CHAPTER XIX.

The impediments of life, at which we fret and chafe in early years, and

which we view with stern doubt and disappointment in that after period

when the shortness of the space left to us renders each moment really

as valuable as it only seems to be in the eagerness of youthful

impatience--the impediments of life, I say--the things that check us in

our impetuous course, and force us to pause and to delay--how often are

they blessings instead of curses? How often is the object which they

dash from our outstretched hands an evil rather than the good that we

esteemed it!

Hugh de Monthermer, as we have shewn, rode away from the castle of

Hereford about half an hour before Prince Edward. He chose the very

road, and went on at great speed for about three miles; he then turned

his horse into a path somewhat different from that which the Prince had

chosen, but leading nearly in the same direction; and in that he

proceeded at a rate which gave his five servants some trouble in

keeping up with him. At length, however, his horse suddenly went lame,

and on dismounting to see what was the matter, he found that a nail had

run into the frog of the animal's foot; and although it was easily

extracted, yet it was impossible to proceed at the same pace as

before.

"Give me your horse, Peterkin," he said, "halting, and take mine slowly

back to Hereford."

While the servant was changing the saddle, however, a countryman

appeared on the road, driving some swine before him; and Hugh

immediately walked up to him, asking, "Is this the way, my friend, to

Monington Chapel?"

"No, no," replied the man; "you must go back. You should have taken the

first turning on your left. Lord, now! only to think of your not

knowing your way to Monington Chapel!"

"What's the hour?" asked Hugh.

"Just mid-day," answered the man. "Don't you see the sun?"

"Then there is time," said Hugh de Monthermer; and mounting the

servant's horse, he retrod his steps for some distance.

Just as he was approaching the turning, however, which the man had

directed him to take, he heard a loud whistling scream, which made him

look up to the sky, thinking that some eagle--a bird then very common

in the marches of Wales--had come close above his head. But nothing of

the kind was to be seen; and a moment after the same cry was repeated,

while one of the servants who were riding a little way behind,

exclaimed, "It is the dwarf, my lord, it is Tangel. See where he comes

at full speed, like a monkey on a race-horse!"

Hugh de Monthermer paused for a moment and turned his eyes down the

road from Hereford, up which the dwarf was coming, not mounted on his

forest pony, but perched upon the back of a tall charger with his head

just seen between the ears of the animal, his long arms stretched out

holding the bridle somewhat short, and his equally lengthy legs hanging

down, affording no bad type for the old figure of Nobody.

The boy was speedily by Hugh de Monthermer's side, shaking his head

reproachfully as he came, and saying, "Ay, you would not listen to

Tangel, man-at-arms. Nobody listens to Tangel; and why? Because he has

not got a skin like a sucking pig and a face such as boys cut out of a

turnip. Now, if any of these bottle-nosed beer drinkers had told you to

stay and listen, you would have waited by the hour."

"Not I," replied Hugh de Monthermer, "nor can I wait now, good Tangel;

so come on, and make haste with your story by the way. What is it you

want to tell me?"

"Ay, haste, haste!" cried Tangel, turning his horse and keeping by the

side of the young lord; "always hasting to destruction, and slow to

anything good. Now are you riding out here, without knowing where you

are going or who it is that has sent for you."

"And pray, if you are wiser, Tangel," said Hugh, with a smile, "let me

know where it is I am going to, and who it is that has sent for me."

"Going to a prison," cried Tangel, "and he who sent for you is a

traitor."

"Are you serious?" demanded Hugh, turning gravely towards him.

"No, never was merrier in my life," answered Tangel, grinning till he

shewed his fine white teeth running back almost to his ears. "Is it not

enough to make me merry, to see a man who calls himself wise put his

head into a noose like a woodcock?--Now I will catechise you, as the

priest of the chapel did me one day when he was drunk. Did you not

receive a letter to-day?"

"Yes, I did," replied Hugh.

"Who gave you that letter?" demanded Tangel.

"One of the servants of the noble Earl of Leicester," answered Hugh.

"Ha!" said the boy, "they are cunninger than I thought."

"And moreover," added the young nobleman, "I asked the servant from

whom he had received it, and he told me, from one of the attendants of

the Earl of Ashby."

"And who did the Earl Ashby's ton of flesh get it from?" demanded the

dwarf.--"I will tell you, for you know nothing about it yourself. He

got it from gallant, sweet, honest, pretty Richard de Ashby, before he

ran away from Hereford, last night. I heard him when he thought there

were no ears listening; for I watched him all over the place, as soon

as I found he was in Hereford, creeping after him like a shadow. He

gave me a blow once in Nottingham, and called me ape and devil; but the

ape was at his heels last night when he and his fair cousin Alured were

plotting to go over to Gloucester; and I heard him say, that he would

have you in a net before four-and-twenty hours were over."

