“He is our near neighbour,” said Reginald. “I have heard that he hath a braver horse than is my black steed Launcelot, and hounds whose equals the world cannot show. He hath a daughter, too, if fame speak rightly, a lady of a most noble presence; and he hath a falcon——” Here he was interrupted by the old Baron, who, as if weary of the circumlocution by which he had been endeavouring[Pg 100] to bring about his object, observed dryly: “It is to that lady, Reginald, I would see thee wedded.”
Reginald fixed himself upright upon the table on which he had been extended, and, opening wide his large languid eyes, gazed upon his father with a mute expression of astonishment. The latter, though a little daunted by the silence with which his proposition had been received, proceeded to explain the causes and consequences of his design. It is needless to accompany him through his detail, which, to say truth, was somewhat prolix. It is sufficient to state that the lands of the Saxon looked tempting in the eyes of the Norman lord; and that, in times of such danger and difficulty, it seemed prudent to conciliate the friendship of those who were powerful in their immediate vicinity, and especially those who were attached to the Saxon succession.
Now the Baron, while he detailed his hopes, and his fears, and his designs, fancied that he had made in this scheme a notable hit of policy, and from time to time looked up to the listener’s face for the approbation to which he thought himself entitled. Reginald, however, perceived that his castle-building would meet with obstacles which the architect had never contemplated; and began to be of opinion that a friendly alliance between Norman and Saxon sounded very like an amicable treaty between hound and hare, or a peaceable union between fire and water. To these thoughts he was unwilling to give utterance: a dispute, and upon such a subject, was a thing to which he had an insuperable reluctance: he therefore quietly acquiesced in his father’s reasoning, and, after stipulating that in this matter no trouble should fall upon himself, composed himself in a quiet slumber, while the Baron was recounting the particulars of his ten years’ courtship of Marie, the beautiful heiress of Roger de Vesnoy, the last lord of Battiswold.
The old man, contented with this calm compliance on the part of his son, proceeded forthwith to put his favourite scheme in execution. For many weeks was his brain disturbed by the anxiety which he felt for the result of his negotiations: there were messages, and letters, and heralds, and stipulations, and breakings off, and reconciliations, more than sufficient to perplex the thoughts of a far more[Pg 101] able diplomatist. Meantime the person who was to bear the principal part in the play which was now in rehearsal, ate, drank, and slept, talked of his horses and hounds, and his escutcheon, and thought of nothing less than of his fair unseen intended, Elfrida of Kennet Hold. Finally, the treaty was completed more successfully than the violent temper of Leofwyn gave reason to expect; and Reginald received orders to prepare for an immediate journey to receive the bride he had never courted. The first impression upon his mind was that it was passing strange that the pride of a Saxon thane, nay, the pride of a Saxon heiress, could be with such facility subdued. Reflection, however, was not his province; and, banishing as quickly as possible the intrusive idea, he prepared himself to obey his father.
On the morrow he set out. The manuscript from which I draw my information describes, with much prolixity, the accoutrements of himself and his steed; from whence it makes a considerable digression to the changes in the fashions of dress, and the peculiar merits of various breeds of horses. It then makes honourable mention of his attendants, and dwells upon certain scandalous anecdotes connected with their family concerns. The last-mentioned points I deem it right to omit altogether; and upon the others I must be more concise than is the chronicler whom I follow, the erudite Henricus Wykeleius.
It appears that Reginald, although a bigot to the manners and prejudices which his Norman ancestry had entailed upon him, had, upon this occasion, in compliance with the request of his father, assumed the costume of the Saxons. So much had the natural ease and gracefulness of his frame been improved by constant exercise and knightly sports, that the unaccustomed dress seemed to be no restraint or inconvenience to him; and his limbs were as free in the long Saxon robe as they had been wont to be in the short Norman tunic. He reined his horse with a skill which at once excited and curbed his impetuosity, while it set off to the best advantage the forms of both the animal and his rider. Of this, however, neither of them stood in need. Launcelot was one of the noblest steeds that ever bore armed knight to the lists; and Reginald, in[Pg 102] spite of the want of animation which was so evident in his features, was really a handsome and well-proportioned youth. Had his education been suited to his talents, or the qualifications of his mind kept pace with those of his body, few warriors might have won lady’s love so lightly as Reginald d’Arennes.
Of his followers, which were six in number, four were merely retainers of little note or name. Of the remaining two some notice must be taken. The first was Roger Naylis, an old and approved dependent, who was his companion upon this journey for the purpose of obviating by his prudence and experience those dangers into which the hot heart or light head of his young master might hurry him. The other was a personage of a description not quite so common. This was Robin Garnet, who had long been in Reginald’s service, in triple capacity of page, associate, and fool. His was a character, of which, in the compass of this tale, it will be impossible to give the reader any idea. In it was to be found the most extraordinary mixture of cunning and folly, blindness and foresight, thoughtlessness and thought. His actions were generally those which no one but a madman would commit; yet the means by which he extricated himself from their consequences were those which none but a man of great acuteness would hit upon. He was the son of poor parents, but had rendered himself, by his talents for frolic and buffoonery, so necessary to the young lord, that he was looked upon almost in the light of his foster-brother. He rode a small piebald nag, which formed a whimsical contrast with the large black courser of his master. His dress was that of an ordinary page; his form, though small, was not inelegant; and his features, though not handsome, had an arch expression about them, which looked very ludicrous, when compared with the lifelessness of Reginald’s.
Nothing more need be said of him save that the extremes of cunning and idiotcy which his conduct perpetually exhibited had conferred upon him two denominations, which were alternately applied as they became by turns appropriate. When the former predominated, he was termed “Robin the Wily;” and when the latter resumed its influence, his appellation was “Robin the Witless.[Pg 103]”
Upon the present occasion Reginald was not a little annoyed that he was compelled to converse with his father’s old counsellor, to the exclusion of the humorous partner of his follies. From this inconvenience, however, he was soon relieved. Before he had gone many miles he was met by a messenger from Leofwyn, who, after various excuses and apologies, informed him that his lord had vowed a vow that two men of Norman blood should never cross his threshold together; and that he therefore requested his future son-in-law to dismiss such of his train as fell under this interdict. The young lord certainly was not greatly displeased, when, upon examination, it was found that Robin was the only one of his followers who was not excluded by Norman lineage from the hall of the Saxon thane. Nevertheless, when his aged attendant whispered his suspicions of meditated treason, and intimated the propriety of returning, he gazed on the adviser, and then on the page, and then on the messenger; and expressed, by look and word, his usual sentiment in all such dilemmas—“I doubt!”
“The hall of Leofwyn is open,” said the messenger; “shall I say that the guest dallieth? The Lady Elfrida is in her bridal robe; shall I say that the bridegroom delayeth his purpose?” “I will go with thee,” said Reginald.