CHAPTER XI. HOW JOYOUSLY LIFE GOETH.

The midday meal was spread in the large hall of the Captain's apartments. Sir William Lisle and his fair daughter had arrived. Gaily Yolande was chatting in the large, deep, bay window at the upper end of the hall, amid a group of young men, conspicuous among whom were the strongly-marked features, bullet head, and broad chest of Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené. Beside him, but topping him by some inches, although he was more than ten years his junior, stood the strong, active figure and boyish, honest face of Ralph Lisle, gazing at Yolande with rapturous admiration, but saying never a word, listening to all she said, and to all that was said to her, with simple enjoyment. No thought of selfish jealousy crossed his mind. All men must admire so lovely a girl--what harm in that? Did not he admire her too? would not he have willingly suffered anything for her? would not he be her dog to fetch and carry, do her slightest wish, be her devoted slave, and ask for nothing more than to be near her? No greater privilege could he have than to do her behests. The boy paid her the most absolute homage of his whole soul and body. It never occurred to him to ask for anything in return. He did not know he wanted anything more than to be allowed to be always near her, adore her, minister to her slightest whims. Whatever so lovely a being did, was sure to be right. To question the acts of so glorious a beauty, was like doubting divinity. Ralph was under the glamour of the most potent spell that ever worked on a pure and generous nature. To give utterly to the object of his worship, was to him the simplest thing. He would have given his last farthing to help a poor beggar; what would he not give to her, who was in his eyes the noblest, loveliest, purest thing in creation? Only would she want anything? There was the pain. What could he give her that she could need? Had she not everything?--homage, wealth, youth, beauty?

"And so, my fair cousin, I hear thou hast done right knightly this forenoon," said Yolande, addressing him at last, for after the first greeting he had stood aside to let the more vivacious and older Breton knights pay their respects to his cousin.

As Yolande spoke, she glanced at his large build, powerful chest, and tall figure, and then she let her eyes drop sideways on the smaller proportions of the Breton knight who stood beside him. She noticed the breadth of shoulders, bull neck, and length of arm of this latter, and thoughtfully said, without paying any attention to what Ralph blurted out,--

"And so, Sir Amand, you have proclaimed a joust. 'Twas well done of you; and all we poor damoiselles of the island owe you many thanks. But I fear me we have no knights now here will do us poor ladies justice. Alas that my stepbrother is not here!"

"Surely, fair lady, thou wilt let me be thy knight?" said the Breton gentleman. "I could not have a fairer queen for whom to lay lance in rest."

"Nay, fair sir, thou surely mockest. I have heard that the damoiselles of France are the loveliest in the world."

Yolande spoke dreamily; she still glanced sideways at her cousin, and then at the Breton knight.

"I wonder will the Captain tilt?" she asked absently, toying with a gold chain round her neck.

"Pardie, mademoiselle, I trust he will do us that honour: but it would be a marvellous gracious act."

Ralph was yearning to say something to his cousin, but he could not find the opportunity. While all were chatting gaily, waiting lor the Captain of the Wight, a varlet came up the hall and spoke a few words to Sir John Trenchard, who directly afterwards said in a loud voice,--

"The noble Captain is detained by some slight matter. He prayeth you all to forgive him, and in especial that the fair ladies will grant him their pardon; and desireth that we tarry no more for dinner. Master Gamelyn, bring in the covers."

The guests all sat down, and quickly the dishes were brought in. The Lord Abbot of Quarr was there; the Prior of Carisbrooke Priory, now belonging to the great Carthusian Monastery of Sheen; and the two Bailiffs of Newport, and their wives and daughters, who, however, sat at another table. The Chaplain of the castle said grace, and the dinner began.

Gracefully the pages handed and carved the dishes, assisted by the varlets and serving-men; but the absence of the noble host caused a slight depression.

Yolande, as the lady of highest birth there, was placed next the vacant chair of the Captain of the Wight, and on her left sat Sir Amand de la Roche Guemené; while on the other side of the empty chair sat Lady Trenchard, and on her right the other Breton noble. The remaining guests were placed, according to their degree, all down the long table.

The conversation turned upon the approaching tilt, and all were loud in their praises of the public spirit of the two foreigners.

