CHAPTER II.
We must now change the scene for a time; for, in so brief a history as this the reader's imagination must aid the writer, and supply all those links in the chain which would occupy much time to detail.
On the top of a high wooded hill in the county of Buckingham, which was in those days covered with great forests of beech-trees, rose heavily from amid the green boughs the square, heavy keep of an old Norman castle. This was all that could be seen of the dwelling of the Lords of St. Clair from the lower country which it commanded; but, upon approaching through the chase, vast ranges of walls, and battlements, and outbuildings were seen; moats and ditches covering a great extent of ground, with the turreted gate and barbican thrown forward in front. Though no artillery, in those days, looked down from the battlements, with mouths ready to pour forth fire and destruction upon those who advanced to attack them, yet the aspect of those walls was no less imposing; and bold would have been the man who, without an overwhelming force, would have marched to the assault of the Castle of St. Clair.
Such was not likely to be the case on the day of which we speak. But, nevertheless, there was an imposing display of strength upon the walls--archers, and slingers, and men-at-arms; and, though the gates were thrown open and the drawbridge was down, yet the archway was lined with soldiers, and the great court was half filled with men in complete arms. Often did it happen in those days, that the appearance of reverence covered preparations for defence or resistance; and while Hubert of St. Clair stood a few steps beyond the gateway of his own castle, clad in the long and flowing robes which were then much affected in times of peace by the Norman nobles, he looked round upon the iron-clad forms and bristling spears of his men-at-arms with pride and pleasure, while he watched the advance of a small train of horsemen who came slowly up the long road cut down the edge of the wooded hill.
The person who approached at the head of that party was Stephen, king of England; and ever and anon, as he rode up the ascent, he rolled his eyes over the well-manned walls of the castle he was approaching, and murmured some words to himself in a tone of displeasure, perhaps of scorn. When he came near to St. Clair, indeed, his face assumed a softer aspect, and he tried hard to smooth his tone and manner when he returned the salutation of the baron. The effort was very unsuccessful, however; and a heavy frown still sat upon his brow as he dismounted from his horse and entered the hall, where everything had been prepared as far to receive him as the shortness of the notice he had given would permit.
"Well, my good lord, well," he said, as he advanced into the hall, still glancing his eye, as he spoke, over every object that the place contained, "I have come all this way from my army to see if I cannot persuade you to give your fair daughter to the son of my noble friend De Lacy."
The baron heard him with a calm, cold countenance, but replied nothing directly, merely saying, "Let me beseech you, my liege, to taste some refreshment, such as my place can afford. Had I known of your coming sooner, I would have been better provided."
"But give me an answer, give me an answer, my good lord," replied the king, "and a fair answer, too, I beseech you."
"I seek not to marry my daughter, sire," replied the baron, in the same cold tone; "perhaps, before I do, she may be a ward of the crown."
Stephen bit his lip, but smothered every inclination to make a sharp reply, saying, in a jesting tone, "But where is the fair lady? where is your daughter, my good lord! Let us have her to council; her voice, surely, will have some weight in the matter."