III
In the meantime the Young Lovell had dwelt at Cramlin. There wasnothing that had not prospered with him, or that by diligence, cunningor swiftness he had not made to prosper. Daily men resorted to him andsought his service, coming in from the hills and moors and DebateableLands, all strong and hardy men so that it was difficult to make achoice.
In a week's time it was known what his terms were. To every man that hetook with him he would give three pounds English, for there would belittle booty; such prisoners as they took he would ransom himself, forhe wished to have them at his disposal to spare or to slay as seemedbest to him. Such cattle as they took they might keep for themselves, orhe would buy them at a fair price, for he understood that there werenone left at Castle Lovell, where he would need them when he was thelord settled in that place. These terms he would make with every man,whether of his own men-at-arms, those he hired especially, or those thatwere the men of his friends. In the meantime he would find them inwine, meat, beer, bread and shelter.
In that way he had soon four hundred picked men--being one hundred andfifty archers, two hundred men-at-arms, and fifty of his bondsmen orbondsmen of his friends, men that were notable, light and swift-movingrievers.
There had joined him at Cramlin five young knights and eleven esquiresthat had been his friends before. These were Eures, Ridleys,Widdringtons, Riddells of Felton, Greys and Roddams, all being young menof his own generation. At first those of them that had fathers, uncles,or guardians found it a hard thing to get the consent of these to theirgoing. For the days were past then of riding upon knight errantry,crusades, chevauchees, and other enterprises more splendid thanprofitable, and most fathers would not very willingly let their youngmen go fighting unless the gain in money much outweighed the costs.They would ride very well into Scotland if they were a great manytogether, so that it was a safe journey; but at that day France was lostto England. Most fathers would have gladly let their sons ride intoFrance; such an enterprise as that of the Black Prince was still talkedof. In that chevauchee he had ridden through France from north tosouth, from Calais to Marseilles, and had sacked more than six hundredtowns and slain more than sixty thousand men, meeting with very littleresistance. That had been a very chivalrous, gentle, joyous, andsplendid raid. But since then France was gone; no Prince should evermake such a chevauchee again across that pleasant land; and the warsbetween King Henry VI and King Edward IV, and later between King RichardIII and him that was then King Henry had impoverished and embittered allthe older men of the North that knew things by hard facts rather thanbooks of faicts of arms. These men were rather bitter, cynical, andperforce mercenary, than loyal, pious, and chivalric. They viewed withdisfavour this enterprise that meant the attacking of a strong Castle,strongly held, with only a few men, no cannon, and not so much as amangonel, a catapult, or such old-fashioned things. On the other hand,if their sons went to such a siege, they must go, richly caparisoned, inthe best armour that they or their fathers had, and at great cost, forthe Young Lovell was a great lord, and they could not let their sons andnephews come before him in ill harness. Yet, in such a desperate siege,such armour must at least be battered and dinted, the silken housingstorn, the great chargers lamed, even if the young men were not killed orheld for ransom in black mail or white. And even if that Castle shouldbe taken there would be no great rewards--they could not sack it, for itwould be their friend's. They would have nothing for it but praise,renown, the love of God, and the approval of Holy Church, as well assome plenary indulgences. But these were all things that filled nobellies and brought no cattle home.
Nevertheless, as from the first news of Young Lovell's home-coming thedays went on, there came every day fresh news of how blind Fortune heldher wheel still and favoured that lord. Those elders heard how, as itseemed, miraculously, he had taken Cramlin and held his mother's broadlands; how the Bishop had blessed and knighted him; how the King'scommissioner hastened to do him service, and bent before him, and theEarl of Northumberland at his side. Then they heard of men-at-armsflocking to him, and, at last, how the White Tower was held for him thathad in it one hundred and forty thousand pounds in gold and many richstores. And they heard how, in boats, during four days at dawn, RichardBek had sent him six thousand pounds, so that he could very sumptuouslyentertain any knights that came to him. Then, indeed, it seemed tothese elder men that it might be profitable then, and in the future, toaid this favourite of the blind goddess--for some of them had learningenough to have heard that Fortune is blind, though many had not.
And all this while their sons and nephews and bastards pressed themunceasingly for leave to go on this enterprise, saying that it was noteasy to have experience in the taking of strong castles, and that theYoung Lovell was a leader that it would be great glory to serve under.So the elders yielded under these considerations, doing what they wouldnot for the love of God at the bidding of Holy Church, or for the sakeof oppressed chivalry. Therefore, the monk Francis, who heard of manyof these discussions, and took part in one or two where the lords werein easy reach, said that those were very evil times where no thought wasof anything but money, and God so nearly forgotten. And he said thatbefore long a great calamity should fall upon England; nay, that thesaints of God must soon leave hovering over a country so vile.
Nevertheless, afterwards he somewhat changed his note when he saw howmany young knights of good family came to join the Young Lovell. Thesewere, as has been said, five knights and eleven esquires of the familiesof Eures, Ridleys, Widdringtons, Riddells of Felton, Greys and Roddams.Amongst them was one older than the others, being Sir Matthew Grey, thathad seen the French wars under Edward IV. Of him the Young Lovell wasvery glad, for he intended to divide his forces into two camps, andneeded a commander.
So, on the flat ground around the Castle of Cramlin arose many tents,and it was like a fair in the sunshine on the short and baked grass.The Lady Margaret of Glororem had had made in the city of Durham a greattent all of fair silk, in the green and vermeil colours of the house ofLovell, and from that city the Young Lovell had had brought many vesselsof silver, salt-cellars and great dishes and goblets that he had boughtof a Canon of Durham, having more than he needed. A silversmith hadwrought on them very swiftly the arms of that lord, and it was hisintention to leave those furnishings in Castle Cramlin, that his mothermight be fairly served when she came there.
