*CHAPTER XXIII.*
_*A TETE-A-TETE RIDE TO ELSTOW ABBEY.*_
Contrary to his dream and to the gloomy forebodings which he had beenhugging to himself after the manner of certain dismal natures whichdelight to make themselves miserable, William de Beauchamp, as we haveseen, escaped unscathed from the assaults on the castle. But lest hismelancholy should lack food, as it were, fate had another blow in storefor him. No sooner had the castle of Bedford been captured than theroyal mandate went forth that it should be destroyed.
Henry III., young though he was, was too well aware of the difficultieswhich his father had experienced with his barons not to be convincedthat his best policy lay in curbing their power. Now the chief strengthof a medieval noble lay in his castle. In the taking of Bedford anexcellent opportunity seemed ready to Henry's hand for getting rid ofone of the most important and substantial fortresses in his kingdom.
He was, moreover, completely in his rights in so doing. King John hadgranted the castle to Fulke de Breaute as a reward for his services,more especially in turning out the De Beauchamps. But now that DeBreaute had rebelled against John's successor, deprivation brought thecastle once more into royal hands. What came absolutely to the king,the king could destroy.
This determination was a severe blow to William de Beauchamp. He wasgrievously hurt when he learned that the destruction of his ancestralhome was definitely settled, but he was unable to take any steps topreserve it. It was, however, intimated to him that the site of thecastle would be granted to him, together with certain of the lands andmanors thereunto appertaining, after the fortress itself had been pulleddown. No occupier or owner of a house could then proceed to fortify orcrenellate--that is, erect defensive parapets--without the royallicense; and William de Beauchamp was informed that though he mightbuild within the castle precincts as suitable a dwelling as he pleased,on no account would such permission be granted.
So he had no choice in the matter, but found himself under the painfulnecessity of silently beholding the mighty keep where he had been born,and in which all his early days had been spent, destroyed before hisvery eyes.
The work of destruction, however, was no easy one. Securely and solidlyhad Pain de Beauchamp erected his fortress, less than a century and ahalf before. It was necessary to employ John de Standen and his menagain. For many a long day after the king and his justiciary, and thebarons, ecclesiastics, soldiers and labourers who had been gatheredtogether for the siege had dispersed, the crash of falling masonry wasto be heard. Mines had to be dug and the walls overthrown, just asthough the siege were still proceeding, with the important differencethat the miners could work unmolested by attacks, and with no need ofthe protecting "cat."
John de Standen seemed in no wise to regret that the work of demolitiondetained him so long at Bedford. In the midst of his duties hecontrived to find many opportunities for visits to Master Gilbert'shouse, where Beatrice Mertoun was also detained in attendance upon hermistress, who was prostrated by illness consequent on the anxieties shehad undergone during the siege. Aliva de Pateshulle also stayed withthe Lady Margaret, loath to leave her and return to Bletsoe till sheshould be quite recovered; for she felt she owed the lady a debt ofgratitude for her care of her during her imprisonment, and also forinterposing on her behalf with Fulke and his brother, which she couldnever sufficiently repay.
The consequence was that the king's miner did not appear surprised torun against Sir Ralph de Beauchamp issuing one evening from the ladies'temporary abode.
"By my troth, Sir Knight," exclaimed John de Standen, with a merrylaugh, "methinks we come both on the same errand here. You seek thelady; I seek the maid. But it is easier work than when we had to breakthrough stone walls and swim broad rivers to get speech of them."
"Certes, bold miner. Meseemeth I have now discovered whence thougottest that close knowledge of Bedford Castle which stood thee in suchgood stead at the Council of Northampton. I warrant me thou wast oftenow within its walls ere thou breakedst through in the breach not manydays since, and I doubt not thou hast paid many a visit to fair MistressBeatrice when no paving-stones came between ye. But thy siege is overnow, bold miner. Thou hast won thy bride. I have yet to win thefortress of De Pateshulle the sire," he added, with a sigh.
"If the lord of Bletsoe be what I take him for," the miner respondedconsolingly, "he will not say nay for his daughter to such a knight asSir Ralph hath proved himself in this tough work."
"I hope from my heart thou speakest true," replied Ralph; "but naughthindereth _thy_ bridal?"
"Nay, certes. Beatrice is an orphan with no friend but her lady, whotook charge of her when she was but a child. And as it would seem theLady Margaret purposeth to betake her to a nunnery, she is quite readyto hand over the maiden to one who asks no less than to burden himselfwith her!" laughed the miner.
And so it turned out. One bright September morning, not long after thefall of the castle, and when John de Standen had completed his work ofdestruction, he and Beatrice were married in the chapel of St.Thomas-at-bridge, the little edifice where she had occasionally beenallowed to attend mass with her mistress when Sir Fulke was in a morebenign mood than usual. The ceremony was graced by the presence of LadyMargaret and Sir Ralph, but Lady Aliva had already returned to herfather's house.
