The House of Walderne Part 31

The fact was that Hubert felt as if he personally had made his peace with the mysterious haunters of the castle, and had nothing to fear. So he did not stir, but was even able to sleep again until aroused by the aged janitor, just as the blessed light of dawn was pouring through the oriel window.

"I warned you, my lord," he said.

"You did. The fault, and the punishment, too, is ours. But where are my men?"

"Here is one," said the janitor, leading Hubert to the cell over the gateway which he occupied himself, where on a couch lay poor Almeric with a broken arm; broken in falling down the steps.

"And where are the rest?" said Hubert after expressing his sympathy to the wounded squire.

"In the forest; they were raving like madmen in the courtyard, and I opened the gates and let them out to cool their brains. They will doubtless be here anon."

"What didst thou see, Almeric, that frightened thee out of thy reason?"

"Ask me not! I may tell thee anon, but let us leave this evil place," said Almeric.

"We must wait for our men--I will go out and blow my horn without the barbican."

He blew a mighty blast, and after awhile first one and then another responded to the appeal, looking thoroughly ashamed of themselves; till four were in presence. But the fifth never arrived; doubtless he had met some mishap in the forest.

"The wolves have got him," said the old man. "There is an old she wolf with a litter of cubs not far off, and I heard a mighty howling there-a-way after the gates were opened. If he staggered in her way in the darkness she would be sure to tear him to pieces."

They sought for him in vain, but could not risk having to pa.s.s another night in the place. Almeric was able to sit his horse with difficulty, Hubert taking the reins and riding at his side and supporting him from time to time with his arm. The sprightly lad was quite changed.

"I know not what it was," he said, "but it was something in that darkness, an awful face, a giant form, a deathly thing of horror, and we lost our presence of mind and sought absence of body. That is all I can say. It was something borne upon our wills and we could not resist. I shall never want to try such experiments again."

Even our Hubert, brave as he had been, was changed. He understood his father's affliction better, nor was he ever quite so light hearted and frivolous again. The joy of youth was dimmed. Yet he often thought that the apparition of the slain Frenchman might have been but a dream sent from heaven, to encourage him in his undertaking on his father's behalf.

Chapter 18: The Retreat Of The Outlaws.

The day was fine, and in the sun the heat was oppressive, but a grateful coolness lay beneath the shades of the forest, as our two brethren, Martin and Ginepro, pursued their way under the spreading canopy of leaves in search of the outlaws, whom most men preferred to avoid.

Crossing the d.i.c.ker, a wild tract of heath land which we have already introduced to our readers, and leaving Chiddinglye to the left, they entered upon a pathless wilderness. Mighty trees raised their branches to heaven, whose trunks resembled the columns in some vast cathedral. There was little underwood, and walking was very pleasant and easy.

And as they went they indulged in much pleasant discourse. Ginepro related many tales of "sweet Father Francis," and in return Martin enlightened his companion with regard to the manners and customs of the natives into whose territories they were penetrating; men who knew no laws but those of the greenwood, and who were but on a par with the heathen in things spiritual, at least so said the neighbouring ecclesiastics.

"All the more need of our mission," thought both.

They were now in a very dense wood, and the track they had been following became more and more obscure when, just as they crossed a little stream, a stern voice called, "Stand and deliver."

They looked up. There were men with bended bows and quivers full of arrows on either side. They had fallen into an ambush.

Martin was quite unalarmed.

"Nay, bend not your bows. We be but poor brethren of Saint Francis, who have come hither for your good."

"For our goods, you mean. We want no begging friars or like cattle."

"But I have a special message for thee, Kynewulf, well named; and for thee, Forkbeard; and for thee, Nick."

"Ah! Whom have we got here?"

"An old friend under a new guise. Lead me to your chieftain, Grimbeard, who, I hope, is well. Or shall I show you the road?"

"Yes, if you know it. Art thou a wizard?"

"Nay, only a poor friar. Am I to lead or follow?"

"Lead, by all means. Then we shall know that thou canst do so."