They set up that tent on the eleventh of June, and were two daysarranging the banquet that there was given by the Young Lovell. Manyfair ladies came from Durham and Morpeth and the Castles around, andcooks came, and scullions and servers, for those knights and esquireslent to the Young Lovell their pages, that they might go to all theplaces around and deliver his invitations. Those ladies might all sleepin that Castle, for by that time he had bought for it, out of the goldthat Richard Bek had sent him, furniture, hangings, beds a many and allsuch silken stuffs as should make it fair. This he did to be an honourto his mother when she came there.
So all those esquires and knights, and the ladies and the Lady Margaret,and the Young Lovell sat to take their dinner in the silken tent. Thatbanquet began at noon, and at seven in the evening they still sat at theboard. Five courses that meal had, each of sixty dishes, each dishbeing different, so that it was agreed that such a banquet had neverbeen given in those parts, unless it was one that the Earl of Warwickgave upon the occasion of the marriage of his daughter. The sides ofthat tent were held up upon gilded staves, for it was very hot andbreathless weather, so that many men said a storm must soon come. Thehaze of heat ran all across that champaign country; the high banks ofthe river were all clothed with green and whitened here and there withelder. The men-at-arms marched before them in shining steel; the bowmenin green, each with the badge of the esquire or knight that he servedupon his shoulder; and the bondsmen, having each a little target, agreat sword, and a very tall pike with a hook at its end. Upon thesepikes they could set torches the better to p
ut fire upon roofs or in atthe upper windows of peel towers. So, before their eyes, the bowmen setup targets and shot at them for their entertainment, and they passedthese hot hours very joyously. When the cool of the evening was come,the Young Lovell took Sir Matthew Grey apart into a grove beside theriver.
He told that knight very carefully how he would have him dispose the menthat should be under his command, for he should not see those men againbefore they met victoriously in the Castle. Sir Matthew Grey listenedto him and said that that was a very good scheme and he would observe itcarefully. So, just as the young moon set, Sir Matthew Grey with allthe men-at-arms, all the bowmen and fifty of the rievers, making in alltwo hundred and fifty men, having with him all the knights and esquiresas well as the Young Lovell's most trusted esquire, Cressingham, thatknew very well the ways into Castle Lovell--all rode over the whitenessof the river at the ford and were lost beneath the light of the stars.Then such of the ladies as would sleep at Castle Cramlin went into it;the others had already ridden away with their attendants. The cooks andscullions and serving men began to take down that great silken tent, andthe men-at-arms that remained struck those that had sheltered theirformer comrades. The Young Lovell begged the Lady Margaret verycourteously that she would walk with him in the grove of the river wherehe had talked with Sir Matthew Grey. The white small moon looked in onthem through the branches; the river ran very swiftly.
There walking, he told once more to that lady very carefully his planfor the taking of Castle Lovell, for it was such things that she heardof more willingly than of any others. Sieges, tourneys, journeys, featsof arms and dangerous quests, of these she was never tired of talking;she loved them better than putting on the newest hood made after aQueen's model of France.
This plan for the taking of Castle Lovell was as follows, and it was toget under way at the hour of five on the sixteenth day of June ---- thatwas to say, in three days' time. There were three entries to be madeinto that Castle within five minutes, one through the great gate thatwas beneath the tower called Wanshot: one through the passage coming upbeneath the flagstones in the men's kitchen that was built into the wallbetween the towers Constance and de Insula; the third was to take placefrom the White Tower over the little drawbridge that connected that holdwith the Castle.
The first entry, that through the great gate, was to be conducted by theYoung Lovell's esquire Cressingham that well knew the ways into theCastle. This was a very dangerous enterprise, or one with no danger atall as it turned out. Besides the esquire Cressingham there were to beengaged upon it four young knights greedy of glory--Sir Michael Ridley,Sir Thomas Eure, the Lady Margaret's cousin, Sir Hugh Widdrington, andSir Edward Riddell of Felton. It was in this way. There were usuallyfive guards at that great gate, four to man the meurtrieres and one togo to the grille; the space there was scarcely sufficient for more, norwere more necessary, so strongly was the gate protected from above bymachicolations, stone balls and bowmen. So there were usually no morethan five men there. Now those four knights, under the command of theesquire Cressingham, covering their armour completely with peasants'clothes and cloaks, should go up to that gate in the quiet of themorning with sacks on their backs. In these sacks they should have agood store of last year's walnuts and apples--though it was difficultenough to find these in June, yet some they had found that had ripenedvery late the year before. So these pretending peasants should say thatthey had heard that there was a great dearth of agreeable meats in thatCastle, and that they were come with some fruits for sale from theneighbourhood of Sunderland. Then, very surely, those guards woulddesire to see those fruits, for it was certain that they all in theCastle were thirsting for such things. The false peasants should maketo open a sack, and it would be a very easy thing to let the contents ofone whole one fall to the ground and run rolling here and there. Verysurely, too, then those guards would bend down to pick up those fruitsand nuts, for it is not in human nature to withstand such a temptation.
The four knights and the esquire Cressingham should have their daggersprivily ready under their cloaks and so they might very easily stab eachof those guards in the back of the neck, and if they did that with skillthey might slay them so peaceably that they would speak never a word.It was in that way that the Spaniards won the city of Amiens from theFrench a little later.
