CHAPTER XII.
THE TWO MARQUISES.
Dinner over, lady Margaret led Dorothy back to her parlour, and thereproceeded to discover what accomplishments and capabilities she mightpossess. Finding she could embroider, play a little on the spinnet, singa song, and read aloud both intelligibly and pleasantly, she came to theconclusion that the country-bred girl was an acquisition destined togrow greatly in value, should the day ever arrive--which heavenforbid!--when they would have to settle down to the monotony of aprotracted siege. Remarking, at length, that she looked weary, she senther away to be mistress of her time till supper, at half-past five.
Weary in truth with her journey, but still more weary from the multitudeand variety of objects, the talk, and the constant demand of the generalstrangeness upon her attention and one form or other of suitableresponse, Dorothy sought her chamber. But she scarcely remembered how toreach it. She knew it lay a floor higher, and easily found the stair upwhich she had followed her attendant, for it rose from the landing ofthe straight ascent by which she had entered the house. She could hardlygo wrong either as to the passage at the top of it, leading back overthe room she had just left below, but she could not tell which was herown door. Fearing to open the wrong one, she passed it and went on tothe end of the corridor, which was very dimly lighted. There she came toan open door, through which she saw a small chamber, evidently not meantfor habitation. She entered. A little light came in through a crossedloophole, sufficient to show her the bare walls, with the plastersticking out between the stones, the huge beams above, and in the middleof the floor, opposite the loop-hole, a great arblast or cross-bow, withits strange machinery. She had never seen one before, but she knewenough to guess at once what it was. Through the loophole came a sweetbreath of spring air, and she saw trees bending in the wind, heard theirfaint far-off rustle, and saw the green fields shining in the sun.
Partly from having been so much with Richard, her only playmate, who wasof an ingenious and practical turn, a certain degree of interest inmechanical forms and modes had been developed in Dorothy, sufficient atleast to render her unable to encounter such an implement withoutfeeling a strong impulse to satisfy herself concerning its mechanism,its motion, and its action. Approaching it cautiously and curiously, asif it were a live thing, which might start up and fly from, or perhapsat her, for what she knew, she gazed at it for a few moments with eyesfull of unuttered questions, then ventured to lay gentle hold upon whatlooked like a handle. To her dismay, a wheezy bang followed, whichseemed to shake the tower. Whether she had discharged an arrow, or aniron bolt, or a stone, or indeed anything at all, she could not tell,for she had not got so far in her observations as to perceive even thatthe bow was bent. Her heart gave a scared flutter, and she started back,not merely terrified, but ashamed also that she should initiate her lifein the castle with meddling and mischief, when a low gentle laugh behindher startled her yet more, and looking round with her heart in herthroat, she perceived in the half-light of the place a man by the wallbehind the arblast watching her. Her first impulse was to run, and thedoor was open; but she thought she owed an apology ere she retreated.What sort of person he was she could not tell, for there was not lightenough to show a feature of his face.
'I ask your pardon,' she said; 'I fear I have done mischief.'
'Not the least,' returned the man, in a gentle voice, with a tone ofamusement in it.
'I had never seen a great cross-bow,' Dorothy went on, anxious to excuseher meddling. 'I thought this must be one, but I was so stupid as not toperceive it was bent, and that that was the--the handle--or do you callit the trigger?--by which you let it go.'
The man, who had at first taken her for one of the maids, had by thistime discovered from her tone and speech that she was a lady.
'It is a clumsy old-fashioned thing,' he returned, 'but I shall notremove it until I can put something better in its place; and it would bea troublesome affair to get even a demiculverin up here, not to mentionthe bad neighbour it would be to the ladies'chambers. I was just makinga small experiment with it on the force of springs. I believe I shallyet prove that much may be done with springs--more perhaps, andcertainly at far less expense, than with gunpowder, which costs greatly,is very troublesome to make, occupies much space, and is always like anunstable, half-treacherous friend within the gates--to say nothing ofthe expense of cannon--ten times that of an engine of timber andsprings. See what a strong chain your shot has broken! Shall I show youhow the thing works?'
