CHAPTER VIII.
Arrival of Sir Rafe Piersie—The Challenge.
Sir John Assueton was early astir next morning, for his head was so filled with the remembrance of those friends and scenes of his youth, he now hoped to revisit after a long absence, that he was impatient to depart from Norham Castle. He had already given orders to the squires to hold themselves in readiness, and he had visited the stable, where Blanche-etoile neighed a recognition to his master, and was spoken to with the kindness of a friend. The knight then ascended the ramparts to enjoy a short promenade; and there he was soon afterwards joined by Hepborne, who came springing towards him, urged by an unusual flow of spirits.
“Good morrow, Hepborne,” said Assueton; “I am glad to see thee so alert this morning. I have looked at our steeds; [[71]]they are as courageous as lions, and as gamesome as kids. They will carry us into Scotland with as much spirit as we shall ride them thither. After breaking our fast, and bestowing our meed of thanks on the good old knight for his hospitality, we may yet make our way o’er many a good mile of Scottish ground ere yonder new-born sun shall sink in the west.”
“Nay, my dear Assueton,” said Hepborne, “what need hast thou for such haste? Hadst thou some fair damsel in Scotland—some lady bright, who, with her swan-like neck stretched towards the mid-day sun, looketh day after day from her lofty towernet, with anxious eyes, in the hope of descrying thee, her true and constant Knight—hadst thou such a fair one as this, I say, impatience might indeed become thee; but what reason hast thou, despiser of the lovely sex as thou art, to long for a change of position? By the Rood of St. Andrew, I begin to believe that thou art no such woman-hater as thou wouldst pretend, and that all this seeming coldness of thine is nothing but thy laudable constancy to some Scottish maid, who hath thine early-pledged vows of love in keeping.”
“Thou art welcome to rally me as it may please thee, Hepborne,” replied Assueton, with a smile: “but, on the faith and honour of my knighthood, I have not seen the maiden for whom I would go three ells from my intended path, except for common knightly courtesy, or to redress some grievous wrong. Nay, nay, thou knowest my natural duresse—that my heart is adamant to all such weak impressions. Perdie, I cannot understand how any such affect the good, hardy, soldier-like bosom, though I do observe the melancholy truth exampled forth, in daily occurrence, with those around me. But I perceive thy drift, my politic friend. To assail is the best tactique against being assailed. Thou camest forth conscience-stricken, and being well aware that thy foolish fondness of this masquing damosel of the Castle here would come under my gentle lash, to divert the attack against thyself, thou dost begin to skirmish against me. But I see well enow ’tis the Lady Eleanore’s attraction that would keep thee here.”
“It is e’en so, I candidly confess it,” replied Hepborne. “I candidly confess it, dost mark me? so, throwing myself at thy feet, I cry for quarter.”
“Nay, an thou dost disarm me thus,” replied Assueton, “I can say no more.”
“Oh, Assueton, Assueton, my bel ami,” said Hepborne, enthusiastically, “I was the happiest of human beings last night. I did indeed meet her on the ramparts. Old Adam of Gordon [[72]]was a good seer; nay, perchance, though as to that I know not, he may have been Cupid’s messenger. Yet, hold! Depardieux, I do her most foul wrong in so supposing; for she hath too much maiden modesty to have been guilty of so much boldness. But, be that as it may, her words—her looks—were kind and most encouraging. She did blushingly confess that her heart had known no other affection than that which she bears towards her venerable father. She half admitted that I was not altogether indifferent to her; she did utter a hope that we should remain her father’s guests for some longer space; yea, and she even admitted that to see me again would give her pleasure. Then her accents were so sweet, and her demeanour so gentle—Oh, Assueton, she is in very truth an angel! But what is all this to thee, thou Knight of Adamant? I forgot that I might as well speak to the stones of these walls of amorets and love passages, as to Sir John Assueton.”