CHAPTER XVI.
We must now carry the reader's mind forward to a day a little in advance of that which we last noticed.
It was towards that period of the year which the French call the short summer of St. Martin, from the fact of a few lingering bright days of sunshiny sweetness breaking in upon the autumn, as a memorial of the warmer season gone before. The sky was all full of light, and the air full of heat; and the grand masses of high grey clouds that occasionally floated over the sun were hailed gladly for their soft cool shadow, although the day was the eleventh of November. Sweeping over the prospect, like the mighty but indistinct images of great things and splendid purposes which sometimes cross a powerful but imaginative mind, the shadows of the clouds moved slow over hill and dale, field and forest. Now they cast large masses of the woods into dark and gloomy shade, and left the rising grounds around to stand forth in light and sparkling brightness, giving no bad image of the dark memories that are in every heart, surrounded but not effaced by after joys. Now they floated soft upon the mountains, spreading an airy purple over each dell and cavity; while, pouring into the midst of the valley, the bright orb of day lighted up tower, and town, and farm, and hamlet, and village spire, as hope lights up the existence of man, even while the many clouds of fate hang their heaviest shadows on the prospect around him. The harmonious hue of autumn, too, was over all the world. Russet was the livery of the year; and the brown fields, preparing for the sower, offered only a deeper hue of the same colour, which, though varied through a thousand shades, still painted every tree throughout the woods, and sobered down even the grassy meadows with a tint far different from that of spring. The sky, with the sunshine that it contained, was all summer; but the aspect of everything that it looked upon spoke of autumn sinking fast into the arms of winter.
Such was the scene upon the banks of the little river Geete, when a party, whose bright dresses and active movements spoke sport and gaiety, rode up the windings of the stream, not far from the place where now stands the little hamlet of Sodoigne. No village, however, stood there then; and the banks of the Geete were bordered for some miles with green meadows, not above two or three hundred yards in breadth. These rich pastures were bounded to the eastward by the forest of Hannut, which swept in irregular masses along the whole course of the river, and were confined on the other hand by the low but broken banks of the watercourse, sometimes, in the steepest parts, lined with bushes, which dipped their very branches in the current, but more often, where the turf and the stream were nearly upon a level, fringed with long green flags and other water plants.
The party who cantered lightly along the meadows consisted of eight persons, of whom three were females; and each of the latter upon her hand bore the glove and falcon, which showed the object of their expedition. The first in state, in loveliness, and in grace, was Mary of Burgundy, mounted on a beautiful white horse adorned with many a goodly trapping, and which, though full of fire and life, she managed with that easy and graceful horsemanship for which she was famous, and which, unhappily, in after years, led to the fatal accident[[3]] that deprived the world of one of its brightest ornaments. By her side rode the fair Alice of Imbercourt, her favourite friend and nearest attendant, while another young lady, of inferior rank, but still of noble birth, followed a step behind, somewhat embarrassed by the high spirit of her horse, which she managed well, but with less dexterity than the other two. An elderly gentleman, of mild, complacent, and courtly manners, followed the ladies as their principal attendant; while, of the other four, two habited in green, and furnished with long poles for beating the bushes, together with lures, spare jesses, hoods, and bells, at once showed themselves as official falconers; and the two who brought up the rear, though armed with a degree of precaution that was very necessary in that day, appeared what they really were, namely, simple grooms.
There is something in the excitement of quick riding totally obnoxious to both fear and sadness. It is scarcely possible to conceive a person galloping easily along upon a spirited horse, without feeling his confidence and hope renewed, in some degree, whatever may be the circumstances of his situation. Thus, though in the heart of Mary of Burgundy there was many a memory of painful feelings, of disappointed hopes, and crushed affections; and, though across her mind, whenever she suffered it to rest upon the future, would come dark and painful apprehensions, still the excitement of the sport, the beauty of the day, and the glow of exercise, had given her a flow of high spirits that she had not known for many a day. Her mirth, indeed, was never overpowering, and, if it reached the bounds of cheerfulness, it seldom went beyond.
Now, however, as they rode along by the banks of the stream, and as the falconers beat the bushes to rouse the objects of their chase, she jested in a tone of gentle gaiety with the fair girl who accompanied her upon all those matters which, to the heart of woman, are the important things of life.
