CHAPTER VII.

Upon the edge of the merry forest-land, on the side nearest to

Derbyshire, not far from the little river Lind, and surrounded at that

time by woods which joined the district on to Sherwood itself, there

rose, in the days I speak of, a Norman castle of considerable extent.

It had been built in the time of William Rufus--had been twice attacked

in the turbulent reign of Stephen--had been partly dismantled by order

of Henry II.--and had been restored under the dominion of the weak

tyrant John. Being not far from Nottingham, it was frequently visited

by noble and royal personages, and was often the scene of the splendid

and ostentatious hospitality of the old baronage of England.

It has now crumbled down, indeed, and departed; the ploughshare has

passed over most of its walls, and the voice of song and merriment

is heard in it no more. The lower part of one of the square

flanking-towers in the outer wall is all that remains of the once

magnificent castle of Lindwell; and a dingly copse, where many a

whirring pheasant rises before the sportsman, now covers the hall and

the lady's bower.

In the days of which I speak, however, it was in its greatest

splendour, having come into the possession of the Earl of Ashby by his

father's marriage, and being the favourite dwelling of the race. It was

situated upon a gentle eminence, and the great gate commanded a view

over some sixty or seventy acres of meadow land, lying between the

castle and the nearest point of the wood; and for the distance of

nearly three miles on the Sherwood side, though there was no cultivated

land--except, indeed, a few detached fields here and there--the ground

assumed more the aspect of a wild chase than a forest, with the thick

trees grouping together to the extent of an acre or two, and then

leaving wide spaces between, as pasture for the deer and other wild

animals, only broken by bushes and hawthorns.

This district was properly within the limits of Sherwood; but, as all

persons know, who are acquainted with the forest laws, certain

individuals frequently possessed private woods in the royal forest,

which was the case of the Earl of Ashby in his manor of Lindwell; and,

whether or not he had originally any legal right of chase therein, such

a privilege had been secured to the manor in the reign of John, by the

king's special grant and permission. His rights of vert and venison,

then, as they were called, extended over a wide distance around, and it

was reported that some disputes had arisen between himself and his

sovereign, whether he had not extended the exercise of those rights

somewhat beyond their legitimate bounds.

In the same merry month of May, however, of which we have just been

writing, and but one day after the occurrences took place which have

just occupied our attention, a gay party issued forth from the gates of

the castle, and took its way in the direction of Nottingham. We have

called it gay, and it was so altogether: gay in colouring, gay

in movement, gay in feeling. At the head of it appeared three

light-hearted young women, a lady and her two maids, all about the same

age, and none of them having as yet numbered twenty years. Their

clothing, was rich and glittering; and they were followed by a page,

possessing all the requisite qualities for his office in saucy boldness

and light self-confidence. Three or four yeomen came next, who, having

been left behind while their lord went with numerous attendants upon a

distant progress, had necessarily had all the love and the merriment of

the lower hall to themselves. The horses which bore the whole party

were fresh, proud, and spirited; and never, perhaps, was more

brightness of appearance and heart embodied in one group than in that

which took its way down from the castle gate and through the meadows

below; but we must pause, for a moment upon the fair leader of the

cavalcade, for she is worth a short description.

The Earl's daughter, Lucy de Ashby, wanted yet a few months of that

period when girlhood may be said to end and womanhood begin; where the

teens--which are so longingly looked for by the child--come to their

end, and the third ten of the allotted seven begins. Oh, how long do

the five tens that are to follow appear, when viewed from the brow of

the hill of youth! And yet the two that are gone contain the brightest

and the sweetest part of our apportioned time.

Lucy looked not older than her years, for she was small and delicately

formed; but yet there was the fulness of womanhood in every line. Her

face had not much colour, and yet it was not pale, but the whole hue

was warm and healthy, and fairer than that of the southern nations of

Europe, though still evidently the complexion of what is now called a

brunette. The brow, the nose, the lips, the chin, were all beautifully

cut; though the model was not Greek, for the forehead was wider and

higher, and there was a slight, a very slight wave in the line between

the brow and the nose. The eyebrows were dark, small, and long,

slightly depressed in the middle over the eye, but by no means either

arched or strongly defined, according to the eastern notions of beauty,

but, on the contrary, shaded softly off, so as only to show a definite

line to beholders when at a little distance. The eyes beneath them were

large and long, but with the deep black eyelashes, which she had

derived from her mother, shading them so completely, that the sparkling

of the dark iris was only clearly seen when she looked up.

