CHAPTER XXII. OF THE VOICE OF THE CHARMER.

During the next two months events of importance had occurred. The Captain of the Wight had recovered from his wound in time to attend the splendid ceremony of his niece's coronation, and his faithful young esquire had accompanied him to London. It was a joyful time. On their march from Southampton to the metropolis, Ralph obtained leave to visit his home.

Attended by Humphrey, he separated from the retinue of the Captain of the Wight at Southampton, to join it again at Guildford. By riding fast he would be able to make up for the longer distance, and would thus obtain time to spend one night at home.

The talk of all the garrison of Carisbrooke Castle and indeed of all the south of England, was the approaching war with France. No man doubted, and all men wished, that Henry VII. would be driven to take the part of his old benefactor, Francis, Duke of Brittany, in the defence of his duchy against the troops of France, led by the young King Charles VIII. It was so obviously the policy of England to prevent this powerful duchy being united to the French crown, which was already giving signs of the power it possessed, under the crafty rule of Louis XI., that far-seeing English statesmen like the Bishop of Ely, Master Christopher Urswick, and Sir John Edgecomb, the prototypes of England's diplomatists, could not doubt that Henry must see the vast importance of keeping France disunited, and of maintaining such an "imperium in imperio" as Brittany in semi-independence. Englishmen still longed to wipe out the disgrace of their expulsion from France, and any prospect of war with that country was hailed with joy. For war meant, according to the views of the time, not an impoverishment of both contending nations, but an increase of wealth to one or the other. Every esquire or common soldier might return a rich man. If, now-a-days, young men go forth to the ends of the earth to dig for gold, or spend their young lives in isolated exile in the wilds of the far West, or the savannahs of South America, or the rainless plains of Australia, with what eagerness would they have turned to war, where strength of arm and average good fortune meant glory, social distinction, and personal wealth? The capture of a rich prisoner in war meant the payment of a large ransom; and, as a wise man-at-arms knew, the best investment of his money was in forming a troop; the capture of one rich prisoner resulted in the decrease of power to his country's foe, as well as the personal aggrandisement of his captor. And all this brilliant prospect of success was enhanced by the scene in which the aspirant to fame displayed his prowess. Not drearily working at dull, monotonous manual labour far from the surroundings of civilisation, but in the very heart of social life carving out wealth, and fame, and name. No wonder war was popular.

To the eyes of the English people there never had been a time better suited for recovering the Duchies of Normandy, Guienne, and Gascony, since their final loss, but thirty years before. France's extremity had always been England's opportunity; and it was through Brittany and Normandy that English men-at-arms had poured to the conquest of France--to such splendid victories as Crecy and Agincourt. As Scotland was the thorn in England's side, so Brittany and Burgundy were the sharp points wherewith to rasp the French.

By a strange coincidence, the two capitals of Burgundy and Brittany, similar in name--Nancy and Nantes--received the mortal remains of their two last dukes within ten years of each other. In 1477 the last male of the house of Burgundy was borne from the field of battle to his splendid tomb in Nancy, leaving his only daughter to be despoiled of her inheritance by the craft of Louis XI.; while in 1488 the last male of the house of Brittany was entombed in the magnificent pile erected to his memory in the church of the Carmelites at Nantes, leaving also an only daughter to be fought for by an emperor, a king, a royal duke, and a puissant lord of the Pyrenees. And, by another singular fatality, the same Prince became the husband of both heiresses. Maximilian won, but speedily lost, both Mary of Burgundy and Anne of Brittany.

The common talk of all men, therefore, was the expedition that would shortly sail for France. The Captain of the Wight made no secret of his intentions, but determined to obtain the royal sanction first.

Full of the exciting prospects before him, and proud of his rapid progress, Ralph rode eagerly home.

With what joy he saw the blue smoke curling over the brown trees which hid the old manor house.

"See, Humphrey, there's the gilded vane on the west gable, and now I can see the stacks of chimneys. Whoop, lad, get on;" and the joyous boy urged his horse to a quicker pace. In a few minutes more he had turned the corner of the road, and before him lay the picturesque range of old gables and low windows.

He had not been able to let his parents know of his coming. He cantered up to the gate, jumped off his horse, and in another minute was in his mother's arms.

There is no need to describe the pride and joy of his parents, or the half-concealed awe of his brother Jasper. His younger brother had gone to Oxenford, and sent home from time to time accounts of his progress. After a delightful visit, all too short for Ralph and his parents, the young esquire set out to rejoin his lord. He arrived in time at Guildford, and the next day they entered the capital.

