CHAPTER XLIV.

In a wide, open field, by the side of the Trent, were erected the lists

for a battle at _outrance_. All the usual preparations had been

made--there was a pavilion for the king to keep his state; there were

galleries for the ladies; there were tents for the challenger and the

challenged; and there were numerous other booths, for the shelter and

refreshment of any who might come from far to witness one of the most

solemn acts of chivalry.

Before the hour of eleven, a great multitude had assembled, and every

moment the crowd was increasing; for rumours of strange kinds had not

only spread through Nottingham, during the early morning, but had found

their way to all the country around about, and every one was eager to

see with his own eyes how the whole would end. In all parts of the

field men might be seen, each inquiring what the other knew, and, for

the most part, each acknowledging his own ignorance of the exact state

of the case; although here, as everywhere else, persons were to be

found, who pretended to know a great deal of subjects with which they

were utterly unacquainted. All that seemed certain was, that the gates

of the castle had been shut since the morning, and nobody had been

suffered to issue forth, but one or two servants of the King and the

Prince, who, after delivering some brief message in the city, had

returned immediately, answering no questions, and affording, even

accidentally, no information.

Two or three people reported, indeed, that a body of some ten or twelve

men had entered the castle, coming from the side of Pontefract. They

wore no armour, and did not seem soldiers, and, by the appearance of

their dress and horses, it was judged that they had travelled all

night. Numerous other rumours, indeed, circulated round the lists, and

the opinion was generally gaining ground that there would be no combat

at all, when this supposition was at once done away by the appearance

of heralds and pursuivants on the ground, examining it scrupulously, to

ascertain that all was clear and fair, without pitfall, trap for the

horse's foot, molehill, or inequality, which could give an undue

advantage to one or other of the combatants.

Shortly after, these officers were followed by several of the King's

pages and attendants, who first busied themselves in putting the

pavilion prepared for him into neat and proper order, and then stood

talking in the front, making great men of themselves, and fancying that

they might be mistaken for some of the royal family.

The blast of a trumpet was then heard at a short distance, and, coming

at a quick pace, a body of men-at-arms appeared, and took up their

station, in military array, at either end of the lists, keeping

on the outside of the barriers. A pause of some five minutes

ensued, and the people, watching and commenting upon all the

arrangements, congratulated themselves on the certainty of seeing two

fellow-creatures engage in mortal conflict, and began to speculate upon

which would be the victor. Many there present, merely guided by fancy

or report, decided upon the chances of the field without ever having

seen either of the two competitors. But there were many of the tenantry

of Lindwell, and peasantry from the neighbourhood of the Earl of

Ashby's castle, who, of course, maintained the honour of their lord,

and asserted that he would win the field from any knight in Europe. It

was remarked, however, that even their boldest statements regarding

their young lord's prowess were coupled with an expression of their

conviction that, "howsoever that might be, they were sure enough the

young Lord of Monthermer had never killed the old Earl. Why should he?"

Hugh de Monthermer, indeed, was not without his partisans amongst the

people, for he was well known in that part of the country; and a very

general feeling that he was both innocent and injured raised up in his

favour that generous spirit which is almost always found, though

strangely mingled with prejudices and passions, in the bosom of an

Englishman.

About half-past eleven, a number of yeomen, dressed in their holiday

clothes, mingled with the crowd. They were without bows, but each had

his six arrows at his side, and his short sword and buckler. Each, too,

had many acquaintances amongst the crowd; and, with others, to whom

they did not actually speak, a gay glance of recognition and familiar

nod were interchanged as they made their way up to the lists.

"What! Miller," said one of the farmers, as a yeoman in the gay green

passed him; "why have you brought your arrows with you? There are no

butts here!"

"There are butts everywhere, Winken," replied the person addressed.

"But you have no bow," rejoined the countryman.

"Bows wont be wanted, if we need them," answered the yeoman, and passed

on.

Scarcely was this conversation concluded, when, slowly riding down from

the side of Nottingham, was seen a gallant train of gentlemen, and many

a fair lady, too, it must be confessed, notwithstanding the bloody

nature of the scene about to be performed.

"The King!--the King!" shouted many voices; "the King and the Prince!

God bless Prince Edward!"

But few added the monarch's name to the benediction. All that Henry

heard, however, was the shout of gratulation; and fancying himself

popular, he bowed gracefully to the people, and rode on to the entrance

of the pavilion prepared for him, which was soon filled with the lords

and ladies of his court.

To the surprise of most there present, the Princess Eleanor was seen

upon the King's right hand, and many were the comments made upon her

appearing, for the first time, to witness a judicial combat.

