CHAPTER VII. HOW THE COCKEREL SHOWED FIGHT.

The days passed rapidly by after Ralph Lisle had become part of the retinue of the Captain of the Wight. Each day brought its busy round of occupation. There was the early practice, before the morning meal, at throwing the bar, running at the quintain, and leaping over the wooden horse. Every exercise was directed to bringing fully into play all the muscles of the body, and especially such as were most needed in the handling of the lance, and the management of the war horse. After the morning meal, at which the pages had their table apart in the hall of the Lord Woodville's apartments, which at that period were very much in the same position as the Governor's lodgings were at a later time, when added to and repaired by Sir George Carey, those pages who were not on duty went through a course of "grammar and rhetoric," under the instruction of Sir Simon Halbard, the chaplain of St Nicholas within the walls. The whole garrison, or at least such part of it as could be spared from their duties, always attended mass every morning, for the Lord Woodville was a strict disciplinarian, and enforced the precept of the Church with the rigid punctuality of a Grand-Master of the Temple.

The "book-learning," as the pages called it, occupied about three hours, and then preparations were made for the mid-day meal, the most important of all the meals of the day. This repast was served in much state, all the pages being required to attend to carve and hand the dishes, and pour out the wine for the Captain of the Wight and his guests, or the knights of his household. After those of highest rank were served, the pages sat down to their repast, presided over by the senior esquire.

The afternoons were spent either in attendance on their lord, or in private amusements and exercises of their own. No one of the pages was allowed out of the precincts of the castle without Sir John Trenchard's leave, but this was usually very easily obtained.

So passed the days in healthy exercise and wholesome occupation. There had been many little bickerings, and even personal struggles between the pages, but, boy-like, they had been brief, and, on the whole, the life was very pleasant. Ralph had ridden over with Maurice Woodville to pay his relatives a visit at Briddlesford. They had met his fair cousin, who was riding out to fly her hawk; and as they accompanied her to a high hill, whence a lovely view was obtained all over the Solent and far inland from the New Forest and Beaulieu on the left to Chichester and even the hills above Arundel on the right, they were surprised to meet one of the Breton, or French Knights, as they called them, riding out there, quite unattended.

There had been much talk about the business of these Bretons with the Captain of the Island. Merchant ships, bringing salt and other commodities to Newport from Nantes and St Malo, had reported how unsettled was the state of Brittany, how the Duke of Orleans and the Prince of Orange, both nephews of the old Duke of Brittany, had fled to him, to his castle of Malestroit, and how the armies of the King of France, who was himself but a boy, but whose affairs were wonderfully managed by that very wise and puissant lady the Dame de Beaujeu, his sister, had entered the country, and how all would go to utter ruin, unless King Henry sent force of knights and men-at-arms to assist the Duke of Brittany and his fair young daughter the Duchess Anne. Such news was bruited abroad, and there was no young knight in England who did not burn with ardour to lay lance in rest for so great a princess, and against the hereditary foe of England. All men knew, therefore, that the Sire de Kervignac and the Vicomte de la Roche Guemené were come to solicit men-at-arms and archers, and there was not one of the garrison of Carisbroke Castle who did not heartily wish they might succeed, and perhaps no one wished it more than Master Eustace Bowerman.

After the customary courtesies had been exchanged, Mistress Yolande urged the two pages to fly their hawks at a heron, which was busily feeding on the rich weeds far out on the mud at the mouth of a creek called King's Quay. The boys, nothing loth, cast off their birds, and rode eagerly after them. But whether it were that the wood was too thick, or the country too rough, the lady did not follow them, while the knight stayed, as in duty bound, to escort her, and so the boys lost sight of them for the rest of the afternoon. And not only did they suffer this disappointment, but, what was almost worse, Ralph's falcon killed the bird, but fell with it so far out on the mud that it was impossible to get at it, although the boys did everything they could to urge their dogs to go on to the treacherous slime, and bring the quarry to land. The tide was quite low, and they had to give up all hopes of obtaining more sport. It was with much difficulty, and after long waiting, that they were able to get the falcon to fly back to fist, for it was taught not to leave its prey until some one came to take it. When at last they did recover the bird, the afternoon was too far advanced for them to return by Briddlesford to inquire after Mistress Yolande, and bid good-bye to Sir William de Lisle, which Ralph would dearly have liked to do; and he was, besides, in such a state of mud from having tried to recover the bird, that they thought it best to return to Carisbroke without being seen by any one. Riding home as fast as they could, they made a détour, to avoid passing through Newport, and reached the castle just before the gates were shut for the evening. When they got back, and related the events of the afternoon, they found Eustace Bowerman, who was already sulky enough at not having been asked by Ralph to accompany him instead of Maurice Woodville, in a towering temper.