Alice of Imbercourt, on her part, maintained the conversation with the same spirit, jested with the like good-humoured malice in reply to the princess, and was never without an answer at her need, although she did not for a moment forget, that however high her own rank, Mary of Burgundy held a higher, nor ever failed to mingle with her speech so much of reverence as to show that she had not forgotten the distinction.
"Nay, nay, own, dear Alice," exclaimed the princess, in reply to something that had passed before, "that day by day you have been bringing me nearer and nearer to a certain castle in the wood; and, in truth, I think that you must have got the noble lord your father to be a confederate in your plot."
"Good sooth, dear lady," replied Alice, "a happy thing were it for us poor women if all fathers were so complacent: I know well where one little heart would be in that case;" and she looked up with an arch smile in the face of the princess.
However strongly prudence may enjoin them to be silent themselves, all women feel more or less pleasure when the conversation is brought near the subject of their loves. Though Mary of Burgundy would not say one word that she could help, upon the feelings of her own heart, even to so dear and faithful a friend as Alice of Imbercourt, yet she felt no displeasure when the gay girl's tongue touched upon the subject of her affections, although clouds and darkness hung over the prospect, and all hope of their gratification was but faint indeed. At the same time she was, perhaps, a little fearful of the topic ever being carried too far; and, therefore, after a smile, in which melancholy mingled, in some degree, with pleasure, she returned to her own jest with her fair follower, without adding anything more to a subject on which both, in happier circumstances, might have been well pleased to speak more freely.
"Nay, nay, Alice," she exclaimed, "that was an artful turn, my sweet friend: but you shall not escape so readily. Tell me, did you not put it in your father's head, to think what a fine thing it would be for me to visit all the different towns in Flanders, and win the love of the good burghers? And did you not yourself lay out the very plan of our journey from Ghent to Alost, and thence to Brussels, and thence to Louvaine, and thence to Tirlemont? And have you not kept me three full days at Tirlemont; and, at last, have you not brought me up the fair river Geete, with our hawks upon our hands, and nobody to watch us, till we are within a league or two of this same castle of Hannut? Fie, Alice! fie! it is a decided conspiracy!"
Alice laughed gaily, and replied: "Well, lady, if it can be proved, even by the best logic of your beautiful lips, that I do wish to see my lover, I know no woman, who has one, that does not do so too, from the farmer's milkmaid, with her pail upon her head, to the Princess of Burgundy, on her white Spanish jennet."
Mary laughed and sighed. "You own it, then," she answered: "I thought, when last night you were striving hard to persuade me to visit the castle of Hannut, and have my future fate laid bare by the dark and awful skill of this learned uncle of yours, that there was a leaf in the book of fortune, or rather in the book of life, that you would well like to read for yourself. But tell me, Alice," she added, more seriously, "tell me something of this lover, to whom, it seems, you are affianced. There appears some mystery about him, and you, of course, must know more of him than any one else."
"Nay, quite the contrary, my dear lady and mistress," replied Alice of Imbercourt; "that shows how little you know of the sad race called men. His being my lover is the very reason, of all others, why I should know less of him than any other person."
"How so," demanded the princess, with a look of surprise.
"Why, simply because, from the moment he becomes my lover," replied Alice of Imbercourt, "he takes the very best possible care to hide every evil quality in his nature and disposition, upon the full and preconcerted plan of not letting me see any one of them till such time as he is my husband. Then, out they come! But that is not all," she continued; "that would only hide a part of his character; but, at the same time that he takes these precautions, I, on my part, like every wise woman, make up my mind, on no account whatever to see any little fault or failing that he may accidentally display, at least, till such time as he is my husband. Then, of course, when nothing more is to be gained or lost, I shall, beyond doubt, take as much pains to find them out as another, and he will take as little to hide them."
"That is a bad plan, Alice," replied the princess; "that is a bad plan. Find out the faults, if you can, in the lover, while your hand is your own, and your will is free. See them not at all in your husband; for blindness in such a case is woman's best policy. But you mistake me, Alice; it was not of his mind I spoke, but of his situation; for, when questioning my Lord of Imbercourt the other day, he called him your uncle's nephew: now, none of our wise heralds ever heard, it seems, of such a nephew."