"He might have found himself mistaken, Tangel," replied Hugh, "for I

had my misgivings. Although I have not often seen the Lady Lucy's

handwriting, I suspected that the note was not hers; and, though he

told me to come alone, I brought five stout fellows with me, as you

see, intending to leave them within call. I think we six might be quite

enough to deal with any force they would dare to bring within seven

miles of Hereford."

The dwarf laughed aloud, paused, and then laughed again; but in his

wayward fashion he would not explain the cause of his merriment, let

Hugh say what he would.

"Mighty cunning--mighty cunning!" he cried. "Now, if you have luck, you

may catch the fowler in his trap; but yet, if you be wise, you will

ride back to Hereford, and take a nuncheon at the Maypole."

"No," replied Hugh; pausing for an instant, and beckoning to his

followers to come up; "no, I will not. I know Richard de Ashby's force

right well, and we five are worth any ten he can bring against us. I

would give a capful of gold pieces to take that traitor back with me,

and nail his ears to the castle gates; but we must lay our plan

securely. The place appointed is Monington Chapel, and there surely

must be some place near it where I can conceal the men."

"Why, my lord," said one of his followers, "just on this side of it is

Little Bilberry wood. I know it well; and then beyond, is the great

wood of Monington. We can find cover in either, for a thousand spears

if it were necessary."

"I forget the place, though I have seen it often," replied Hugh; and,

musing over what the dwarf had told him, he rode on till the highway

entered a little copse intersected by numerous paths.

The width of the whole wood might be about a hundred and fifty yards,

though the length, to the right and left of the road which they

followed was not less than a couple of miles; and as the young nobleman

and his train issued forth again on the other side, they perceived at a

short distance before them a small chapel, to which the name of a

shrine would have been more appropriate, for the largest congregation

that it could contain was certainly thirty persons at the utmost.

Hugh de Monthermer's arrangements were soon made. Drawing back as soon

as possible, lest any one should observe his movements, he stationed

his men under cover of the wood, and then advanced alone to the chapel,

the door of which was open, as usual with all places of worship at that

time. Before he entered, however, he paused to gaze over the scene on

the other side of the little building, which presented, first an open

green expanse covered with short grass dotted with tufts of fern, and

then, with the interval of about a third of a mile, a deep, sombre

wood, extending to a considerable distance on both sides. The ground

all round was perfectly clear, and the copse, where he had left his

men, so near at hand that it was impossible for him to be taken at a

disadvantage by a larger force than his own, without having due warning

of its approach.

Hugh looked up towards the sun, saying to himself, "I am half an hour

before the time, I should imagine--We shall have a storm ere long:"

and, fastening his horse to a hook fixed in the stone work, apparently

for that purpose, he entered the chapel, which was quite vacant.

Above the altar appeared the figure of the Virgin, and kneeling for a

moment, as usual with all persons of his faith, Hugh repeated a short

prayer, and then rising, gazed out of a window which turned towards the

larger wood at the back. The sky was becoming rapidly clouded, and

though the sun shone high in heaven, it only served to render the

thick, thronged mass of vapours, that were rolling up from the

south-west, more dark and lowering in appearance than would have been

the case had they not been contrasted with the warm glow of the zenith.

Soon, however, swelling up like the waves of an ocean of molten lead,

the white edges of the thunder-cloud covered the disk of the sun,

bringing with them an oppressive heat very different from the mild but

fresh air which had prevailed during the morning.

Still Hugh de Monthermer kept his eye fixed upon the wood; and after

watching for several minutes, he thought he could distinguish, through

the bolls of the trees, a human form, moving slowly along at the very

verge. It disappeared again, and for a few moments nothing more was

perceived, so that Hugh, at length, begun to think he had been in

error. He soon found that such was not the case, for after a short

pause, a man on foot issued forth a step or two, and was seen to look

carefully round him. He then gazed down the road towards Hereford, and

put his hand over his eyes, as if to shade them from the light.

Apparently satisfied, he retired into the wood again, after having

continued his investigations for about three or four minutes.

It was evident he was watching for some one, and Hugh naturally

concluded it was himself. The young nobleman paused, meditating how he

should act--at one moment, thinking of shewing himself, in order to

bring the affair to a speedy issue, but the next, judging it would be

better to remain in the chapel till the hour appointed had arrived.

While he was still hesitating, a vivid flash of lightning, that almost

blinded him, burst forth from the cloud, and appeared to sweep close

past the chapel. Some large drops of rain fell at the same time, and

after another and another flash--succeeding each other with

extraordinary rapidity--the flood-gates of the heavens seemed to open,

and the torrent poured down, mingling hail with the rain, and forming

foaming yellow pools at every indentation of the road. Incessantly

through the twilight of the storm the broad blue glare of the lightning

was seen, with a thin, bright, fiery line crossing the tissue of the

flame, and marking its fierce and destructive character; while the

rolling peal of the thunder seemed to shake the very earth, echoing and

re-echoing from the woods around.

