CHAPTER XXX.
One by one, the guests assembled in the hall of Chidlow castle, for the first meal of the day which, as the reader well knows, was in those days a very substantial affair. People in high station usually dined, as it was called, at a very early hour; for, in all the mutations of fashion, nothing has changed more than the dinner hour in Europe. The labouring classes indeed, of all countries, consulting health and convenience alone, have varied very little. It was then about the hour of ten, when two or three of the guests appeared in the hall. Then came the lord of the castle himself, with his sister, the abbess, on his arm. Sir William Arden and two or three other guests followed; then Lord Fulmer and some others, then Chartley, then Sir Edward Hungerford.
A great change had come over Lord Fulmer's aspect. He was calm, though very grave, courteous and attentive to all, though somewhat absent in his manner, and falling into frequent fits of thought. Even to Chartley, whose demeanour was perfectly unchanged, he showed himself polite, though cold, conversed with him once or twice across the table, and by no allusion whatsoever approaching the subject of their rencounter in the morning. The meal passed off cheerfully, with most of those present; and, after it was over, the party in general separated to prepare for the sports and occupations of the day.
"Now, gentlemen," said Lord Calverly; "all who are disciples of St. Hubert, prepare your horses; for, though the month of May is not come, I am determined we will force a buck before the day is over. My good sister, here, notwithstanding holy vows and pious meditations, loves well to see a falcon fly or a dog run; and she will accompany us on her mule. Take care that she does not outride us all; for the best barb in my stables, except at the full gallop, will hardly outrun that mule of hers."
These words were followed by much hurrying away from the room; and, in the moment of confusion, Lord Fulmer lightly touched Chartley's arm, saying in a low tone--
"My lord, before we set out, I have a word or two for your private ear, if I may crave audience."
"Assuredly!" replied Chartley. "You can take it, my lord, when you think fit."
"Then I will join you in your apartments, as soon as I am booted," answered Fulmer.
In somewhat less than five minutes, after Chartley had reached his own chamber, he was joined by Fulmer prepared for the chase. As usual, where men have a resolute inclination to cut each others' throats, all sorts of ceremonious courtesy took place between them; and, after Fulmer was seated, he leaned across the table, saying:
"I have come, my Lord Chartley, to speak to you both of the past and the future. As for the past, I have had time to think, not only of what occurred between us this morning, but of my own conduct towards you; and I do not scruple to avow that I feel I have been wrong."
"Then, think of it no more, my good lord," replied Chartley, holding out his hand to him frankly; but Lord Fulmer did not take it.
"I have not yet done," he said. "I have owned that I was wrong, that I behaved uncourteously and rashly, both last night and to-day, under the influence of strongly moved passion, which has now passed away. I apologize for it, and pray you to accept my excuse. So much for the past; and now for the future, my lord. I trust I shall not forget myself again; but thus are we circumstanced. You have become acquainted with a lady contracted to me; you have had an opportunity of rendering her service; and I have no doubt did so in the kindest and most courteous manner. I mean not to say that you have done aught that is wrong, or that, knowing she was pledged to be my wife, you have striven to win her from me; but unwittingly, perhaps, you have learned to love her yourself, and deprived me of a share of her affections. Deny it not; for it is evident."
He paused for an instant, as if the words he spoke were very bitter to himself; and Chartley remained perfectly silent, with his eyes fixed upon a spot on the table, as if waiting to hear what this commencement would lead to.
"Now, my lord," continued Fulmer, with a sigh, "to my mind, two men cannot love one woman and both live. Such is the case with you and me. I grant that you have as much right to love her as I have. I am willing to look upon it as if we were merely two rivals for the same hand; but still I say, there is but one way of terminating that rivalry; for her faith is already plighted to me, and therefore the question cannot and must not be submitted to her decision."
"I understand your meaning, my good lord," said Chartley, seeing that he paused, "and think that your view is wrong--"
"Hear me out," said Fulmer, interrupting him. "I have yet a few words more to say. My views can never be changed. They are based upon my own nature. I cannot live, Lord Chartley, in doubt or jealousy. I cannot live unloved by her I love. I cast myself upon your generosity then, to yield me compensation for an injury, even unintentional, in such a manner as will in no degree compromise the fair name of her who is to be my wife or yours."
