CHAPTER XVII.
About the hour of ten, on the morning following the day of which we have just been speaking, Simon de Montfort sat alone at a small table in a room adjoining that which he used as a council chamber. Manifold papers and parchments were before him, and a rude map of England, such as the geographical skill of that day enabled men to produce, lay underneath his large powerful hand, with the forefinger resting upon the word, Gloucester. His brow was heavy and his teeth were set; and he fixed his eyes--we cannot call it vacantly, for they were full of expression, though without sight--upon the opposite wall of the room, while his right hand ran slowly up and down the hilt of his heavy sword.
"Care," he said--"continual care! thought, and anxiety, and strife!--Oh, life, life! the gilded bubble--how is it that man clings to thee so fondly!--Who would not gladly be waked from an unpleasant dream? and yet how troublous is this sad dream of human existence, which we are so loath to lose? Some five or six years in early youth, when fancy, passion, and inexperience forbid us to think, and teach us only to enjoy, may have a portion of chequered brightness; but the rest, alas! has its care for every day, and its anxiety for every hour. It is a weary place, this world to dwell in, and life but a grim and discontented tenant of the house!"
He paused, and looked at the papers again, but it seemed difficult for him to fix his mind upon them. "It is strange," he continued--"I am not often thus; but I feel as if all things were passing away from me. Can it be, that sometimes the spirit has an indication of coming fate, from beings that we see not?--It may be so--but it is weak to give way to such thoughts. It is with human actions and endeavours that we have now to do. Ho! without there!--Does any one wait?" he continued, addressing a servant who appeared at his call.
"The constable of the guard of the west court, my lord," replied the attendant; "he has something to report."
"Send him, in," said the Earl of Leicester; "and dispatch a messenger to the Earl of Ashby, with many courteous greetings, to say that I am ready to receive him when it suits his pleasure: the same to the Earl of Monthermer and the lord Hugh.--Now, constable, what have you to tell me?"
The servant had beckoned in from the door where he stood, a sturdy soldier, clad in full armour, except the casque; and the latter now replied to Leicester's question--
"You told me, my lord, that the pass was withdrawn from Sir Richard de Ashby, and that he was no more to have access either to the King or the Prince."
"I said, moreover," answered Leicester, "that he was to quit Hereford. Is he not gone?"
"He may be now, my lord," replied the soldier, "but last night I found him several times lingering about the castle."