"You blind moles," he growled, "why did ye not cleave to Mistress Lisle and that jackanapes of a Frenchman? What geese ye must have been, to have been shaken off like that. But I'll talk to that jackanapes anon, that I will. What does he mean by coming over here and sporting in our covers?" and Eustace Bowerman flung himself out of his chair, and went to the oriel window, which looked out into the courtyard of the castle.

"I' faith, Eustace, my Trojan, don't you call me a goose again," said Ralph good-humouredly, but with a determination in his tone.

"And prythee why not?" said Eustace, who was glad of anything to vent his ill-humour upon. "None but a goose would show the white feather as you did, riding away from that dandified Frenchman."

"I never showed the white feather yet," said Maurice hotly, "and if you say that I did, you lie in your throat."

Eustace was not in a humour to take things quietly. In a passion at these words of Maurice, he rushed across the room, and would have flung himself upon him, had not Ralph put out his foot, and tripped him up. He fell heavily to the ground, greeted by a roar of laughter from Dicky Cheke, who scented the battle from afar, and chuckled at the approaching crisis.

"Oh, cocks and pies, my swaggering imp, look you there! You've split your new trunk hose all down the leg. Fie, man, you're not fit to be seen; run away and get old Gammer Tibet to sew it up for you."

But Eustace rose in a more towering rage than ever. He turned upon Ralph, and struck at him with all his force. But Ralph had not been learning martial exercises for nothing, and although he was four years junior to Eustace Bowerman, yet in height and activity he was in no way his inferior, although his frame was not as well set, or his weight and strength as great as that of his assailant. With ease, therefore, he knocked down the blow that Eustace aimed at him, but refrained from replying by a blow in return.

"Bowerman, I don't want to fight," said Ralph quietly; "why get into a rage about nothing?"

"So you don't want to fight, eh? I thought not," sneered Eustace, who was in a very evil mood. "Then I want to thrash you, so you'd best take it quietly."

Ralph, seeing that there really was nothing else for it, although he was of a very peace-loving, happy disposition, stepped back, and awaited his antagonist's assault.

Bowerman, who saw how reluctant Ralph was to fight, mistook this backwardness for cowardice, utterly forgetting, or else wilfully misinterpreting, the brave action of the boy at Winchester.

He advanced upon him with a fierce scowl of concentrated hate, and aimed a blow right at Ralph's face; but the boy guarded it with his right arm, and at the same time with his left dealt his assailant a swift and well-planted blow full in his chest, causing him to stagger back and gasp for breath.

"Well done, Lisle!" cried Dicky Cheke, in an ecstasy of joy and excitement. "Do it again, my lusty lambkin; follow it up with one on his nose that'll spoil his beauty for some time."

"Why don't you give it those little bodikins?" stormed Eustace to his ally Willie Newenhall, as he prepared to attack Ralph again.

"Because he's afraid, the big booby," laughed Dicky derisively.

Bowerman, seeing that his antagonist was not to be despised, determined to close with him and overpower him by his superior weight. Stepping back therefore, to gather way for a rush, he was about to spring upon Ralph, when that boy, with the instinct of a general, anticipated him, darting forward to meet him, and pounding him with blows.