He spoke in a gentle, even rapid voice, a little hesitating now andthen, more, through the greater part of this long utterance, as if hewere thinking to himself than addressing another. Neither his tone normanner were those of an underling, but Dorothy's startled nerves hadcommunicated their tremor to her modesty, and with a gentle 'No, sir, Ithank you; I must be gone,' she hurried away.
Daring now a little more for fear of worse, the first door she triedproved that of her own room, and it was with a considerable sense ofrelief, as well as with weariness and tremor, that she nestled herselfinto the high window-seat, and looked out into the quadrangle. Theshadow of the citadel had gone to pay its afternoon visit to the othercourt, and that of the gateway was thrown upon the chapel, partlyshrouding the white horse, whose watery music was now silent, butallowing one red ray, which entered by the iron grating above the solidgates, to fall on his head, and warm its cold whiteness with a tinge ofdelicate pink. The court was more still and silent than in the morning;only now and then would a figure pass from one door to another, alongthe side of the buildings, or by one of the tiled paths dividing theturf. A large peacock was slowly crossing the shadowed grass with astately strut and rhythmic thrust of his green neck. The moment he cameout into the sunlight, he spread his wheeled fan aloft, and slowlypirouetting, if the word can be allowed where two legs are needful, inthe very acme of vanity, turned on all sides the quivering splendour ofits hundred eyes, where blue and green burst in the ecstasy of theirunion into a vapour of gold, that the circle of the universe might see.And truly the bird's vanity had not misled his judgment: it was a sightto make the hearts of the angels throb out a dainty phrase or two morein the song of their thanksgiving. Some pigeons, white, and blue-grey,with a lovely mingling and interplay of metallic lustres on theirfeathery throats, but with none of that almost grotesque obtrusion ofover-driven individuality of kind, in which the graciousness of commonbeauty is now sacrificed to the whim of the fashion the vulgar fancierinitiates, picked up the crumbs under the windows of lady Margaret'snursery, or flew hither and thither among the roofs with wapping andwhiffling wing.
But still from the next court came many and various mingling noises. Thesounds of drill had long ceased, but those of clanking hammers wereheard the more clearly, now one, now two, now several together. Thesmaller, clearer one was that of the armourer, the others those of thegreat smithy, where the horse-shoes were made, the horses shod, thesmaller pieces of ordnance repaired, locks and chains mended, boltsforged, and, in brief, every piece of metal about the castle, from thecook's skillet to the winches and chains of the drawbridges, set right,renewed, or replaced. The forges were far from where she sat, outsidethe farthest of the two courts, across which, and the great halldividing them, the clink, clink, the clank, and the ringing clang,softened by distance and interposition, came musical to her ear. Thearmourer's hammer was the keener, the quicker, the less intermittent,and yet had the most variations of time and note, as he shifted thepiece on his anvil, or changed breastplate for gorget, or greave forpauldron--or it might be sword for pike-head or halbert. Mingled with itcame now and then the creak and squeak of the wooden wheel at thedraw-well near the hall-door in the farther court, and the muffledsplash of the bucket as it struck the water deep in the shaft. She eventhought she could hear the drops dripping back from it as it slowlyascended, but that was fancy. Everywhere arose the auricular vapour, asit were, of action, undefined and indefinable, the hum of the humanhive, compounded of all confluent noises--the chatter
of the servants'hall and the nursery, the stamping of horses, the ringing of harness,the ripping of the chains of kenneled dogs, the hollow stamping of heavyboots, the lowing of cattle, with sounds besides so strange to the earsof Dorothy that they set her puzzling in vain to account for them; notto mention the chaff of the guard-rooms by the gates, and the scoldingand clatter of the kitchen. This last, indeed, was audible only when thedoors were open, for the walls of the kitchen, whether it was that thebuilders of it counted cookery second only to life, or that this hadbeen judged, from the nature of the ground outside, the corner of allthe enclosure most likely to be attacked, were far thicker than those ofany of the other towers, with the one exception of the keep itself.
