“On Ralph—ay, Leoline, you are falling behind,” she said, glancing around at her companions as the distance between them rapidly increased.
“To the right—to the right,” shouted the falconer, “the heron has fallen in the marsh.”
The maiden suddenly drew her rein in, to follow this direction; but as she did so a half a score of men, attired as Scottish borderers, started from the thickets around, and seizing her bridle, and that of her attendants, vanished with them into the recesses of the forest. All efforts at resistance were precluded by the numbers of the assailants, and lest the two servitors should alarm their now rapidly approaching companions, they were hastily gagged. The whole party then set forward at a brisk pace toward the neighboring Scottish border.
The lady Eleanor was one of the most beautiful maidens of the north of England, and her expectations from her childless uncle were equalled only by her charms. Already had many a gallant knight broken a lance in defence of her beauty, or sought even more openly to win her for his bride. But to all alike she bore the same demeanor. Her heart was as yet untouched. Gay, sportive, full of wit, and not altogether unconscious of her exalted station, the heiress of three baronies continued to be the idol of her uncle, and the admiration of the English chivalry. It was while engaged in hawking with her train that she had been surprised, as we have related, by a band of Scottish marauders, with the intention of profiting by her ransom.
For some hours the party continued their flight with unabated speed, concealing themselves in the depths of the forests, until they had left the possessions of Lord Torston, and gained a range of barren and desolate hills, where there was little likelihood of meeting with interruption. The object of the capturers was obviously to bear off their prize across the border, so rapidly as to defy all measures to be taken for her rescue.
The lady Eleanor was not, however, without considerable energy of character, arising in part no doubt from the stormy times in which she lived, for she had listened so often to the tales of her ancestor’s deeds that she felt it would derogate from her, even though a maiden, not to shew a portion of the same spirit in disaster. As they were hurried along, therefore, she busied herself in revolving a plan for her escape. But she could think of no feasible scheme, without the co-operation of her servitors, and they were kept so far in the rear, and guarded so carefully, that any communication with them she saw would be impossible. In this perplexity she breathed a silent prayer to the virgin, and was about resigning herself to her fate when the wail of a bugle broke upon her ear, and looking up she beheld three horsemen crossing the brow of a hill, a few yards distant. At the same moment the marauders recognised the new comers as enemies, and hurrying their captives into the rear prepared for the fray.
“Ah! what have we here?” exclaimed the leader of the men-at-arms, a bold stalwart youth, just verging into manhood, turning to his companions, “by St. George, a pack of Scottish thieves—and there is a lady among them, a prisoner I trow, for she is dressed like a maiden of rank. What say you, comrades? we are three good men against yon dozen varlets, shall we attempt a rescue?”
“Ay—ay—Harry Bowbent, lead on,” exclaimed the leader of his companions, “for though your blood is often over-hot, yet who could refuse to charge yon Scottish knaves in such a cause?”
The marauders had, meanwhile, drawn themselves up across the road, and when the three men-at-arms spurred their horses to the charge, the Scots received them by stepping briskly aside, and striking at the animals with their huge swords. Two of the assailants were thus brought to the ground at the first onset; but the one called Bowbent, and his elder companion, bore each a Scotsman to the earth with his long lance, and then taking to their swords, struck about them with such fury as to finish the contest in a space of time almost as short as that which it takes to narrate it. They did not, however, gain this victory without cost. Both the youth and his elder comrade were wounded, while the man-at-arms, who had been unhorsed, was killed. Several of the marauders fell on the field, and the others took to flight.
“Poor Jasper,” said the youth, looking mournfully upon his slain follower, “your life was soon ended. God help me! misfortunes seem to attend on all who espouse my fortunes.” And, after regarding the dead man a moment longer, the youth turned away with a sigh, to fulfil his remaining duty, by inquiring whom he had rescued, and offering to conduct her to a place of safety.