CHAPTER XVI.

In the old castle of Hereford, which, according to the account of

Leland, was one of the largest and finest specimens of the military

architecture of feudal times, were numerous courts and various detached

buildings, so that the number of persons which it could contain was

immense; and even when several hundred men were within the walls, many

of the open spaces and passages would be found silent and solitary.

Thus, on the evening of Hugh de Monthermer's visit, the chief court,

the halls, and the corridors around it, were crowded with not less than

seven or eight hundred persons; but as one turned one's steps to other

parts of the building, the throng decreased, the passers to and fro

became fewer and more few, and at length nothing presented itself but

untenanted courts and empty arcades.

In a dark corner of a long passage--which, traversing one side of the

keep under open cloisters, passed through a large mass of buildings,

receiving no light but that which poured in at either end, and, after

being joined by two other arched corridors, led out into the court in

which Prince Edward's lodging was situated--in a dark corner of this

long passage stood two men engaged in earnest conversation, just about

the time that Hugh de Monthermer quitted the Earl of Leicester. They

were both covered with large cloaks, and both had their hoods drawn far

over their heads, so that it would have been very difficult for any one

to recognise them, unless well acquainted with their air and figure.

Nevertheless, they did not seem to feel themselves secure; for, the

instant that they heard a step coming from the direction of the

principal court, they walked on a few paces, and then turned into one

of the lateral passages, near the mouth of which they again paused, and

resumed their conversation in a low tone.

A moment after, the tall, graceful figure of Hugh de Monthermer passed

across, without appearing to excite their attention, so earnest were

they in the matter they were discussing. He, however, turned his head,

and looked at them steadily, but still walked on without slackening his

pace.

"Some means must be found," said one--the shorter and the slighter of

the two--"some means must be found, and that right speedily, or our

last chance is lost."

"You must have been playing some of your accursed tricks, Richard,"

replied the other, "or De Montfort never would have taken such a step.

The house of Ashby is of too much importance to any cause that its

members espouse, for even the lowest branch to be treated with

indignity, without some strong occasion."

"Nonsense, Alured, I did nothing!" replied the other. "I tell you, it

was solely and simply upon this old Monthermer's charge against me."

"On your life and honour?" demanded his companion.

"On my life, honour, soul, and salvation!" replied the other. "Well,

then, I am glad of it," said the taller speaker. "I am glad that it has

happened; for, first, I will take care it shall rouse my father's anger

against De Montfort, and, secondly, it shall stir him up against these

Monthermers, and, I trust, induce him to break with them both. At all

events, it will make him forgive my joining Gloucester. So, I repeat, I

am glad that it has happened."

"I cannot say as much," rejoined the first speaker. "I never care, for

my part, Alured, about an excuse for anything I am about to do. Oh,

there is many a convenient point in having a bad reputation! Men do not

expect too much of you--you may do what you please, without anybody

wondering; and then, when you are in the humour, and perform two or

three good actions, Lord! how you are praised! But, to the point--what

can be done now? How can we give _him_ intimation of the scheme?"

"On my life! I know not," said the other.

"Could you not bribe some woman?" demanded the taller and more powerful

of the speakers; "They would not stop a woman, I suppose."

"Right, right!" cried his companion. "You have put me on the track, and

I will not miss my game."

"But can you engage any woman you can trust?" asked the other. "It must

not be some common hireling, some minstrel's wench, some follower of

city fairs."

"Leave it to me, leave it to me!" cried the shorter man; "if I cannot

_engage_, I can make her, and that ere another hour be over. There is

no time to be lost. Farewell, for the present, for I must away from

Hereford to-night; and, if you intend, good Alured, to hatch a quarrel

with my noble Lord Hugh, let it be speedy; for I do not think that

twenty-four hours will be over ere I have repaid him some trifles that

I owe him. I have some plans in my head, as well as you. So fare you

well, once more." And thus they parted.

