"Here"s mettle anyhow! I little thought there was so much spirit behind that pretty face. All the better however, for milk and water is no good even in a wench. Here goes for another embrace, my bantam!" So saying, he seized her with his mailed hands, and wrested the dagger from her, pitching it across the church. Then he literally tucked her under his arm, all the while roaring with laughter at her frantic but ineffectual efforts to release herself, and away he marched down the aisle of the church. I seized his arm, and was imploring him to have pity, when he called to a rough-looking soldier. "Here, fellow, run this shaveling priest through with thy sword, quick!" I gave myself up for a dead man, for I felt that I could not let him carry off Ethel, when suddenly there was a hush of voices, and looking round I beheld a Norman lady, of majestic port and bearing, pressing forward towards us, whilst close behind her there followed a score of armed men. I perceived at once that she was a lady of rank by her rich apparel and jewelled head-dress. She was also of surpa.s.sing loveliness and commanding figure. As she beheld the brutal Norman, I saw the fire flash in her rich dark eyes, as with quick step she marched boldly up to him and accosted him in words almost of fire. "I think this is another evidence, Baron, of your base and unchivalrous regard for the distressed of my s.e.x, by the brutal way in which you are treating this helpless Saxon lady! You afford me ample opportunities of testing your gallantry, and better opportunities, too, than listening to your false and honeyed words, which you are pleased to pour into my ears."
"These are but Saxon varlets, Alice; and Saxon varlets, whether male or female, are not fitting objects of chivalry to a Norman knight."
"Chivalry is for the oppressed and weak of any nation. So be pleased to release this lady, and cease harrying these holy and unresisting men."
"Take care what you are at, madame!" savagely hissed the Baron, between his teeth, "or your meddlesome interference with business which does not concern you will be at your peril. Mark that, _ma grande dame_!"
"Let go the arm of this lady, I say, and leave this sanctuary at once, or I shall report your conduct to the Count forthwith."
"Tell the Count, madame, if he dare, to look in the wolf"s mouth and count his teeth, and he"ll not do it twice, you may mark that!"
He let go of Ethel, however, and, muttering savagely many fierce oaths, he strode out of the church, followed very reluctantly by his men.
"Jules Reynard," said the lady, addressing the leader of her men, "do your best to protect this holy place, and the lives of these monks."
Jules Reynard acquiesced by a low obeisance. "Lady," she said, addressing Ethel, "I grieve very much at the rude treatment and mishandling you have been subjected to at the hands of these savage men.
If you like to accept my protection, I think I can protect you from further annoyance and insult."
"I thank you, madame," said Ethel, "but this cannot be. Your people have burnt my home, basely slaughtered my father and my brother, and I prefer, whether living or dying, to company with my own people."
The Norman lady heaved a deep sigh. "Alas! I daresay it is but too true, and I can well understand your feelings; but I will strive to be a sister to you, if you will come with me."
"Say no more, lady; this cannot be."
"Well, then, we must part. But, mark me--though it is hard to say it of one"s people--look for no compa.s.sion at the hands of my people, and beware especially of him from whom you have just escaped, for "his tender mercies are cruel.""
"I look for no compa.s.sion at the hands of the Normans, nor will I seek it or suffer it. The hands that are red with my kinsmen"s blood, cannot be grasped in amity by me. There is a deep and b.l.o.o.d.y barrier betwixt me and thee, which a lifetime cannot erase," said Ethel bitterly.
"Alas! alas! Nevertheless, adieu, lady; we may meet again. If I can befriend you in any way, how gladly will I do it, to the very utmost of my power!" With that she hastily left the chapel--as I learnt afterwards, to try and stay as much as possible the fierce bloodshed and rapine of the soldiery. But it is needless to say her efforts were to little purpose, for though she managed to have them cleared out of the sanctuary, ere long they were back again, and, like greedy hawks, they pounced upon everything, no matter how sacred the purpose to which articles of value were devoted. They carried off the silver table of the high altar, the silver cups, dalmatics, censers of silver; in fact, everything ornamented with silver or gold. Speedily the whole of our possessions were at their mercy, excepting the things I had secreted as aforesaid. To complete this sad day"s work, when nothing more of value could be had, they turned their attention to our cellarer"s store of wines and ale, and the rest of the day, and the night also, was spent in drunkenness and carousing. The whole of the night was spent by the monks in prayer and fasting, whilst for the most part our refugees were glad to escape to the woods, being thankful if only they could do so with their lives. A sad day"s work this for the sanctuary which had taken generations to bring it to its high state of usefulness and piety!
