The Lord of Croy thanked him as such prompt kindness might well merit, and took his leave; but as soon as he was gone, Richard of Woodville leaned his head upon his hand in thought, and with a somewhat dark and gloomy brow remained in meditation for several minutes.
"What is it makes me so sad?" he asked himself; "it cannot be this empty piece of malice, from some unworthy fool, whose calumnies I can sweep away in a moment, and whose contrivances I can frustrate by a word of plain truth. The King does not believe that I would contemn his commands--in his heart he does not, I am sure! Yet I feel as if some great misfortune hung upon the wings of the coming hours! Perchance I may fall in this very enterprise. Who can tell? Many a man finds his fate in some petty skirmish who has passed through stricken fields unwounded. The lion-hearted Richard himself brought his life safe from Palestine, and a thousand glorious fields--from dangers of all kinds, sufferings, and imprisonment, to lose it before the walls of a pitiful castle scarce bigger than a cottage. Well, what is to be, will be; but I must provide against any event;" and, calling some of his men to speak with him, he told them that he was about to be absent for three days, taking no one with him but his page. He then gave them directions, in case of any mischance befalling him, either to find their way back to England, or to continue to serve with the band of the Lord of Croy; but, at all events, unless specially summoned by the King of England, not to quit the Duke as long as he remained in the field. This done, he turned to his letters, and remained writing till a late hour of the night.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
[THE DISASTER.]
In the square of the pretty town of Montl'herry, nearly opposite the church, and under the domineering walls of the château, were two hostels, or inns, the one called the Wheatsheaf, and the other the Bunch of Grapes; for, in those days, as in the present time, the houses of public reception were not only more numerous in France than in any country in the world, but were ornamented with signs taken from almost every object under the sun, and from a great many that the sun never shone upon. As every one knows, the little town of Montl'herry is situated on a high isolated and picturesque hill; and down one of the streets running from the Place or square, could at that time be seen the rich plain stretching out by Longpont to Plessis-Saint Père, with the numerous roads which cross it in different directions towards Epinay, Ville-aux-bois, and other small towns, as well as the highway towards Paris.
Before these two inns on the morning of a cold but clear day, towards the end of February, were collected some twenty men-at-arms, who had been lodging there from the night before, and who seemed now preparing to ride away upon their farther journey, after the morning meal, then called dinner, should have been discussed. In the meantime, they were undergoing a sort of inspection from their leader, a young man of a tall and powerful frame, and a handsome and engaging countenance, bronzed with the sun and marked with a scar upon his brow. Though he moved easily and gracefully under the weight, he was covered with complete armour from the neck to the heels, which displayed the spurs of knighthood. His casque lay upon the bench at the door of the Wheatsheaf, and leaning negligently against the wall of the inn appeared the lances of the men-at-arms, who each stood beside his horse, while the knight passed from one to another, making some observation to each, sometimes in a tone of reproof, sometimes in words of praise. The host of one of the inns stood before his door observing their proceedings, and some half-a-dozen little boys were spending their idleness in gazing at the glittering soldiery.
Towering above appeared the ancient castle held by the partizans of the Orleans or Armagnac faction; and when it is remembered that these below were soldiers of the House of Burgundy, and that the young knight at their head was Richard of Woodville, it must be acknowledged that this was a somewhat bold stratagem thus to parade a body of hostile troops in the midst of an enemy's town. The young leader, however, well knew that nothing but the assumption of perfect ease and security could escape suspicion, and confirm the tale which had been told of his band being a party of the men of Orleans.
The gate of the castle he could not see; but from time to time as he passed from one man to another, he looked round to the door of the church, and presently, as the clock struck, he held up his fingers, saying, "What hour is that?" and then as he counted, he turned somewhat sharply to the host, exclaiming, "By the Lord, you have kept us so late for our dinner, that we shall have time to take none. Bring the men out some wine. Quick, my men, quick. On with your bacinets!"
The host assured him that the meal would be served in a minute; but the knight replied, "A minute! Did you not tell me so half an hour ago? Quick, bring out the wine, or we shall be obliged to go without that. What do you think our lord will say, if we wait for your minutes?" and while the host retired to bring the wine, the men assumed their casques, and Richard of Woodville whispered to one who seemed superior to the rest--"He is in the church. I saw him go in with the priest."
"So did I," replied the other; "but he has got a guard with him."