In the meanwhile, Hugh de Monthermer sped upon his way, traversed the

other court, and approached a door at which stood two or three of De

Montfort's officers, guarding closely, though with an appearance of

profound respect, the only entrance to the apartments of Prince Edward.

While he showed the pass which he had received, and mounted the long,

narrow staircase, we shall take leave to precede him, for a few

minutes, to the apartment of the Prince. It consisted of a suite of

several rooms, all reached by the same ascent, and was in itself as

convenient and comfortable as any abode can be from which free egress

is denied us. The principal chamber was a large and lofty one, with two

wide windows, situated in deep bays, looking over the fair scene

around.

The casement was open; and, seated in a large chair, with his feet

resting on a stool, sat the captive Prince, gazing down upon a

part of the town of Hereford and the meadows and orchards beyond. The

apple-trees were all in blossom, and every shrub in the manifold

gardens had put on the blush of vegetable youth, promising rich fruit

in the maturity of the year. Beyond the meadows and the orchards came

slopes and rising ground, and lines of deep wood, sheltering the

intervening space, and then high hills were seen, fading off into the

sky. On the left hand the scene was all open, but on the right, an

angle of the cathedral, as it then appeared, bounded the view, while

the tower of another church, of inferior dimensions, rose up under the

eye, and cut the long, straight lines of the houses and other

buildings.

Edward leaned his head upon his hand and gazed, while at a little

distance from him sat a gentleman, somewhat younger than himself,

looking upon him, from time to time, with a glance of deep interest,

but keeping silence out of respect for the Prince's musing mood.

The soft air of summer wafted to the window the scent of the blossoms

from the fields beyond; and Edward thought it spoke of liberty. Up rose

from the streets and houses of Hereford the manifold sounds of busy

life, the buzz of talking multitudes, the call, the shout, the merry

laugh of idle boyhood; and still, to the captive's ears, they spoke of

liberty. The bells from the cathedral joined in, and rang complines;

and turning his eyes thither, he thought how often he had heard those

sweet tones, at even-close, in the happy days of early youth, returning

from the chase or any other or the free sports of the time. His sight

wandered on, over tower and spire, round which the crows were winging

their airy flight, to the deep woods and blue hills, flooded with glory

from the declining sun. Still, still, it all spoke of liberty; and

Edward's heart felt oppressed, his very breathing laboured, as he

remembered the mighty blessing he had lost.

It was like the sight of a river to a man dying with thirst in the

sands of Africa, without the strength to reach it.

He gazed, and perhaps for a moment might forget himself and his hard

fate, in a dream of enjoyment; but if he did, it lasted not long--the

dark reality soon came between him and the light of fancy, and letting

his head droop, he turned away with a deep sigh, and gave up a brief

space to bitter meditation.

Then rising from his seat, taller by many an inch than the ordinary

race of men, he threw back his magnificent head and his wide shoulders

with a sorrowful smile, saying, "I will walk up and down my chamber, De

Clare, and fancy I am free!"

"I hope you feel better, my lord, to-night," said young Thomas de

Clare, the Earl of Gloucester's brother.

"Yes, good faith," replied the Prince, "I am better. The fever has left

me, but nothing will make me truly well but open air and strong

exercise. However, I am better, and I thank you much; for I believe you

love me, De Clare, although you make yourself a sort of willing gaoler

to me."

The young gentleman bent his head without reply, though there was a

faint smile upon his lip, which might have puzzled Edward had he seen

it; and after a moment or two De Clare said, somewhat abruptly, "Now I

could wager your Grace is strong enough to ride some twenty or thirty

miles, if you were at liberty to do so."

"A hundred!" answered Edward, quickly; and then added, more

slowly--"were I at liberty."

At that moment some one knocked at the door, and on being told to come

in, Hugh de Monthermer entered.

The face of the Prince instantly brightened--"Ah, Monthermer!" he

cried, "right glad am I to see you, my friend!--yes, my friend--for

these factious times shall never make us enemies, though we draw our

swords on different sides. This is my state apartment, Hugh, and that

staircase by which you came hither the extreme limit of my

principality. I wonder that De Montfort suffered you to see me."

