Kenilworth

S >> Sir Walter Scott >> Kenilworth


"Ha," said Leicester, "remember you to whom you speak?"

"I speak of her unworthy husband, my lord," repeated Tressilian, "and
my respect can find no softer language. The unhappy young woman is
withdrawn from my knowledge, and sequestered in some secret place of
this Castle--if she be not transferred to some place of seclusion better
fitted for bad designs. This must be reformed, my lord--I speak it as
authorized by her father--and this ill-fated marriage must be avouched
and proved in the Queen's presence, and the lady placed without
restraint and at her own free disposal. And permit me to say it concerns
no one's honour that these most just demands of mine should be complied
with so much as it does that of your lordship."

The Earl stood as if he had been petrified at the extreme coolness
with which the man, whom he considered as having injured him so deeply,
pleaded the cause of his criminal paramour, as if she had been an
innocent woman and he a disinterested advocate; nor was his wonder
lessened by the warmth with which Tressilian seemed to demand for her
the rank and situation which she had disgraced, and the advantages of
which she was doubtless to share with the lover who advocated her cause
with such effrontery. Tressilian had been silent for more than a
minute ere the Earl recovered from the excess of his astonishment; and
considering the prepossessions with which his mind was occupied, there
is little wonder that his passion gained the mastery of every other
consideration. "I have heard you, Master Tressilian," said he, "without
interruption, and I bless God that my ears were never before made to
tingle by the words of so frontless a villain. The task of chastising
you is fitter for the hangman's scourge than the sword of a nobleman,
but yet--Villain, draw and defend thyself!"

As he spoke the last words, he dropped his mantle on the ground, struck
Tressilian smartly with his sheathed sword, and instantly drawing his
rapier, put himself into a posture of assault. The vehement fury of his
language at first filled Tressilian, in his turn, with surprise equal
to what Leicester had felt when he addressed him. But astonishment gave
place to resentment when the unmerited insults of his language were
followed by a blow which immediately put to flight every thought save
that of instant combat. Tressilian's sword was instantly drawn; and
though perhaps somewhat inferior to Leicester in the use of the weapon,
he understood it well enough to maintain the contest with great spirit,
the rather that of the two he was for the time the more cool, since he
could not help imputing Leicester's conduct either to actual frenzy or
to the influence of some strong delusion.

The rencontre had continued for several minutes, without either party
receiving a wound, when of a sudden voices were heard beneath the
portico which formed the entrance of the terrace, mingled with the steps
of men advancing hastily. "We are interrupted," said Leicester to his
antagonist; "follow me."

At the same time a voice from the portico said, "The jackanape is
right--they are tilting here."

Leicester, meanwhile, drew off Tressilian into a sort of recess behind
one of the fountains, which served to conceal them, while six of
the yeomen of the Queen's guard passed along the middle walk of the
Pleasance, and they could hear one say to the rest, "We shall never find
them to-night among all these squirting funnels, squirrel cages, and
rabbit-holes; but if we light not on them before we reach the farther
end, we will return, and mount a guard at the entrance, and so secure
them till morning."

"A proper matter," said another, "the drawing of swords so near the
Queen's presence, ay, and in her very palace as 'twere! Hang it, they
must be some poor drunken game-cocks fallen to sparring--'twere pity
almost we should find them--the penalty is chopping off a hand, is it
not?--'twere hard to lose hand for handling a bit of steel, that comes
so natural to one's gripe."

"Thou art a brawler thyself, George," said another; "but take heed, for
the law stands as thou sayest."

"Ay," said the first, "an the act be not mildly construed; for thou
knowest 'tis not the Queen's palace, but my Lord of Leicester's."

"Why, for that matter, the penalty may be as severe," said another "for
an our gracious Mistress be Queen, as she is, God save her, my Lord of
Leicester is as good as King."

"Hush, thou knave!" said a third; "how knowest thou who may be within
hearing?"

They passed on, making a kind of careless search, but seemingly more
intent on their own conversation than bent on discovering the persons
who had created the nocturnal disturbance.

They had no sooner passed forward along the terrace, than Leicester,
making a sign to Tressilian to follow him, glided away in an opposite
direction, and escaped through the portico undiscovered. He conducted
Tressilian to Mervyn's Tower, in which he was now again lodged; and
then, ere parting with him, said these words, "If thou hast courage to
continue and bring to an end what is thus broken off, be near me when
the court goes forth to-morrow; we shall find a time, and I will give
you a signal when it is fitting."