As she sat listening to these multitudinous exhalations of life aroundher, yet with a feeling of loneliness and a dim sense of captivity, fromthe consciousness that huge surrounding walls rose between her and thegreen fields, of which, from earliest memory, she had been as free asthe birds and beetles, a white rabbit, escaped from the arms of itsowner, little Mary Somerset, lady Margaret's only child, a merry butdelicate girl not yet three years old, suddenly darted like a flash ofsnow across the shadowy green, followed in hot haste a moment after by afine-looking boy of thirteen and two younger girls, after whom toddledtiny Mary. Dorothy sat watching the pursuit, accompanied with sweetoutcry and frolic laughter, when in a moment the sounds of theirmerriment changed to shrieks of terror, and she saw a huge mastiff comebounding she knew not whence, and rush straight at the rabbit, fierceand fast. When the little creature saw him, struck with terror itstopped dead, cowered on the sward, and was stock still. But HenrySomerset, who was but a few paces from it, reached it before the dog,and caught it up in his arms. The rush of the dog threw him down, andthey rolled over and over, Henry holding fast the poor rabbit.
By this time Dorothy was half-way down the stair: the moment she caughtsight of the dog she had flown to the rescue. When she issued from theporch at the foot of the grand staircase, Henry was up again, andrunning for the house with the rabbit yet safe in his arms, pursued bythe mastiff. Evidently the dog had not harmed him--but he might getangry. The next moment she saw, to her joy and dismay both at once, thatit was her own dog.
'Marquis! Marquis!' she cried, calling him by his name.
He abandoned the pursuit at once, and went bounding to her. She took himby the back of the neck, and the displeasure manifest upon thecountenance of his mistress made him cower at her feet, and wince fromthe open hand that threatened him. The same instant a lattice windowover the gateway was flung open, and a voice said--
'Here I am. Who called me?'
Dorothy looked up. The children had vanished with their rescued darling.There was not a creature in the court but herself, and there was themarquis, leaning half out of the window, and looking about.
'Who called me?' he repeated--angrily, Dorothy thought.
All at once the meaning of it flashed upon her, and she wasconfounded--ready to sink with annoyance. But she was not one tohesitate when a thing HAD to be done. Keeping her hold of the dog'sneck, for his collar was gone, she dragged him half-way towards thegate, then turning up to the marquis a face like a peony, replied--
'I am the culprit, my lord.'
'By St. George! you are a brave damsel, and there is no culpa that Iknow of, except on the part of that intruding cur.'
'And the cur's mistress, my lord. But, indeed, he is no cur, but a truemastiff.'
'What! is the animal thy property, fair cousin? He is more than Ibargained for.'
'He is mine, my lord, but I left him chained when I set out from Wyfernthis morning. That he got loose I confess I am not astonished, neitherthat he tracked me hither, for he has the eyes of a gaze-hound, and thenose of a bloodhound; but it amazes me to find him in the castle.'
'That must be inquired into,' said the marquis.
'I am very sorry he has carried himself so ill, my lord. He has put meto great shame. But he hath more in him than mere brute, and understandswhen I beg you to pardon him. He misbehaved himself on purpose to betaken to me, for at home no one ever dares punish him but myself.'
The marquis laughed.
'If you are so completely his mistress then, why did you call on me forhelp?'
'Pardon me, my lord; I did not so.'
'Why, I heard thee call me two or three times!'
'Alas, my lord! I called him Marquis when he was a pup. Everybody aboutRedware knows Marquis.'
The animal cocked his ears and started each time his name was uttered,and yet seemed to understand well enough that ALL the talk was about himand his misdeeds.
'Ah! ha!' said his lordship, with a twinkle in his eye, 'that begetscomplications. Two marquises in Raglan? Two kings in England! The thingcannot be. What is to be done?'
'I must take him back, my lord! I cannot send him, for he would not go.I dread they will not be able to hold him chained; in which evil case Ifear me I shall have to go, my lord, and take the perils of the time asthey come.'
'Not of necessity so, cousin, while you can choose between us;--althoughI freely grant that a marquis with four legs is to be preferred before amarquis with only two.--But what if you changed his name?'
'I fear it could not be done, my lord. He has been Marquis all hislife.'
'And I have been marquis only six months! Clearly he hath the betterright--. But there would be constant mistakes between us, for I cannotbring myself to lay aside the honour his majesty hath conferred upon me,"which would be worn now in its newest gloss, not cast aside so soon,"as master Shakspere says. Besides, it would be a slight to his majesty,and that must not be thought of--not for all the dogs in parliament orout of it. No--it would breed factions in the castle too. No; one of ustwo must die.'