"Those poor fellows will be half drowned," thought Hugh de Monthermer;

"I have a great mind to call them into the chapel, though it might lose

me my opportunity. Yet, if I were sure of catching that villain, and

carrying him into Hereford,--ay, or of meeting him with double my

numbers, I would myself swim the Wye a dozen times.--Hark! surely that

was the tramp of a horse's feet!"

Another clap of thunder, however, drowned all other sounds; but when it

had passed away, the noise of a horse's hoofs beating the ground at a

quick pace distinctly reached the young nobleman's ear. Hugh de

Monthermer listened. "There is but one," he said; "I will take no odds

against him;" and he loosened his sword in the scabbard, keeping behind

the angle of the building, so as not to show himself too soon at the

half-opened door.

The next instant the horse stopped opposite the Chapel, the rider was

heard to spring to the ground; and after a moment's delay, in order, it

seemed, to secure the beast from straying, the stranger's foot was

heard ascending the steps.

Hugh de Monthermer advanced to confront him, but instantly drew back

again, exclaiming, in a tone of strong astonishment--"Prince Edward!"

"Hugh de Monthermer," cried Edward, "this is strange meeting, old

companion!"

"It is, indeed, my dear lord," replied Hugh. "It becomes me not to ask

how or why you are here, but I will confess that it rejoices my very

heart to see you at liberty, though I doubt not many men would say, if

they knew of our meeting, that I ought to arrest and bring you back to

Hereford."

"He would be a bold man!" answered the Prince, raising his towering

form to its full height--"He would be a bold man who would attempt,

single-handed, to stop Edward of England on his way!"

"Alas, my lord!" replied Hugh de Monthermer, "I have not even that

excuse to give to those who may blame me. One shout from that door

would bring fearful odds against you, for, to tell the truth, I am

waiting here to catch that arch-traitor, Richard de Ashby, in his own

net, and have left men in the little wood you have just passed. But

once more, I say, I rejoice to see you free."

"Then, indeed, I thank you, Hugh," replied the Prince--"I thank you

from my heart for your sincere love--though, if I judge rightly, I am

not so unprotected as I seem."

The young nobleman took the hand that Edward held out to him, and

kissed it respectfully, saying, "I would not betray you, my lord, for

the world, were you here alone and I at the head of hundreds; but ere

we part, I must ask you one boon."

"Nay, let us not part yet," rejoined Edward; "there is much to be said

between us, Hugh. I have taken shelter here from the storm,--you are

here also; and while the elements rage without, let us talk of giving

peace to the land."

"That is the object of the boon I crave, my lord," answered Hugh, "but

I can stay no longer with you than to name that boon. No, not even to

hear you concede or refuse it--else I shall be held a traitor to that

cause which I believed to be sacred. The boon is this: when you have

joined the Earl of Gloucester--when you see yourself at the head of

armies--and when you feel your royal mind at liberty to act with power

and success, publish a proclamation pledging yourself to uphold all

those laws and ordinances which have been enacted for the safety of

the land, for the rights and liberties of the people, and for our

protection from foreign minions and base favourites--laws and

ordinances to which you have once already given your consent. If you do

this, I myself will never draw the sword against you, nor do I believe

will Simon de Montfort."

Edward shook his head, with a look of doubt. "De Montfort is ambitious,

Hugh," he said; "perhaps he was not always so, for many a man begins a

patriot and ends a tyrant."

At that moment the sound of a horn was heard from the little

neighbouring copse, and Hugh de Monthermer advanced to the door of the

chapel, knowing that it was a signal of danger. The scene that

presented itself was curious: the rain was still pouring down heavy and

grey; the air was dim and loaded; the flashes of the lightning were

blazing through the sky, and seemed to the eyes of the young nobleman

to be actually running along the ground. At the same time, rushing

towards him with rapidity almost superhuman, was the poor dwarf,

Tangel, throwing about his long, lean arms, in the most grotesque

manner, and pointing ever and anon to the opposite wood, issuing forth

from which appeared a body of at least three hundred horse, well armed

and mounted, and coming down at full speed towards the chapel.

Hugh turned one look more into the building and waved his hand,

exclaiming--"Adieu, my lord, adieu! Here is danger near;" and, gaining

his horse's side, he unhooked the bridle, and leapt into the saddle.

"Up, Tangel! Up behind me!" he cried, as the dwarf came nigh--"up,

quick, or they will be upon us!"