That, however, was often the case; for in her gay liveliness, when she

had said some little thing to tease or to surprise, she would still

raise the "fringed curtain" of her eye to mark the effect it produced,

and to have her smile at anything like astonishment that appeared upon

the countenance of those who heard her.

The lip, too, was full of playfulness; for, indeed, sorrow had but sat

there once, and tears were very unfrequent in those dark, bright eyes.

There had been people seen, perhaps, more beautiful in mere feature,

but few more beautiful in expression, and certainly none ever more

captivating in grace of movement and in variety of countenance. Her

dress was full of gay and shining colours, but yet so well assorted, so

harmonious in their contrast, that the effect could not be called

gaudy.

The same was not the case with her two women, who, with the pleasant

familiarity of those times, were chattering lightly to their mistress

as they rode along, upon the ordinary subject of women's thoughts in

all ages--alas! I mean dress. There was, on the contrary, a good deal

of gaudiness about their apparel, and their taste did not appear to be

of the most refined kind.

"Nay, dear lady," said one of them, "I would have put on the robe of

arms when I was going to Nottingham to wait for my father. It does look

so magnificent, with the escutcheon of pretence for Minorca just on

your breast, the silver field on one side, and the azure field on the

other, and the beautiful wyverns all in gold."

"I cannot bear it, silly girl," replied the lady; "to hear you talk

about wearing the fields, one would suppose that I was a piece of

arable land; and as to coats of arms, Judith, I like not this new

custom; women have nothing to do with coats of arms. I put it on once

to please my brother, but I will never wear it again, so he may cut the

skirt off and use it himself next time he goes to a tournament."

"Dear, now, lady, how you jest," replied the girl; "he could never get

it on; why, Lord Alured's thigh is thicker than your waist; and I do

declare I think it much handsomer than that azure and gold you are so

fond of. I would not wear that, at all events."

"And pray, why not?" demanded Lucy de Ashby, with some surprise; "they

are the two colours that divide the universe, girl--azure the colour

for heaven, gold the only colour for this earth; so between the two I

should have all mankind on my side. Why would you not wear them?"

"Because they are the colours of the Monthermers," replied the girl;

"and they are old enemies of your house."

"But they are friends now," rejoined Lucy, into whose cheek, to say

truth, the blood had come up somewhat warmly. She ventured to say

nothing more for a minute or two, and when she did speak again, changed

the subject.

The conversation soon resumed its liveliness, however; and thus they

rode on, talking of many things, and laughing gaily as they talked,

while the yeomen who were behind amused themselves in the same manner.

After about half a mile's ride, they approached nearer to the banks of

the little stream, which being every here and there decorated with

bushes and tall trees that hung over the water, was sometimes seen

glancing through a meadow, and then again lost amongst the thick

foliage.

Just as they were entering a closer part of the woodland, and leaving

the stream on their right, one of the yeomen exclaimed, "By----!" using

an oath of too blasphemous a kind to be even written down in the

present age, but which in those days would have been uttered in the

court of the king, "By----there is somebody netting the stream. Quick,

Jacob, quick! come after them. You, Bill, go round the wood, and catch

them on the other side. See, they're running that way--they're running

that way!" and setting spurs to their horses, the whole of Lucy's male

attendants, with the exception of the page, galloped off as fast as

ever they could, shouting and whooping as if they had been in pursuit

of some beast of the chase.

Lucy de Ashby paused for a moment, and called to the page, who was the

last to leave her, not to go; but the spur had been already given to

his horse, and the boy became seized with a sudden deafness which

prevented him from hearing a word that the lady uttered. Lucy gazed

after them with a thoughtful look for an instant, then laughed, and

said--"'Tis a droll fancy that men have to run after everything that

flies them."

"Ay, and dogs as well as men," added one of the girls.

"And women as well as both," answered Lucy. "I have more than three

quarters of a mind to go myself; but I will not, girls; and so, to be

out of the way of temptation, we will ride slowly on."

Thus saying, she shook her rein, and keeping her horse to a walk,

followed the road before her into the thicker part of the wood, leaving

her truant attendants to come after as they might.