A slight blush came up into the cheek of Alice as the princess spoke; but she replied frankly, "In truth, dear lady, I know nothing on that score; and upon such subjects I have ever thought that if my father was satisfied, I had no reason to complain. All I know is, that my cousin Hugh was brought up at the court of France; has fought in the civil wars of England, and under Galeas, Duke of Milan; has gained honour, and knighthood, and glory in the field; is gentle, and kind, and tender, and affectionate to me; and is--" she added, with a laugh and a blush at the praises which she was pouring forth, and which she felt must betray the whole secret of her heart, but which yet she could not or would not restrain--"and as handsome a man, and as graceful a cavalier as ever entered hall or mounted horse."
The princess smiled, and answered, "Well, well, if he be all that, fair Alice, you are right, quite right, to ask no farther questions. But how it is, good Bartholomew," she cried, turning to one of the falconers, "how is it? Can you find no bird, in all the length of this fair stream, for us to fly our hawks?"
"So please your Grace," replied the man, "the air is so sultry that the herons will hardly wade where there is no shelter; but up beyond those bushes, where the bank with its long sedges jets out into the stream, I doubt not we may raise something yet."
The whole party accordingly rode on, and the judgment of the experienced falconer was justified. Under the cool shadow of the bank, one of the feathered fishermen had advanced some way, with his long legs, and, taking fright at the noise of the horses, he stretched forth his neck, gathered the air under his wings, and soared up at about the distance of twenty or thirty yards from the approaching party. The birds were instantly cast from the wrists of the ladies: the heron, finding himself pursued, and apparently a crafty old fowl, strove to beat to windward of the hawks, flying as rapidly as possible, and yet keeping himself prepared for sudden defence. All the horses were put to full speed, and in a moment the whole scene became one of cry and confusion.
"Call the merlin up the wind! Call the merlin up the wind!" exclaimed the princess to the chief falconer. "See! see! he is towering; he will miss his stoop!"
"So ho! woa he!" cried the falconer, with a loud whistle: "he will make his point yet, your Grace." But the heron, finding himself over-reached, made a dip, skimmed, and evaded the fall or stoop of the falcon, which, being a young bird, had endeavoured to strike it at once, without being perfectly sure of its aim. The clamour and the galloping now became more eager than ever, the bird making directly for the wood, which it seemed likely to gain, notwithstanding the efforts of its pursuers.
The meadow was the finest even ground that could be conceived for such sport; and the rein being freely given to each horse, the whole party dashed on at full speed, without seeing, or caring for, the massy clouds, that, sweeping together overhead, directly in the face of a light and flickering wind, which was blowing from the northwest, seemed to threaten a storm of some kind. The air, too, had that sultry, oppressive weight which one often feels in the neighbourhood of a great forest; and the horses--animals peculiarly susceptible to the sensations produced by an atmosphere overcharged with electricity--seemed more eager and fiery than usual, and were soon in a complete lather of foam.
The grey merlin which had been carried by Mary of Burgundy retrieved the error of its first eagerness, and cutting between the heron and the wood, kept it off for some time over the meadow and the stream. The sport was thus in its highest point of interest, and the horses in full career, when a sudden flash of lightning broke across their path, and startled the whole party. Each horse involuntarily recoiled. The princess and Alice of Imbercourt both kept their seats, but the young lady who followed them, less skilful in her management, was thrown violently to the ground; while her horse, wild with fright, dashed madly across the meadow, and plunged into the stream. The falconers rode forward to whistle back their hawks, the service most important in their eyes, and one of the grooms galloped after the frightened horse, in order to catch him ere he was irrecoverably lost. But the rest of the party, instantly dismounting, surrounded the poor girl who had met with the accident, whom they found severely bruised, but not otherwise dangerously hurt. She complained bitterly, however, and, as if conscious that she was not a very interesting person otherwise, made the most of her misfortune to engross attention.
The horse and the hawks were soon recovered, but it became now the question, what was to be the course of their farther proceedings. Large drops of rain were beginning to fall; everything portended a tremendous storm. The young lady who had fallen was too much bruised to sit her horse with ease, and was, or appeared to be, too much terrified to attempt it again. She, nevertheless, entreated the princess and her companions to return as fast as possible towards Tirlemont, leaving her where she was, with some one to protect her, and to send a litter from the town to bring her home. But to this the princess would by no means consent; and it having been suggested by one of the grooms, who knew the country well, that at the distance of about half a mile in the wood there was a small chapel dedicated to Notre-Dame du bon Secours, it was determined that the whole party should take refuge there, and wait till the storm was over, or till one of the attendants could procure litters for the ladies from Tirlemont.