The dwarf sprang up behind him in a moment, with one single bound from

the ground; and Hugh, turning the bridle towards the little copse,

dashed on at full speed. The servant's horse, however, which he was

riding, was not a very fast one; the troop from the wood was coming

forward with great rapidity, and seemed determined to chase him: his

own force was too small to offer any resistance; and Hugh de Monthermer

saw with bitterness of spirit that if the adversaries still pursued, he

must soon be a prisoner. To be so deceived and foiled, added anger to

the grief he felt at the prospect of captivity, and he muttered to

himself--"They shall pay dearly for it, at all events," while he still

spurred on towards the copse from which his own men were now

approaching, leading the horse on which the dwarf had joined them.

"Mount your beast quickly!" cried Hugh, turning his head to Tangel.

"Go on--go on, fast, good master!" cried the boy. "Do not halt for me:

I will mount without your stopping, only carry me close enough to the

beast;" and in a moment after, as Hugh rode swiftly up towards his

followers, the boy put his hands upon the young nobleman's shoulders,

sprang up with his feet on the charger's haunches, and then with a leap

and a shrill cry, he lighted on his own horse, whirled himself round,

and dropped into the saddle.

No time, indeed, was to be lost; for Hugh and his attendants met midway

between the building and the wood, when one end of the enemy's line

already reached the chapel.

And at that moment, Edward himself darted out upon the steps, and

shouted aloud, "Halt! I command you, halt!--Lord Lovell, Sir Thomas

Grey, I charge you, halt! Chase him not. I say!--Sir Richard de Ashby,"

he continued, raising his voice till it seemed to vie with the thunder,

as he saw that his orders were unheeded, "Halt! on your life! Will you

disobey my first command?"

But Richard de Ashby was deaf, and dashed on with five or six others,

while the rest of their party drew the rein, some sooner, some later,

pausing in a broken line. Hugh de Monthermer and his men spurred

forward at the full gallop; but the slippery ground, now thoroughly

soaked by the pelting rain, defeated his effort to escape an attack.

The horse of one of his followers floundered, and fell some forty yards

before they reached the copse; and though both man and beast staggered

up again, the pursuers were too near to be evaded.

Some ten yards in advance of the rest, mounted upon a fleet black

horse, was Richard de Ashby himself. He was fully armed with hauberk

and shield and spear, but his aventaille was open, and a glow of savage

satisfaction might be seen upon his countenance. Hugh de Monthermer

turned in the saddle, to measure the distance between them with his

eye, saw in a moment that escape was not possible, but that vengeance

was; and, snatching from the man next to him a spear and small round

buckler, he wheeled his horse, struck the sharp spur furiously into its

flanks, and met his pursuer in full career.

The young knight himself was clothed in nothing but a hauqueton of

purple cendal, which, though stiffly stuffed with cotton, as was then

customary, afforded poor protection against the point of a lance. But

the tournament and the battlefield had been the young nobleman's

ball-room and his school, his place of amusement and his place of

practice; and his eye was always ready to discover, his hand prepared

to take advantage of the slightest movement of an enemy. He perceived

in an instant that Richard de Ashby's lance was aimed at his throat,

but he showed by no sign that he knew that such was the case, till he

was within a yard of his enemy. Then suddenly raising his buckler, he

turned the point aside; and at the same instant he somewhat lifted his

own spear, which, as he had no rest, was charged upon his thigh,

intending to strike his adversary full in the face. But Richard de

Ashby bent his head, and the lance touching him high upon the forehead,

glanced off from the skull, and catching in the hood of mail, hurled

him headlong from his charger to the ground.

Hugh drew up his horse suddenly by the side of the fallen man, and

shortening the spear, held it to his throat, shouting aloud to those

who followed--"If any one comes near; he dies!"

By this time his own attendants had rejoined him; and two or three

gentlemen came riding down at a quick pace from the chapel, calling

upon their companions, who had gone before, to halt and come back.

"Did you not hear the Prince's voice?" exclaimed an elderly knight,

angrily, as he approached: "it is his express commands, that you come

back. Depart, Lord Hugh--depart in peace; it is the Prince's will, and

we obey."

"Had I but one half your numbers, Lord Lovel," answered Hugh, "I would

not go without taking this traitor with me."

"Or being taken yourself," replied Lord Lovell, with a laugh. "I can

assure you, my good lord, we had every intention of carrying you with

us into Worcestershire; but as the Prince will let the bird out of the

trap which poor Richard baited so nicely for him, he must e'en use his

wings--there is no help for it. You seem to have pecked the fowler

pretty handsomely, however. I believe you have cleft his skull.

There--let his people come up and help him! You have my word against

treachery."

"I fear he is not punished as much as he deserves," replied Hugh de

Monthermer. "Bear my dutiful thanks to the Prince for his courtesy; and

now, fare you well, my Lord Lovell. I trust we shall soon meet again."

Thus saying, he turned his horse, and rode quickly but thoughtfully

back to Hereford.