Martin, nothing loth, walked forward boldly, Ginepro more timidly by his side. They were such wild-looking outlaws. At last they reached a spring, and Martin left the beaten path, ascended a slope, and stood at the entrance to a large natural amphitheatre, not unlike an old chalk pit, such as men still hew from the side of the same hills.

But if the hand of man had ever wrought this one, it had been in ages long past, of which no record remained. The soft hand of nature had filled up the gaps and seams with creeping plants and bushes, and all deformities were hidden by her magic touch. Around the sides of the amphitheatre were twenty to thirty low huts of osier work, twined around tall posts driven into the ground and cunningly daubed with stiff clay. In the centre of the glade was a great fire, evidently common property, for a huge caldron steamed and bubbled over it, supported by three sticks placed cunningly so as to lend each other their aid in resisting the heavy weight, in accordance with nature's own mechanics, which she teaches without the help of science {25}.

Before the fire, on a sloping bank, covered with the softest skins, lay the aged chieftain whom we met before. But now seven years had added their transforming touch, tempus edax rerum. His tall stature was diminished by a visible curve in its outline. His giant limbs and joints were less firmly knit.

A light hunting shirt of green, confined around the waist by a silver belt, superseded the tunic of skins we saw him wear before, and over it was a crimson sash. These were doubtless the spoils of some successful fray or ambush, for the woods did not produce the tailors who could make such attire; and in the belt was stuck a sharp, keen hunting knife, and on his head was a low, flat cap with an eagle's feather. There were eagles then in "merrie Suss.e.x."

"Whom hast thou brought, Kynewulf? What cattle are these?"

"Guests, good captain," replied Martin, "who have come far to seek thee, and who have brought thee a special message from the King of kings."

Grimbeard growled, but he had his own ideas of hospitality, and had his deadliest enemy come voluntarily to him, trusting to his good faith, he could not have harmed him. So he conquered his discontent.

"Hospitality is the law of the woods. Stay and share our fare, such as it is, the pot luck of the woods, then depart in peace."

"Not till we have delivered our message."

"Ah, well, my merrie men are the devil's own children, but if you will try your hand at converting them I will not hinder you."

Not a word was said before dinner, and Martin, feeling that after partaking of their hospitality they would be upon a different footing, said but little. But the curiosity which was excited by his knowledge of their names and of this their summer retreat was only suspended for a brief period.

The al-fresco entertainment was over, the dinner transferred on wooden spits from the caldron to huge wooden platters. Game, collops of venison skilfully roasted on long wooden forks, a.s.sisted to eke out the contents of the caldron. Strong ale, or mead, was handed round, of which our brethren partook but sparingly. When the meal was over Grimbeard spoke:

"We generally Test awhile and chew the cud after our midday meal, for our craft keeps us awake a great deal by night; and perhaps your tramp through the woods has made you tired also. Rest, and after the sun has sunk beneath the branches of yon pine you may deliver the message you spoke about."

Then the h.o.a.ry chieftain retired to the shade of his hut, as did some of the others to theirs, but the majority reclined under the spreading beeches, as did our two brethren.

They slept through the meridian heat. One sentinel alone watched, and so secure felt the outlaws in their deep seclusion that even this precaution was felt to be a mere matter of form.

And at length a horn was blown, and the whole settlement awoke to active life.

"Call the brethren of Saint Francis," said the chief. "Now we are ready. Sit round, my merrie men."

It was a picture worthy the pencil of that great student of the wild and picturesque, Salvator Rosa; the groups of brawny outlaws, with their women and children, all disposed carelessly on the gra.s.s, with the background of dark hill and wood, or of hollow rock, while Martin, standing on a conspicuous hillock, began his message.

With wondrous skill he told the tale of Redeeming Love. His enthusiasm mounting as he spoke. The bright colour reddening his face, his eyes sparkling with animation, is beyond our power to tell, and the result was such as was common in the early days of the Franciscan missions. Women, yea, and men too, were moved to tears.