The House of Walderne Part 29

"Poor lad! What has brought thee here again?"

"The desire to do my Master's will, and to preach the gospel to my kindred. For if Christ shall make them free, then shall they be free indeed."

"Hast thou heard of thy mother?"

"That she was dead. The message came through Michelham."

"I remember an outlaw came here one day and sought me. He bade me send word to the boy we had (he said) stolen from them, that his mother was no more. We did so; but who was thy mother by birth?"

"I know not."

"But I know."

"Tell me, father."

"It is a sad story."

"Let me hear it."

"Not yet. Go forth tomorrow. Seek thy kindred, and if thou livest thou shalt know. Tell me, what is thine age?"

"I have seen twenty years."

"When thou hast attained thy twenty-first birthday, I may reveal this secret--not before. Until then my lips are sealed; such was the will of thy father."

"Shall I find the outlaws easily?"

"I know not; they have been much reduced both in numbers and in power, and give small trouble now to the n.o.bles and men of high degree. Many have been hanged."

"Does Grimbeard yet live?"

"I know not."

"Father, I start on my search tomorrow; give me thy blessing and pray for me."

Martin could not sleep. He stood long at the window of his cell in a dreamy reverie. The story of the last Thane of Michelham, as related in the Andredsweald, had often been told around the camp fires, and although he was only in his thirteenth year when he left them, it was all distinctly imprinted in his memory. Oh! how strange it seemed to him to be there on the spot, which but for the conquest of two centuries agone would perhaps have still been the home of his race! But he did not indulge in sentimental sorrow. He believed in the Fatherhood of G.o.d, and that all things work for good to them that love Him.

What a dawn it was! A reddening of the eastern sky; a low band of crimson; then rays like an aurora shooting upwards into the mid heavens; then such tints of transparent opal and heavenly azure overspread the skies all around, that Martin drank in the beauty with all his soul, and almost wept for joy, as he thought it a foretaste of the new heavens and the new earth, wherein he hoped to dwell, and whereon his heart was already surely fixed. And as he gazed upon the distant woods, wherein dwelt the kindred he came to seek, he prayed in the words of an old antiphon:

"O Day Spring, brightness of the Eternal Light and Sun of Righteousness, come and lighten those that sit in darkness, and in the shadow of death."

Chapter 17: The Castle Of Fievrault.

It was the province of Auvergne in France. Through the forest, deep and gloomy, rode our Hubert and his squire, with the six men-at-arms, a few days after their departure from England. They had gained the soil of France, and had found the town in Auvergne which bore the name of the De Fievrault family, and early in the following morning they started for the old chateau, which they were forewarned they would find in ruins, to seek the fated sword.

It was added that the place was haunted, and that they would do well to return before nightfall.

The road which led thither was evidently but seldom trodden. It abounded in sunken ruts, wherein lurked the adder. It led by sullen pools, where the bittern boomed and the pike swam, his silver side glittering like a streak of light beneath the dark surface, as he sought his finny prey. Now it was marshy and muddy, now it was tangled with thorns, now impeded by fallen trees. So thick was the verdure that the sky could not often be seen.

"I should be sorry, Almeric," said the young knight to his squire, "to traverse this route by night. Yet unless we make better use of our legs it will happen to us to have the choice either of encountering the wolves of the forest or the phantoms of the castle."

"Are not those the towers?" said the young squire, pointing to some extinguisher-like turrets which just then came in sight.

"Verily they be, and if we make haste we may reach them by noontide."

But between them and the object of their journey lay a deep fosse or moat, and the rusty drawbridge was suspended by its chains to the walls of the towers.

"Blow thine horn, Almeric."

It was long blown in vain, but at length an old man in squalid attire, with long dishevelled gray locks and matted beard, appeared at the window of the watch tower above.

"Whom seek ye here, in the haunted Castle of Fievrault?"

"The sword of its last lord, that I may bear it to the Holy Land in his name, and lay it on the Holy Sepulchre of our Lord."

"Thou art the man the fates foretell. Lo, I will let down the bridge, and thou mayst enter."

"What a squalid old man! Can he be the sole inhabitant?" said Almeric in a whisper.

The rusty machinery creaked, the bridge sank into its appointed place, and at the same moment the portcullis was heard to wind up with a grating sound. The little troop entered the courtyard through the gateway in the tower.

A ruined castle! the dismantled towers rose around them with the great hall, the windows broken, the cas.e.m.e.nt shattered. Ivy grew around the fragments, and embracing them, veiled their squalidness with its green robe, making that picturesque which anon was hideous. But company gives confidence, and our little troop rode, laughing and talking, into the haunted Castle of Fievrault.

"I have no food," said the old man.

"We need none; we have brought both meat and wine. Wilt thou share it? Thou look'st as if a good meal might do thee good."

"I have eaten my frugal meal already, and desire none of your cates and dainties. Lo, I am ready to conduct you to the hall where hangs the sword of the man whom thy father slew one Friday long ago, and it will be well for thee but to tarry while thou takest it and then depart."

"We will eat our nuncheon, with your leave, in the castle hall."

"I cannot say you nay."

He took them to the half-dismantled dining hall, where hung the portraits of the old lords of Fievrault rudely limned, and conspicuous amongst them those of the founder of the house, and his loathly lady; the painter had not flattered them.

There hung several swords, rusty with age and disuse, two-handed weapons which it required a giant strength to wield; huge battle-axes, maces, clubs tipped with iron spikes, ancient suits of armour, rusty and unsightly, as old clothing of that sort is apt to become after the lapse of years. There was no vacant hook now, for at the end of the row hung the sword of the ill-fated Sieur de Fievrault, the last of his grim race.

The Englishmen gazed upon the portraits, which they regarded with insular irreverence (what were French knights and dames to them?), then without awe spread the contents of their wallets on the board, and feasted in serenity and ease.

When it was over the wine produced its usual exhilarating effect.

Song and romaunt were sung until the shadows began to turn towards the east and the hues of approaching evening to suffuse the shades of the adjacent wilderness. Then the old servitor came up to Hubert:

"It is time, my lord, to take the sword thou hast come to seek, and to go, unless thou wishest to be benighted in the forest."

"My lord," said Almeric, "we have come abroad in quest of adventures, and as yet found none to relate around the winter fireside when we get home again; and it is the humble pet.i.tion of your poor squire and men-at-arms that we may remain in the castle this night and see what stuff the phantoms are made of, if phantoms there be."