They accordingly proceeded on their way, under the guidance of the groom, who alone knew the situation of the chapel; and, skirting round under the branches of the taller trees, endeavoured to obtain some shelter as they went from the large drops of rain that, slow and heavy, but far apart, seemed scarcely so much to fall as to be cast with violence from the heaven to the earth. The clouds, in the meantime, came slowly up, seeming to congregate over the forest from every part of the sky; but still it was some minutes before another flash of lightning followed the first; and the whole party had reached the glade in the wood, which the groom assured them led direct to the chapel, ere a second bright blaze broke across the gloomy air, now shadowed into a kind of mid-day twilight by the dull, thick, leaden masses of vapour above. The roar of the thunder followed a few seconds after; and though it was evident that the storm had not reached that degree of intensity which it was destined soon to attain, the princess and her attendants did not neglect the warning, but hastened on as rapidly as possible, though the long grass, cut merely by the tracks of wood-carts, and mingled thickly with brambles and many sorts of weeds, impeded them greatly on their way.
The road--if the glade or opening in the forest could so be called--led on in that straight line of direct progression, which seems to have been the original plan of road-making in most countries, proceeding with a proud disdain of obstacles and difficulties, into the deepest valleys, and up the sides of the steepest hills, without one effort by sweep or turn of any kind to avoid either. Thus, a few minutes after the entrance of the princess's party into the forest, the groom led the way over the side of a hill, down the steep descent of which the trunks and arching boughs of the trees might be seen in long perspective, forming a regular alley, filled with a kind of dim and misty light. At the end of the descent, however, the trees, in some degree, broke away to the westward, and a steep hill rose suddenly before the travellers, which seemed as if, at its original formation, it had started up so abruptly, as to have shaken a part of the primeval forest from one of its sides. The other side was clothed with tall trees to the very top. Over the shoulder of this hill--just between the part which remained wooded, and the part which, sloping down to the wood below, lay for the distance of several acres, either entirely bare or merely covered with scattered brushwood--the road, now assuming a sandy appearance, climbed straight up to a spot where a small building with a conical roof was seen, standing out from the dark wood, at the very top of the rise, and cutting sharp upon a gleam of yellow light, which--dimmed by the falling shower and fast closing up under the gathering clouds--still lingered in the western sky.
The sight of the chapel, for so it was, gave fresh vigour to all the party; and Mary, with her followers, hastened up, and reached the little shrine before another flash of lightning came. The chapel, as usual with such buildings in that age, was constructed for the mere purpose either of affording a temporary refuge to the benighted or storm-stayed traveller, or of giving the pious and devout an opportunity of offering up their prayers or thanksgivings for a favourable journey begun or completed, before an image of the Virgin, which filled a niche in the far part of the edifice, protected from profaning hands by a strong grating of iron. Whether the building itself was kept up by casual donations, or by some small endowment, I do not know; but, at all events, the funds which supported it were too small for the maintenance of an officiating priest; and hermits, who had occasionally supplied the place in former ages, were now becoming "of the rare birds of the earth," at least in the north of Europe. Thus the chapel was totally vacant when the princess and her attendants reached it; and after murmuring a prayer at the shrine, while one of the grooms was despatched to Tirlemont, to give notice of Mary's situation, the most courageous of the party who remained placed themselves at the door of the little building, to watch the progress of the approaching storm. As no one dreamed of profaning the sanctity of the place, by making it a shelter for their horses, the grooms received orders to tie them as strongly as possible under some of the neighbouring trees; and one was thus secured under a large elm, which rose a few yards in advance of the chapel.
The commanding situation of the building, being pitched high up on one of the most elevated hills in the wood, gave a wide view over the country around, and afforded as beautiful a forest scene as the mind of man can imagine. First, beyond the little sandy road, by the side of which the chapel stood, extended, as I have before said, several acres of broken mountain turf, sloping down with a considerable descent, and only interrupted here and there by a solitary tree, or a clump of bushes. Farther on again the eye wandered over many miles of rich wood-land, clothed in all the splendid hues of autumn, from the dark shadowy green of the pine to the bright golden yellow of the sear aspen; and where the ocean of forest ended, it caught the faint blue lines of a level country beyond.