If then those guards died without tumult the esquire Cressingham shouldgo quietly to the within-side of the gateway and wave a little cloth upto those on the White Tower. If, on the other hand, they make a noise,that outcry in itself should serve for a signal. The danger of thisenterprise was this, that if the Castle was at all diligently guardedthere would be in the chamber above that gate a great company of archersunder a captain, and if those guards should make an outcry the archersmight very easily come down and work some mischief to those knights.Moreover, the herse or portcullis was worked from that upper chamber bymeans of pulleys and chains. Thus the archers there if they knew whatwas passing below might let down that portcullis and thus not onlyshould they catch those knights like rats in a trap, but they shouldprevent others entering in.
To guard against this the Young Lovell gave the following directions: Inthe first place, as soon as those guards were over-mastered or slain,one of the knights should close the door that let men down from theupper chamber. A very strong door it was, at the bottom of narrowsteps, so that it would be no easy task to break through it. Thus, ifthose archers desired to come at those knights they must run along thebattlements and down by the steps of the tower called de Insula, andthat would take time. As for the portcullis, there was across the greatgate a very strong and stout balk of wood, running in bolts. This theyshould take out and set upwards in the slots down through which theherse descended. Once that was there there should be no closing thatway. This the Young Lovell knew very well, for once when he had been aboy he had done it out of devilment to plague the captain of thearchers.
Upon the sign from the esquire Cressingham, or upon hearing a tumult inthe gate house, the Young Lovell, from the top of the White Tower,should fire cannon shots into that Castle, and the firing of those shotsshould serve a double purpose. In the first place they should be for asignal to all the others to go forward; in the second, they should serveto frighten and distract the archers in that upper chamber if that werenecessary.
Upon those sounds at once the men in the tunnel should issue out intothe kitchen and fall upon the hovels that were around the keep and slayall that would not yield and afterwards set fire to the hovelsthemselves, for that would make not enough flame to burn down the keepbut enough to smoke out all that were in it. Those that were in thattunnel were to be the Castle Lovell bondsmen, Hugh Raket, Barty of theComb, and others. They should have introduced themselves secretly andunder cover of the night into Corbit Jock's Barn that stood, as had beensaid, against the Castle wall, not fourteen feet from where that tunnelcame into the grassy mound. Under cover of that same darkness SirMatthew Grey, the elder knight, should have hidden himself with onehundred men-at-arms and esquires, all mounted, and one hundred bowmen inthe houses of the township of Castle Lovell and in the barns, some ofwhich were not twenty yards from the Castle gate. And upon the firing,those bowmen from behind the middens and the hillocks should rain arrowsat those that were on the battlements, and Sir Matthew Grey with hismen-at-arms should ride furiously up to the gate that should be keptopen for him by those five knights, and a little afterwards those bowmenshould follow, putting up their bows and drawing their hangers anddirks.
Then, when all these engaged the attention of those of the Castle, theYoung Lovell, giving up his firing of artillery, should issue fiercelyfrom the White Tower over the drawbridge with the twenty or thirty menthat that tower held, and he could not well doubt that that should bethe coup de grace to those of the Castle. Then he would hang theKnights of Cullerford and Haltwhistle and Henry Vesey. His sisters hewould put into nunneries, and the Decies send beyond the seas if themonk Francis did not claim him for t
he courts ecclesiastical to bebroken on the wheel. But this the Young Lovell did not wish, for theDecies was his father's son.
The Lady Margaret said that that was the very properest scheme she hadever heard for the taking of a castle, part by stratagem and part byforce. And they walked, devising of that scheme for a long time,beneath the night-black boughs, with the thin white moon that peepedbetween and the swiftness of the river below their feet. And ever theLady Margaret was aware of a bitter grief in his tones, spake he neverso hotly. Ever the Young Lovell was aware that the thought of marryingwith this woman was an intolerable weariness to him, though she wasgallant and fair and loving. He looked upon her face in the moonlightand saw how fair it was with the shadows of the hazel wands across it.That place was called the banks of Cramlin, and bitter banks they wereto him. For there was no mark against that lady and none in those partscould be a fitting mate for him but she. And he considered how she hadcherished him and helped him, and that he had no grief against her.Ever he sighed deeply and yet talked of the joy they would have inpleasaunces and in the wilderness hawking, in devising, in the stables,picking the wild flowers in spring, watching their husbandmen with theploughs, sitting in the little chambers before the fire in winter, andat bed and board. And ever the Lady Margaret put aside the talking ofthose things and talked of firing cannon into Castle Lovell with thebitter tears on her lids. She knew him so well she read his heart.
So with a heavy sigh he kissed her on the cheek her that had been usedto lie in his arms, and her tears were wet upon his lips, and in thedarkness, amidst the waternoises of those Cramlin banks--for the millerhad let down his sluices whilst they talked--amidst the glimmer of thebirch trunks that grew with the hazels, he left her that he should neversee again for many weary years. Then, with his fifty bondsmen, he rodenorth into the black night beyond the ford.