In the meanwhile, Prince Edward, followed by several heralds in their

brilliant tabards, and accompanied by two knights unarmed, rode on to

the other end of the lists and entered the field. He himself was

clothed in a shining hauberk of steel rings, with a hood of the same,

but with his _chapel de fer_, shield, and lance, borne by esquires on

foot. His face was thus completely seen, and it was gay and smiling.

His princely carriage--his commanding height--his management of the

strong fiery horse that bore him--his frank and noble expression of

countenance--all had their effect upon the hearts of the people around;

and loud and reiterated shouts of gratulation rent the sky as he rode

along the lists.

After he had spoken for a few minutes with the heralds and pursuivants,

Edward turned to one of the knights who had accompanied him, saying,

"Go to the Earl of Ashby's tent, and tell him, he is too weak to fight

in this day's field.--The yeoman who first drank of the cup is dead,

you say?"

"He died very shortly after, my lord," replied the knight, "having

scarce time to make confession, and to acknowledge that, when Sir

Richard had left the Earl's lodging, he went into the chamber, and

finding the cup well-nigh full of wine, drank it off."

"It must have been a subtle poison, indeed," rejoined the Prince;

"Gadsden tells me it cost him all his skill to save the Earl. But go to

him, and say that he is too weak. If he will withdraw the charge,

well--if not, let him put off the combat for a week. No dishonour shall

follow in either case."

The knight rode away, and Edward, turning to the other who had

accompanied him, demanded--"They have not found him yet?"

"No, my lord," replied the other; "every place was searched in vain.

There lay the dead body in the room above. It is that of a man called

Dighton. I knew his face at once, having seen him often with Ellerby,

and other such scurvy cattle, hanging about London and Westminster."

"Sir John has got a short answer," said the Prince, as looking towards

a tent at the western corner of the lists he saw the knight he had sent

away remounting his horse to return. "I have seldom seen a man so

obstinate."

In two minutes the messenger was by the Prince's side again.

"He will not bear of it, my lord," exclaimed the knight as he rode up;

"he declares that men, indeed, would call him coward now, if for a few

hours' sickness he should shirk the conflict."

"Well, then, it must go on," replied the Prince, looking down; "he may

find himself mistaken yet. Go to the other tent, and speak With Sir

John Hardy; see what he says."

While the knight was absent, the Prince rode round the lists, and

approached the spot where Henry and Eleanor were seated. He spoke a few

words to each; but as he was about to turn away, Eleanor, whose look

displayed some small anxiety, bent her head forward and asked, in a low

voice, "Are you quite sure, dear lord?"

"I think so," answered the Prince; "but yet I see no one appears. It

will never be too late, however, to interpose myself.--The letter said

they would be here before the time.--Ha! here comes the challenger!"

At the moment that he spoke his eyes were fixed upon the tent or

pavilion of the young Earl of Ashby, from which was seen to issue forth

a figure clothed in a complete suit of armour--consisting of the

hauberk, or shirt of mail, the chausses of mail, and the casque of

steel, with a crest and a moving visor, or avantaille of bars. He wore

no pourpoint over his armour; and the only thing that distinguished him

from the ordinary man at arms were the poylins, or joints of steel

plates at the knees and arms of the hauberk, which were the first

approximation to the plate armour which soon after came into use.

All eyes were turned in that direction, as well as those of the Prince;

and every one remarked, that the young Earl leaned, as he walked from

the entrance of the tent to his horse's side, upon the arm of Sir Harry

Grey, who appeared in the field as his godfather. And as the rumour had

become by this time general, that an attempt had been made to poison

him on the preceding night, a loud murmur ran amongst the people

of--"He's not fit! he's not fit!--Don't let him fight!"

But Alured de Ashby put his foot into the stirrup, and mounted his

horse with apparent difficulty, but then sat firm and upright in the

saddle.

"Well, beast," he cried, patting the charger's neck, "thou canst bear

the arms that weary me." And moving onward to the other end of the

lists, his attendants following with his lance and shield, he saluted

the King and Princess as he passed, and bowed his head lowly to the

Prince.

"This is mere madness, my good lord," said Edward, riding up to his

side; "I really feel that, as judge of the field, I cannot let this go

on."

"I must do my devoir, fair sir," answered Alured de Ashby. "I am

neither craven nor recreant; and here I stand in arms to defend my

honour."

Edward was about to reply; but, at that moment, the knight he had sent

to the other pavilion approached at a quick pace, and whispered

something in the Prince's ear.