In about a quarter of an hour the first of the men appeared at the spot

where they had left her, but he was by no means in the same plight as

when he last stood there. His clothes were dripping as well as his

hair; there were the marks of severe blows on his face; his smart

apparel was soiled and torn, and he was both disarmed and on foot. In

short, he looked very much like a man who had been heartily beaten and

dragged through a horse-pond. A loud hallo, which reached his ear from

the direction of the stream, seemed to visit him with no very pleasant

sensations, for he darted in at once amongst the bushes, and hid

himself as well as he could for a few minutes. At length, however, two

of his comrades appeared; but they seemed to have fared not much better

than himself, for though they had preserved their horses, both were in

terrible disarray, and had returned from the fray evidently with broken

heads.

"Where is Bill?" said one to the other as they came up; "I saw him

running this way."

"Poor devil, he got it!" replied his comrade.

"And you got it, too, I think," cried the one who had first appeared,

now coming out from amongst the bushes. "Why, I never saw or heard

anything like that blow of the staff across your shoulders, Jacob. You

echoed like an empty cask under a cooper's hammer."

"Ay, Bill," said the man to whom he spoke, "and when the man bestowed

upon you the buffet in the eye, and knocked you down, what a squelch

was there! Why, it was for all the world as when the scullion, bringing

in the kitchen dinner, let the apple pudding fall, and it burst itself

upon the pavement."

"I will be even with him," said the man called Bill; "but where's the

page and Walter?"

"They galloped off to the castle as they could," answered the third,

"and your horse along with them, so you must go back too, and we must

ride after the lady as fast as we can go."

"Pretty figures you are to follow her into Nottingham," rejoined Bill;

"and what will my lord say when he finds that we four and the page were

beaten by five men on foot?"

"There were more than five," replied the other, "I am sure."

"I thought I saw some in the bushes," added the third.

"Come, come," exclaimed Bill, "there were only five, I was disabled by

being knocked into the river, otherwise I would have shewn them a

different affair."

"I dare say you'd have done wonders," answered the other, with a sneer;

"but we must get on, so you go back to the castle as fast as you can."

"Pr'ythee see me beyond those trees," said the yeoman on foot; "if

those fellows are hiding there, they may murder me!"

"We have no time--we have no time!" replied one of the horsemen--"Go

along with you! If you hadn't been in the stream, you would have

thrashed them all; so thrash them now, good Bill;" and thus saying, the

two rode on, for certainly there is no human infirmity, though it is a

very contagious one, which meets with such little sympathy as fear.

Onward, then, they went at a quick pace, hoping to catch up their young

mistress before she reached Nottingham, but feeling a little ashamed

for having left her at all, and not a little ashamed at the result of

their expedition.

When they had gone about a couple of miles, however, without seeing

anything of Lucy de Ashby, the one looked round to his comrade, and

said, "It is odd we haven't come up with her--she must have ridden

fast."

"Oh, it is just like her," replied the other, "she has galloped on just

to tease us, and punish us a little for having left her in the wood. I

would wager a besant that she does not draw a rein till she gets to

Nottingham."

"Ay, but the best of it is," rejoined his companion, "that we shall

hear no more of it than just, 'Jacob, you should not have quitted me;

you should have let the stream take care of itself,' instead of twenty

great blustering oaths, such as Lord Alured would have given us. Then

it will be all fair weather again in a minute."

"Ay, she is very kind!" said the other yeoman, "and when anything does

go wrong, she knows that one did not do it on purpose."

With such conversation, and with praises of their sweet lady, which one

may be sure were well deserved, as no ear was there to hear, no tongue

to report them, the yeomen rode on; but the one called Jacob did so, it

must be confessed, uneasily. His eyes, as he went, were bent down upon

the ground, which in that part was soft, searching for the traces of

horses' feet, but though he gazed eagerly, he could perceive none,

till, at length, they reached the gates of Nottingham, and entering the

city, proceeded at once to what was called the lodging of the Lord

Ashby. It was, in fact, a large, though low-built house, shut from the

street by a court-yard and a high embattled wall. The gates were open,

and all the bustle and activity were apparent about the doors, which

attended in those days the arrival of a large retinue. There were

servants hurrying hither and thither, horse-boys and grooms slackening

girths, and taking off saddles, servers and pantlers unpacking baskets

and bags, and boys and beggars looking on.

"What, is my lord arrived?" cried one of the men who had followed Lucy,

springing from his horse; "we did not expect him till to-night, or

to-morrow morning."

"He will be here in half an hour," replied the horse-boy, to whom he

addressed himself; "we rode on before."

"What tidings of my young lady?" said a server, walking up; "we thought

we should find her here to meet the Earl."

