Legends Of Longdendale Part 4

Now the rest of the tale is soon told. The king bestowed the castle and the lands of the dead Sir Terrible, upon the young squire who had accompanied him, and whom he now made into a knight.

And then great changes took place in that part of Longdendale. Instead of being looked upon with dread by all the people of the countryside, the castle came to be regarded as the seat of a protecting power, to whose lord the poor might look for succour in time of need, and for justice in all seasons.

And perhaps the greatest change of all took place in the maiden who had been rescued from the clutches of Sir Terrible by King Arthur and his squire. Formerly she had trembled at the very name of the lord of the castle, and had witnessed his approach with a terror as great as that which causes the timid to shrink from death. But now she shrank from his approach no longer, there were even whispers that she kept tryst with the new lord; and at length there arrived a day when the young knight came in state, and carried her to the castle--a willing captive--where, in the presence of the king, they were made man and wife. The two lived long and happily together, trusted by the king, respected by their equals, and beloved by all who were beneath them in station. The knight won great renown as a warrior, so much so that evil-disposed men feared to meet him, and during his lifetime, although there were wars in other parts of the kingdom, the land of Longdendale enjoyed peace.

In due time the knight and his lady had several fine sons, who grew up after the pattern of the king, and long maintained the fair fame of Arthur Pendragon in Longdendale, even in days after the good king had pa.s.sed from life, to sail in the black barge with the three Queens, to Avilion, the Isle of Rest.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.

Concerning the connection of King Arthur with Longdendale, it may be of interest to mention that Bernard Robinson, in his "History of Longdendale," writes thus:--"Traditions speak of castles and kings, and great b.l.o.o.d.y battles fought along the hills--traditions of the times of Aurelius Ambrosius, and King Arthur, that have come

"Floating down the tide of years' mantled in mystery."

I may further add that it is not surprising to find Longdendale a.s.sociated by tradition with the great hero of English romance.

Several great battles of King Arthur are said to have been fought in Lancashire and Cheshire, and the former county is very closely linked with the chief of the knights of the Round Table. The name Lancashire is said to mean "Lancelot's Shire." Lancelot of the Lake is reputed to have been monarch or ruler of this county.

IV.

The Legend of War Hill.

It was early autumn of the year 1138, and the Valley of Longdendale was a vast tract of desolation. True, the trees were still decked with verdure, and the mellow tint of autumn clothed nature with a lovely garb. The streams still murmured with silvery splashes as they wandered through the woodland, and the birds warbled among the branches. In all this the valley was as of old--lovely, radiant, fair.

But the song of the reaper was never heard; the fields were tangled and untilled, the instruments of husbandry were destroyed or abandoned, and a grievous famine reigned. For the demon of war was abroad, and the blight of his shadow had fallen on the fair Cheshire vale.

King Stephen was seated on the throne which he had won by violence. As he had usurped the sovereign power without the pretence of a t.i.tle, he was necessitated to tolerate in others, the same violence to which he himself had been beholden for his crown. Even in time of peace the n.o.bles made sad havoc with the property of the people, but now that war was in the land, and the forces of the Lady Matilda, King Henry's child, sought to drive the usurper from the throne,--now, indeed, the castles poured forth bands of licensed robbers, and the homesteads of Longdendale were burned, the people driven to the woods, and the flocks and herds of the yeomen were confiscated.

Had the reader been privileged to wander through the woodland glades near Mottram, he would, maybe, have seen a group of fugitives bargaining with a st.u.r.dy forester for leave to shelter themselves in the depths of the forest, without fear of molestation.

"Thou hast known me all my life," said the leader of the party, "for a patient, G.o.d-fearing, and faithful husbandman. I have ever kept the forest laws, and seek not to work harm therein even now. But Mottram town is no place for me, for all my poor belongings have been seized by the King's men, and my hut has been burned to the ground. And but yesterday there came a party of the other side, and their leader had me up, and soundly thrashed me, because he said I helped the King, and was disloyal to the Princess. Helped the King, forsooth, when the King helped himself to all I had, and turned me out o' doors to shift for myself."

"And I," quoth another, "come from Tingetvisie (Tintwistle), and there the townsfolk are so scared they dare not seek their beds at night.

Nothing have I left to call my own, not even arms with which to protect myself. Truly the forest is a heaven to all such poor people as we."

"Well, well," grumbled the bluff forester, "get into the woods and hide yourselves, but play not with the deer at your peril. A pest on these troubles. I would the great folk would settle their differences themselves, and allow the poor to live in peace. Get off, I say, and hide yourselves. Steer clear of both King's men and Queen's men, and be d.a.m.ned to both sides."

