Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

"Let us on, then," replied the knight. "We are going to have a storm, but we must not mind that;" and putting his horse into a quick pace, he led his followers upon the track of the traveller, taking care never to lose sight of him entirely, and yet contriving to conceal himself, whenever any turn of the road might have exposed him to the view of the person he pursued. The rain poured upon his head, the lightning flashed upon his path; but still the knight followed on without a moment's pause, till he had seen the traveller take refuge in the cottage of the charcoal-burner. Then, and not until then, he paused, spurred his horse through some thick bushes on the edge of the wood, and obtained as much shelter as the high beeches of the forest could afford; nor did he pause at the first or the thickest trees he came to, but took particular pains to select a spot where, though concealed by a high screen of underwood, they could yet distinguish clearly the door of the hut through the various breaks in the branches. Here, having dismounted with his followers, he stationed Frederick at a small opening, to watch the cottage, while he and Longpole carefully provided for the security and refreshment of their horses, as far as circumstances would admit, although the long forest-grass was the only food that could be procured for them, and the storm still continued pouring through the very thickest parts of the wood. To obviate this, the knight and his shield-bearer plied the underwood behind them with their swords, and soon obtained a sufficient supply of leafy branches to interweave with the lower boughs of the trees overhead, and thus to secure themselves against the rain.

While thus employed, Frederick gave notice, as he had been commanded, that some one approached the cottage, which proved to be the charbonier himself, returning with his mule; and after his arrival, their watch remained undisturbed by the coming of any visitor till nightfall.

As soon as it was dark, Sir Osborne allotted to his followers and to himself the portion of the night that each was to watch, taking for his own period the first four hours; after which Longpole's turn succeeded; and lastly, towards morning, came the young Hainaulter's.

With his eye fixed upon the light in the cottage, and his ear eager for every sound, Sir Osborne passed the time till the flame gradually died away, and, flashing more and more faintly, at last sank entirely. However, the dark outline of the hut was still to be seen, and the ear had now more power; for the storm had gradually passed away, and the only sounds that it had left were the thunder rolling faintly round the far limits of the horizon, and the dropping of the water from the leaves and branches of the forest. Towards midnight, Sir Osborne roused Longpole, and recommending him to watch carefully, he threw himself down by the young Hainaulter and was soon asleep.

Somewhat tired with the fatigues of the day, the knight slept soundly, and did not wake till Frederick, who had replaced Longpole on the watch, shook him by the arm; and starting up, he found that it was day.

"Hist, hist! my lord," cried the youth; "here are Shoenvelt and his party."

Sir Osborne looked through the branches in the direction the young man pointed, and clearly distinguished a party of seven spearmen, slowly moving along the side of the forest, at about five hundred yards' distance from the spot where they lay. "It is Shoenvelt's height and form," said the knight, measuring the leader with his eye, "and that looks like Wilsten by his side; but how are you sure?"

"Because I know the arms of both," replied Frederick, "See! they are going to hide in the wood, close by the high road from Lillers to Aire."

As he spoke, the body of horsemen stopped, and one after another disappeared in the wood, convincing Sir Osborne that the young Hainaulter was right.

"Then, nerve your arm and grasp your lance, Frederick," said the knight with a smile; "for if you do well, even this very day you may win your golden spurs. Wake Longpole there; we must be all prepared."