The King had already returned with his nobles and men-at-arms from the progress he had been making in the north, and the next day the ceremony of the coronation of the Queen was to take place. Ralph was in immediate attendance on his lord, who, as uncle of the Queen, held a high place of honour in the ceremonies. The esquire was witness of the installation of fourteen Knights of the Bath, and was astonished at the grandeur, solemnity, and state of the proceedings. But what amazed him most was the gorgeous procession of barges, all gilded and bedecked with flags, which accompanied the Queen on the Thames. He was forcibly reminded of Yolande as he saw the lovely young Queen, with her fair yellow hair rippling in golden masses down her back, intertwined with strings of jewels, and crowned with a golden crown; dressed in "white cloth of gold of damask," and with a richly furred ermine mantle over her shapely shoulders. But the palm of beauty was carried off by her second sister Cicely, the loveliest woman of her time, whose romantic life had not yet reached its most romantic period. Ralph little knew that that exquisite face and queenly figure would one day reside in a humble manor-house but three miles from his future home, and that her husband would be lower in social station than himself.

He attended on the Captain of the Wight as one of the suite, at the coronation banquet in the great hall, and Ralph was again surprised at the gorgeous pageant. But he did not like to see two such fair damoiselles as the Lady Catherine Grey and Mistress Ditton sitting under the table at the lovely Queen's feet, and could not understand why the Lady Oxford and the Lady Rivers should hold up, from time to time, a handkerchief before that sweet face, while he pitied their having to kneel through such a long state ceremony.[*]

[*] Leland. Collectanea.

He heard how urgently his lord strove to obtain the sanction of Henry VII. to enlist men-at-arms and archers for the aid of the Bretons. But the presence of the French Ambassadors, chief among whom were the Lord Daubigny, a Scotch nobleman in the service of the French crown, combined with a fear of internal troubles in case he should engage in foreign wars, kept that cautious monarch from giving any permission.

It was the opinion, however, of Lord Woodville, as well as of most of the English nobles and statesmen, that the King would not be at all averse to an expedition being fitted out privately, which he could disavow in public. Indeed most men thought he would be very much gratified by such an exhibition of zeal.

Full of these ideas, and encouraged by the promises of assistance he received from many experienced knights, as well as by numerous offers of service from men of lesser rank, Sir Edward Woodville returned to his island government.

The coronation had taken place in November; it was now the middle of January 1488. The next two months were employed in sounding the principal inhabitants of the island.

The Breton gentlemen had gone back to Brittany trusting to the promised aid, and carrying with them exaggerated ideas of Lord Woodville's position and power.

Ralph and the other pages enjoyed their lives as healthy boys engaged in the manly employments of life in a medi?val castle must have enjoyed them. Hawking, hunting, daily drill and exercise, boating and fishing, such were their occupations. Ralph had never breathed a word of the midnight duel, nor did he know what had become of the wounded knight. The Captain of the Wight never referred to it, and he kept his own counsel. The valley was once revisited by him, as far as he could recollect its whereabouts; but in the coombes and dells of the downs there were so many level swards at their base, that he was in doubt whether he had come across the right one. There were no traces of any combat about them, there was the thorn bush in one and another, and a little sedgy stream, but no fresh mounds or splintered spears.

Ralph had seen much of his cousin Yolande, and his affection and admiration for her were unbounded; but he could not disguise from himself that although she treated him with absolute candour and sisterly affection, yet she always grew silent if the Captain of the Wight were near, and hung on every word that nobleman spoke. It never crossed Ralph's mind to be jealous, only he wished the Captain of the Wight did not appear quite so often upon the scene.

But the thoughts of that nobleman were far removed from such trivial subjects, if credence was to be placed in his words and actions. By sound of trumpet and proclamation the inhabitants of the Isle of Wight were summoned to a general muster at Shide Bridge, a place already celebrated by a previous muster to take account of the military strength of the island in the reign of King Edward the Second, held by John de la Hoese and John de Lisle.