It was three in the morning when the Young Lovell came to CullerfordTower, and it was very dark. By daylight that baleful place upon theopen moor was smoking to the sky, and that was not much more difficultto do than cracking a walnut, though a very great and square tower itwas, more like the keep of a castle than a peel, though it followedthose lines. Forty-seven paces it was in length and twenty across, thewalls being three yards deep in solid stone. It was entered from theground by a door like that of a barn, and indeed the lowest story was nomore than such a barn, containing no rooms nor partitions, and serving,in dangerous times, to store wheat, cattle or whatever the Knights ofCullerford had that was of value. No staircase led from this story tothe rooms above, but only a ladder going to a trap hatch, so that whenthat ladder was drawn up there was no coming to them of the tower. Atthat time there were no men-at-arms there at all, only several oldfellows under the command of an old man called Hogarth, together with afew women and several children, and the cattle were all in the barnbelow them. The hay that they had lately got stood in stacks roundabout that tower, and a hundred yards away were nearly three hundredlambs that should have been driven to market the next day, and filledthe night with their bleatings, for they were but newly taken from theirmothers. But so sorely did Sir Walter Limousin need money that hewished to sell them before they were ready.
The Young Lovell had with him fifty rievers mounted on little horses andfifty men-at-arms that he had taken from Cramlin, where he had left onehundred men under the command of the esquire La Rougerie, and thatbleating of lambs aided those rievers to creep up to that tower door.They had the door half burst down before ever those above were awarethat they had come. Then a great wail went up from those women andchildren in the tower, for they thought it had been the false Scots andthat their deaths were near. Some old men came running up on to thebattlements on the top of the tower, intending to cast down rocks andother things on the rievers that were at work upon that stout door. Butthe Young Lovell bade shoot so many arrows up that that handful of oldmen could not stay there, and very loudly he called out to them his nameand titles. So an old man came to a window and said that his name wasAdam Hogarth and that he had command there. So the Young Lovell badehim render up that tower, for he was in a hurry and could not stay to begentle with them, which was the greater pity, for the number of womenand children that he could hear were there by their cries. Adam Hogarthsaid that he would not render up that place until they had fought wellfor it, not to the brother of his lady and mistress or to any man. Thenthe Young Lovell said that he was sorry for it.
It was very dark then, but those rievers were skilful men, and whilstthe Young Lovell spoke with Adam Hogarth they had that great door openand began to drive out the cattle that came willingly enough in thedarkness, but it was dangerous work because of the horns. One hundredand forty-seven steers were there and nineteen cows with calves, as wellas over a dozen heifers. Whilst these came out an old man at a windowabove that door came with a crock of boiling water and poured it out.It fell on no man, but on the backs of several bullocks that stampededinto the night and came amongst the men-at-arms that were uponhorseback. This caused some confusion and the Young Lovell bade light atorch or two, and indeed there were some torches lit in that lower barnso that it showed like an illuminated caravan beneath the black shape ofthe tower. The stars were very fine and it was very dark just before thedawn. All the while cries went up from the women and children in thetower; so that the night was unquiet.
Then that old man came again to the window to pour out boiling water,but there was a little light behind him from the fire that he had usedfor the heating. The Young Lovell had a bowman ready and that manloosed an arrow. It sped invisible through the night and went in thatold man's mouth and killed him there, so that he never poured any morewater. The Young Lovell said that was very well shot, considering thedarkness of the night, and he gave that bowman two French crowns forhaving done it.
Then Adam Hogarth loosed off a demi-saker that he had in an upper room.He aimed it at the Young Lovell who stood upon a little mound with atorch flaring near him. But that bullet went a shade wide, neverthelessit killed a steer, striking that beast on the cheek beside the eye.Then the Young Lovell bade put out the torches and commanded his bowmento direct a stream of arrows against all the windows that were on thatside of the tower, so that though that demi-saker sent out once more itsstream of flame and spoke hoarsely, that was the last of it. For therest of that work they could see well enough without torches; itconsisted in taking mounds of hay into that barn, and when it was halffilled they poured water and fat upon it so as to damp it, and a littletar. Then into that mass they cast three or four torches and so theywatched it smoulder. Of flame there was very little, but the smoke andstench in verity were insupportable, and that filtered into the upperpart of the tower.
Then the dawn began to point over the Roman wall and grey thingsappeared, and fat smoke curling up all around the doomed tower in thestill air of the morning. It grew a little cold so that they must slaptheir arms around them, and said that that waiting was slow work. Assoon as it was light enough, the Young Lovell began to count thosecattle. He sent men also to drive up the hurdled lambs that had criedall night, and others to find their dams that were in charge of ashepherd in the fields beyond the Wall. The Wall began to show clear ontop of a rise, running over the tops of hills and down into hollows,grey, into invisibility. Then after a time, those men brought in thesheep. They had caught that shepherd where he slept, and drove himbefore them, pricking him with lances so that he commanded his dogs todrive those sheep where they should go. Thus then were all the flocksand herds of Cullerford collected together in a goodly concourse, andwhen the Young Lovell knew that he had them all, he ordered themen-at-arms that he had brought from Castle Cramlin to drive them tothat place, for he had no more need of men-at-arms.
So they went away over the moors to the north and east, going through agap in the wall just after they were out of sight. Those sheep andcattle the Young Lovell meant for the provisioning of his mother. Hethought that his sister would not need them when her husband
was hangedand herself in a nunnery. So, whilst he stood and watched that fatlysmoking tower from which there came a strong odour of burning grease, agreat sadness fell upon him at the thought that all this profited himnothing, for he desired none of these things for his intimate pleasure.It was all for decency and good order in his lands that he did it, andto punish evildoers. So his head hung down and he sat his horse like adying man.
