The House of Walderne Part 6

"Yes, but Earl Simon loves the English."

"Or he wouldn't degrade us by bringing louts from the greenwood amongst us--boys whom our fathers would have disdained to set to mind their swine," said Drogo.

"Probably your ancestor himself was a swineherd in Normandy, while mine were Thanes in England, and their courteous manners have descended to you," retorted Martin; whereupon Drogo laid his bowstring about his daring junior.

Forgetting all disparity of age, the youngster flew at him, and struck him full between the eyes with his clenched fist; the other boys, instead of interfering, laughed heartily at the scene, and watched its development with interest, thinking Martin would get a good switching. But they forgot one thing, or rather did not know it. Boxing was not a knightly exercise, not taught in the tilt yard, and Drogo could only use his natural weapons as a French boy uses his now. But in the greenwood it was different, and young Martin had been left again and again, as a part of a sound education, to "hold his own" against his equals in age and size, by aid of the n.o.ble art of fisticuffs; what wonder then that Drogo's eyes were speedily several shades darker than nature had designed them to be, of which there was no obvious need, and that victory would probably have decked the brows of the younger combatant had not the elders interfered.

"This is no work for a gentleman."

"If fight you must, run a course against each other with blunted spears, since they won't grant us sharp ones, more's the pity."

"The youngster should learn to govern his temper."

"Nay, he did not begin it."

The last speaker was Hubert.

Martin had walked away into the wood, as if he neither expected nor asked justice from his companions, and Hubert followed him.

"There they go together."

"Two boys, each without a second name."

"But after all," said Louis, 'I like Hubert better for standing up for his friend."

"They are queer friends, as unlike as light and darkness," said Drogo.

"Talking of darkness reminds one of your eyes, they are--"

"Hold your tongue."

And a new quarrel commenced, which we will not stop to behold, but follow the two into the woods; "older, deeper, grayer," with oaks that the Druids might have worshipped beneath.

Chapter 4: In the Greenwood.

While they were in sight of the other boys Martin's pride kept him from displaying any emotion, but when they were alone in the recesses of the woods, and Hubert, putting his hand on the other's shoulder bade him "not mind them," his bosom commenced to heave, and he had great difficulty in repressing his tears. It was not mere grief, it was the sense of desolation; he felt that he was not in his own sphere, and but for the thought of the chaplain would willingly have returned to the outlaws in the greenwood. No boy at a strange school feels as out of place as he, and the worst was, he did not get acclimatised in the least.

He had not found his vocation. Then again, he had been sweetly lectured upon his temper by Father Edmund, and had promised to control it. Still, was he to be switched by Drogo? He knew he never could bear it, and didn't quite feel that he ought to do so.

"Hubert," he said at last, "I don't think I can stay here."

"Why, it is a very pleasant place. I love it more every day, and they are not such bad fellows."

"You are like them in your tastes, and I am not."

"But tell me, Martin, how were you brought up; were you always with the outlaws? You almost let out the secret today."

"Yes, I was born in the woods."

"Then you are not of gentle blood?"

"That depends upon what you mean by gentle blood. I am not of Norman blood by my father's side, although my mother may be, from whom I get my dark features: my father was descended from the old English lords of Michelham, who lived on the island for ages before the Conquest; my mother's family is unknown to me."

"Indeed! what became of your English forbears?"

"Robert de Mortain contrived their ruin, but dearly did his race pay for it in the justice of G.o.d. His ghost, or that of his son, still haunts Pevensey: but all that is past and gone. Earl Simon sometimes says (you heard him perhaps the other day) that the English are of as good blood as the Normans, and that he should be proud to call himself an Englishman.

"He is worthy of the name," said Martin, and Hubert smiled; 'but it is not that--I want to be a scholar, and by and by a priest."

"The very thing they wanted to make me, and I wouldn't for the world; what a pity we could not change places. Ah! what is that?"

A crushing of brambles and parting of bushes was heard, and lo! a deer, with a little fawn by its side, came across the glade, looking very frightened. The mother was restraining her own speed for the sake of the little one, but every moment got ahead, involuntarily, then stopped, and strove by piteous cries to urge the fawn to do its best.

What did it mean? The mystery was soon explained, the deep bay of a hound was heard close behind.

Martin's deep sympathies with the animal creation were aroused at once, and he stood in the opening the deer had made, his short hunting spear in hand.

"Take care--what are you about!" cried Hubert.

The next instant the deerhound came in sight, and in a few leaps would have attained his prey had not Martin been in the way; but the boy knelt on one knee, presenting his spear full at the dog, who, springing down a bank through the opening, literally impaled itself upon it.

"Good heavens!" said Hubert, "to kill a hound, a good hound like this."

"Didn't you see the poor fawn and its mother? I wasn't going to let the brute touch them. I would have died first."

Just then the voices of men came from the wood.

"See, they follow upon the track of the deer; let us run, we are in for it else."

"I am not ashamed of my deed," said Martin, and would sooner face it out; if they are good men they will not blame me."

"They will hang thee, that's all--fly."

"Too late; you go, leave me to pay the penalty of my own deed, if penalty there be."

"What, forsake a comrade in distress? Nay, I would die first, that is a thing I would die for, but for a brute--never."

A tall hunter, a man of most commanding appearance and stature, stood upon the scene. Two attendants followed behind.

"THE EARL OF WARWICK," whispered Hubert, awe struck.

The earl looked astonished as he saw the dog.

"Who has done this?" he said, in a voice of thunder.

But Martin did not tremble as he replied: