The White Lady of Hazelwood: A Tale of the Fourteenth Century

  CHAPTER TEN.

  NIGHT ALARMS.

  "Oh let me feel Thee near me,-- The world is very near: I see the sights that dazzle, The tempting sounds I hear; My foes are ever near me, Around me and within; But, Jesus, draw Thou nearer, And save my soul from sin."

  John E. Bode.

  "Phyllis, thou wilt lie in my Lady's pallet, tonight," said Perrote, asshe let her into their own chamber. Amphillis looked rather alarmed.She had never yet been appointed to that responsible office. But it wasnot her nature to protest against superior orders; and she quietlygathered up such toilet articles as she required, and prepared to obey.

  "You know your duty?" said Perrote, interrogatively. "You first helpyour Lady abed, and then hie abed yourself, in the dark, as silently andhastefully as may be. There is no more to do, without she call in thenight, till her _lever_, for which you must be ready, and have a carenot to arouse her till she wake and summon you, without the hour growexceeding late, when you may lawfully make some little bruit to wake herafter a gentle fashion. Come now."

  Amphillis followed Perrote into the Countess's room.

  They found her standing by the window, as she often was at night, forthe sunset and the evening lights had a great attraction for her. Sheturned her head as they entered.

  "At last, Perrote!" she said. "In good sooth, but I began to think thouhadst forgot me, like everybody else in earth and heaven."

  "My Lady knows I shall never do that," was the quiet reply. "Dame, myLady Foljambe entreats of your Ladyship leave that Amphillis here shalllie in your pallet until she return."

  "Doth she so?" answered the Countess, with a curt laugh. "My LadyFoljambe is vastly pleasant, trow. Asking her caged bird's leave to setanother bird in the cage! Well, little brown nightingale, what sayest?Art feared lest the old eagle bite, or canst trust the hooked beak for aweek or twain?"

  "Dame, an' it please you, I am in no wise feared of your Grace."

  "Well said. Not that thou shouldst make much difference. Had I a mindto fight for the door or the window, I could soon be quit of such awhite-faced chit as thou. Ah me! to what end? That time is by, for me.Well! so they went off in grand array? I saw them. If GodfreyFoljambe buy his wife a new quirle, and his daughter-in-law a new gown,every time they cry for it, he shall be at the end of his purse ere mycushion yonder be finished broidering. Lack-a-day! I would one of youwould make an end thereof. I am aweary of the whole thing. Green andtawny and red--red and tawny and green; tent-stitch down here, andsatin-stitch up yonder. And what good when done? There's acushion-cover more in the world; that is all. Would God--ah, would God,from the bottom of mine heart, that there were but one weary womanless!"

  "My dear Lady!" said Perrote, sympathisingly.

  "Ay, old woman, I know. Thou wouldst fain ask, Whither should I go? Iknow little, verily, and care less. Only let me lie down and sleep forever, and forget everything--I ask but so much. I think God might letme have that. One has to wake ever, here, to another dreary day. Ifman might but sleep and not wake! or--ah, if man could blot out thirtyyears, and I sit once more in my mail on my Feraunt at the gate ofHennebon! Dreams, dreams, all empty dreams! Come, child, and lay bythis wimple. 'Tis man's duty to hie him abed now. Let's do our duty.'Tis all man has left to me--leave to do as I am bidden. What was thatbruit I heard without, an half-hour gone?"

  Amphillis, in answer, for Perrote was unable to speak, told the story ofAgatha's mischievous trick. The Countess laughed.

  "'Tis right the thing I should have done myself, as a young maid," saidshe. "Ay, I loved dearly to make lordly, sober folks look foolish.Poor Father Jordan, howbeit, was scarce fit game for her crossbow. Ifshe had brought Avena Foljambe down, I'd have given her a clap on theback. Now, maid, let us see how thou canst braid up this old white hairfor the pillow. It was jet black once, and fell right to my feet. Ilittle thought, then--I little thought!"

  The _coucher_ accomplished, the Countess lay down in her bed; Perrotetook leave of her, and put out the light, admonishing Amphillis to bequick. Then she left the room, locking the door after her.

  "There!" said the voice of the Countess through the darkness. "Now thenwe are prisoners, thou and I. How doth it like thee?"

  "It liketh me well, Dame, if so I may serve your Grace."

  "Well said! Thou shalt be meet for the Court ere long. But, child,thou hast not borne years of it, as I have: sixteen years with a hope ofrelease, and eight with none. Tell me thy history: I have no list tosleep, and it shall pass the time."

  "If it may please your Grace, I reckon I have had none."

  "Thou wert best thank the saints for that. Yet I count 'tis scarcethus. Didst grow like a mushroom?"

  "Truly, no, Dame," said Amphillis, with a little laugh. "But I fear itshould ill repay your Grace to hear that I fed chickens and milked cows,and baked patties of divers sorts."

  "It should well repay me. It were a change from blue silk and yellowtwist, and one endless view from the window. Fare forth!"

  Thus bidden, Amphillis told her story as she lay in the pallet,uninterrupted save now and then by a laugh or a word of comment. It wasnot much of a story, as she had said; but she was glad if it amused theroyal prisoner, even for an hour.

  "Good maid!" said her mistress, when she saw that the tale was finished."Now sleep thou, for I would not cut off a young maid from her rest. Ican sleep belike, or lie awake, as it please the saints."

  All was silence after that for half-an-hour. Amphillis had just droppedasleep, when she was roused again by a low sound, of what nature sheknew not at first. Then she was suddenly conscious that the porter'swatch-dog, Colle, was keeping up a low, uneasy growl beneath the window,and that somebody was trying to hush him. Amphillis lay and listened,wondering whether it were some further nonsense of Agatha's manufacture.Then came the sound of angry words and hurrying feet, and a woman'sshrill scream.

  "What ado is there?" asked the Countess. "Draw back the curtain,Phyllis, and see."

  Amphillis sprang up, ran lightly with bare feet across the chamber, anddrew back the curtain. The full harvest moon was shining into the innercourt, and she discerned eight black shadows, all mixed together in whatwas evidently a struggle of some kind, the only one distinguishablebeing that of Colle, who was as busy and excited as any of the group.At length she saw one of the shadows get free from the others, and speedrapidly to the wall, pursued by the dog, which, however, could notprevent his escape over the wall. The other shadows had a further shortscuffle, at the end of which two seemed to be driven into the outer yardby the five, and Amphillis lost sight of them. She told her mistresswhat she saw.

  "Some drunken brawl amongst the retainers, most like," said theCountess. "Come back to thy bed, maid; 'tis no concern of thine."

  Amphillis obeyed, and silence fell upon the house. The next thing ofwhich she was conscious was Perrote's entrance in the morning.

  "What caused yon bruit in the night?" asked the Countess, as Amphilliswas dressing her hair.

  "Dame," said Perrote, "it was an attack upon the house."

  "An attack?" The Countess turned suddenly round, drawing her hair outof her tirewoman's hands. "After what fashion? thieves? robbers? foes?Come, tell me all about it."

  "I scantly know, Dame, how far I may lightly tell," said Perrote,uneasily. "It were better to await Sir Godfrey's return, ere much besaid thereanentis."

  The Countess fixed her keen black eyes on her old attendant.

  "The which means," said she, "that the matter has too much ado with methat I should be suffered to know the inwards thereof. Perrote, was itthat man essayed once more to free me? Thou mayest well tell me, for Iknow it. The angels whispered it to me as I lay in my bed."

  "My dear Lady, it was thus. Pray you, be not troubled: if so were,should you be any better off than now?"

  "Mary, Mother!" With that wail of pain the Countess turned back to hertoilet. "Who was it? and how? Tell me what thou w
ist."

  Perrote considered a moment, and then answered the questions.

  "Your Grace hath mind of the two pedlars that came hither a few daysgone?"

  "One of whom sold yon violet twist, the illest stuff that ever threadedneedle? He had need be 'shamed of himself. Ay: well?"

  "Dame, he was no pedlar at all, but Sir Roland de Pencouet, a knight ofBretagne."

  "Ha! one of Oliver Clisson's following, or I err. Ay?"

  A look of intense interest had driven out the usual weary listlessnessin the black eyes.

  "Which had thus disguised him in order to essay the freeing of yourGrace."

  "I am at peace with him, then, for his caitiff twist. Knights make illtradesmen, I doubt not. Poor fool, to think he could do any such thing!What befell him?"

  "With him, Dame, were two other--Ivo filz Jehan, yon little Bretonjeweller that was used to trade at Hennebon; I know not if your Gracehave mind of him--"

  "Ay, I remember him."

  "And also a priest, named Father Eloy. The priest won clean away overthe wall; only Mark saith that Colle hath a piece of his hose for aremembrance. Sir Roland and Ivo were taken, and be lodged in thedungeon."

  "Poor fools!" said the Countess again. "O Perrote, Perrote, to befree!"

  "Dear my Lady, should it be better with you than now?"

  "What wist thou? To have the right to go right or left, as man would;to pluck the flowerets by the roadside at will; to throw man upon thegrass, and breathe the free air; to speak with whom man would; to feelthe heaving of the salt sea under man's boat, and to hear the clash ofarms and see the chargers and the swords and the nodding plumes file outof the postern--O Perrote, Perrote!"

  "Mine own dear mistress, would I might compass it for you!"

  "I know thou dost. And thou canst not. But wherefore doth not Godcompass it? Can He not do what He will? Be wrong and cruelty andinjustice what He would? Doth He hate me, that He leaveth me thus tolive and die like a rat in a hole? And wherefore? What have I done? Iam no worser sinner than thousands of other men and women. I neverstole, nor murdered, nor sware falsely; I was true woman to God and tomy lord, and true mother to the lad that they keep from me; ay, and truefriend to Lord Edward the King, that cares not a brass nail whether Ilive or die--only that if I died he would be quit of a burden. Holysaints, but I would full willingly quit him of it! God! when I ask Theefor nought costlier than death, canst Thou not grant it to me?"

  She looked like an inspired prophetess, that tall white-haired woman,lifting her face up to the morning sun, as if addressing through it theEternal Light, and challenging the love and wisdom of His decrees.Amphillis shrank back from her. Perrote came a little nearer.

  "God is wiser than His creatures," she said.

  "Words, words, Perrote! Only words. And I have heard them allaforetime, and many a time o'er. If I could but come at Him, I'd see ifHe could not tell me somewhat better."

  "Ay," said Perrote, with a sigh; "if we could all but come at Him! Dearmy Lady--"

  "Cross thyself, old woman, and have done. When I lack an homilypreacher, I'll send for a priest. My wimple, Phyllis. When comes SirGodfrey back?"

  "Saturday shall be a week, Dame."

  Sir Godfrey came back in a bad temper. He had been overcome at thetournament, which in itself was not pacifying; and he was extremelyangry to hear of the unsuccessful attempt to set his prisoner free. Hescolded everybody impartially all round, but especially Matthew andFather Jordan, the latter of whom was very little to blame, since he wasnot only rather deaf, but he slept on the other side of the house, andhad never heard the noise at all. Matthew growled that if he had calmlymarched the conspirators up to the prisoner's chamber, and delivered herto them, his father could scarcely have treated him worse; whereas hehad safely secured two out of the three, and the prisoner had never beenin any danger.

  Kate had been captured as well as the conspirators, and instead ofreceiving the promised crespine, she was bitterly rueing her folly,locked in a small turret room whose only furniture was a bundle of strawand a rug, with the pleasing prospect of worse usage when her mistressshould return. The morning after their arrival at home, Lady Foljambemarched up to the turret, armed with a formidable cane, wherewith sheinflicted on poor Kate a sound discipline. Pleading, sobs, and evenscreams fell on her ears with as little impression as would have beencaused by the buzzing of a fly. Having finished her proceeding, sheadministered to the suffering culprit a short, sharp lecture, and thenlocked her up again to think it over, with bread and water as the onlyrelief to meditation.

  The King was expected to come North after Parliament rose--somewhereabout the following February; and Sir Godfrey wrathfully averred that heshould deal with the conspirators himself. The length of time that aprisoner was kept awaiting trial was a matter of supremely littleconsequence in the Middle Ages. His Majesty reached Derby, on his wayto York, in the early days of March, and slept for one night atHazelwood Manor, disposing of the prisoners the next morning, before heresumed his journey.

  Nobody at Hazelwood wished to live that week over again. The Kingbrought a suite of fourteen gentlemen, beside his guard; and they allhad to be lodged somehow. Perrote, Amphillis, Lady Foljambe, and MrsMargaret slept in the Countess's chamber.

  "The more the merrier," said the prisoner, sarcastically. "Prithee,Avena, see that the King quit not this house without he hath a word withme. I have a truth or twain to tell him."

  But the King declined the interview. Perhaps it was on account of anuneasy suspicion concerning that truth or twain which might be told him.For fifty years Edward the Third swayed the sceptre of England, and hisrule, upon the whole, was just and gentle. Two sore sins lie at hisdoor--the murder of his brother, in a sudden outburst of most righteousindignation; and the long, dreary captivity of the prisoner of Tickhilland Hazelwood, who had done nothing to deserve it. Considering what amother he had, perhaps the cause for wonder is that in the main he didso well, rather than that on some occasions he acted very wrongly. Thefrequent wars of this King were all foreign ones, and under hisgovernment England was at rest. That long, quiet reign was now drawingnear its close. The King had not yet sunk into the sad state of seniledementia, wherein he ended his life; but he was an infirm, tired oldman, bereft of his other self, his bright and loving wife, who had lefthim and the world about four years earlier. He exerted himself a littleat supper to make himself agreeable to the ladies, as was then held tobe the bounden duty of a good knight; but after supper he enjoyed apeaceful slumber, with a handkerchief over his face to keep away theflies. The two prisoners were speedily disposed of, by being sent inchains to the Duke of Bretagne, to be dealt with as he should think fit.The King seemed rather amused than angered by Kate's share in thematter: he had the terrified girl up before him, talked to her in afatherly fashion, and ended by giving her a crown-piece with his ownhand, and bidding her in the future be a good and loyal maid, and notsuffer herself to be beguiled by the wiles of evil men. Poor Katesobbed, promised, and louted confusedly; and in due course of time, whenKing Edward had been long in his grave, and Kate was a staidgrandmother, the crown-piece held the place of honour on her son's chestof drawers as a prized family heirloom.

  The next event of any note, a few weeks afterwards, was Marabel'smarriage. In those days, young girls of good family, instead of beingsent to school, were placed with some married lady as bower-women orchamberers, to be first educated and then married. The mistress wasexpected to make the one her care as much as the other; and it was notconsidered any concern of the girl's except to obey. The husband wasprovided by the mistress, along with the wedding-dress and thewedding-dinner; and the bride meekly accepted all three with becomingthankfulness--or at least was expected to do so.

  The new chamberer, who came in Marabel's place, was named Ricarda; thegirls were told this one evening at supper-time, and informed that shewould arrive on the morrow. Her place at table was next belowAmphillis, who was greatly astoni
shed to be asked, as she sat down tosupper--

  "Well, Phyllis, what hast thou to say to me?"

  Amphillis turned and gazed at the speaker.

  "Well?" repeated the latter. "Thou hast seen me before."

  "Ricarda! How ever chanceth it?"

  The astonishment of Amphillis was intense. The rules of etiquette atthat time were chains indeed; and the daughter of a tradesman was not ina position to be bower-woman to a lady of title. How had her cousincome there?

  "What sayest, then," asked Ricarda, with a triumphant smile, "to knowthat my Lady Foljambe sent to covenant with me by reason that she was sofull fain of thee that she desired another of thy kin?"

  "Is it soothly thus?" replied Amphillis, her surprise scarcely lessenedby hearing of such unusual conduct on the part of the precise LadyFoljambe. "Verily, but--And how do my good master mine uncle, and mygood cousin Alexandra?"

  "Saundrina's wed, and so is my father. And Saundrina leads Clement alife, and Mistress Altham leads my father another. I was none so sorryto come away, I can tell thee. I hate to be ruled like a ledger andnotched like a tally!"

  "Thou shalt find things be well ruled in this house, Rica," saidAmphillis, thinking to herself that Ricarda and Agatha would make apair, and might give their mistress some trouble. "But whom hath mineuncle wed, that is thus unbuxom [disobedient] to him?"

  "Why, Mistress Regina, the goldsmith's daughter, that counts herselfworth us all, and would fain be a queen in the patty-shop, and cut usall out according to her will."

  "But, Ricarda, I reckoned Mistress Regina a full good and wise woman."

  "`Good and wise!' She may soon be so. I hate goodness and wisdom.There's never a bit of jollity for her. 'Tis all `thou shalt not.' Shemight as well be the Ten Commandments and done with it."

  "Wouldst thou fain not keep the Ten Commandments, Rica?"

  "I'd fain have my own way, and be jolly. Oh, she keeps the house wellenough. Father saith he's tenfold more comfortable sithence hercoming."

  "I thought thou saidst she led him an ill, diseaseful [Note 1] life?"

  "Well, so did I. Father didn't."

  "Oh!" said Amphillis, in an enlightened tone.

  "And she's a rare hand at the cooking, that will I say. She might havemade patties all her life. She catches up everything afore you can say`Jack Robinson.' She says it's by reason she's a Dutchwoman [Note 2].Rubbish! as if a lot of nasty foreigners could do aught better, or halfas well, as English folks!"

  "Be all foreigners nasty?" asked Amphillis, thinking of her mistress.

  "Of course they be! Phyllis, what's come o'er thee?"

  "I knew not anything had."

  "Lack-a-day! thou art tenfold as covenable and deliver [Note 3] as thouwert wont to be. Derbyshire hath brightened up thy wits."

  Amphillis smiled. Privately, she thought that if her wits werebrightened, it was mainly by being let alone and allowed to develop freeof perpetual repression.

  "I have done nought to bring the same about, Ricarda. But must Iconceive that Master Winkfield's diseaseful life, then, is in thineeyes, or in his own?"

  "He reckons himself the blissfullest man under the sun," said Ricarda,as they rose from the table: "and he dare not say his soul is his own;not for no price man should pay him."

  Amphillis privately thought the bliss of a curious kind.

  "Phyllis!" said her cousin, suddenly, "hast learned to hold thy tongue?"

  "I count I am metely well learned therein, Rica."

  "Well, mind thou, not for nothing of no sort to let on to my Lady thatFather is a patty-maker. I were put forth of the door with no more ado,should it come to her ear that I am not of gentle blood like thee."

  "Ricarda! Is my Lady, then, deceived thereon?"

  "'Sh--'sh! She thinks I am a Neville, and thy cousin of the father'sside. Thee hold thy peace, and all shall be well."

  "But, Rica! that were to tell a lie."

  "Never a bit of it! Man can't tell a lie by holding his peace."

  "Nay, I am not so sure thereof as I would like. This I know, he mayspeak one by his life no lesser than his words."

  "Amphillis, if thou blurt out this to my Lady, I'll hate thee for everand ever, Amen!" said Ricarda.

  "I must meditate thereon," was her cousin's answer. "Soothly, I wouldnot by my good will do thee an ill turn, Rica; and if it may stand withmy conscience to be silent, thou hast nought to fear. Yet if my Ladyask me aught touching thee, that may not be thus answered, I must speaktruth, and no lie."

  "A murrain take thy conscience! Canst not say a two-three times theRosary of our Lady to ease it?"

  "Maybe," said Amphillis, drily, "our Lady hath no more lore for lyingthan I have."

  "Mistress Ricarda!" said Agatha, joining them as they rose from thetable, "I do right heartily pray you of better acquaintance. I trustyou and I be of the same fashion of thinking, and both love laughterbetter than tears."

  "In good sooth, I hate long faces and sad looks," said Ricarda,accepting Agatha's offered kiss of friendship.

  "You be not an ill-matched pair," added Amphillis, laughing. "Only, Ipray you, upset not the quirle by over much prancing."

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  Note 1. Still used in its original sense of uncomfortable.

  Note 2. The Dutch were then known as High Dutch, the Germans as LowDutch.

  Note 3. Agreeable and ready in conversation.