"I almost wondered myself, my lord," said Hugh de Monthermer; "for my

request was coupled with a remonstrance against your imprisonment."

"And yet," added the Prince, "you will remonstrate, but not aid to free

me."

"My lord, I cannot, without treason," replied Hugh de Monthermer.

"Treason to whom?" demanded Edward, somewhat sharply. "Treason to the

land, my lord," answered Hugh de Monthermer, "and to those rights which

I know, when you are king, you will yourself willingly respect. I do

beseech you, my dear lord, press me not harshly on a matter where I can

make but one reply. You are here by the will of four-and-twenty noble

gentlemen, appointed lawfully----"

"And by the _mise_ of Lewes," added the Prince, bitterly--"but say no

more, Monthermer; I do believe that if your voice might prevail, I

should soon be at liberty."

"Upon my life, you would," replied the young nobleman; "indeed, you

never should have been otherwise, for I would have taken your

word--your plighted word--to maintain the rights of Englishmen, and to

aid in no act against them, and would have set you free at once."

"Well, it matters not," answered the Prince; "perhaps it is better as

it is. I know not what I might have promised to buy my liberty, if men

had asked me; but now, though fettered in body, I am at large in mind,

and events may yet come to open stronger doors than that.--How fares it

with your good uncle?" he continued. "He has been somewhat harsh and

sudden with his king, but still he is a noble gentleman, and one of

whom England may well be proud."

Hugh de Monthermer answered in general terms; and the conversation,

having then taken a turn away from painful subjects of discussion,

reverted pleasantly to brighter themes. Their boyish hours rose up

before their eyes--the sports, the pastimes--the gay thoughts and

heedless jests of youth were recollected--Edward's countenance unbent,

his eyes sparkled, his lips smiled, the prison and its cares were

forgotten; and for the time he seemed to live once more in the sweet

early days of which they spoke.

The conversation proceeded almost entirely between the Prince and Hugh

de Monthermer, for though Thomas de Clare added a word or two now and

then, they were but few, and only served to break through one of those

momentary pauses which would have given thought time to return from the

pleasant past to the sad present.

The sun was, as I have said, going down when Hugh de Monthermer entered

the Prince's chamber, and ere he had been there half an hour, the

bright orb had sunk beneath the horizon; but in these northern climes,

Heaven has vouchsafed to us a blessing which brighter lands do not

possess--the long, soft twilight of the summer evening--and the sky was

still full of light, so that one might have read with ease in the high

chamber of the Prince, nearly half an hour after the star of day had

disappeared. It was just at that moment that Hugh, who was sitting with

his face towards the door, saw it open slowly, and a beautiful girl,

dressed in somewhat gay and sparkling attire, even for those gaudy

times, entered with a noiseless step, bearing a small basket in her

hands.

An expression of some surprise on the young lord's countenance made

Edward himself turn round, and the sight suddenly produced signs of

greater amazement in his face than even in Hugh de Monthermer's. He

rose instantly, however, saying--"What would you, my fair lady?"

"Nothing, royal sir," replied the girl, "but to bring your Grace this

small basket of early strawberries. You will find the flavour good,"

she added, "_especially at the bottom_, where they have not been heated

by the sun."

As she spoke she put down the basket on the table, and was retreating

quickly, but Edward exclaimed--"Stay--stay; pretty one! tell me who you

are, that I may remember in my prayers one who has thought upon her

captive Prince, and striven to solace him in his imprisonment."

"It matters not," replied the girl, courtesying low and speaking

evidently with a country accent--"it matters not. I promised not to

stay a moment, but to give the strawberries and to come away. God send

your Grace a happy even, and a happy morning to boot!" and thus saying,

she retired, closing the door carefully behind her.

"This is strange," said the Prince, taking up the basket, and turning

towards Hugh de Monthermer.

But the young lord was buried in deep meditation.

"You seem surprised, Monthermer," said the Prince, "and, faith, so am

I, too. I never saw the girl in all my days. Did you, De Clare?"

