does not make the monk," replied Maillotin du Bac, with a grim smile. "If he be no thief, he may be somewhat worse. However, he was not taken on these territories, and therefore, my good lord, his capture can be no offence to you. For courtesy's sake, and for the prince's service, I claim the use of a dungeon for this night. He is a state prisoner, and must be guarded carefully."
"Be it so, Sir Prevot," answered the Lord of Hannut; "thank God, all my dungeons are clear at present; and far be it from me to oppose the due exercise of your office in the duke's service."
"Said like a worthy lord, as I always held you," replied the Prevot. "Where shall we bestow him?"
"Roger de Lorens," said the Lord of Hannut, turning to his seneschal, "show this worthy gentleman, the Prevot of our lord the duke, the different prison-rooms beneath the square tower; let him choose which he will, as most secure; and when he has made his choice, give him up the key thereof. Be the prisoner under your own charge, Sir Maillotin du Bac," he added; "yet, for the honour of my dwelling I trust that you will let his treatment be as gentle as may be. Let him have wine and other refreshments to keep his spirits up, I pray you."
"Black bread and foul water would be good enough for him," replied Maillotin du Bac; "but at your request, my lord, he shall have better fare. Sir Seneschal, I follow you; lead the way. Ho! Martin du Garch, bring along the prisoner."
Thus saying, the Prevot of the Duke of Burgundy, who, though a knight and a man of good family, had once, as we have before noticed, been a notorious adventurer, and had now become the great persecutor of his former comrades, followed the seneschal of Hannut across the court-yard, towards the passage which led to the dungeons. In the meanwhile, the Lord of Hannut, Hugh de Mortmar, the Lord of Imbercourt, and his daughter Alice, advanced to the great hall, where preparations were already in course for serving the evening meal.