At the time I speak of, the sky was full of clouds, and the yellow light which had struggled for a time to keep its place in the heavens was now totally obscured. Large dull masses, as hard and defined as if formed of some half-molten metal, rolled slowly along the heavens, while across them floated far more rapidly some light fleecy vapours of a whitish grey. From the far extreme of these clouds was seen pouring in long straight lines the heavy shower, in some places so dark as totally to obscure everything beyond; but in other spots so thin and clear, that through the film of rain the eye caught the prospect of a bright and sunshiny land, over which the clouds had not yet extended themselves, not unlike the distant view of bright scenes, which the unequalled hopes of early life still show us through the tears and storms that at times beset our youth.
Each moment seemed to add something to the gloom of the sky; and scarcely were the party well housed, when another bright flash, followed close by the roar of the thunder, passed eagerly over the scene. The young lady who had fallen from her horse remained close to the shrine; but Mary of Burgundy, with her arm through that of Alice of Imbercourt, still stood by the door, looking out upon the prospect below them. The last flash of lightning, however, was so near, that Mary's eye caught a small thin line of pale-coloured but excessively vivid light, which seemed to dart like a fiery serpent between herself and the near tree, under which one of the horses was tied.
"Alice I will look no more," she said; "that flash was so near it made me giddy;" and withdrawing her arm, she retired into the farther part of the chapel, and closed another small door which opened from the right-hand side of the shrine into the forest behind the building.
"You are not afraid, lady?" said Alice, with a smile.
"No, certainly not afraid," replied Mary; "for I know that He whose weapon is the lightning, can strike as well in the palace or the tower as in the open field; but still it is useless to deny that there is something very awful in the sights and sounds of such a storm as this. It seems as if one were in the presence, and heard the voice of the Almighty."
"It is very grand," replied Alice of Imbercourt; "but from my youth I have been taught to look upon the storm as the finest spectacle in nature; and I would rather see the lightnings go tilting on their fiery horses through the sky, and hear the roaring trumpets of the thunder, than sit in the gayest pavilion that ever was stretched with hands, to witness the brightest tournament that ever monarch gave."
"You are poetical, Alice," cried the princess; "had old George Chatelain been here, he would have made fine verses out of that speech----But, gracious Heaven, what a flash!"
As she spoke, there came, indeed, one of those tremendous flashes of lightning that literally wrap the whole sky in flame, and, for the brief space that it endured, lighted up every part of the inside of the chapel, with a splendour that was painful to the eye. At the same time Alice, who still stood by the door, saw clearly the brighter waving line of more intense fire which accompanied the broad flash dart from a spot nearly above their heads, and streaming downward with fierce rapidity, strike one of the noblest trees on the edge of the wood below, and tear it in one moment into atoms. She almost fancied she could hear the rending groan of the stout oak, as it was shivered by the bolt of heaven; but nearly in the same instant the thunder followed, with a sound as if a thousand rocks had been cast on the roof above their heads; and another and another flash succeeded, before the report of the first had died away. Then came a momentary pause--calm, heavy, and silent, without a breath of air to stir the boughs, or to relieve the sultry oppressiveness of the atmosphere, and without a sound, save the fall of an occasional drop of rain.
The duration of this state of repose was but brief. The whole air over the forest seemed surcharged with electricity; and in a moment after, with a loud whizzing noise, not unlike that of a musket bullet when it passes near the head, a large ball of fire rushed rapidly by the chapel, in a line raised not more than a few yards above the ground, and pitched upon the point of a rock at a little distance below, where, after quivering and wavering for a moment, it broke into a thousand fragments with a loud explosion, and vanished entirely. The lightning and the thunder now succeeded each other so quickly, that there seemed scarcely an instant's interval; and flash after flash, roar after roar, continued without intermission, while every now and then the sight of a tree rent to pieces in the distant prospect marked the work of the lightning; and the forest, and the rocks, and the hills echoed and re-echoed the thunder, so that the sound became absolutely incessant.
This had continued for about half an hour, and still Alice of Imbercourt had remained gazing out upon the scene, as well as the old cavalier, who accompanied them as their principal attendant, when she suddenly exclaimed--"Good God! how extraordinary! There seems to be a thick cloud gathering upon the edge of the wood, and rolling up the hill towards us, sweeping the ground as it comes. Holy Virgin! the lightning is flashing out of it like that from the sky! This is very terrible, indeed!"