"Is she not arrived?" cried the yeoman who had remained on horseback,

in a tone of dismay; "she came on before us--we fancied she was here!"

The one who had dismounted sprang into the saddle again,

exclaiming--"This is some infernal plot!"

The story was soon told, and the whole household of the Lord of Ashby,

or at least such a part of it as was then in Nottingham, was thrown

into a state of confusion indescribable. In the midst of this, some ten

or twelve men mounted their horses, though every beast was tired with a

long day's journey, and set out to seek for the fair lady who was

missing, beating the forest paths in every direction. But not the

slightest trace of her could they find; and, after a two hours' search,

were coming home again, when, having made a round on the Southwell

side, they met the party of the Earl himself, riding slowly on towards

Nottingham.

He was accompanied by only four or five attendants, but had with him

his son Alured and Hugh de Monthermer, the other Earl having remained

behind at Pontefract to settle some business of importance there. It

may be easily conceived what indignation and surprise the tidings,

brought by the servants, spread amongst the party they thus met. Lord

Alured chafed like an angry tiger, and the old lord vowed every kind of

vengeance. Hugh de Monthermer's lip quivered, but all he said was,

"This is horrible indeed, my lord, that your lordship's daughter cannot

ride from Lindwell to Nottingham in safety! What can we do?"

"We!" cried Alured de Ashby. "Hugh of Monthermer, you have little

enough to do with it, methinks! What I shall do, will be to cut off the

ears of the scoundrels that left their lady on any account, when they

were following her to Nottingham."

"My lord of Ashby," said Hugh de Monthermer, addressing the Earl, "I

merely used the word _we_, because, as a gentleman, and your friend, I

take as deep an interest in the affair as any one. I and my men are at

your command to seek for this lady instantly; and we will strive to do

you as good service in the search as the best of your own people, if

you will permit us."

"Certainly--certainly, my good lord!" replied the Earl--"Alured, you

are rash and intemperate.--Three hours ago, they say, this happened.

Should they have taken to the forest, they cannot have gone very far,

if they have followed the horse-paths; and were one of us to go back to

the second road to the left, where there stands a meer[1], he must, by

beating up those lanes, either come upon the party themselves or find

the horses, if they have turned them loose, and taken to the footways."

---------------

[Footnote 1: One of the posts, or marks, by which the limits of the

forest were distinguished.]

---------------

"They have not gone into the forest," cried Alured de Ashby; "depend

upon it, these are some of the king's people, or the bishop's. Better

far let us scour the more open country along the banks of Trent. You

will soon hear at the bridges whether such persons have passed that

way."

"Stand out, Jacob," said the Earl; "you were one of the fools that were

misled. What like were these men who lured you from your lady?"

"I think they were men at arms disguised," answered the servant, in a

sorrowful and timid tone; "for so well practised were they at their

weapons, that they beat us all in the twinkling of an eye; besides,

when I struck one of them, I heard something clatter underneath, like

armour. The net, too, did not look like a real net."

"It is very clear, the whole was a trick," said the Earl. "I doubt not

you are right, Alured, but still we had better spread out, and scour

the whole country across. You, with part of the men, take the banks of

the Trent--I, with others, will skirt the borders of the forest from

Nottingham to Lindwell--and our young friend here, with his own two

servants and two of ours, will, perhaps, examine the forest itself from

the second turning on the road to Southwell, as far as he may judge it

likely, from the time which has elapsed, that these gentry could have

advanced. I will send people to meet him when I reach Lindwell, who

will tell him what success we have had, and give him aid and

assistance."

Alured de Ashby seemed not over well pleased at the arrangement, for

his brows still continued heavy, his cheek flushed, and his proud lip

quivering; but he made no objection, and after a few words more, the

party separated upon the different tracks they proposed to follow,

having still three or four hours of daylight before them.

Alured rode on, with his fiery temper chafing at the insult which had

been offered to his family, and but the more irritable and impatient

because he had no one on whom to vent his anger.

His father pursued his course more slowly, and with very different

thoughts. Wrath in the bosom of the son swallowed up every sensation;

but the loss of a child, which he had treated but lightly in the case

of the innkeeper, now filled the Earl's breast with deep anxiety and

apprehension, though certainly poor Greenly had more cause for

agonizing fear and sorrow than the proud noble.

It is a curious fact, however, and one which gives a strange indication

of the lawless state of the times, that no one imagined the absence of

Lucy de Ashby could proceed from any ordinary accident.