"Never!" replied the young noble.

"Methinks, I have," observed Hugh de Monthermer, gravely, "and that,

many a mile hence. But I will now leave you, my lord; the gates will

soon be shut."

"Nay, stay, and take some of this sweet food," said Edward, "which has

been brought me, not by ravens but by doves."

"Not so, sir," replied Hugh, staying the Prince's hand, as he was about

to empty the basket on the table. "May the fruit prove propitious to

your Grace and to England!--Adieu, my lord!" and thus saying, he

quitted the room abruptly.

"He is right, he is right!" cried Thomas de Clare; "there is more than

fruit in that basket, or I am much mistaken."

Edward laid his hand upon it firmly, and fixed a keen and searching

glance upon the young nobleman, saying, "Whatever there be in it, is

mine, and for my eye alone, Thomas de Clare."

But his companion passed round the table, bent one knee before him,

and, kissing his hand respectfully, said, "My noble lord and future

King, you have mistaken me; but it is now time to tell you that I am no

gaoler. If I be not very wrong, there are in that basket tidings which

shall soon set you free as the wind. I have already gained from stern

De Montfort permission for you to ride forth, accompanied by six

gentlemen of his choosing, and followed by a train of spears. I said,

that it was the only means of restoring you to health.--I might have

added had I pleased, and to liberty. Now, my lord, see what that basket

does contain; and believe me, if it cost me my head to keep your

secret, I would not reveal it."

"Thanks, De Clare, thanks," replied Edward. "We often suspect the

honest of being guilty; but, this time, suspicion has taken a different

course, and I have long suspected thee of being honest.--Now suppose

all your hopes are false?" and he overturned the basket on the table.

Nothing fell from it except the fruit; but, fastened to the bottom by a

piece of wax, appeared, on closer inspection, a small billet, folded so

as to take the form of the basket.

It was speedily drawn forth and opened, as the reader may suppose; but

the first words which met the eye of the Prince puzzled him not a

little. The note was to the following effect:--

"MY LORD,"

"One of your horses has been stolen from your stable, namely, the

bright bay Norman charger; but, as some compensation, in its place has

been put a large-boned, long-legged grey. He is not beautiful to look

upon, though a skilful eye will see fine points in him; but he is

strong and enduring, and no horse in Europe can match him for speed.

Your lordship may try him against what horse you will, you will be sure

to win the race; and should you be disposed to try to-morrow, you will

find spectators in Monington Wood who will receive you at the winning

post. Mark this, for it is from

"A FRIEND."

"Would that I knew his name," cried Edward, as he concluded the letter.

"I can tell you, my lord," replied Thomas de Clare. "It is Richard de

Ashby."

"Ha!" said Edward, as if not well pleased--"Ha! Richard de Ashby. He is

a faithful subject of my father's, I believe, but that is all the good

I know of him. However, I must not be ungrateful--Hark! There is a step

upon the stairs. Get the fruit into the basket--quick!" and concealing

the note, Edward cast himself into the chair which he had previously

occupied.

De Clare had scarcely replaced the strawberries and set down the

basket, when a heavy, stern-looking man, one of the chief officers whom

the Earl of Leicester had placed in attendance, as he called it, upon

the Prince, entered the room, with a silver dish in his hand.

"Seeing that a fair lady has carried you some strawberries, my lord,"

he said, "I have brought you a dish to put them in;" and taking the

basket, he emptied it slowly into the silver plate.

"Thanks, Ingelby, thanks," replied the Prince with a look of total

indifference as to what he did with the fruit. "Methinks, if you had

brought me some cream also it would have been as well."

"Your lordship shall have it immediately," answered the officer. "They

are fine berries, so early in the season."

"They will refresh me, after the fever," said Edward; "for still my

mouth feels dry."

"You shall have the cream directly, my good lord," rejoined the

officer, and left the room.

Edward and De Clare looked at each other with a smile, and the note was

soon re-read and totally destroyed.