CHAPTER XXVII.

"What seekest thou, fat friar?" said one of a party of three gentlemen,

who were standing under the arch which gave entrance into the great

court of Nottingham Castle. He was speaking to a large heavy-looking

man, with round rosy face and double chin, who had been wandering

hither and thither in the court for some time, but apparently without

any very definite object--"What seekest thou, incarnation of the jolly

god?"

"I seek, my son," replied the friar, with a leer, "what you, perhaps,

can show me, but which, nevertheless, it would be well, were you to

seek it yourself."

"Nay, nay, no riddles, most jovial sphinx," replied Sir William Geary;

"speak in plain language and I may help thee, but I am not inclined to

play [OE]dipus for thy convenience. What is it thou meanest?"

"I mean that I seek the right way," replied the priest.

"But whither? whither?" asked Sir William. "Who, or what is it you

want?"

"I want to speak with the noble lord, Hugh de Monthermer," answered the

friar, "who, I hear, comes in the King's train."

"Is brought, you mean," said Sir Harry Grey; "for he comes as a

prisoner. But to tell the truth, his captivity seems to captivate the

whole court, for there is none now who receives any notice but Hugh de

Monthermer."

"The court must be getting wise in its old age," rejoined the friar.

"Methinks I shall follow it, too, as merit meets advancement. But, I

beseech you, fair sir, tell me where the young lord makes abode; for

though I find the doors of this castle as strait for, my fat sides as

those of heaven, they are as many as those of the other place."

"By my life, friar," replied Sir William Geary, "you will find him, if

I judge rightly, with a lady, in the deep window of the great hall,

taking thy trade over thy head; for, as I passed them, she seemed very

much as if she were making confession."

"She made the only one that was needful long ago," exclaimed Sir Harry

Grey; "for as I rode near them on the way from Huntingdon, I heard her

say, 'You know I do, Hugh,'"--and he mimicked the tone of Lucy's voice,

adding, "what was wanting must have been--'love you'--of course."

"Nay, then, Heaven forefend that I should interrupt confession," said

the friar, with a laugh; "'tis contrary to the ordinance of Holy

Church; but if you will show me, my son, which is his chamber, I will

go thither and wait; for a small boy whom I met but now at the outer

gate made a mock of me, and told me that if I took the third door, on

the right hand, in the left hand corner, just beyond the fourth tower,

after passing through the second gate, I should find a staircase which

would lead me to the top of the castle; and when I had gone up, I might

come down again. By my faith, if I could have reached him with my

staff, I would have given him some wholesome correction; but he was too

nimble for me; and my infirmities would not let me follow him."

"Your fat, you mean, friar," replied Sir Harry Grey. "But tell me, how

many casks of beer and butts of wine has it cost to complete that

carcase of thine and paint that face?"

"Neither are finished yet, my son," answered the friar, "but when they

are, I will sum up the items, and send thee in the bill. It will profit

thee nothing, however, for thou, wilt never grow fat."

"Why not?" demanded the other, somewhat piqued.

"Show me the way, and I will tell thee," replied the friar. "Well,

then, go through that door under the arch," said Sir Harry, "and up the

stairs, and the second door you come to leads to the Lord Hugh's

chamber.--Now, then, why shall I never get fat? By my faith, I am glad

to hear such news."

"Didst never hear the old rhyme?" asked the friar--

"'A pleasant heart, a happy mind,

That joy in all God's works can find,

A conscience pure without a stain,

A mind not envious nor vain,

Shall on man's head bring down God's benison,

And fatten more than ale or venison.'

Heaven speed ye, gentlemen--thanks for your civil entertainment."

Thus saying, he rolled off with a low chuckle, and took his way through

the door to which the courtier had directed him.

One of the three gentlemen, as the reader may have observed, had taken

no part in the conversation with the friar; he now, however, turned at

once to Sir William Geary, asking--"Do you know the scurvy knave?"

"Not I," answered Sir William Geary; "this is the first time I ever set

eyes upon him; but he is evidently a shrewd and caustic villain, ready

to make himself serviceable in many ways: Do you know him, De Margan,

for you look mysterious?"

"I have seen him within the last ten days," replied De Margan, "but in

a different part of England, and with companions from whom doubtless he

brings messages to this noble Lord Hugh.--This matter must be watched,

Geary. I have some old scores of friendship to clear with Hugh de

Monthermer; so let us mark well what follows this good priest's

interview with him."

"Yes, I have heard of your adventure," said Sir William Geary, "and of

your resolution to tell the old Earl of certain moonlight meetings; but

you may tell what you will, De Margan, now, it will have no effect.

Why, the father seems as much in love with him as the daughter; and

though the noble and right valiant old lord is now over at Lindwell,

preparing to eclipse all that has gone before, in his reception of the

king, Hugh de Monthermer, each day since we have been here, has ridden

over and spent the whole morning there, alone, I verily believe, with

his lady-love."

"I heard as much," answered Guy de Margan, impatiently--"I heard as

much last night after my arrival; but I will find means, one way or

another, to make this Hugh de Monthermer rue his braggart insolence."

Sir William Geary paused for a moment with a thoughtful and somewhat

bitter smile--"Well, De Margan," he said at length, drawing him aside

from the rest, "if you want vengeance, methinks I know where there is a

man to be found who will help you with his whole heart. No one knows of

his being in Nottingham but myself; but I have found him out, and will

take you to him if you like to go."

"Who is he--who is he?" demanded the other.

"No less a person than Richard de Ashby, the fair lady's cousin,"

answered Geary. "He is possessed of a goodly hatred towards these

Monthermers, and, methinks, of no little love towards his bright

cousin, Lucy."