Thither on the day appointed the gentry of the island, with the yeomen and country people, wended their way. The Bailiffs of Newport, Newtown, Yarmouth, and Brading, accompanied by the richer of the burgesses of those boroughs, attended. There were the bailiffs and stewards of the various estates held by the ecclesiastical bodies of Winchester College, Whorwell Monastery, Christchurch Priory, and Ashey; while the Abbot of Quarr, the Prior of Carisbrooke, representing the Carthusian monastery of Shene, and the Bailiff of Appuldurcombe, for the nunnery of St Clare, without Aldgate, were also present. There came, besides, the reeves of the manors belonging to the imprisoned Earl of Warwick, from Brixton and Swainston. There were representatives of all the island families: Sir Nicholas Wadham, Sir John Oglander, Sir William Lisle of Wootton, Master Meaux, recovered from his rough handling of five months before, a Bowerman from Brooke, Trenchards from Watchingwell and Shalfleet, a Dineley from Woolverton, a Cheke from Mattistone, the Bowermans of Austerborne or Osborn, John Racket of Knighton, and his relative by marriage, Leigh of Woolverton in Bembridge, a Hawles of the ancient family of De Aula from Stenbury Manor. There were Urrys, Keyneys, De Heynos, Bruyns, with many others too numerous to mention, and a crowd of the lesser yeomen and common people. When all were assembled, the Captain of the Wight, in full armour, but with bare head, mounted on his splendid charger, and surrounded by his seneschals, esquires, and pages, addressed the crowd.

In a stirring speech he explained the situation. He told how many evils the French had inflicted upon their forefathers. How in Edward the First's reign they had threatened the island, but were daunted by the stout preparations of the ancestors of many there present. How again in Edward the Third's time they harassed the island by their evil depredations, until under the brave Sir Theobald Russel of Yaverland, who gave his life for his people, they were driven out with loss and shame. How again in Richard the Second's reign the whole island was overrun, and cruel damage inflicted, when all their towns were in flames, and no place safe but the Castle of Carisbrooke. But here again the ancient valour of their race broke out, and under the stout Sir Hugh Tyrrel, "that right hardy knight," they chased the false Frenchmen to their ships, slaying them by scores, "insomuch that from that day Deadman's Lane went by no other name, and Neddie's Hill is still there to show the burial place of the marauders." Again how valorously they drove off Waleran de St Pol, that "noble knight of haut lineage," and frightened away the caitiffs again a few years after; while in Henry the Fifth's time they slew many who were running away to their ships.

"Shall we then," went on the Captain, "not recover from these false robbers the wealth they have gotten from us? Shall we not avenge on them the wrongs they have done to us? Think, all ye brave knights and sturdy yeomen, of the wealth ye will gain. Think all ye young esquires and right hardy varlets of the honour and renown ye will acquire in the eyes of your fair mistresses. And, above all, think of the glory of being the first to lead the way to victory, and recover for England and our King the ancient lands and duchies of which she hath been so foully robbed. I will stake life and fortune on the venture. I will warrant all men against loss. You will do an action pleasing to all England, and will save an oppressed people, an aged duke, and a fair princess from the cruel hands of the ravisher. They are Bretons, so are we. They hate the French, so do we. The tongue they speak is the native tongue of our sovereign lord the King. Their hero is Arthur; their country is the home of Lancelot-du-lac, Merlin, and all whom we reverence as our own. Shall we not bring help, if in so doing we enrich ourselves, destroy our enemies, win everlasting fame and name, and save our lives and the lives of our children from future outrage? Shall we not bring help? Who are our allies? The King of the Romans, Lord of Austria, Italy, Allemayne, Brabant, and Flanders; the Duke of Brittany, the Duke of Orleans, the Prince of Orange, the Lord d'Albret, and many more of high lineage, great estate, and mighty valour. Did fate ever offer such a chance? and shall we throw it all away? Rather than let France, our bitter foe, rule over our ancient ally, I myself will go with only my own household, and with my single lance will venture my life for such a cause, losing it with ready will, if so it must be. But, noble knights, gallant esquires, worthy burgesses, and sturdy yeomen, shall we not all go together? Shall we not win wealth, renown, safety, and the everlasting gratitude of our King, our country, and our children?"

There was a deep murmur of applause. Every one was moved. Even the more reflecting portion of the crowd recognised the truth of many passages in the rousing speech of their Captain. The enthusiasm of the younger men was wild. They applauded vociferously, drawing their swords and waving them over their heads, and it was with difficulty the voice of Sir William Lisle could be heard. He was speaking in support of their Captain, and relating the terror the fears of French invasions had roused throughout the island, so much so that his own ancestor had withdrawn to the mainland, like many others of the island population.