"Upon my life, my noble lord," replied Chartley, in his usual frank tone, "I do not think the right way for me to win her would be to cut your throat, nor for you to cut mine."
"Perhaps not," replied Lord Fulmer; "but so it must be; for it is the only way open to us."
"I think not," answered Chartley. "If I understand right, the Lady Iola is formally and fully contracted to you. I will not deny, Lord Fulmer, that this was painful news to me; but, I knew it was an ill without remedy; and I never even dreamed, from that moment, of seeking to win one thought of the lady, from her promised--her affianced husband. So help me, Heaven, I would never have seen her again willingly. I am not here of my own will, my lord. I am a prisoner, and would willingly remove myself to any other abode, to cause no pain or disquiet here. I do not believe, I never have believed, that there is any occasion for such disquiet. The Lady Iola may have won my regard; but I have no reason to suppose that I, in the slightest degree, have won hers. No words of affection have ever passed between us; no suit has been made on my part, no acknowledgment on hers. As you have taken a more frank and courteous tone than you assumed this morning, I will not now scruple to say how we first met, and explain to you all that can be explained, without dangerously affecting another. You doubtless know that I am here under the king's displeasure, for aiding my good and reverend friend, the bishop of Ely, to escape from the perils which menaced him. He travelled disguised in my train, till we arrived at the abbey of St. Clare of Atherston, where he had appointed a servant to meet him with intelligence of importance. I sat next the Lady Iola at supper, but parted with her there, and left the good bishop in the strangers' lodging. Having cause to suspect that some one had left my train--a servant of Sir Charles Weinants--for the purpose of giving intimation of the bishop's place of refuge to those who might apprehend him, I turned my horse in the forest, bidding my comrades ride on. Various events detained me in the forest during the whole night."
"But how came she in the forest too?" demanded Fulmer, gravely; for the frankness of Chartley's manner had produced some effect.
"I must pause one moment to consider," replied Chartley, "whether I can answer that question without a breach of faith to others.--Yes, I can. The Lady Iola it was who guided the bishop from the abbey, when it was surrounded and attacked by the king's soldiery; and, in so doing, her return was cut off."
"But how came that task to fall upon her?" again demanded Fulmer.
"That, my good lord, I can hardly tell you," answered Chartley; "for, to say the truth, and the mere truth, I do not rightly know. There is some secret communication between the abbey and the wood. Stay, I remember; I have heard the bishop say, that many years ago, he saved the life of the last Lord Calverly, petitioning for his pardon, and obtaining it, when he was taken in one of the battles of those times. This is most probably why the task was assigned to the lady, and why she undertook it."
Fulmer mused gloomily.
"Perhaps so," he said at length; "but yet, my lord, methinks some warmer words than mere courtesy must have been used, to induce the stay of so young and inexperienced a lady, alone in the forest, for a whole night, with a gay nobleman such as yourself."
"Warmer things, if your lordship likes," cried Chartley, indignantly; "for, by the Lord that lives, the thing that kept her there was seeing the houses burning on the abbey green. That was warm enough. For shame, Lord Fulmer! Have you consorted with people who teach men to think there is no virtue in woman, no honour in man? But let me do the lady justice. She was not alone with me. My Arab servant was with us all the time--followed us close--sat with us in the old castle hall; and I do not think ten sentences were spoken which he did not hear. But, my good lord, since such is your humour, I will not baulk you. I have borne this long enough. Be it as you say. Wait but a few days, to let your conduct of last night pass from men's minds, and I will afford you cause of quarrel to your heart's content, in which this lady's name shall bear no share. Then we will void our differences in the eye of all the world, as soon as I am no longer a prisoner in ward. There is my hand on it."
Fulmer took it and grasped it tight, with a feeling of rancorous satisfaction, which he could hardly conceal.
"Then for the present we are friends, my good lord," he said; "and I will take care that nothing in my manner shall betray our secret, while waiting your good pleasure."
"As you will," answered Chartley. "Put on what seeming you may like. I wear no vizard. But hark, there are the horses in the court-yard; and here comes Sir William Arden, just in time to go with us."
"In order to do what?" asked Sir William Arden, looking from the one to the other, with an inquiring glance.
"To hunt," replied Chartley. "Are you not going?"