De Margan, however, scoffed at the idea--"What!" he cried, "a

poverty-stricken beggarly dependant like that, to dare to lift his eyes

to one so much above him!"

"It may be to her dower he lifts his eyes," said Sir William Geary.

"Ambition is always a bold lover. But, however that may be, depend upon

it, he will help you to your vengeance upon Monthermer if you but

concert your schemes together."

"Well--well!" replied Sir Guy; "I will go to him, Geary. But let us

first discover, if we can, something more regarding the errand of this

friar. The man is a rank rebel, and a fautor of rebels. I saw him last

with Sir William Lemwood, and all the rest of that crew, who were then

hot for rebellion. I was sent to negotiate; but since then, that nest

of treason has been suppressed, and doubtless he now comes to

Nottingham to hatch some new conspiracy if he prove strong enough. But

we must watch him--we must watch him! and if Hugh de Monthermer do but

trip, I will answer for it, he shall fall--ay, and heavily, too;

so let him take care. I fear there is no chance of getting into some

ante-chamber, and overhearing what passes?"

"None--none!" cried his companion, "that is quite out of the question;

but my room looks out upon the end of the staircase, whence we can

easily see when this friar issues forth again."

"We will watch him--we will watch him!" exclaimed De Margan; "the very

visit of such a man is in itself suspicious.--Say you not so, Geary?"

"Assuredly," answered Sir William, with a bitter smile--"assuredly--to

a suspicious mind;" and with this sarcasm, he turned, and led the way

to his own apartment in the castle.

Whatever was the Friar's errand with Hugh de Monthermer, he remained in

his chamber more than an hour; and, when he issued forth, he was

followed, not long after, by the young nobleman, who, on foot, and with

a cloak of a sombre colour covering his gayer garments, took his way

out into the town through the same gate by which the jolly cenobite had

issued forth.

"Let us see where they go--let us see where they go!" cried Guy de

Margan; and hurrying down, he and his companion also quitted the

castle, and soon caught sight of the young nobleman.

Nottingham in those days was not so large a town as at present, but

nevertheless, it was a place of very considerable importance; and then,

as at present, its steep streets and rocky flights of steps running

down the curious sort of cone on which it stands, gave one the idea of

its being built upon a beehive. Walking down the road which led from

the castle, Hugh de Monthermer proceeded for some way, and then took

the first flight of steps that he came to, descending towards the lower

part of the town; but, as at the bottom there were two ways which he

might pursue, the gentlemen who were fulfilling the honourable office

of spy upon his actions, and both of whom knew Nottingham well,

separated for the time, appointing a spot to meet again, in order that

he might not escape them.

They had just rejoined each other in the lower part of the town, near

the old gate, when Hugh, of whom Guy de Margan had not lost sight,

paused and looked round him, as if not quite certain of his way,

causing his pursuers to draw back behind a booth which protruded into

the street. The moment after, he proceeded again, directing his steps

straight through the gate; and they, darting out, followed him so

quickly that they had well-nigh come suddenly upon him, as he stopped

by the side of the friar whom they had before seen. The worthy monk

however, was no longer on foot, but mounted upon a strong, tall,

vicious looking mule; and, at the same time, he held by the bridle a

large bony horse, equipped as for a journey.

Hugh de. Monthermer was at that moment putting his foot into the

stirrup, and in an instant was upon the beast's back.

"This looks very like a prisoner making his escape," said Guy de

Margan. "Shall I call upon the people to stop him?"

"No--no!" replied Geary, "he is not making his escape; and if he were,

he would be gone before you could do anything. He has a thousand

opportunities of escaping every day if he likes it. 'Tis unlucky we

have no horses with us."

"He is going on no lawful errand, depend upon it," exclaimed Guy de

Margan, "with that monk for a guide. I doubt not his journey will end

in a meeting with some of the very rebels the king has come down to

quell.--I will go and tell the Prince what I have seen, and what I

suspect likewise."

"Pshaw! never think of telling the Prince," said Geary, with his usual

shrewd look and sarcastic turn of the lip, "that will never answer

_your_ purpose, De Margan. The Prince is a sensible man; and, besides,

you could not if you would. Edward is away; he set out this morning

with five hundred men for Derby. Tell the King--tell the King! You can

make him believe anything you like.--Your mother was a Jewess, wasn't

she?"

Guy de Margan turned upon him with a furious look and his hand upon his

dagger, for the words of his companion implied what in that day was the

grossest insult which one gentleman could offer to another; but Geary

added, immediately, "An Italian, I mean--an Italian. What was I

thinking of? You know a single drop of foreign blood in any one's veins

is quite enough to secure the favour of the King. But come and see

Richard de Ashby first; and concoct your scheme together. I will leave

you with him; for I do not want to share your councils. It will be jest

enough to see the result."

The gibing spirit of Sir William Geary did not well accord with Guy de

Margan's mood at the moment; and he was not at all sorry to find that

he was soon to be delivered from his society. Walking on through some

of the narrow streets which then formed the lower part of the good town

of Nottingham, with the projecting gables of the upper stories shading

them from the sun, and nearly meeting overhead, they at length reached

a curiously carved and ornamented wooden house, small and sunk in

amongst the others, so as scarcely to be seen by any one passing

hurriedly along, like a modest and retiring man jostled back from

observation by the obtrusive crowd. Here Sir William Geary applied for

admittance, but before it was granted a full observation was taken of

his person, and that of his companion, by a servant looking through a

small round window at the side. At length the door was opened, and

after some difficulty Sir Guy de Margan was permitted to enter, Sir

William Geary leaving him as he went in.