"That they are ready for the field!" said Edward, in a tone of

amazement. "What may this mean?--well, let the heralds make

proclamation, then; and we will part the sun and wind."

At a sign from the Prince's truncheon, or warder, the trumpet sounded

aloud, and a herald, spurring forward his horse, proclaimed that all

persons were to quit the field but the knight challenger and his

respondent, the heralds, and officers of arms, the judge of the combat,

and his esquires.

A momentary bustle and much confusion took place, for a number of

persons, upon one pretence or another, were at this time within the

lists. But all was soon clear, and Alured de Ashby being placed in the

spot adjudged by the heralds to the challenger, braced on his shield,

and took his lance in his hand, bearing it perpendicular with the steel

in the air, and the other end resting on his foot. An esquire unarmed

stood on each side, with two pages behind; and the field being clear,

Sir Harry Grey placed a purse of gold in the hands of the principal

herald, saying, "That for the good knight's casque."

The herald bowed his head, replying, "Largesse! noble sir. Is the

combat both of lance and sword?"

"That matters not," said Sir Harry Grey; "he pays for the lance, and

the lance covers the sword."

The herald then spurred forward some twenty steps, followed by his

pursuivants, and after a loud flourish of the trumpets, proclaimed that

there stood Alured, Earl of Ashby, ready to do battle against Hugh of

Monthermer, Lord of Amesbury, on certain charges brought by him,

Alured, against the said Hugh, having first made oath, according to the

law of arms, that his quarrel was just and righteous, and was ready to

wager his body on God's decision. "Now, if the said Hugh of

Monthermer," continued the herald, "will maintain that the said charge

is false and groundless, and venture his body in that behalf, let him

appear before the third sound of the trumpet, or if not, let him

surrender himself into the hands of our Lord the King, to be dealt with

according to his demerits!--Oyez! oyez! oyez! Let no man, on pain of

forfeiture of life or limb, according to the pleasure of the King, give

any comfort or encouragement to either the said Alured, Earl of Ashby,

or Hugh, Lord of Monthermer, by sign, word, or cry; and let God defend

the right!--Sound trumpets!"

A long loud call of the trumpet succeeded, and all looks turned towards

the other pavilion, before which appeared two horses fully caparisoned,

the banner of the house of Monthermer, and several pages and

attendants. The pavilions themselves, it must be remarked, were

encircled with rails, joining those of the lists, but separated from

the actual field of combat by a small movable barricade. Behind the

tent, on which every one was now looking, and at the side of it

farthest from the royal scaffolding, a good deal of bustle and

confusion seemed to be taking place; and the space of time allotted

after the first call of the trumpet passed away without any one

appearing to answer the challenge.

"Sound again!" cried the herald, and again the blast of the trumpet was

heard, upon which the hangings of the tent were almost immediately

drawn back, and Hugh de Monthermer, armed, but bare headed, advanced

towards the barrier.

"This is not right," murmured the Prince, when first his eyes fell upon

him; but the next instant he saw more. On the right hand of Hugh was

Sir John Hardy, and on the left his uncle, the old Earl of Monthermer.

Two esquires bore the knight's lance and shield, a page between them

carried his helmet; and in this guise the whole party advanced on foot

towards the barrier, which was raised to give them admission into the

lists. But close behind them came four men, bearing on their shoulders

something like a bier, covered with a little tilt and curtains formed

of some light cloth. A party of yeomen followed, guarding two men, who

walked between them, with their arms tied. Their hoods were turned

back, exposing the whole head and face; and, as they advanced, the

first of the two prisoners rolled his eyes fiercely round, with a look

like that of a maniac; while the second bent his gaze steadfastly upon

the ground, and never gave a glance on either side.

"Ha! What is this?" exclaimed Alured de Ashby. "What means all

this?--Ah! I see now!--'Tis Richard they have got--and the dead body in

the bier, most like.--My lord, I guess the rest!"

"And so do I," said Edward; "let us ride on and see."

Both spurred forward quickly at the same moment, and reached the spot

before the royal pavilion, just as Hugh de Monthermer paused there

also.

"Now, Hugh, now," cried the Prince; "What is all this? But first, my

good lord," he continued, extending his hand to the old Earl, "welcome

back to your duty, and to England. My lord the King, may not your son

promise this gentleman grace and pardon?"

It is probable that at any other time Henry would not have yielded

without much entreaty; but at this moment he was too eager for

explanations to hesitate, and bowing his head, he replied, "Well, be it

so.--What now?"

"My lord," said Hugh, "I come before your grace to prove my innocence

as may seem fit unto your grace to order, either in arms, according to

the challenge given, or by still better proof, if so you will."