"My lord," said Tressilian, "at another time I might have inquired the
meaning of this strange and furious inveteracy against me. But you have
laid that on my shoulder which only blood can wash away; and were you
as high as your proudest wishes ever carried you, I would have from you
satisfaction for my wounded honour."

On these terms they parted, but the adventures of the night were not yet
ended with Leicester. He was compelled to pass by Saintlowe's Tower, in
order to gain the private passage which led to his own chamber; and in
the entrance thereof he met Lord Hunsdon half clothed, and with a naked
sword under his arm.

"Are you awakened, too, with this 'larum, my Lord of Leicester?" said
the old soldier. "'Tis well. By gog's nails, the nights are as noisy as
the day in this Castle of yours. Some two hours since I was waked by
the screams of that poor brain-sick Lady Varney, whom her husband
was forcing away. I promise you it required both your warrant and the
Queen's to keep me from entering into the game, and cutting that Varney
of yours over the head. And now there is a brawl down in the Pleasance,
or what call you the stone terrace-walk where all yonder gimcracks
stand?"

The first part of the old man's speech went through the Earl's heart
like a knife; to the last he answered that he himself had heard the
clash of swords, and had come down to take order with those who had been
so insolent so near the Queen's presence.

"Nay, then," said Hunsdon, "I will be glad of your lordship's company."

Leicester was thus compelled to turn back with the rough old Lord to the
Pleasance, where Hunsdon heard from the yeomen of the guard, who were
under his immediate command, the unsuccessful search they had made for
the authors of the disturbance; and bestowed for their pains some round
dozen of curses on them, as lazy knaves and blind whoresons. Leicester
also thought it necessary to seem angry that no discovery had been
effected; but at length suggested to Lord Hunsdon, that after all it
could only be some foolish young men who had been drinking healths
pottle-deep, and who should be sufficiently scared by the search which
had taken place after them. Hunsdon, who was himself attached to his
cup, allowed that a pint-flagon might cover many of the follies which it
had caused, "But," added he, "unless your lordship will be less liberal
in your housekeeping, and restrain the overflow of ale, and wine, and
wassail, I foresee it will end in my having some of these good fellows
into the guard-house, and treating them to a dose of the strappado. And
with this warning, good night to you."

Joyful at being rid of his company, Leicester took leave of him at the
entrance of his lodging, where they had first met, and entering the
private passage, took up the lamp which he had left there, and by its
expiring light found the way to his own apartment.



CHAPTER XXXIX.

Room! room! for my horse will wince
If he comes within so many yards of a prince;
For to tell you true, and in rhyme,
He was foal'd in Queen Elizabeth's time;
When the great Earl of Lester
In his castle did feast her.
--BEN JONSON, MASQUE OF OWLS.

The amusement with which Elizabeth and her court were next day to be
regaled was an exhibition by the true-hearted men of Coventry, who were
to represent the strife between the English and the Danes, agreeably
to a custom long preserved in their ancient borough, and warranted for
truth by old histories and chronicles. In this pageant one party of the
townsfolk presented the Saxons and the other the Danes, and set forth,
both in rude rhymes and with hard blows, the contentions of these two
fierce nations, and the Amazonian courage of the English women, who,
according to the story, were the principal agents in the general
massacre of the Danes, which took place at Hocktide, in the year of God
1012. This sport, which had been long a favourite pastime with the
men of Coventry, had, it seems, been put down by the influence of
some zealous clergymen of the more precise cast, who chanced to have
considerable influence with the magistrates. But the generality of the
inhabitants had petitioned the Queen that they might have their play
again, and be honoured with permission to represent it before her
Highness. And when the matter was canvassed in the little council which
usually attended the Queen for dispatch of business, the proposal,
although opposed by some of the stricter sort, found favour in the eyes
of Elizabeth, who said that such toys occupied, without offence, the
minds of many who, lacking them, might find worse subjects of pastime;
and that their pastors, however commendable for learning and godliness,
were somewhat too sour in preaching against the pastimes of their flocks
and so the pageant was permitted to proceed.