It was these moods in him that the monk Francis dreaded. But the monkFrancis thought he had him safe for two days or three, for he himselfhad urgent business in his monastery of Belford, more particularly overthe affair of the hermitage of Castle Lovell. For it was reported tohim that that pious hermit was really dead. During ten days he hadspoken words none at all and the stench that came out of the little holewhere they put in his bread and water was truly unbearable and such asit had never been before. So the monk Francis had gone to Belford tosee how that might be. The Young Lovell he thought he might well leave.For with the banquet and the sending off of his troops he would be welloccupied, and he had made the Lady Margaret promise to be a zealouslieutenant and see that that lord was never unoccupied till he rode onthat raid. For the monk Francis considered that whilst he was upon araid, that emissary of Satan or whatever she was would have no powerover him, so ardent a soldier was this young lord.
But here he had reckoned without the obstinacy of Adam Hogarth who keptall those aged men and the women and children stifling in that fatsmoke. The Young Lovell was never in greater danger. He looked downupon the ground and sighed heavily. He had it in him to ride into a farcountry and leave all those monotonies. But at last on the top of thetower he perceived Adam Hogarth, who held up his hands. So he knew thatthat tower had surrendered. Then he called out that all those in thetower might come down a ladder that they might set down from an upperwindow, and that they might bring down their clothes and gear and takeit away with them where they would--all except Adam Hogarth, with whomhe had some business. As for that Tower he meant to burn it out.
So down the ladder came thirty or forty poor people with ten or a dozenchildren. Their eyes were red and wept grimy tears, and they were allin rags of grey homespun, such as the poor wear, for Sir Walter Limousinand his wife were very bad paymasters, and such a collection of cloutsthe Young Lovell thought he had never seen in the grey of the morning.Nay, he was moved to pity at the thought that this dishonoured his kin,and to each of those poor people he gave a shilling that they might havewherewithal to live till they found other masters, and to women that hadchildren he gave four groats. Some carried pots, some pans, and all ofthat ragged company filed away over the moorlands beneath the Wall,making mostly for Haltwhistle, and showing no curiosity at all, excepttwo or three old women that had to do with Adam Hogarth.
Then the Young Lovell took Adam Hogarth down to a little grove of treesthat was near the ford and asked that blear-eyed old man where hismaster, Cullerford, had hidden the charters and muniments of his motherthe Lady Rohtraut; for he knew that there they were. Adam Hogarth saidthat he did not know and set his teeth. Without more words the YoungLovell had a rope brought and a slip-noose made. He sent a man up agreat elm to drop the noose over a stout branch and Adam Hogarth watchedhim dumbly. Then the Young Lovell had that noose set round AdamHogarth, beneath the arm-pits and three men hauled him up till he hungthirty feet high, looking down with the tears dripping out of his redeyes. So when the Young Lovell had watched him for a minute or two andhe spoke no word, the lording walked away to where the womenkind of thatpendard were, and asked which of them were his kinswomen. One red-eyedcrone was his sister, another his wife. So the Young Lovell took thatsister to where Adam Hogarth hung and pointed him out. He bade her tellhim where those charters were, but she would not. Then he had AdamHogarth let down. The rope was set about his neck and the Young Lovellbade his men haul slowly. Adam Hogarth choked in his throat and rose upto his tip-toes, but he would make no sign with his hand and his sisterwould not speak. Then that man was let down again and the Young Lovellsaid it was the greater pity, for he must bring the wife. So the otherold woman was brought, and when Adam Hogarth swung the height of a man'sthigh with his feet off the ground, and his legs were working like thoseof a frog and his face purple with the hempen collar round his neck andthe knot beneath his ear so that he should not die very quickly, thatold woman fell on her knees and cried out that she would tell the YoungLovell that news. So the Young Lovell cut through that rope with hissword to do Adam Hogarth greater honour, and he fell to the ground verylittle the worse for wear.
The old woman took the Young Lovell to a haystack where, beneath thetrampled hay around it, there was a well-head locked with a greatpadlock. This padlock a man with a hammer knocked off, and a chain wentdown into that well, the well being dry. So they pulled up that chain,and at the end of it was the muniment-box of the Lady Rohtraut that theYoung Lovell well knew. So when he had had the iron lid prised openwith a lance-head--for without doubt the Lady Isopel wore the littlegold key of it round her neck--the Young Lovell recognised that thedeeds were there, for, though he had no time to read them, he knew themby their seals. Then he was well content for his mother's sake, for,though it is a good thing to have lands in actual possession, it istwice as well to have the muniments appertaining to them.
Then he bade his men get together what balks of timber and wood theycould find and cast them into the hay that still burned in that lowerstory so that the fire might spring up, and also to take torches andcast them through the upper windows so that that tower might well burnin all parts where it was wooden. After that he called before him thatAdam Hogarth and commended him for his faith to his master and commendedhis sister as well. And he said that that man and his sister might havefor their own, to divide between them, such steers as had escaped duringthe stampede of the night before, as well as three bulls that were uponthe upper pastures with several sheep, and some pigs and hens that werein a barn by the river and had escaped observation. And he said thatAdam and his sister might dwell in that tower, after the fire had wellburned it so that it could not be held as a fortress, but it wouldshelter them very well until he should decide whether he would hold thattower himself or till the heirs of Sir Walter Limousin should compoundwith him for his sister's dower. For Sir Walter, he said, was as goodas a dead man. As for Adam Hogarth's wife, they might do what theyliked for her, but he would give her nothing, for he held that she hadnot done well in betraying her master's secret, to keep which should bethe first duty of a servant, man or woman. And as for his reward toAdam Hogarth, he gave him those things which would make him richer thanhe had ever been in his life before in order to encourage such faith ashe had shown. And if he husbanded those cattle well they would increaseand multiply. But Adam Hogarth said no more than "Least said is soonestmended," for he was a crabbed old man of few words.