So saying he went on his way whistling, and the fugitives hastily left the path, and were soon lost from view in the undergrowth. There, like beasts of the forest, they lay by day, and emerged when the night fell, to pick up such sc.r.a.ps of food as were to be had by the way.

Little wonder there were robbers on the roads in those times.

Days pa.s.sed on, and the wanderers in the woods beheld parties of rovers, riding with lance and sword, now north, now south, as the tide of war ebbed and flowed. Rumours had reached them of an invasion of the Scots under King David, and following the rumours came bands of wild Highland men, who laid waste with fire and sword what little the robber-bands of the English knighthood had spared. The King of Scotland came south to aid his niece, the Princess Matilda, and with the appearance of his army on this side the border, the n.o.bles who favoured the Princess arose. There was a mustering of all the able-bodied men of the Vale of Longdendale, and, glad to strike a blow to bring the state of tumult to an end, the men took sides.

"Hast thou heard the news?" asked one fugitive of another.

"To what news dost thou refer, good man?" was the reply. "Is it more of evil?"

"Nay, that is as thou listest," was the answer. "'Tis said the King of Scots rides. .h.i.ther with a great following of men at arms, and that King Stephen's forces muster for the combat. In that case there may be a great struggle toward, and now, maybe, we shall see the ending of all this strife and misery."

"In that case, good man, methinks I will strike a blow for one side, so that the matter may indeed be ended."

"On what side art thou?"

"I am for the Princess."

"And I for King Stephen."

"Then we are enemies, but I bear thee no ill-will. Mayhap we shall meet again in the battle."

"Maybe. At least it will be better than starving in the woods. I wish thee a good-morrow."

"And I thee. Farewell."

Upon which the speakers went their several ways to arrange themselves beneath the banners of the cause they favoured.

Soon there was a fair mustering of each faction, and with the trains of knights, who came from north and south, the rival forces grew from companies into armies. King Stephen sent a great body of horse and foot to strengthen the array of those who fought beneath his banner, whilst stray bands of Highland men swelled the ranks of the warriors of Matilda.

Now the chief forester of Longdendale was a man with a kind heart, and to all those civil and respectable folk who took to the woods for a refuge, he showed such toleration and care as his position allowed; only upon the idle, thieves, and evildoers, was his anger bestowed. It was no new thing for him to meet with fugitives--particularly women--seeking shelter in the forest, and, accordingly, he gave little heed to a small band of riders in which were several females, who entered the forest of Longdendale upon a certain evening just before the hour of sunset.

"Another band of fugitives," said he. "Poor souls; G.o.d have mercy on them."

He would have pa.s.sed on his way had not one of the band--a st.u.r.dy-looking young man, dressed in plain russet garb--thus accosted him:

"Ho there, fellow," cried the youth. "Come thou hither, for I would have a word with thee."

The tone in which the words were spoken was commanding, and to the forester it sounded insolent.

For answer he turned, and looking the horseman straight in the face said:

"Have a care, knave, what words thou usest to thy betters, or thou art likely to rue such speeches as that."

The young man frowned, and, raising a light riding whip, made as though he would strike the forester. But the latter brought into position a stout oak staff which he carried, and, advancing boldly, said in a threatening voice:

"Take advice from an older man, and drop thy paltry weapon. Otherwise I shall be put to the necessity of cracking thy pate. One blast of this horn now dangling at my side will speedily summon some of the stoutest lads in Cheshire, and thou and thy followers will ere long be dangling from the nearest tree."

So saying, the bold forester blew upon his horn, and scarcely had the echoes died away ere five stalwart men clad in green, each armed with yew-bow and quiver, and long knives at their girdle, burst from the thickets and ranged themselves by the forester's side.

What the newcomers would have done with the old forester at their head, it is difficult to say; but a diversion was created by one of the female riders, chiding the horseman who had first spoken.

"Thou art over-hasty, and even rude," said she; "where is thy discernment. Seest thou not that these men are honest, and wouldst thou set them against us?".

Then, advancing alone, she bent in her saddle, and whispered something to the forester. The old man started, gazed at the speaker, for a moment, then doffed his cap, and bowed low. Next turning to the five who stood behind him, he cried:

"Uncover, and on your knees. It is the Queen."

The Royal Matilda--for she it was, thus driven with her infant son, Henry, and a few faithful followers, to adopt the disguise of poor travellers, and to seek for a place of refuge until the coming battle should decide her fate--smiled graciously upon the old man and his companions.

"Methinks there is a likeness in all your faces," said she. "Are these thy sons?"