"Come back, Alice, I beseech--I entreat!" exclaimed the princess: "you may lose your sight or your life--you are tempting your fate."
But Alice did not seem to hear, for she still continued gazing out from the door, although it was very evident that she now had also taken alarm.
"Now, gracious God, be merciful unto us!" she exclaimed; "for this is the most terrible thing I ever saw! It is fast rolling up the hill!"
"Come away, lady, come away," cried the old cavalier, seizing her by the arm, and leading her from the door; "this is no sight to look upon;" and he drew her back towards the princess.
Alice once more turned her head to gaze; and then, overcome with what she saw, she cast herself down upon her knees, throwing her arms around Mary, as if to protect her from the approaching destruction, exclaiming: "Oh, my princess! my princess! God protect thee in this terrible hour!"
Mary's hand was very cold; but, in the moment of great danger she showed herself more calm and firm than her more daring companion. "God will protect me," she said, in a soft low voice, "if such be His good pleasure; and if not, His will be done."
As she spoke, a tremendous flash illuminated the whole of the inside of the building, accompanied--not followed--by a crash, as if two worlds had been hurled together in their course through space.
The eyes of every one in the chapel, it is probable, were closed at that moment, for no one saw the small door by the side of the shrine thrown open. But the first who looked up was Mary of Burgundy; and a sudden cry, as she did so, called the attention of all the rest. They instantly perceived the cause of the princess's surprise and alarm; for close beside her, in the midst of the chapel, stood a tall powerful man, habited in the ordinary equipment of a man-at-arms of that day, with the unusual circumstance, however, of every part of his garb being of a peculiar shade of green; which colour was also predominant in the dress of half a dozen others who appeared at the door by the shrine.
He gave no one time to express their surprise. "Good Heaven!" he exclaimed, "do you not see the ground lightning coming up the hill! Fly, fly for your lives; it will be over the chapel in a moment. Matthew, catch up some of the women. Karl, take that one who has fainted. Let the men follow me as fast as possible, and we shall soon be out of the direction it is taking."
So saying, and without farther ceremony, he caught up Alice of Imbercourt in his powerful arms. One of his companions lifted the princess, and another raised the form of the young lady who had fallen from her horse in the morning, and whose terror had now cast her into a swoon, and, darting through the door by which they had entered, the Vert Gallant of Hannut and his companions passed out into that part of the forest which swept up to the back of the chapel. Striking on as fast as possible towards the east, he took his way over the other edge of the hill, in a direction opposite to that in which Alice had been looking. The lightning flashed around them as they went, the thunder roared loud at every step, and the rain, which had ceased for a time, began again to drop, at first slowly, but after a few minutes in a more heavy and continuous shower, which, pattering thick through the withered leaves of the wood, drenched the unfortunate hawking party to the skin.
"Thank God for that!" exclaimed the Vert Gallant; "this rain will drown yon accursed cloud, and we shall get rid of the ground lightning."
These were the only words he spoke; but, with rapid steps, he continued to bear on his fair burden for nearly a quarter of an hour, with apparently the same ease, and in somewhat of the same position, that a mother carries her child. Two of his sturdy companions followed loaded in the same way; and so complete was the helpless terror of the whole party who had accompanied Mary of Burgundy, that they yielded themselves passively, and without a word of inquiry, to the guidance of the green riders; a body of men who acknowledged no law, though a sort of generous and chivalric spirit amongst themselves seemed, in some degree, to supply the place of the authority they had cast off. It is true, indeed, that resistance or question would have been in vain; for the superior numbers of these free gentlemen of the forest set at defiance all opposition on the part of the princess's attendants, and a sort of taciturnity seemed to reign amongst them which did not at all encourage inquiry.
After proceeding steadily and rapidly for the space of time above mentioned, over a rough and uneven road, sometimes down the side of a wooded hill, where no unpractised foot could have kept its hold, sometimes through deep ravines, which the torrents of rain that were now falling had converted into water-courses, sometimes over the trunks of trees that had been felled and shattered by the fire of heaven, with the lightning flashing round their heads, and the thunder rolling above them, the Vert Gallant and his companions at length reached a deep dell, from one side of which rose up a steep and rocky bank, forming the base of the hill which they had just descended.
