The House of Walderne Part 18

All at once a light, the light of a torch, turned the corner. The tinkling of a small bell was heard. It was close upon them. A priest bore the last Sacrament to the dying--the Viatic.u.m, or Holy Communion, so called when given in the hour of death.

"Down," cried Ralph, and they all knelt as it pa.s.sed, for such was the universal habit. Even vicious sinners thought they atoned for their vice by their ready compliance with the forms of the Church.

Many a man in that day would have thought it a less sin to cut a throat than to omit such an act of devotion.

But Martin recognised the priest. It was Adam de Maresco in his gray Franciscan robes, and he thought the father recognised him. He turned crimson with shame at being found in such company.

At last they reached home, and sick at heart he knocked at the door. It was long before he was admitted, and then not without sharp words of reproof, at which his companions laughed, as they turned and went back to Le Oriole.

Martin bathed his head in water to drive away the racking headache.

Fire seemed coursing through his veins as he lay down on the hard pallet of straw in his little cell.

He was awoke by a hideous purring; there, as he thought, upon his cast-off garments, sat the enemy of mankind: he had drawn the mark gained at the dice out of the gypsire, and was feasting on it with his eyes, ever and anon licking it with great gusto, and meanwhile purr, purr, purring like a huge cat.

Martin, now awake, dashed from his couch--no fiend was there--he tore his gypsire open, took out the coin, opened his cas.e.m.e.nt, and threw it like an accursed thing into the street. Then he got in bed again and sobbed like a child.

Chapter 10: Foul And Fair.

The rivalry between Drogo and Hubert became the more intense that both lads were bound to suppress it; and after the return of the latter from Suss.e.x, it found vent in many acts of hostility and spite on the part of the former, who was the older and bigger boy.

Yet he could not bully Hubert to any extent. The indomitable pluck and courage of the youngster prevented it. He would not take a blow or an insult without the most desperate resistance in the former case, and the most sarcastic retorts in the latter, and he had both a prompt hand and a cutting tongue. So Drogo had to swallow his hatred as best he could, but it led to many black dark thoughts, and to a determination to rid himself of his rival should the opportunity ever be afforded, by fair means or foul.

"I mean yet to be Lord of Walderne," he said to himself again and again.

And first of all he longed to get Hubert expelled from Kenilworth, and to deprive him of the favour and protection of the earl; and one day the devil, who often aids and abets those who seek his help, threw a chance in his way.

The earl had found it necessary to put a check upon the constant slaughter of the deer in his large domains, which bade fair to depopulate the forests. Therefore he had especially forbidden the pages to shoot a stag or fawn, under any pretext, and as his orders had been once or twice transgressed, he had caused it to be intimated that the next offence, on the part of a page, would be punished by expulsion: a very light penalty, when on many domains, notably in the royal parks, it was death to a peasant or any common person to kill the red deer.

All the young candidates for knighthood at Kenilworth had their arrows marked, for an arrow was too expensive a thing to be wasted, and therefore the young archers regained their shafts when they had done their work at the target. Such marks were useful also in preventing disputes.

One day, out in the woods, letting fly these shafts at lesser game, such as they were permitted to kill, Hubert lost one of his arrows.

A few days afterwards the chief forester came up to the castle to see the earl, who had just returned after a prolonged absence, and his communication caused no little stir.

The next day, after chapel, the earl ordered all the pages, some twenty-five in number, to a.s.semble in their common room, where they received such lessons in the "humanities" from the chaplain as their lord compelled them to accept, often against their taste and inclination, for they thought nothing worth learning save fighting and hunting.

When they had a.s.sembled, the earl, attended by the chaplain, appeared. They all stood in humble respect, and he looked with a keen eye down their ranks, as they were ranged about twelve on each side of the hall. A handsome, athletic set they were, dressed in what we should call the Montfort livery--a garb which set off their natural good looks abundantly--the dark features of Drogo; the light eyes and flaxen hair of the son of a Provencal maiden, our Hubert; were fair types of the varieties of appearance to be met amongst the groups.

The earl's features were clouded.

"You are all aware, my boys, of the order that no one below knightly rank should shoot deer in my forests?"

"We are," said one and all.

"Does any page profess ignorance of the rule?"

No reply.

"Then I have another question to put, and first of all, let me beg most earnestly to press upon the guilty one the necessity of truth and honour, which, although it may not justify me in remitting the penalty, may yet retain him my friendship. A deer has been slain in the woods, and by one of you. Let the guilty boy avow his fault."

No one stirred.

The earl looked troubled.

"This grieves me deeply," he said, "far more than the mere offence.

It becomes a matter of honour--he who stirs not, declares himself innocent, called by lawful authority to avow the truth as he now is."

Once or twice the earl looked sadly at Hubert, but the face of the fair boy was unclouded. If he had looked on the other side, he might have seen anxiety, if not apprehension, on one face.

"Enter then, sir forester."

The forester entered.

"You found a deer shot by an arrow in the West Woods?"

"I did."

"And you found the arrow?"

"Yes."

"Was it marked?"

"It was."

The earl held an arrow up.

"Who owns the crest of a boar's head?"

Hubert started.

"I do, my lord--but--but," and he changed colour.

Do not let the reader wonder at this. Innocence suddenly arraigned is oft as confused as guilt.

"But, my lord, I never shot the deer."

"Thine arrow is a strong presumptive proof against thee."

"I cannot tell, my lord, who can have used one of my arrows for such a purpose--I did not."

Here spoke up another page, a Percy of the Northumbrian breed of warriors.

"My lord, I was out the other day with Hubert in the woods, and he lost an arrow which he shot at a hare. We often lose our arrows in the woods."

"Does any other page know aught of the matter? Speak to clear the innocent or convict the guilty. As you look forward to knighthood, I adjure you all on your honour."

Then Drogo, who thought that things were going too well for Hubert, spoke.