Accordingly, after a morning repast, which Master Laneham calls an
ambrosial breakfast, the principal persons of the court in attendance
upon her Majesty pressed to the Gallery-tower, to witness the approach
of the two contending parties of English and Danes; and after a signal
had been given, the gate which opened in the circuit of the Chase was
thrown wide to admit them. On they came, foot and horse; for some of
the more ambitious burghers and yeomen had put themselves into fantastic
dresses, imitating knights, in order to resemble the chivalry of the two
different nations. However, to prevent fatal accidents, they were not
permitted to appear on real horses, but had only license to accoutre
themselves with those hobby-horses, as they are called, which anciently
formed the chief delight of a morrice-dance, and which still are
exhibited on the stage, in the grand battle fought at the conclusion
of Mr. Bayes's tragedy. The infantry followed in similar disguises.
The whole exhibition was to be considered as a sort of anti-masque, or
burlesque of the more stately pageants in which the nobility and gentry
bore part in the show, and, to the best of their knowledge, imitated
with accuracy the personages whom they represented. The Hocktide play
was of a different character, the actors being persons of inferior
degree, and their habits the better fitted for the occasion, the more
incongruous and ridiculous that they were in themselves. Accordingly
their array, which the progress of our tale allows us no time to
describe, was ludicrous enough; and their weapons, though sufficiently
formidable to deal sound blows, were long alder-poles instead of lances,
and sound cudgels for swords; and for fence, both cavalry and infantry
were well equipped with stout headpieces and targets, both made of thick
leather.

Captain Coxe, that celebrated humorist of Coventry, whose library of
ballads, almanacs, and penny histories, fairly wrapped up in parchment,
and tied round for security with a piece of whipcord, remains still
the envy of antiquaries, being himself the ingenious person under
whose direction the pageant had been set forth, rode valiantly on his
hobby-horse before the bands of English, high-trussed, saith Laneham,
and brandishing his long sword, as became an experienced man of war, who
had fought under the Queen's father, bluff King Henry, at the siege of
Boulogne. This chieftain was, as right and reason craved, the first to
enter the lists, and passing the Gallery at the head of his myrmidons,
kissed the hilt of his sword to the Queen, and executed at the same
time a gambade, the like whereof had never been practised by two-legged
hobby-horse. Then passing on with all his followers of cavaliers and
infantry, he drew them up with martial skill at the opposite extremity
of the bridge, or tilt-yard, until his antagonist should be fairly
prepared for the onset.

This was no long interval; for the Danish cavalry and infantry, no way
inferior to the English in number, valour, and equipment, instantly
arrived, with the northern bagpipe blowing before them in token of their
country, and headed by a cunning master of defence, only inferior to the
renowned Captain Coxe, if to him, in the discipline of war. The Danes,
as invaders, took their station under the Gallery-tower, and opposite
to that of Mortimer; and when their arrangements were completely made, a
signal was given for the encounter.

Their first charge upon each other was rather moderate, for either party
had some dread of being forced into the lake. But as reinforcements came
up on either side, the encounter grew from a skirmish into a blazing
battle. They rushed upon one another, as Master Laneham testifies, like
rams inflamed by jealousy, with such furious encounter that both parties
were often overthrown, and the clubs and targets made a most horrible
clatter. In many instances that happened which had been dreaded by the
more experienced warriors who began the day of strife. The rails which
defended the ledges of the bridge had been, perhaps on purpose, left but
slightly fastened, and gave way under the pressure of those who thronged
to the combat, so that the hot courage of many of the combatants
received a sufficient cooling. These incidents might have occasioned
more serious damage than became such an affray, for many of the
champions who met with this mischance could not swim, and those who
could were encumbered with their suits of leathern and of paper armour;
but the case had been provided for, and there were several boats in
readiness to pick up the unfortunate warriors and convey them to the dry
land, where, dripping and dejected, they comforted themselves with the
hot ale and strong waters which were liberally allowed to them, without
showing any desire to re-enter so desperate a conflict.