CHAPTER VII.
ALICE DE MONTFORT.
"And thus I clothe my naked villainy With old odd ends, stol"n out of holy writ, And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
Shakespeare.
My readers, I am sure, will pardon me for pa.s.sing over the bitter sufferings and humiliation I and the members of our Order had to endure, and the still more harrowing cruelties and bloodshed heaped upon the common people, who, despite the Earl"s advice, still clung to their homes and their patches of land.
We therefore proceed to follow the fortunes of certain characters who are the central figures in our history. In reality the history of our time was made by the important actors, the common people playing a very ign.o.ble part, and being little better than chattels and instruments of the leaders" wills.
The Normans overran the adjacent country like a flood let loose, leaving desolation behind them. Indeed, if the Saxons had not fled before, and secreted themselves, their wives, their children, and their cattle, there would have been nothing but annihilation and utter extermination.
The main body of the Normans swarmed forwards like locusts as soon as they had devastated one part. But the castle of the youthful Ealdorman Oswald could not be taken without siege operations. Its splendid situation and rich lands attracted the cupidity of the De Montfort already mentioned, and he sat down before it with the determination to take possession of it and the splendid domain belonging thereto.
Carefully De Montfort reconnoitred the castle from all points, and though it had no pretension to invulnerability, yet it was plain to him that some days must elapse before he would be sufficiently prepared to venture an a.s.sault upon it.
In the meantime, however, he despatched heralds to summon Oswald to surrender. The Saxon paced the walls, clad in complete armour, and in person directed the labours of the housecarles who laboured at strengthening and repairing the fortifications; whilst a score or so of his choicest bowmen, with well-stocked quivers, were set apart for the defence of those who toiled.
The heralds, three in number, rode up to the walls, and, after blowing a blast from their bugles, they accosted Oswald thus:--
"What ho, there, Saxon!"
To which Oswald responded,--
"What ho, there! What message have ye from your master?--I perceive ye are messengers."
"Our master, the valiant Count de Montfort, of great renown and valour, giveth thee summons to deliver up to him, within the s.p.a.ce of twenty-four hours, without let or hindrance, this castle, with the appurtenances thereof."
"What conditions doth your master tender if we yield to his wishes, and without resistance obey his summons?"
"De Montfort hath given us this message: "Yield thee forthwith without conditions, and trust to our clemency." Defiance of our summons is torture and death."
"Tell your master that we have too many ill.u.s.trations of his clemency, and that of Norman tyrants generally, to put any trust or reliance in his word. If he would fain have possession of this castle, tell him he must first take it, for we put no faith in his professions of clemency; and that we defy him and his myrmidons to wrest this castle from us."
These were brave words, and intended to inspire his own followers; but no one knew better than he where victory must inevitably rest. Many times had he told over the number of the Norman tents pitched little more than a bowshot away. With sinking heart he had noted the ma.s.ses of archers and men-at-arms who swarmed around the camp by day. In the stillness of night he had crept within earshot of wary sentinels in company of Wulfhere the freeman, in the hope that some chance, or some overweening confidence on the part of the enemy, might afford the opportunity for some desperate deed of valour. But de Montfort was far too wise and experienced a soldier to permit negligence or over-confidence to prevail. The pickets at all points were thickly posted and kept on the alert by patrols.