The delight of Dicky was a treat to behold. He danced, jumped, sang, whistled, and at last, forgetting everything in the wild madness of the moment, he flung himself upon Willie, and belaboured him right manfully. That stolid youth was looking on with a lack-lustre expression on his fat face, and marvelling to see how Ralph dared to stand up to Bowerman, whom he had always looked upon as invincible. He was roughly aroused from his stupid contemplation of the contest, by Dicky Cheke's unprovoked assault. When once aroused, however, his greater age and weight told heavily in his favour, and poor Dicky would have paid dearly for his temerity, by being crushed under the dead weight of "Pig's Eyes," as he called him, had not Maurice Woodville assailed him with vigour in the rear.

The uproar now waxed furious. Ralph, who had gained a decided advantage by becoming the assailant, was pounding his adversary with hearty alacrity, not without receiving, however, very severe blows in return. The two smaller boys had got Willie down, and were pummelling him with right good will, while he roared lustily to Bowerman to come and take "these little fiends off him."

In the midst of the confusion the door opened, and the Captain of the Wight appeared, attended by the other Breton knight, the Sire Alain de Kervignac.

So busy were the combatants, that none of them noticed the interruption, and for a second or two fierce blows were exchanged before any one was aware that there were spectators.

Dicky Cheke was the first to catch sight of the calm face of his lord, over which an amused expression flitted.

"Holy saints!" he gasped, suddenly stopping in the act of planting a well-directed blow in the prostrate Willie's eye, who was at the same moment pounding Maurice in the chest, "here's the Captain," and he sprang up, breathless and confused, hastily adjusting his disordered dress as best he could.

The others were equally startled, and for a second or two there was a very awkward pause.

"Well, young gentlemen, I see you have taken the lessons of the tilt-yard to heart; but I should wish you to remember that it better becomes you to tilt at the quintain, or even at each other, with lances, than grovel on the ground, and spoil your clothes in this unseemly brawl."

The youths all looked very much abashed, but Lord Woodville would not see that it was a real fight that was going on; he treated it as a mere trial of strength, and continued:--

"I have brought this noble Breton knight to see you, for he purposes, together with his right valiant companion in arms, the sire de la Roche Guemené, to hold a joust against all comers, and he fain would see if I cannot spare the stoutest of my pages to make a trial of arms before the ladies of our island. How like you this, my varlets?"

There was no need to ask. The flushed faces and bright eyes showed how welcome such news was; only the three younger boys looked a little crestfallen, for they knew they were too young to be allowed to tilt in the lists, even supposing the two others were so highly favoured.

"I see by your looks you like the news well. Master Bowerman and Master Newenhall, I hear from Sir John Trenchard that you are now of an age when you may make public trial of arms, I therefore appoint you my esquires, and give you permission to joust with spears on the first six courses, but not to take part in the tourney with swords." Then seeing the looks of disappointment in the faces of Ralph Lisle, and his two comrades, he added,--"And you, fair pages, must rest you content for another year, when you be grown older. And now, my masters, set your dress in order--contend no more; and do thou, Ralph Lisle, come hither with me." So saying, Lord Woodville left the room, followed by the Breton knight, and speedily joined by Ralph, who stayed a second to put his dress tidy.

"My page," said Lord Woodville to Ralph, as soon as he had come up with them, "take this missive to the hermit who dwells on St Catherine's hill. Thou knowest the way--'tis where thou wentest hunting with me last week. Take the best horse out of my stable, and ride like the wind; wait for an answer, and bring me back word right quickly. I have chosen thee for thy good riding, and fealty to me. Talk to no man, but do my bidding straightway."

Ralph was delighted at this mark of confidence. He took the note, and turned away to go to the stables. As he was going out of the door of the hall, he heard Lord Woodville say,--

"I marvel where sire Amand de la Roche Guemené hath gotten to? I have not seen him all day."

Ralph paused.

"My lord, I saw him this afternoon. He met us with Mistress Lisle, and we left them together when we flew our hawks."

"Marry you did!" said the Captain of the Wight, glancing at his companion; and adding, in a voice not intended for Ralph's ear,--"Fair knight, we shall have to take care that thy gentle companion doth not spoil our island of its comeliest damoiselle."

As Ralph rode across the courtyard, he met Humphrey, who was astonished to see his young master riding forth so late, for the sun was just setting, and the gates were shut for the night; but Ralph with great pride told him, he was riding forth in all haste on the business of the Captain, and the worthy varlet shared in his young master's importance.