Then the Young Lovell and his men made a breakfast of some small beerand bread that they found in that tower, and so they rode awaynorthwards through the Wall, for it was five o'clock with the sun highand they had far to go, but their little horses would carry them well.He left two or three men to see that Adam Hogarth and his wife andsister did not seek to quench that burning. But he did not think theywould, for when he looked back he could see against the pale sky thepale flames rise over the hill.
But as soon as he was gone that Adam Hogarth fell upon his wife and beather very furiously. He said that he knew very well that that YoungLovell would never have hung him, for there was no priest there toconfess him, and that never would he have betrayed that secret untilafter the Young Lovell had let him be shriven. So the Young Lovell musthave paid him much money. Besides, he could have borne with hanging fora quarter of an hour longer and come to no harm. So he beat that womanand she screamed out, and the men that the Young Lovell had left behindroared with laughter and the tower burned.
So, when those men caught up with the Young Lovell, which they did nearFontoreen, west of Morpeth, they told him of the
cunning of thathusbandman. So the Young Lovell did not know whether to be more vexedwith that peasant, because it was not so much love for his master asgreed that made him be half-hanged, or whether to marvel that such a lowfellow should have read his mind so well, for surely he would never havehanged him unshriven.
They rode on all that day until they came to Sea Houses by NorthSunderland, having covered nearly sixty miles of rough country, for theywent by the South Forest and past Rothbury and the high moors so thatthey might not be observed. Four miles from Sea Houses, it being thenten o'clock at night, the Young Lovell sent his men forward towardsCastle Lovell, and in a fisherman's hut on the sounding pebbles of thesea he found the monk Francis, who was very glad to see him and glad ofhis news. The monk had been that day in the village of Castle Lovelland had found that the hermit was indeed dead. So he had appointed theday following at six in the evening for skilled masons to come anddisinter that holy man to give him holy burial. For he thought that bythat hour the Young Lovell would be well established in his Castle.
So when they had exchanged their news the lord and the monk lay down tosleep a little on a pile of nets that the fisherman heaped up for themin a corner of his hut, he himself lying outside upon seaweed with hiswife. At a quarter to three he waked them and they set out upon theirvoyage to the White Tower. There was a good following breeze from thedue south, so that they might well come to Castle Lovell in an hour or alittle under. But the dancing motion of that little boat made that monkFrancis very ill, which was great pity for the Young Lovell. Withfasting, prayer and vigil that good monk was become very weak, though hehad once been a very strong knight. He lay on the bottom-boards of thatboat, and so deeply had he fainted that when they had come to the littleharbourage beneath the White Tower he was insensible and they could nottell that he was not dead. So there was no getting him up the ladder ofiron spikes that was all the way there was into that tower from the sea.The Young Lovell would not trust those spikes to bear the two of them orhe would have carried the monk up. So he climbed up alone, and RichardBek and the others were awaiting. But the fisherman rowed that monkstraight to the shore and carried him over the sand to the township.Here in a hut he found the Lady Margaret of Glororem, who had ridden allthat day and night before to come there. So she tended that monk and inabout an hour he could stand again. But then there was no way of cominginto that tower.
Therefore the monk Francis and the Lady Margaret went up to the littlemound on which was the chapel the Young Lovell had first watched hisharness in. This was so near the Castle that half of the bowmen underSir Matthew Grey had been appointed to spend the night in it so thatthey might come out when the gun fired and shoot their arrows againstthe battlements between de Insula and Wanshot Towers. So that monk andthat lady knelt in that porch, and between their prayers for the successof their dear lording they watched the dawn pointing over the sea, whichcame with the grey forms of waterspouts. These moved silently, here andthere upon the horizon. So they saw the sun come up white and fiercelyshining between those monstrous appearances. The monk Francis said thatthat pale sunrise was a certain sign that the weather was breaking, andhe thanked God that all their hay was in. Then they saw the YoungLovell spring up on to the coping of the White Tower. So clear theweather and the light were that they could mark the little lion's headthat was carved on the peak of his helmet like the handle of a curlingstone.
So he went down out of sight again and they prayed very fiercely,holding each other's hands for comfort. The bowmen whispered from thedoor behind to know if it were not near time. White smoke flew out fromthe top of that tower, and the monk cried out so loudly that they neverheard the sound of the shot, for he knew that the great gateway wastaken. Out ran the archers with their bows bent and stood on the greensward. They shot arrows high so that they fell over thebattlements--long arrows with great feathers of the grey goose thatjourneyed intently through the air. So that gun sounded again andagain, and they saw the Young Lovell once more upon that coping. Thebowmen in the Castle were sending arrows up against him, but theyglanced off his armour because of their slanting flight. He stood therelooking down and behind him were the grey waterspouts.
Now as for such as dwelt within the Castle:
A little before the exact minute of sunrise such of them that slept wereawakened by the firing of cannon shot, two following. A stone ball cameinto the window of the Lady Douce and broke a chest. Then from manyquarters there came cries, sharp but short like gun shots. And then onescream so high and dreadful that all men stood deaf and amazed. Such acry had never before been heard in all Northumberland amidst the rain ofarrows. There were men bursting in at the great gate of the Castle andothers with their swords high coming from the men's kitchen that wasbetween the tower called Constance and that called Wanshot. The menupon the battlements had their bows bent or held up beams and bolts ofiron, or were setting iron poles under great stones to roll them downthrough the machicolations. And the Knight of Wallhouses was whisperingto the Lady Douce, who had run down into the great hall, that there wereno men coming against the little postern nearest the sea, and that heand she and his men would make their way out of the Castle by the gate.