The tents of the Count de Montfort and his daughter, Lady Alice de Montfort, were pitched on a knoll in the centre of the encampment, which was sufficiently elevated to overlook every other tent and beyond them on every side. The tents of the maids and personal attendants were situated to the rear, and were intercommunicable by a covered way. The entrance to Lady Alice"s tent was hung with richly embroidered curtains, whilst costly figured velvet carpets from the looms of Rouen were spread over the soft carpet of nature. As already stated, Lady Alice had been affianced to Baron Vigneau by her father, for the most ign.o.ble reason of policy and personal ambition, Alice"s wishes or preferences not being consulted in the least. But a union more abhorrent to her feelings could not possibly be imagined.
Indeed, to one much less refined and gentle than Alice, this union would have been most distasteful. Vigneau was at once drunken, licentious, and boorish, his habits being such as befitted the company of the besotted and brutal troopers whom he led, rather than that of one of the gentlest ladies of Normandy. True, he had won for himself a large measure of fame on the battle-field, and in the lists at tournaments. He had undoubtedly a large measure of reckless valour, and enormous physical strength; but he was utterly dest.i.tute of that chivalry and knightly courtesy which was reckoned only second to personal prowess. His chief recommendation in De Montfort"s eyes was that he commanded a "free company" of mercenaries as reckless and blood-thirsty as himself. De Montfort cherished a lofty ambition: he aspired to, and in fact held, an exalted position in the estimation of William; and this he well knew was due in great part to the number of lances in his retinue, and the men-at-arms who followed his standard.
Need we say that Alice scorned this hateful yoke; for the warm current of romance which ran in her southern blood demanded a n.o.bler and courtlier knight than Vigneau as the object of her love. Through a vista in the n.o.ble line of beeches and oaks which studded the park she had a full view of the castle and its defenders, and she shuddered as she contemplated the impending carnage and bloodshed which hovered over the camp and the castle alike. Thus, often as she sat in her tent did she watch the mailed Saxon chief, as he paced his walls and directed the housecarles as they laboured at the fortifications--far too often, indeed, for her peace of mind; for the contrast between Oswald"s mien and Vigneau"s was most glaring. Then the fact that Oswald was fighting against fearful odds, and for dear life, awoke the keenest interest in him, whilst the stories current in the camp of his prowess threw around him a glamour most piquant.
Often Alice would turn to her favourite maid and confidante, Jeannette, for confirmation of her thoughts.
"Methinks he is a comely knight, this Saxon, and valiant withal.
Jeannette, how sayest thou? is it not so?"
"He is a comely knight, my lady, and brave too, the fighting men say."
"Didst thou notice, when he removed his visor to answer the Count"s summons, his handsome visage? "Twas, I thought, so like the statue of Mars in the old home in Normandy. The same curly locks; the same inflexible cast of features, as though ready to front a host. Didst thou notice this, Jeannette?"
"I marked it much, my lady."
"Yet, didst thou notice, there was a n.o.bility about the open brow which bespeaks a magnanimity which wondrously beseemeth brave men?"
"I noticed all this, my lady."
"Ah me, Jeannette, I read those old romances in my father"s hall, and listened to the stories of Christian knights and warriors told me by the good sisters of St. Justin"s, until I came to think that all knights and soldierly men must be brave to avenge the oppressed, and magnanimous to the fallen and the weak, scorning to wreak vengeance upon helpless men and women. I thought all brave men must be at least chivalrous to my s.e.x. I thought all brave men must be virtuous, too; for how could they be brave to conquer their enemies, and yet be the slaves of their own over-grown l.u.s.ts like this Baron Vigneau?"
"These are evil times, lady. I much fear me that nothing good thrives now; and the Baron may not be much worse than others, though I go in daily fear of him. His gloating eyes are ever upon me, and once he caught me in his arms. But let him beware! I carry that in my bosom will teach him a lesson he will not need to learn over again!" and she displayed the flashing blade of a small stiletto.
"Listen, Jeannette! I saw the Baron lay hold upon a young and beautiful lady, who had found shelter with the monks down at the abbey. I heard his lascivious, gloating words, and I looked into his greedy eyes, and his steely gaze made me shudder as though it were the gaze of a serpent.
I hate him, but I fear him beyond expression!"
"Hush, lady! Perhaps you will think better of him when these horrid times have pa.s.sed."