"Oh yes," answered the knight. "Though 'tis somewhat early in the year. Yet I suppose my good Lord Calverly's bucks are always fat, so let us to horse."
Descending the stairs of the tower, they speedily reached the court-yard, and found all prepared for their expedition. The abbess was already on her mule, Sir Edward Hungerford in the saddle, looking down the length of his leg and thigh, in evident admiration of his own fair proportions, Lord Calverly by the side of his horse, and huntsmen and grooms, a goodly train.
Iola and Constance stood together to witness the departure of the party, having declined to join the hunt; and Sir William Arden paused for a moment or two, by the side of the latter, while the rest mounted their horses.
The morning was fine, the scent lay well upon the dewy ground; a fat solitary buck had been marked down in a covert, about two miles off; and he was soon found, and the dogs put upon his steps. He took straight across the chase, towards some other woods, at the distance of four or five miles; and it was a beautiful sight to see the noble beast darting along across the open country, with the dogs in full cry behind him, and the troop of gay lords and ladies following. Chartley gave way to all the spirit of the hunter, and galloped on, sometimes talking to Lord Calverly, or Sir William Arden, and sometimes to Lord Fulmer. To the latter his manner was courteous and easy; nor did the slightest embarrassment appear in it, although he caught the eyes of his elder friend fixed upon him, with a suspicious expression, whenever any conversation took place between him and his rival. When the buck was slain, however, and the morning's sport over, Sir William Arden took the first opportunity of riding up to his young friend's side, and saying, in a low tone, "I hope, my lord, you are not going to play the fool."
"Not more than usual, Arden," replied Chartley. "Have I shown by any signs that the disease is aggravated?"
"Not that I perceive," answered Sir William Arden; "but, just as I was coming away, that dear little girl said something to me, I could not very well understand, about quarrels between you and that young lord there."
"Oh no," replied Chartley. "I will not quarrel with him; quarrels we have had none since an early hour this morning. A few civil words only have passed since; and of them more anon. But who comes here, spurring so sharp to meet us? He seems to have a tabard on."
"Nay, how should I know?" demanded Sir William Arden, almost sharply; "if it be a herald, I trust he does not come to defy Lord Calverly in the king's name."
Almost as he spoke, a splendidly dressed pursuivant rode up, and demanded aloud which was the Lord Fulmer.
"I am he!" replied the young nobleman, spurring forward his horse. "What want you with me, Master Pursuivant?"
"Merely to bear you his majesty's commands," said the pursuivant, "to join him at York, where he now lies, without any delay. Not finding your lordship at the castle, I rode on to seek you, as the king's commands were urgent; and I must return with you."
Lord Fulmer's countenance fell. "Am I to understand then that I go as a prisoner?" he demanded.
"Not in the least, my lord," answered the officer. "I believe it is in order to consult you upon some affairs, that the king sent for your lordship; but he ordered me strictly to find you out, wherever you might be, and to return in your lordship's train to York."
"Well then, for York, if it needs must be so," said Lord Fulmer, with an expression of much discontent upon his face. "I could have wished the command had come at some other time. Perhaps, I had better ride on before," he continued, turning to Lord Calverly, "in order to prepare my people for this unexpected journey."
"Perhaps so, my dear lord," replied the old peer. "We should always in this world take time and fortune by the forelock, otherwise we shall never catch them, if they get on in front. I know the king intends to honour you to the utmost," he added, in a low tone; "so away at once, and show your zeal and promptness. There is nothing pleases a king so much as to see diligence in obeying his commands."
"I would fain speak with you for some moments before I go, my noble lord," said Fulmer in the same low voice; but the old nobleman made a sign of impatience, saying aloud, "No time for that, no time for that. You will be back in a day or two at the farthest."
"Then I must write," answered the young man, in a whisper; but, raising his tone, he added, "Farewell, all gentlemen and ladies who are likely to be gone before my return. My Lord Chartley, I will not bid you adieu, as doubtless I shall find you here for some days to come."
"By my faith, I fear so," answered Chartley, laughing. "His grace the king, when he has got his grasp upon a man's neck, is not famous for slackening it, as long as there is any head above; but I wait his good pleasure in all humility, trusting that you will bring me good tidings, and use your best eloquence to work my liberation."
"I will, upon my honour," answered Fulmer, earnestly; and then, turning his horse, he rode away.