That tide of dreadful war had come upon them so quickly that it seemedas if, before Henry Vesey's eyes could see, men were bursting in at thegreat gate and from other places in the Castle. Then he knew that theYoung Lovell must be aware of secret ways in that none of them had heardof, and before that fray was two minutes gone he knew that they werelost. Therefore he made ready to get himself gone by the postern.
But when that most dreadful cry was heard all those people stood still;the men with bows, balks, and levers, the men running in with swords;Sir Henry whispering; the Lady Isopel calling from her window; theDecies turning in his bed, and Sir Symonde running along thebattlements. That cry deprived them of the powers of motion and madetheir bones quiver within their flesh like shaken reeds. Some that thenheard it said afterwards that it was no more than the voice of theelements.
The monk Francis deemed to the end of his life that he had heard the cryof fear of a false goddess, for, when he went, a broken man, to communeof these things with the Bishop Palatine, that Bishop told him that sothat false goddess whom they most dreaded and who is the bane of allChristendom, since in quiet hearts she setteth carnal desire--so thatfalse goddess had cried out when, in the form of a cloud of mist or maybe of a rainspout, she had hastened to the rescue of the hero Paris.That had been at the siege of a strong Castle called Troy. That Parisof Troy she had carried away to the top of a high hill near the town, asit might have been Spindleston Crags, and there she had kept him tillthat battle was done. And part of the cry had been for fear, and partlyit was from pain because an arrow had struck her, she being vulnerable,though her blood would turn to jewels.
So the monk Francis was very certain that he had heard at least the cryof fear of a false goddess wailing for her love, and that in thewaterspout that bore the Young Lovell away he had seen her twisting andwrithing form. Whether she were wounded or not he did not know, but hehoped she was, and well she might have been, for arrows a many wereglancing round the form of the Young Lovell where he stood upon thebattlements, and all around him and below people stood rigid likefigures seen in a flash of lightning whose hearts had ceased to beat,and it fell as black as in the hour before the dawn.
Sir Symonde Vesey, who had been running along the battlements lookingup, perceived, so near his hand could touch them, millions of littleblack clouds twisting in an agony like snakes. Then all that water fellupon him and hurled him from that height into the inner court, where helay senseless a long while, and so was drowned in a gutter. There wasno man there could stand up against that torrent of rain twisting round.Four waterspouts struck that Castle one after the other, and for tenhours so it rained that most of the hovels in the courtyard were washeddown, and the mud there was so deep it was up to a man's thighs.
Men fought a little in
the corridors, and some three or four were killedin the great kitchen where some had taken refuge. But they could findnone of their leaders for a long time, and most of them gave over.
IV
At seven of that night the monk Francis with his masons had opened thehermitage, and lay brothers from the little monastery had borne thehermit's rotten corpse in a sheet into the church where a coffin was.So, because of the terrible smell, they carried the coffin itself outfrom that church and set it in the grave, though that was so full ofrain-water that the coffin floated in it and the funeral rites wereinaudible in the heavy gusts of rain. Though it was no more than eighto'clock in July the sky lowered, so that in the shadow of the church itwas night.
The monk Francis staggered as he walked; his face was like alabasterwhere no mud was on it, and mud was over all his habit, splashed abovethe shoulder as if he had torn through brakes above water-courses. Allthat while he groaned and beat his chest and looked fearfully, now upthe hills, now out to sea, now towards Scotland. Once whilst the masonsworked he had fallen on his face in the water that ran round the churchend.
But he had that hermitage for his charge and he would let no man leadhim away. So, in that darkness, whilst the wind sighed furiously in thetrees and the rain was in all their faces, they buried that holy man asbest they might, saying that they would hold a fairer ceremony uponanother day, for they were all affrighted and cast down by the events ofthat day and the heavy disasters that might follow. Then, as the laybrothers were bearing away the stretcher upon which they had carriedthat coffin, one of them cried out like a scream. Against the steelylight of the North he had perceived a great cloak tossing out, over thechurchyard wall. Then all heard a voice calling to them to send areligious there. So the abbot bade an old monk go, for that might besome sinner that desired to become an eremite in place of that holy mannow dead. For thus God works in His wondrous way.
And so indeed it proved. They all stood there in the rain whilst theold monk talked to that form of darkness. The monk Francis was on hisknees. Then that old monk came back to them and said that here indeedwas come one that desired to go into that little hermit's kennel andthere end his days. He was one that had been a good knight, but hadsinned so grievously that until he was shriven he would not come uponthe holy ground of that churchyard, and he desired the monk Francis tocome to him and shrive him! Then that monk cried out with fear, butafterwards he went without the wall and stayed there. The tossing formhad disappeared; for the man had kneeled down for his confession.
In the thick darkness the monk Francis came back to those that stayedand said that he approved that that man should be the eremite.
It all passed in the black night. That shape passed in at the littlehole the masons had made, and an old mason, so skilled that he could dohis work in the dark, put again those stones in their places. Thenthose monks sang as best they could the canticle "Ad te clamavi," andall men went away to talk under their beaten roofs of these fearfulthings. Upon all that place the black night came down, whipped by thefell and chilly rain, and all over that churchyard the water gurgled andwashed, for it lay very low and all the gutters of the church poureddown their invisible floods.