When he had finished, many other speakers followed; and at last it was resolved that the Captain of the Wight should be asked to select such as would be most serviceable in the cause, while such as could not go should give of their substance to properly equip the poorer sort.

So ended this memorable meeting; and, greatly pleased with the success of the day, Lord Woodville returned to Carisbrooke.

In the course of the next week, so many gentlemen and yeomen presented themselves eager to go on the expedition, that Lord Woodville and his officers had some difficulty in making a selection. But by the end of the week forty gentlemen, and about four hundred yeomen, were enrolled, and directed to hold themselves in readiness to sail early in the following week.

The excitement in the island was at this time intense. The inhabitants felt the eyes of England were upon them; they felt proud of themselves and of their gallant Captain; and there was scarcely a family, whether rich or poor, which did not contribute some member--in many cases several--to the forthcoming expedition.

Ralph was very busy, like every one else in the castle. Weapons and armour were given out, drill was incessantly going on, and all the tailors in Newport were hard at work making surcoats for the men-at-arms and archers. Every man of the expedition was to wear a white tabard with the red cross of St George blazoned on it.

At last the important day arrived. Ralph had received permission to visit his relations the evening before. It was an exquisite spring evening, and the scene was lovely as he rode over the long hill between Newport and Wootton.[*] Before him lay the winding creek embowered in thick oak woods--those woods which gave the name to his kinsman's branch of the Lisle family, and perhaps a name to the little hamlet of Wodyton. Beyond stretched the undulating land which hid the Monastery of Quarr, whose deep-toned bell was sounding to complines across the still woods and glassy waters of the creek; while away in the purple distance stretched the gleaming Solent, unruffled by the slightest breeze, and bounded by the dim Sussex shore.

[*] Wootton, in Domesday Book "Odetone;" called Wodyton in Bishop Woodlock's Return of the Parishes in the Island; Woditone in the account of the watches kept in the 18th of Ed. II., and in Cardinal Beaufort's Valuation, Woodyton; and in the 8th of Ed. III. Wodyton.

Ralph rode down into the valley, where the grey mist floated in mysterious wreaths, from out of which the blue smoke of Briddesford Manor rose like a faint column in the still atmosphere, only to hang above the mist in a greyer cloud.

The young esquire felt sad for the first time. He found his cousin awaiting him in the dark old porch. After a few words of friendly greeting, Ralph became silent.

"Why, cousin Ralph, what aileth thee?" said his cousin.

"I hardly know, sweet cousin mine, and yet I do know, only thou wilt laugh at me; and so I would not say what yet I fain would."

Yolande smiled a sad smile, but she said quietly,--

"Nay, fair cousin, say it not. I know what thou thinkest. It may never be. I told thee months ago. Thou wilt some day know how true I spoke. We cannot all have what we wish; and even if we could, we should soon wish for something else."

"Well, I would like to try," said Ralph bluntly.

"Ay, and so should I," sighed Mistress Yolande. "But, Ralph, promise me thou wilt look well after thy lord. He is over venturesome, and, I fear me much, he careth naught for life; indeed I sometimes think he would rather go hence." Yolande's voice became tremulous. She recovered herself after a pause. "Thou wilt watch over him, Ralph? I know not why, but I feel I shall never look upon him more!"

And so his lovely cousin had no more words for him than that he should take care of his lord? No matter, Ralph felt he only lived for her. He would willingly die to give her happiness. He simply answered,--

"I will do my duty."

They then went into the house, and Ralph took a respectful adieu of old Sir William Lisle.

"Go forth, my kinsman, thou art a worthy son of our noble house. I would well that thou, when thou returnest, shouldst take daughter and lands, and rear up a stalwart line. But it will be as God wills it. Take my blessing, and go forth to victory."

So Ralph left his kinsfolk, sadder at heart than he had ever been in all his life, but resolved to bring back his lord in safety and glory to the Wight, or die with him in France.

As he rode back over St George's Down--for he took a longer way back, being in a dreamy and melancholy mood--the soft light of the young moon shone in the pale primrose of the western sky. The night-jar uttered its melancholy note, and flapped heavily past in the silence of the evening, while a distant owl raised its plaintive cry from the dark woods which faded in the grey and ghostly mist of the northern valley. This was his last night in England. How many would see their homes again of all that gallant band of high-spirited men?

But a step near at hand roused him from his reverie. Two figures passed him almost unobserved. The slighter one turned to look, gave a little sigh, and went on with its taller companion, who seemed to walk with difficulty.