'Then, indeed, I must go,' said Dorothy, her voice trembling as shespoke; for although the words of the marquis were merry, she yet fearedfor her friend.
'Tut! tut! let the older marquis die: he has enjoyed the title; I havenot. Give him to Tom Fool: he will drown him in the moat. He shall beburied with honour--under his rival's favourite apple-tree in theorchard. What more could dog desire?'
'No, my lord,' answered Dorothy. 'Will you allow me to take my leave? IfI only knew where to find my horse!'
'What! would you saddle him yourself, cousin Vaughan?'
'As well as e'er a knave in your lordship's stables. I am very sorry todisplease you, but to my dog's death I cannot and will not consent.Pardon me, my lord.'
The last words brought with them a stifled sob, for she scarcely doubtedany more that he was in earnest.
'It is assuredly not gratifying to a marquis of the king's making tohave one of a damsel's dubbing take the precedence of him. I fear youare a roundhead and hold by the parliament. But no--that cannot be, foryou are willing to forsake your new cousin for your old dog. Nay, alas!it is your old cousin for your young dog. Puritan! puritan! Well, itcannot be helped. But what! you would ride home alone! Evil men areswarming, child. This sultry weather brings them out like flies.'
'I shall not be alone, my lord. Marquis will take good care of me.'
'Indeed, my lord marquis will pledge himself to nothing outside his ownwalls.'
'I meant the dog, my lord.'
'Ah! you see how awkward it is. However, as you will not choose betweenus--and to tell the truth, I am not yet quite prepared to die--we mustneeds encounter what is inevitable. I will send for one of the keepersto take him to the smithy, and get him a proper collar--one he can'tslip like that he left at home--and a chain.'
'I must go with him myself, my lord. They will never manage him else.'
'What a demon you have brought into my peaceable house! Go with him, byall means. And mind you choose him a kennel yourself.--You do not desirehim in your chamber, do you, mistress?'
Dorothy secretly thought it would be the best place for him, but she wasonly too glad to have his life spared.
'No, my lord, I thank you,' she said. '--I thank your lordship with allmy hear
t.'
The marquis disappeared from the window. Presently young Scudamore cameinto the court from the staircase by the gate, and crossed to thehall--in a few minutes returning with the keeper. The man would havetaken the dog by the neck to lead him away, but a certain form of caninecurse, not loud but deep, and a warning word from Dorothy, made himwithdraw his hand.
'Take care, Mr. Keeper,' she said, 'he is dangerous. I will go with himmyself, if thou wilt show me whither.'
'As it please you, mistress,' answered the keeper, and led the wayacross the court.
'Have you not a word to throw at a poor cousin, mistress Dorothy?' saidRowland, when the man was a pace or two in advance.
'No, Mr. Scudamore,' answered Dorothy; 'not until we have first spokenin my lord Worcester's or my lady Margaret's presence.'
Scudamore fell behind, followed her a little way, and somewherevanished.
Dorothy followed the keeper across the hall, the size of which, itsheight especially, and the splendour of its windows of stained glass,almost awed her; then across the next court to the foot of the LibraryTower forming the south-east corner of it, near the two towers flankingthe main entrance. Here a stair led down, through the wall, to a lowerlevel outside, where were the carpenters' and all other workshops, theforges, the stables, and the farmyard buildings.
As it happened, when Dorothy entered the smithy, there was her ownlittle horse being shod, and Marquis and he interchanged a whine and awhinny of salutation, while the men stared at the bright apparition of ayoung lady in their dingy regions. Having heard her business, thehead-smith abandoned everything else to alter an iron collar, of whichthere were several lying about, to fit the mastiff, the presence ofwhose mistress proved entirely necessary. Dorothy had indeed to put iton him with her own hands, for at the sound of the chain attached to ithe began to grow furious, growling fiercely. When the chain had beenmade fast with a staple driven into a strong kennel-post, and hismistress proceeded to take her leave of him, his growling changed to themost piteous whining; but when she actually left him there, he flew intoa rage of indignant affection. After trying the strength of his chain,however, by three or four bounds, each so furious as to lay himsprawling on his back, he yielded to the inevitable, and sullenly creptinto his kennel, while Dorothy walked back to the room which had alreadybegun to seem to her a cell.