The chief Bailiff of Newport, who sat opposite Sir Alain de Kervignac, was deploring the sad state of the island, saying how different it was fifty years ago, when he was a lad.

"Then, my lord, there were ten thousand fencible men, and above thirty knights and esquires. But within ten years after, the which ten thousand men were anentised through pestilence and wars, and some voided because of extortioners, that there were scarce twelve hundred of fencible men, and knights never one, and esquires no more but Harry Bruyn, esquire of His Majesty's household, that might labour about wars."

"Ay, Master Gander, thou sayest truth," said Sir John Trenchard. "But my Lord of York gave heed somewhat, although he was sorely let and hindered by reason of the grievous jealousies he was subject to, and being sent over to Ireland, could never do all he minded to; but we shall show these noble gentlemen fine sport yet, I'll warrant."

"Certes, Sir John," said the other Bailiff, "you are ever i' the right. But I mind me how Master John of Newport, who is but lately dead, I hear, so peeled and oppressed the townsfolk and fencible people of this island as to cause most part of the better sort to leave the isle. And then he, being discharged by the Duke of York for his misgovernance, with others of his sect, took to the sea, and sore threatened and jeopardised the king's people of the isle, so that there was not fifteen fencible people left, and no staff of men nor archers. Truly we were in parlous sad case."

"Marry, Master Farseye, doubtless it was as you say; but we are now full powerful and well stored. And there are, as you may see, looking round at this table, and down yonder hall, plenty of stout limbs and brave hearts that will give a sensible account of themselves and the enemy in time of need, even as well and manfully as they did in the time of King Richard the Second, when Sir Hugh Tyrell, that right valiant knight--on whose soul may God have mercy--cut off the Frenchmen and utterly routed them, in so much that the lane now called Deadman's Lane, and Neddie's Hill, were covered with the bodies of the slain."

"Ay, truly, 'twas so; but albeit 'twas a glorious battle, yet our fathers got not off scathless, for besides that Sir Theobald Russell was slain in a former attack, thirty-seven years before, Francheville and Yarmouth were burnt to the ground, and the French retired not afore they had levied a fine or ransom of 1000 marks, and our fathers had given pledges that they would submit to the Frenchmen for a whole twelve months."

"Not so bad as that, Master Farseye: they were only to submit if they should come over again," said Master Gander.

The Abbot of Quarr was engaged in pleasant converse with a buxom and jovial dame, the heiress of the old family of the Roucleys, who had come into the Manor of Brooke by marriage with the last of the Glamorgans, one of six ladies who inherited the estate from their brother Nicholas de Glamorgan, Lord of Brooke, the last male heir. This lady was Dame Joanna Bowerman, who was lately married to the eldest brother of Eustace Bowerman, and who, ten years afterwards, had the honour of entertaining King Henry VII. in her house of Brooke.

Ralph determined to have a few minutes' private talk with his kinsman the Abbot, and as he bent over him to hand him a dish of trout in jelly, a great luxury, he whispered,--

"An it please you, my Lord Abbot, may I have a word with you anon?"

"Surely, my son; there is naught amiss, I hope?"

"Nay, my lord; 'tis a matter of small import."

At this moment Lord Woodville entered the hall. All rose to do the Captain of the Wight honour. Craving pardon for his lack of courtesy, he prayed them to be seated, and then took his seat next Mistress Yolande, who greeted him with a radiant smile.

"My lord, I am right glad thou hast come. Sir Amand here hath used up all his pretty conceits, and very nearly his appetite."

"You amaze me, fair lady! Can a French gentleman fail in one or the other, and with such a theme as thy fair self to discourse of."

"Ay, truly, and with such a banquet as thy noble self hath provided. But, most puissant Captain, is it true that thou are going to break a lance in the approaching tilt?"

"Not that I know of, fair lady," said Lord Woodville coldly.

"But thou wilt an thou art asked?" said Yolande, fixing her soft blue eyes full upon his.

"Marry, fair lady, there are younger knights than me to ride courses for love of ladies. I am getting past the age for such pastimes."

"Now, nay! a thousand times, nay! Sir Amand, help me to gain our end!"