In a very high valley of Corsica the mistress of the world sate upon athrone of white marble in a little round temple that would not hold morethan two or three people. A round roof it had, like a pie-dish, andlittle columns of white marble. All up the green grass of that valleyamongst the asphodels walked her women, devising and sporting, in gownsof white and playing at ball with a sphere of gold. Down the valley rana fierce stream with great and vari-coloured rocks, and in that warmplace the sound of its torrent was agreeable to the ear. Agreeable toowas the sight of the dazzling snows upon the Golden Mountain; they shonein the sun and the sky was more blue than can be imagined. At the feetof the goddess sat a large woman and extremely fair. Beside her, so thathe held her hand, sitting on a couch of rosemary, was a dark shepherdvery limber in his bronzed limbs, wearing a tunic of goat skins, a chainof gold that supported a gourd, a Phrygian cap of scarlet woollen workthat was entwined with the leaves of the vine upon his black locks. Hehad in his hand a bow of ivory with tips of gold.
So they sate at ease and looked out of that temple. In his shiningarmour a young knight that sat upon his steel horse was devising with ahero of the gentle feats of arms. This hero was lithe rather than hugeof form. His face was stern and commanding at the same time that it wasopen and courteous and attentive. He was naked, and whilst he gazedwith attention upon the young knight's arms, he rested his harmoniouslimbs, leaning upon a round shield of triple-plated bronze. Upon hishead was his helmet of shining bronze with a great plume of horsehairthat nodded far forward over his brows; in his right hand was a veryheavy spear tipped with bronze, and upon his bare legs he had bronzegreaves. And they were talking of the respective fitnesses of the armsthat they bore. Just where they stood was a level sward that might be aquarter of a mile across.
Then that hero signed with his spear and there came out from a thicket achariot of ivory drawn by four white horses driven by a helmetedcharioteer. So that hero mounted into the chariot and covered thecharioteer and himself with the great shield and took from thecharioteer three casting spears that were very heavy in the beam, and sothey went at it for the entertainment of the onlookers. Here and thereover that little plain darted the ivory chariot with the white horses.That hero was seeking to get to the hindward of the young knight to casthis spears, for he considered that the war-horse was not limber. But hewas limber enough, and always the shield with the chequers of green andscarlet faced the white chariot. So they went at it.
At the last the hero cast his three spears, one upon the horse, one uponthe shield, and one upon the helmet of the good knight. But the bronzebent upon the steel; it would not enter in though it were thrown withnever such a force. The young knight reeled in his saddle, and hissteed upon his feet. Yet, as that hero drove the chariot in, to cast thelast spear, the young knight spurred his horse suddenly in upon them,and though the charioteer was very agile with his car, nevertheless theyoung lord's spear met the great shield of bronze and pierced itthrough; between the hero and the other the point went, and the ivorywheels of the chariot broke and the white horses fell one upon theother, being taken upon the side by that steel-clad horse. Then thathero sprang from the chariot and ran more swiftly than the young lordcould follow to a great rock that was in the grass by the streamside.So he had up the great rock of marble before ever Hamewarts was uponhim, and cast that rock upon horse and rider so that both fell downamong the asphodels. Then that knight in armour drew himself from underhis horse, for the ground there was soft and marshy, and he was butlittle crushed. And so he stood up upon his feet, having in one hand hisbright dagger that was the length of his fore-arm. And that hero hadhad no time to cast himself upon the knight, for he was for the momentout of breath with the exertion of casting that great rock.
So all there were well pleased and declared that that was a drawnbattle. They had off their harness and their clothes and went alla-bathing in the foam of that rapid stream. And, as each one would haveit, so those bright waters were warmed by the heat of the sunlightthrough which they had passed, or icy with the snows that had been theirorigin.
And afterwards, the women of the goddess anointed the limbs of thosecombatants with juices and oils so that all their wounds were healedwhether of the horses or the heroes. And those women took the harness,both of the bright steel and of the sounding bronze, and rubbing uponthe dents with their smooth fingers, soon they had all marks of thatcombat erased so that the armours shone like waters reflecting the bluesky or like the beaten gold of a bride's girdle. Then all lay them downupon couches of rosemary, heather or asphodel, that were covered withthe white fleeces of rams, each person being with whom he would. Andthey fell to devising from couch to couch, some of times past, some oftimes to come, and others upon what should have been
the issue of thatlate combat had it been fought upon the wearisome fields known to mortalman. Some said the hero would have won it though arms he had none, forhe could run the more swiftly, and might make shift with rocks andstones to pelt that knight until his armour broke. But others said thatsoon that horse would have revived and the knight, mounting there uponand recovering his great spear would spit that naked hero as he ran,through the back.
Through the opening of that valley the goddess showed them the blue seawith triremes upon it, the white foam going away from their oars as theyhad fought at Actium. The galleys of Venice she showed them too, allgilded and with the embroidered sails bellying before the soft winds.The cities of the plains they saw, and Rome and Delphi and Tyre, andcities to come that appeared like clouds of smoke, with tall columnsrising up and glittering. So, courteously, they devised upon all things,and that knight thought never upon the weariness of Northumberland orupon how his mortal body lived in the little hermitage not much biggerthan a hound's kennel that was builded against the wall of thechurch....
No, there they lay or walked in lemon groves devising of this or thatwhilst the butterflies settled upon their arms. And when they wouldhave it night, so there was the cool of the evening and a great moon andhuge stars and dimness fit for the gentle pleasures of love.
THE END
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