At the height of a few yards above the bottom of the valley, which was itself marshy and filled with long flags and rushes, was the mouth of a low-browed cave, to which the Vert Gallant immediately directed his steps. He was obliged to bow his head to enter; but within, it became more lofty; and, though it did not run above nine or ten yards into the mountain, the cavity afforded a complete shelter from the storm and rain. The moment he had entered, the leader of the free companions gently freed Alice from his arms; and then, in a low and respectful voice, he said--"You will here, fair ladies, find some security. Keep as far as you can from the mouth of the cave, and there is little fear of any danger. You, sirs," he continued, in a sterner tone, turning to the male followers of the princess, "should have known better than to have placed this lady--who, if I judge right, must be an object of no small solicitude to every subject of the House of Burgundy--in the most exposed and dangerous situation of the whole forest."
"Good-faith, Sir Green Knight," said the old gentleman who had accompanied the princess, "we certainly did not know that it was so dangerous, or we should neither have placed her in it, nor ourselves, as you may well suppose. And now, sir," he continued, with a voice the slight tremulousness of whose tone showed that he was not without some apprehensions of another kind; "and now, sir, that you have the lady in your power, be she princess or not, I trust that you will deal fairly and honourably with her. Our purses are, of course, at your disposal, as well as our jewels, &c.; but I give you notice that--"
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Vert Gallant, the beaver of whose helmet was still down, "talk not to me of purses, sir, and jewels! Madam," he continued, turning to the princess, "suffer not, I beseech you, the vain and vulgar fears of this old man to affect you for a moment: the Vert Gallant of Hannut takes no purses from wandering travellers, nor draws the sword against ladies, far less against the Princess of Burgundy. Rest here in safety, with your fair companions," he added, turning slightly towards Alice of Imbercourt; "and we, who have brought you hither, and have been your unseen attendants ever since you were flying your hawks by the side of the river, will guard you as well, or better, than if you were in your father's palace."
"I owe you many thanks, sir," replied Mary; "more, indeed, than I can at present express; for this dreadful storm has left my ideas somewhat confused. However, I am satisfied that to your prompt assistance I stand indebted for my life."
"Perhaps, madam, you do," replied the Vert Gallant; "for I feel convinced that, had that cloud reached the chapel before you quitted it, the coronet of Burgundy would be now without an heiress. Think me not ungenerous, madam," he added, "if I ask a boon in return. It is this: that if, some day, I should need your voice to support a petition with your father, or if you should, at the time, hold the reins of government yourself, when I may have occasion to make a request before the chair of Burgundy, you will give me your influence in the one case, or grant my desire in the other."
There was something in the tone and in the manner of the speaker at once so gentle and so lofty, that Mary of Burgundy could not but think that his present adventurous life must be one more of necessity than of choice; and she doubted not, that the petition to which he alluded must be for pardon for his past offences. She gazed at him for a moment or two before she replied, as he stood towering above the seven or eight strong men who accompanied him, and who had now grouped themselves round the mouth of the cave, watching, as it appeared, every word of their leader's mouth with a sort of reverential attention.
"If it be wrong, sir," she replied, "for simple individuals to make rash promises, it is still more so for princes. But where gratitude, such as I owe you, is concerned, even prudence might seem ungenerous. I must qualify, however, in some degree, the promise you desire, and say, that if your request, when it is made, prove nothing contrary to my own honour or dignity, I will give it all my influence with my father, should it depend upon him; or grant it myself, should it depend upon me. Does that satisfy you?"
"Most fully, madam," replied the Vert Gallant; "and I return you deep thanks for your kind assent."
"I doubt not," said Mary, "that what you have to ask will be far less than a compensation for the service you have rendered me. However, accept this jewel," she added, taking a ring from her finger and giving it to him, "as a testimony of the promise I have made; and with it let me add, many thanks for your honourable courtesy."
The leader of the free companions received the ring with due acknowledgments; and after a few words more upon the same subject, he bowed low, as if to take his leave, and made a step towards the mouth of the cavern.