When the marriage was over the Lady Margaret prepared to start forElstow. In her present forlorn condition, the forsaken wife of anoutlawed and fugitive baron dispossessed of all his lands, homeless andsickly, the unfortunate lady had implored shelter within the abbeywalls, and not in vain. But short as was the distance from Bedford, inthe present shattered condition of her nerves it was impossible for herto take the journey alone. Sir Ralph had offered to be her escort, butat the last moment he was detained by some duty in connection with thedestruction of the castle which was really John de Standen's business,but which the worthy miner's marriage had hindered him from seeing to.
Ralph found an unexpected substitute. When the Lady Margaret emergedfrom Master Gilbert's hospitable door to mount her palfrey, she beheldto her surprise Sir William de Beauchamp waiting to assist her.
"I crave thy pardon, lady, if I intrude upon thee. But to my nephew andme it beseemed ill-fitting that Margaret de Ripariis should arriveunattended at the gates of Elstow. I beseech thee, grant me themelancholy joy of escorting thee thither."
It was many years since William de Beauchamp and his once affiancedbride had found themselves alone together. During the days of Fulke'spower there had been no meetings between De Breaute's and De Beauchamps.It was only once during the confusion of the capture of the castle thatthe two _quondam_ lovers had set eyes on each other. As they somewhatsilently started on their _tete-a-tete_ ride, the groom in charge of thesumpter mule lagging a little distance behind, they had ample time toobserve in each other the changes wrought by time.
"How strange it seemeth to miss the sight of the great keep, risingproud and stately to the north across the river!" began the lady,turning her head as they were crossing the bridge.
"Alack, lady, what a change! Was ever luckless man doomed to see such adestruction of his own, and not be able to lift a hand or to utter aword?"
"But I am told that thou purposest to build thyself a fair dwellingbetween the inner and outer baileys, with a goodly hall and largeapartments."
"Alack! what boots a fair dwelling and a goodly hall to one whose wholelife has been marred--a solitary man whose years creep on--who findshimself alone?"
"Alone!" murmured Lady Margaret. "Free, unshackled by a bondage worsethan death, not trembling lest a hateful tyrant return at any moment andclaim his rights. 'Twere good to be so alone!"
"Alack, lady," said Sir William, "can naught be done to aid thee? Willnot Holy Church loose this unholy bondage, forced upon thee unwillinglyby the king's command?"
"Alas, no, Sir Knight! On that score have I sought advice of thevenerable archdeacon and other ecclesias
tics, but they offer me no hope.Therefore I go hide me in a nunnery, lest Sir Fulke return. We muste'en each bear our fate. We each have our woes. Thou hast lost thycastle."
"Is thy memory so short, lady, that thou sayest it is only my castle Ihave lost, most miserable of men that I am? Hast forgotten the days--"
"When I came to Bedford Castle with my father and his train to the greattourney," interrupted Lady Margaret, wishing to turn the conversation,and reining in her palfrey that she might turn round to survey theruins, "'twas a noble sight. How the banners waved from the pavilionson the tilt-ground, and the trumpets blared, and the horses pranced!How like silver ran old Ouse that merry summer's morning, when I sat'neath the canopy--"
"The Queen of Beauty, fair lady, and rightly so! And how your brighteyes dazzled a certain youth on whom you had deigned to bestow yourfavour to wear on his crest, and who ill deserved such an honour!"
"But who acquitted himself right gallantly. I can see him still! Butall is changed: the castle is no more; we are not what we were; only theold river runs the same. But come, Sir Knight; the reverend motherwaits me."
"Lady, it grieveth me sore that the way 'twixt Bedford and Elstow is soshort. See how near loometh the abbey tower."
"To me it riseth like the beacon of a port to the weary, wind-drivenmariner. Would I could find rest within its walls for aye!"
"Say not so, lady; it sounds to my heart like a funeral knell."
"No fear, Sir Knight; as long as Sir Fulke draws breath no cloister mayreceive me. The reverend mother tells me that so long as my vows to himare unloosed by death, I can ne'er plight any others; so long as I amhis wife, I cannot become the spouse of Christ."
"Alack, lady, how woful a fate is mine! I, too, once plighted vows.Dost recall them, lady? Nay, I received others in return. I can hearthem yet. Vows they were, not less sacred than those made to priestbefore altar. Yet here I stand alone, like some wind-swept oak on thehill-side, bowed before the blast."
"Yet the helpless ivy would fain twine round the proud lord of thewoods," replied the lady, somewhat coyly. "Be thou sure, Sir Knight, myheart grieveth sore for thee. I promise thee that thou shalt have myprayers."
And shortly afterwards the pair parted at the abbey gate.