At the sight of the pass given to Ralph by Sir John Trenchard, the captain of the guard ordered the gates to open, and the heavy rattle of the chains showed that the drawbridge was being let down, and in another moment Ralph rode out into the glorious light of the after-glow which illumined all the sky to the west.

With a light heart he heard the heavy drawbridge creak up again, and, rejoicing in his freedom, he put spurs to his horse and rode fast over the hill, away towards the distant downs to the south. His horse was fresh, and, under Ralph's light weight, cantered swiftly along. He knew the way, or at least thought he did, and took no notice of objects; his mind was full of the approaching tilt, and his one idea was how he could obtain leave from Lord Woodville to let him splinter a lance. And so he cantered on in the ever-increasing gloom, not seeing how dim it was growing, or how damp a mist from the sea was drifting down the valley. The few roads that went through the island were bad in the most frequented parts, but in the cross tracks over the downs to the back of the island they were little more than muddy quagmires in wet weather, and ruts hard as rock in fine. Ralph galloped past Gatcombe, belonging to the Bremshotts, the last male of which family was then very old, and his lands were about to pass away to other names. Little did Ralph know that he was passing what once had belonged to his ancestors, and how that fair manor had come down, through three successive ladies, from the Fitz Stuar to the Lisles, and thence, in the female line, to the Bremshotts, whose daughters again would share it with the Dudleys and the Pakenhams. He breathed his horse up the steep slope that led past Chillerton Down, and as he descended on the further side, he first felt how damp was the night air, and noticed how difficult it was to find his way. Mindful, however, of his lord's injunction to make all the speed he could, he urged his horse to a reckless pace, and it was not until he had ridden for another half-hour that he began to be anxious as to his whereabouts. The air seemed much keener than it had been, and there was a salt freshness in it, that ought to have told him he must be near the sea. Could he have mistaken his way? There was no building he could see anywhere, and the track had entirely ceased. Ralph got off his horse to examine the ground. He was on rough, coarse grass, with large stones cropping up here and there. This might be the slope of St Catherine's down, or it might be anywhere. Ralph mounted his horse again. The mist was dense, there was no star or light to be seen in any direction, nor was there any sound of human life. But there was a sound--what was it? Ralph could hear a dull roar, and seething, swishing sound. He could not tell what it was. He had never lived by the sea, or he would have known that it was the swell of the Channel rolling on the shore, and breaking in surf among the rocks of that dangerous coast. He spurred on his horse once more. But after a few strides the horse refused to go further, and backed and reared, as he had never done before. In vain Ralph struck his spurs into his flanks, and urged him or by word and rein. The horse only reared and snorted the more, and swung round on his hind legs, plunging in utterly uncontrolled rebellion.

Ralph could not make it out. Never since the animal had been given to him had he known him to be so unmanageable. Seeing how useless it was to press the horse any further, he ceased to try to subdue him to his will, trusting to get the mastery when he had quieted down.

As the horse stood still, his flanks quivering with excitement, Ralph noticed a smell of smoke: his senses had become keener since he had lost his way.

This smell of smoke caused him to feel more hopeful; where there was smoke there must be a fire, and probably a human habitation. He turned his head round to ascertain where the smell came from, and, as he sniffed the air in various directions, he came to the conclusion that it must be in front of him.

Once more he urged his horse forward, but the animal was as determined as ever not to go that way.

"What can it be?" thought Ralph, who was beginning to feel a little superstitious, as the tales of goblins and spirits came back to his mind, suggested by the unaccountable noise, the mysterious smoke, and, above all, the remarkable stubbornness of his horse, usually so docile and manageable.

For the third time he stuck his spurs against his horse's sides, encouraging him by his voice at the same time, but with the same result--not one step forward would the animal take.

"Young man, didst thou never hear of Balaam?" said a deep voice, proceeding, apparently, directly from under the horse's head, and in another moment a tall black figure rose out of the darkness, so close as almost to touch Ralph, who could not restrain a shudder of supernatural dread at the suddenness of the strange appearance.