Captain Coxe alone, that paragon of Black-Letter antiquaries, after
twice experiencing, horse and man, the perilous leap from the bridge
into the lake, equal to any extremity to which the favourite heroes of
chivalry, whose exploits he studied in an abridged form, whether Amadis,
Belianis, Bevis, or his own Guy of Warwick, had ever been subjected
to--Captain Coxe, we repeat, did alone, after two such mischances, rush
again into the heat of conflict, his bases and the footcloth of his
hobby-horse dropping water, and twice reanimated by voice and example
the drooping spirits of the English; so that at last their victory over
the Danish invaders became, as was just and reasonable, complete and
decisive. Worthy he was to be rendered immortal by the pen of Ben
Jonson, who, fifty years afterwards, deemed that a masque, exhibited at
Kenilworth, could be ushered in by none with so much propriety as by the
ghost of Captain Coxe, mounted upon his redoubted hobby-horse.

These rough, rural gambols may not altogether agree with the reader's
preconceived idea of an entertainment presented before Elizabeth, in
whose reign letters revived with such brilliancy, and whose court,
governed by a female whose sense of propriety was equal to her strength
of mind, was no less distinguished for delicacy and refinement than her
councils for wisdom and fortitude. But whether from the political wish
to seem interested in popular sports, or whether from a spark of old
Henry's rough, masculine spirit, which Elizabeth sometimes displayed,
it is certain the Queen laughed heartily at the imitation, or rather
burlesque, of chivalry which was presented in the Coventry play. She
called near her person the Earl of Sussex and Lord Hunsdon, partly
perhaps to make amends to the former for the long and private audiences
with which she had indulged the Earl of Leicester, by engaging him in
conversation upon a pastime which better suited his taste than those
pageants that were furnished forth from the stores of antiquity. The
disposition which the Queen showed to laugh and jest with her military
leaders gave the Earl of Leicester the opportunity he had been watching
for withdrawing from the royal presence, which to the court around, so
well had he chosen his time, had the graceful appearance of leaving his
rival free access to the Queen's person, instead of availing himself of
his right as her landlord to stand perpetually betwixt others and the
light of her countenance.

Leicester's thoughts, however, had a far different object from
mere courtesy; for no sooner did he see the Queen fairly engaged in
conversation with Sussex and Hunsdon, behind whose back stood Sir
Nicholas Blount, grinning from ear to ear at each word which was spoken,
than, making a sign to Tressilian, who, according to appointment,
watched his motions at a little distance, he extricated himself from the
press, and walking towards the Chase, made his way through the crowds of
ordinary spectators, who, with open mouth, stood gazing on the battle
of the English and the Danes. When he had accomplished this, which was
a work of some difficulty, he shot another glance behind him to see that
Tressilian had been equally successful; and as soon as he saw him also
free from the crowd, he led the way to a small thicket, behind which
stood a lackey, with two horses ready saddled. He flung himself on the
one, and made signs to Tressilian to mount the other, who obeyed without
speaking a single word.

Leicester then spurred his horse, and galloped without stopping until
he reached a sequestered spot, environed by lofty oaks, about a mile's
distance from the Castle, and in an opposite direction from the scene to
which curiosity was drawing every spectator. He there dismounted, bound
his horse to a tree, and only pronouncing the words, "Here there is no
risk of interruption," laid his cloak across his saddle, and drew his
sword.

Tressilian imitated his example punctually, yet could not forbear
saying, as he drew his weapon, "My lord, as I have been known to many as
one who does not fear death when placed in balance with honour, methinks
I may, without derogation, ask wherefore, in the name of all that is
honourable, your lordship has dared to offer me such a mark of disgrace
as places us on these terms with respect to each other?"

"If you like not such marks of my scorn," replied the Earl, "betake
yourself instantly to your weapon, lest I repeat the usage you complain
of."

"It shall not need, my lord," said Tressilian. "God judge betwixt us!
and your blood, if you fall, be on your own head."

He had scarce completed the sentence when they instantly closed in
combat.

But Leicester, who was a perfect master of defence among all other
exterior accomplishments of the time, had seen on the preceding night
enough of Tressilian's strength and skill to make him fight with more
caution than heretofore, and prefer a secure revenge to a hasty one.
For some minutes they fought with equal skill and fortune, till, in
a desperate lunge which Leicester successfully put aside, Tressilian
exposed himself at disadvantage; and in a subsequent attempt to close,
the Earl forced his sword from his hand, and stretched him on the
ground. With a grim smile he held the point of his rapier within two
inches of the throat of his fallen adversary, and placing his foot at
the same time upon his breast, bid him confess his villainous wrongs
towards him, and prepare for death.