"Pardie, an so lovely a lady cannot soften the heart of the noble Captain, how can the prayers of a poor simple knight like me do it?" said the knight, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, Sir Captain," said Yolande, "if thou wilt not grant that request, at least thou wilt not refuse my other prayer. Wilt thou let my cousin Ralph run a course? I hear he hath done right hardily to-day."

"With right goodwill, fair mistress. I saw how well he bore himself this forenoon. I had even now minded to make him an esquire of my body."

Yolande glanced across to look for Ralph, but he was standing close behind her, and had heard every word. His joy was so great that he could scarcely fulfil his duties. In his eagerness to have an excuse to say something to his lovely kinswoman, he picked up the first dish that came to hand, and, as he bent over her to offer it, he whispered,--

"Thank you, cousin, thank you! 'tis the kindest service you could do me."

"But, fair kinsman, that is no reason you should offer me 'pasties of venison roast,' with 'plums in paste,' which I happen to be eating. 'Tis but a poor return for my kindness."

Ralph, much abashed, drew back; not, however, before Dicky Cheke saw his mistake, who made a hideous face at him, and as he passed dug his knuckles into his back, saying at the same time,--

"Poor witling! how parlous awkward it is; 'twill never make a good serving page."

Fortunately for Ralph there was a general move soon afterwards, and the horses were being brought round to the hall door. In the midst of the confusion Ralph took the opportunity of going up to the Abbot and telling him his business.

"What!" said the Abbot, amazed; "and thou calledst that a matter of small import, quotha?"

Ralph was a bad hand at asking favours--those who give easily usually are. However, he could not abandon this request.

"My lord," he said, "'tis but to advance me such sums that I may appear as becometh the ancient house of Lisle. You gave me to my lord, you would not have me disgrace my name and lineage."

Seeing how earnest the boy was, and how reasonable was his request, the Abbot began to relent.

"Marry, lad, thou art a brave youth and a good, thou shalt have the wherewithal to caparison thyself. Go to Master Longstoke, who dwelleth in Lugley Street, by the sign of the Blue Boar, he will purvey for thee what thou needest. I will look in upon him as I ride home to-night. He will then have my warranty."

All things seemed joyous to Ralph to-day. With profusion of thanks he helped the Abbot of Quarr on to his horse, and then hastened to look after his cousin; but she was already mounted, and chatting gaily with the Captain of the Wight and his Breton guests.

When all were mounted the cavalcade rode out through the large gateway. It was a gay sight to see the long lines of varlets, with the dogs and falcons, the fair ladies riding amid groups of gentlemen, with hawk on fist, and riding-whip in hand. The crowd that had collected at the castle gates greeted each knight and lady as they came out with freely-expressed remarks; and when the Captain of the Wight appeared with Yolande Lisle riding by his side, the two Breton knights a little behind her with her old father, there were loud shouts of applause, and many complimentary cheers for the noble foreigners who were going to provide so much amusement.

The cavalcade took the way down to Shide Bridge and so up the valley of the Medina, intending to fly their hawks at the quarry that was sure to be met with among the low lands between the Medina and the Yare.

They were not disappointed; a fine heron was soon started, and the Captain's bird--a noble peregrine falcon--was cast off after it. As Lord Woodville watched the flight of his bird, he called Ralph up to him, who, as in duty bound, had been in close attendance on his person.

"Thy missive hath been found, my child," said his lord gravely. "Thou didst not dream: I would that thou hadst."

Ralph remained silent. Lord Woodville went on, in rather an abstracted tone,--

"'Twas a bold game, and I marvel how he hath gotten into the island; but he knoweth he is safe from me, except in so far as I myself may chastise him for his insolence. He hath done me far more wrong than ever he thinketh that I have done to him."

The rest of the cavalcade, now that the Captain's bird had been flown, had dispersed after their own hawks, which only waited for this signal to be cast off.

"My lord, thy falcon hath gotten a long way ahead, and maketh toward the high land yonder," said Ralph, who saw his cousin cantering gaily ahead, escorted as usual by her faithful admirer the Breton knight. Before disappearing over a rise in the land she reined up, turned round to Lord Woodville, and waved her whip aloft, inviting them to follow.

"There is Mistress Lisle beckoning to thee, my lord," said Ralph.

"Marry, is she? then we will even follow, Master Lisle, if it pleaseth thee," said the Captain, with a smile.