"None can be better, sir," answered the King; "God's own decision must

surely be more just than that of men."

"Well, sire," replied Hugh de Monthermer, with a smile; "be it as your

grace pleases. Alured," he continued, holding out his hand, "if I needs

must fight with you, I must; but you will be compelled to seek some

other cause than your good father's death. Of that, at least, I am

innocent, whatever I be guilty of.--Here is a witness cannot lie.--Draw

back the curtains.--Will you believe himself?"

Alured de Ashby, already pale, turned for an instant paler still, but

it seemed as if the blood had but withdrawn itself into the fountain of

the heart to gush forth again, purified, renewed, invigorated. For a

moment he was as white as the ashes of an extinguished fire, but the

next his cheek glowed, his eyes sparkled, and springing from his horse,

with a light bound, as if all sickness were departed, he cast himself

upon his knees beside the litter, in which, lying on a soft bed, but

partly raised upon his arm, appeared the old Earl of Ashby. The son

dewed the father's hand with his tears; then starting up and casting

his arms round Hugh de Monthermer, he pressed him to his mailed breast,

exclaiming, "I have injured you!--forgive me, my good brother!"

Hugh wrung his hand, and said, "This is all joyful, Alured; but there

is something painful still behind. There stand the murderers!--the

assassin and his tool! My lord the King, into your hands I give them,

to be dealt with as in your high judgment you shall deem expedient. The

one makes full confession of his crime, the other has not the daring to

deny it; and indeed, it would be useless so to do; for, as the very

consequences of our sins prove often by God's will their punishments, a

poor unhappy girl, whom he seduced from virtue and her peaceful home,

overheard in his house the foul conspiracy for murdering this good

earl, and charging the crime on me. She told it to those she thought

might best prevent it, who came not in time to stop the deed, but soon

enough to find the Earl, and staunch the bleeding of his wounds, before

life was extinct. She is now ready, though her heart is broke, to give

such evidence as leaves no doubt of these men's guilt, even if they

still denied it."

"Oh, villain!" said Alured de Ashby, gazing on his cousin, who still

looked fiercely from under his frowning brows upon him, "Oh, villain!

To bring such a stain upon our house!"

"Hush, Alured, hush!" said the old Earl, "I will beseech my lord the

King to pardon him."

"Ay, pardon me! pardon me!" cried Richard do Ashby, darting forward.

"King, I saved your son from bondage--I gave him means of flight!--But

for me there had been no Evesham--But for me De Montfort had still

ruled--but for me you had both been prisoners at this hour."

"What say you, Edward?" asked the King.

"I beseech you, my lord, pardon him, pardon him," exclaimed Mortimer

and Pembroke, in a breath.

"My lord, I dare not speak," said Edward, "for though justice calls for

the death of the blackest villain I ever did yet know, gratitude ties

my tongue. I must not speak."

"Untie his hands," cried the King, after a moment's pause. "We give him

life, but banish him the realm for ever. If in ten days he be found

within the seas, let him be put to death!"

"Thanks! my lord, thanks!" exclaimed Richard de Ashby, while the yeomen

unwillingly loosed his arms from the cords.

As soon as he was free, he passed his cousin and Hugh de Monthermer, as

if to cut straight across the lists; but when he had taken two or three

steps, he turned and shook his clenched fist at them, crying, "Curses

upon ye both!--but the time for vengeance may yet come!--I have not

done with you!"

Even while he spoke there was a little movement amongst the crowd

beyond the barriers; and as he turned again to pursue his way, a loud,

clear, powerful voice, which was heard echoing over the whole field,

exclaimed, in the English tongue, "This for the heart of the murderous

traitor, Richard de Ashby!--Whom kings spare, commons send to

judgment!"

None saw the man from whom the voice proceeded; but, the moment after,

there came a sharp sound, like the twang of bowstring, the whistle of a

shaft through the air, and then a dull stroke, such as an arrow makes

when it hits a target.

A shrill scream, like that of a wounded seabird, burst from the lips of

Richard de Ashby, and casting up his arms in the air, as if in the

effort to clutch at something for support, he fell back upon the grass.

Several persons ran up; but he was dead! The arrow had gone through and

through his heart; and between the peacock feathers, that winged it on

its way, was found written, "Robin Hood."

Almost at the same moment a tall, stout yeoman was seen to mount a

white horse, at the other side of the lists, and ride away from the

field. He proceeded, at no very quick pace, and, as he went, he hummed

lightly to some old, long-forgotten air,

"And this is the end of Robin Lythe

And his knave Gandelyne."

THE END.