"You are not, surely, going to expose yourself to such a storm as this," exclaimed Alice of Imbercourt, with a degree of eagerness that made her mistress smile, and declare afterwards, when, in a place of security, they could look upon the dangers of the forest as a matter of amusement--that Alice had certainly been smitten with the distinction which the Vert Gallant had shown her, in carrying her in his own arms through the wood, although he knew that a princess was present.
"The storm is abating, lady," replied the freebooter; "and besides, we fear no weather. I myself go to give notice to those who can receive you as you should be received, that such a noble party require better shelter and entertainment than we poor adventurers can afford you. My men, though they must keep out of sight, will be near enough to yield you protection and assistance, on one blast of a horn. Horns are strange magical things in this wood," he added; "for though all the hunters in the world might go blowing their mots, from one end of the forest to the other, without seeing aught but boar or deer, I will soon show you that we can conjure up beasts of another kind."
So saying, he approached the mouth of the cavern, and wound his horn with a long, shrill, peculiar blast; when, in a moment after, from the opposite part of the wood, a man, bearing the appearance of a mounted squire, trotted rapidly forth, leading a strong black charger, which he at once brought up to the mouth of the cave. A few words whispered by the Vert Gallant to the men who had accompanied him hitherto, caused them instantly to quit the place where they had taken refuge; and, dispersing themselves over the side of the hill, the whole were in a few minutes lost to the sight amongst the trees and bushes. Their leader, once more, bowed low to the princess, sprang upon his horse, dashed rapidly down the rough and uneven side of the hill, plunged through the marsh that lined the bottom of the valley, and, in a moment after, was seen followed by his squire, winding in and out through the tall trees on the opposite slope, till the turn of the hill hid him from view.
They were the eyes of Alice of Imbercourt which thus followed him on his course; for the princess had seated herself on a mass of rock in the farther end of the cave; and her other young attendant, stupified with all the terrors and dangers she had gone through, though now recovered from her swoon, continued sitting in silence on the ground, where the soldier who had carried her had set her down, and still kept her hands clasped over her eyes, as if every moment would show her some horrible sight.
The storm had, nevertheless, abated considerably already. The rain, it is true, continued to pour down in torrents, and an occasional flash of lightning still broke across the sky; but it was dim, as if half extinguished by the deluge through which it glared. The thunder followed, too, at a longer interval; and each succeeding flash was at a greater and a greater lapse of time from the one that preceded it.
Thus about an hour and a half passed away, during which the different members of the falconing party amused themselves as they best might; the groom talking with the falconers about the gallant horses they had tied at the top of the hill, lamenting the fright and drenching they must have been exposed to, and expressing some apprehension that the good gentleman in green, who had hurried them away so fast from the chapel, might take advantage of their absence to carry off their good horses, the worst of which, he declared, was worth fifty golden crowns of Florence at the lowest computation. The falconers, on the other hand, who had taken care to bring away their birds with them, busied themselves actively in providing for the comfort of their hawks; and each administered to the falcon under his special charge a small ball of choice medicaments, extracted from a pouch that every one carried by his side, in order to guard the stomachs of those noble fowls from any evil as a consequence of the storm.
The old gentleman, who might be considered--what we should call in the present day--the chaperon of the party, stood by the side of the princess, and addressed to her, from time to time, with sweet unmeaning smiles and courtly language, a variety of easy flowing sentences, very pleasant and harmonious, but signifying nothing. Alice, on her part, generally remained silent and thoughtful, though seemingly a little agitated, and perhaps, not displeased, at the probability of revisiting the castle of Hannut. Sometimes she would sit at the side of the princess, and talk to her, with all the light gaiety of her character; but at others, she would fall into long pauses of deep and silent thought; or would stand at the mouth of the cave, and watch the diminishing rain and the storm as it passed away. Every minute it decreased in some degree; and even the poor girl who had fallen from her horse, and who was clearly the most timid of the whole party, began to look up, and to venture an occasional word to those around her.
At length, when the day was somewhat far advanced, a low whistle was heard at a considerable distance, was taken up by some one nearer, and then repeated from more than twenty places in the wood, till at last it sounded close by the cave. All then relapsed into profound silence; but at the end of about ten minutes more, a distant trampling sound was heard; and, on looking forth from the mouth of the cave, Alice perceived, winding up from the extreme of the valley, a gay cavalcade, consisting of a couple of horse litters, escorted by about twenty spearmen on horseback, bearing the colours of the Lord of Hannut.