As they cantered over the marshy land, followed by a few varlets on foot, whose business it was to carry fresh birds on a wooden framework suspended round their necks by straps, Ralph kept close behind the Captain. When they reached the top of the rising ground where they had last seen the graceful figure of Mistress Yolande, a strange sight met their eyes. The Breton knight's horse was sunk over its fetlocks in a quagmire, and its rider was in an almost kneeling position on its back, with the evident desire of getting as far away from the treacherous slime as possible.

"I told him not to go," said Yolande, laughing at the sad plight of the poor gentleman.

The attendant varlets were directed to assist the knight out of his difficulties, while Yolande rode off with the Lord Woodville and Ralph, who was delighted at the change.

As they rode rapidly across the lower ground towards Godshill, the page told with eager joy to his cousin how the Abbot of Quarr had promised to equip him gallantly, and he entered into all the details of the horse he would buy, the armour, and the device he would wear upon his shield.

"You must have a lady's favour, Ralph. Is there anyone you would like?" asked Yolande, smiling at him.

Ralph coloured up, and he answered shyly,--

"Cousin Yolande, will you give me yours?"

"Well, now, I am highly favoured. And you really would not rather have that of Mistress Bremskete, or the fair Mistress Susan Gander?"

But Ralph was not good at raillery, he was far too much in earnest to enter into a joke, and Yolande saw the shafts of her wit would only fall flat or be misunderstood.

"But, cousin Ralph, I have promised my favour elsewhere."

Ralph looked at her with bitter disappointment.

"'Tis true 'tis as well to have two strings to one's bow, and why you did not say so I don't know, for I might never have thought of it myself, and so you might have lost a very good chance. Well, what do you say; shall I give you one as well?"

"But, Yolande, may a lady have two knights in the same tourney?"

"Why, marry, yea! At least I see no reason why not. One can have them everywhere else. Let us ask the Captain."

Lord Woodville had been riding on lost in abstraction. They had left Godshill on their right. They were now skirting the high hills, the outlying spurs of Week Down. Hearing his name mentioned, the Captain of the Wight turned round; as he did so, he caught sight of a figure, and instantly his face became as pale as death, and then flushed up with angry fire.

The quick eyes of Yolande did not fail to detect the change. Her eyes glanced in the direction of Lord Woodville. She saw a man in a common dress standing by the side of an old thorn bush.

"'Tis only a hind belonging to the Priory of Appuldurcombe. I marvel what hath come to the Captain," she murmured.

The man had been standing watching the little calvacade approach, but as it drew nearer he stepped back on to a more rugged piece of ground at the foot of the steep hill behind, and which was difficult for horses, being all broken and covered with gorse.

Lord Woodville rode forward, motioning to the others to remain behind. Ralph could not help thinking he had seen that figure before. Where had he seen it?--he could not recollect.

"Marry, Ralph, 'tis a bold hind; see how he scowls on the Captain. By St Bride, he hath broad shoulders, and bears himself as if of gentle blood. I would give a good deal to know what the Captain is saying to him. I shall ride nearer."

But the Captain of the Wight heard the steps of her horse; he looked back with a stern glance, and said gravely,--

"Mistress Lisle, under your leave, I would say a few words alone."

There was no help for it; with a pettish air, but not at all disconcerted, Yolande said her nag wanted to browse on that sweet bit of grass there, and returned to Ralph.

After the interchange of a few words, the Captain rejoined the others, and the man disappeared into the tall furze behind the old thorn bush.

"We've lost our heronshaw," said Mistress Yolande, pouting.

"Nay, the varlets will bring the quarry in," said the Captain. "But what building have we here."

"'Tis the nunnery of Appuldurcombe," said Yolande. "Marry, I am sore athirst. Prythee, let us go there, and ask the kind sister for a draught of ale or hippocras."

"Right gladly, fair mistress," said Lord Woodville, and they cantered over the smooth turf towards the grey stone wall which surrounded the picturesque roofs and gables of the old Priory of Appuldurcombe, now a cell of the convent of the order of Saint Clare, without Aldgate, in the City of London. As they rode up, the chapel bell was tolling to vespers.

"Marry, 'tis later than I thought," said Yolande.