"I have no villainy nor wrong towards thee to confess," answered
Tressilian, "and am better prepared for death than thou. Use thine
advantage as thou wilt, and may God forgive you! I have given you no
cause for this."

"No cause!" exclaimed the Earl, "no cause!--but why parley with such a
slave? Die a liar, as thou hast lived!"

He had withdrawn his arm for the purpose of striking the fatal blow,
when it was suddenly seized from behind.

The Earl turned in wrath to shake off the unexpected obstacle, but was
surprised to find that a strange-looking boy had hold of his sword-arm,
and clung to it with such tenacity of grasp that he could not shake him
of without a considerable struggle, in the course of which Tressilian
had opportunity to rise and possess himself once more of his weapon.
Leicester again turned towards him with looks of unabated ferocity, and
the combat would have recommenced with still more desperation on both
sides, had not the boy clung to Lord Leicester's knees, and in a shrill
tone implored him to listen one moment ere he prosecuted this quarrel.

"Stand up, and let me go," said Leicester, "or, by Heaven, I will pierce
thee with my rapier! What hast thou to do to bar my way to revenge?"

"Much--much!" exclaimed the undaunted boy, "since my folly has been
the cause of these bloody quarrels between you, and perchance of worse
evils. Oh, if you would ever again enjoy the peace of an innocent mind,
if you hope again to sleep in peace and unhaunted by remorse, take so
much leisure as to peruse this letter, and then do as you list."

While he spoke in this eager and earnest manner, to which his singular
features and voice gave a goblin-like effect, he held up to Leicester
a packet, secured with a long tress of woman's hair of a beautiful
light-brown colour. Enraged as he was, nay, almost blinded with fury to
see his destined revenge so strangely frustrated, the Earl of Leicester
could not resist this extraordinary supplicant. He snatched the letter
from his hand--changed colour as he looked on the superscription--undid
with faltering hand the knot which secured it--glanced over the
contents, and staggering back, would have fallen, had he not rested
against the trunk of a tree, where he stood for an instant, his eyes
bent on the letter, and his sword-point turned to the ground, without
seeming to be conscious of the presence of an antagonist towards whom
he had shown little mercy, and who might in turn have taken him at
advantage. But for such revenge Tressilian was too noble-minded. He
also stood still in surprise, waiting the issue of this strange fit of
passion, but holding his weapon ready to defend himself in case of need
against some new and sudden attack on the part of Leicester, whom he
again suspected to be under the influence of actual frenzy. The boy,
indeed, he easily recognized as his old acquaintance Dickon, whose face,
once seen, was scarcely to be forgotten; but how he came hither at so
critical a moment, why his interference was so energetic, and, above
all, how it came to produce so powerful an effect upon Leicester, were
questions which he could not solve.

But the letter was of itself powerful enough to work effects yet more
wonderful. It was that which the unfortunate Amy had written to her
husband, in which she alleged the reasons and manner of her flight from
Cumnor Place, informed him of her having made her way to Kenilworth
to enjoy his protection, and mentioned the circumstances which had
compelled her to take refuge in Tressilian's apartment, earnestly
requesting he would, without delay, assign her a more suitable asylum.
The letter concluded with the most earnest expressions of devoted
attachment and submission to his will in all things, and particularly
respecting her situation and place of residence, conjuring him only that
she might not be placed under the guardianship or restraint of Varney.
The letter dropped from Leicester's hand when he had perused it. "Take
my sword," he said, "Tressilian, and pierce my heart, as I would but now
have pierced yours!"

"My lord," said Tressilian, "you have done me great wrong, but something
within my breast ever whispered that it was by egregious error."

"Error, indeed!" said Leicester, and handed him the letter; "I have been
made to believe a man of honour a villain, and the best and purest of
creatures a false profligate.--Wretched boy, why comes this letter now,
and where has the bearer lingered?"

"I dare not tell you, my lord," said the boy, withdrawing, as if to keep
beyond his reach; "but here comes one who was the messenger."

Wayland at the same moment came up; and interrogated by Leicester,
hastily detailed all the circumstances of his escape with Amy, the fatal
practices which had driven her to flight, and her anxious desire to
throw herself under the instant protection of her husband--pointing
out the evidence of the domestics of Kenilworth, "who could not," he
observed, "but remember her eager inquiries after the Earl of Leicester
on her first arrival."