The Woodman: A Romance of the Times of Richard III

by G. P. R. James

CHAPTER XXV.

Each of the guests retired to his chamber; but, for some little time, there was a considerable degree of bustle and movement in the castle, pages and servants hurrying to and fro in attendance upon their masters, and serving men clearing away the dishes from the hall, while scullions scraped the trenchers, and the pantry-men cleaned out the cups. Such operations however were not long in the performance; and gradually the whole building resumed its quiet. A light might be seen in a window here and there; and a lamp, which burned all night long in the high tower, served as a sort of beacon to any traveller wandering in the darkness, showing him afar where Chidlow castle stood. The battlements all around were dark and solitary; for there were very strict laws at that time in force, against collecting what might be considered a garrison, in the fortified houses of the nobility, or maintaining, except in a few special cases, watch and ward within the old baronial castles. The policy of Richard, indeed, seems to have been somewhat similar to that which was pursued in France, nearly two centuries later, by the famous Cardinal de Richelieu; and he evidently aimed at breaking down the feudal power, which had often rendered the great barons such formidable enemies of the crown. He lived not long enough, indeed, to carry out his object, or to enforce his laws; but still the proclamation was in force against giving badges and liveries to retainers, or, in other words, against maintaining a regular armed force, arrayed and organised under certain symbols, and independent of the crown. This law, it is true, was openly violated by many. Every great house in the land was filled with armed men; badges were retained, and displayed, in various instances; and many a castle was as strictly guarded as if it had been a royal fortress. But all who sought favour or courtly advancement were scrupulous to observe the king's will; and, as Lord Calverly was one of these, all outward signs of military precaution had been given up. The chief cannonier had become the master porter; and the warders were now called porter's men. The great gates, however, were still closed, bolted, and locked, the drawbridge raised, and the portcullis let down at the hour of ten; and the posterns were shut an hour earlier; but, in every other respect, defensive measures, and, above all, military display, were abandoned, and an appearance of security was assumed, which, in truth, no one felt in England during the short reign of Richard III.

All then was tranquil and quiet in Chidlow castle by half an hour before midnight; and, although it was evident that some were still watchers within its walls and towers, yet the greater part of the guests were sound asleep, and almost all the others preparing for repose.

At about a quarter to twelve, however, Lord Fulmer, with a lamp in his hand, issued forth from his sleeping-chamber, and walked along the exceedingly narrow passage into which it opened. Our ancestors of that age, and of the ages before them, were not very careful to provide broad corridors or staircases for their guests. The greater and the lesser halls, the gallery, if a castle had one, several nameless chambers--which were frequently to be found in what poetically would be called the lady's bower, but which about that time was more generally denominated the lady's lodging--and, in short, all rooms of state were spacious and magnificent enough; but many of the bed-rooms were exceedingly small; and, where they were on a larger scale, for the reception of more distinguished guests, the neighbouring passages were curtailed in proportion.

Along this passage then walked the young nobleman, with a slow and thoughtful step. He had had time for meditation, and passion had somewhat cooled down. His irritation had taken a more gloomy and stern character, but it was not the less persisting. "I will know all," he thought, "and then judge and act."

Turning sharply to the right, at the end of the first ten or fifteen yards, he entered and crossed a large sort of vestibule, occupying one half of the space in one of the flanking towers.

It had two windows in it, through one of which the moon was shining brightly, marking the stone floor with the chequered shadows of the leaden frame-work. He passed on, however, and then, turning to his left, paused and opened a door, which admitted him to a little ante-room. Two or three small beds were ranged around, of that kind called by the French "lit de sangle;" but they were not occupied, for their intended tenants, consisting of a page and two ordinary attendants, were seated at a little table in the middle of the room, gambling with dice. They all started up, however, when the young nobleman entered; and, in answer to his question, whether Sir Edward had retired to sleep, replied:--

"Oh, dear no, my lord. He will not go to bed for some time;" and the page, stepping forward, opened the door of the inner chamber, saying aloud, "Lord Fulmer, sir."

On advancing into the room, while the boy held back the tapestry, Fulmer found Sir Edward Hungerford, with another person, standing before a table, on which was spread out a large piece of violet-coloured satin, whereunto were being applied, by the inferior personage, an enormous pair of shears. The entrance of the young nobleman made them both start; and the first exclamation of Sir Edward was, "My God, you've cut it askew. Heaven and earth, what shall we do now? There will never be enough in that corner to purfle the sleeves."

"I beg your worship's pardon," replied the other, without taking any more notice of Lord Fulmer than his master had done. "There will be quite enough. If I cut it slant so, from the corner to the middle, it will just leave what is needful for the bands."