The Betrothed

Chapter 11

----The funeral baked meats

Did coldly furnish forth the marriage table.

HAMLET.

The religious rites which followed the funeral of Raymond

Berenger, endured without interruption for the period of six days;

during which, alms were distributed to the poor, and relief

administered, at the expense of the Lady Eveline, to all those who

had suffered by the late inroad. Death-meals, as they were termed,

were also spread in honour of the deceased; but the lady herself,

and most of her attendants, observed a stern course of vigil,

discipline, and fasts, which appeared to the Normans a more

decorous manner of testifying their respect for the dead, than the

Saxon and Flemish custom of banqueting and drinking inordinately

upon such occasions.

Meanwhile, the Constable De Lacy retained a large body of his men

encamped under the walls of the Garde Doloureuse, for protection

against some new irruption of the Welsh, while with the rest he

took advantage of his victory, and struck terror into the British

by many well-conducted forays, marked with ravages scarcely less

hurtful than their own. Among the enemy, the evils of discord were

added to those of defeat and invasion; for two distant relations

of Gwenwyn contended for the throne he had lately occupied, and on

this, as on many other occasions, the Britons suffered as much

from internal dissension as from the sword of the Normans. A worse

politician, and a less celebrated soldier, than the sagacious and

successful De Lacy, could not have failed, under such

circumstances, to negotiate as he did an advantageous peace,

which, while it deprived Powys of a part of its frontier, and the

command of some important passes, in which it was the Constable's

purpose to build castles, rendered the Garde Doloureuse more

secure than formerly, from any sudden attack on the part of

their fiery and restless neighbours. De Lacy's care also went to

re-establishing those settlers who had fled from their possessions,

and putting the whole lordship, which now descended upon an

unprotected female, into a state of defence as perfect as its

situation on a hostile frontier could possibly permit.

Whilst thus anxiously provident in the affairs of the orphan of

the Garde Doloureuse, De Lacy during the space we have mentioned,

sought not to disturb her filial grief by any personal

intercourse. His nephew, indeed, was despatched by times every

morning to lay before her his uncle's _devoirs,_ in the high-

flown language of the day, and acquaint her with the steps which

he had taken in her affairs. As a meed due to his relative's high

services, Damian was always admitted to see Eveline on such

occasions, and returned charged with her grateful thanks, and her

implicit acquiescence in whatever the Constable proposed for her

consideration.

But when the days of rigid mourning were elapsed, the young de

Lacy stated, on the part of his kinsman, that his treaty with the

Welsh being concluded, and all things in the district arranged as

well as circumstances would permit, the Constable of Chester now

proposed to return into his own territory, in order to resume his

instant preparations for the Holy Land, which the duty of

chastising her enemies had for some days interrupted.

"And will not the noble Constable, before he departs from this

place," said Eveline, with a burst of gratitude which the occasion

well merited, "receive the personal thanks of her that was ready

to perish, when he so valiantly came to her aid?"

"It was even on that point that I was commissioned to speak,"

replied Damian; "but my noble kinsman feels diffident to propose

to you that which he most earnestly desires--the privilege of

speaking to your own ear certain matters of high import, and with

which he judges it fit to intrust no third party."

"Surely," said the maiden, blushing, "there can be nought beyond

the bounds of maidenhood, in my seeing the noble Constable

whenever such is his pleasure."

"But his vow," replied Damian, "binds my kinsman not to come

beneath a roof until he sets sail for Palestine; and in order to

meet him, you must grace him so far as to visit his pavilion;--a

condescension which, as a knight and Norman noble, he can scarcely

ask of a damsel of high degree."

"And is that all?" said Eveline, who, educated in a remote

situation, was a stranger to some of the nice points of etiquette

which the damsels of the time observed in keeping their state

towards the other s*x. "Shall I not," she said, "go to render my

thanks to my deliverer, since he cannot come hither to receive

them? Tell the noble Hugo de Lacy, that, next to my gratitude to

Heaven, it is due to him, and to his brave companions in arms. I

will come to his tent as to a holy shrine; and, could such homage

please him, I would come barefooted, were the road strewed with

flints and with thorns."

"My uncle will be equally honoured and delighted with your

resolve," said Damian; "but it will be his study to save you all

unnecessary trouble, and with that view a pavilion shall be

instantly planted before your castle gate, which, if it please you

to grace it with your presence, may be the place for the desired

interview."

Eveline readily acquiesced in what was proposed, as the expedient

agreeable to the Constable, and recommended by Damian; but, in the

simplicity of her heart, she saw no good reason why, under the

guardianship of the latter, she should not instantly, and without

farther form, have traversed the little familiar plain on which,

when a child, she used to chase butterflies and gather king's-

cups, and where of later years she was wont to exercise her

palfrey on this well-known plain, being the only space, and that

of small extent, which separated her from the camp of the

Constable.

The youthful emissary, with whose presence she had now become

familiar, retired to acquaint his kinsman and lord with the

success of his commission; and Eveline experienced the first

sensation of anxiety upon her own account which had agitated her

bosom, since the defeat and death of Gwenwyn gave her permission

to dedicate her thoughts exclusively to grief, for the loss which

she had sustained in the person of her noble father. But now, when

that grief, though not satiated, was blunted by solitary

indulgence--now that she was to appear before the person of whose

fame she had heard so much, of whose powerful protection she had

received such recent proofs, her mind insensibly turned upon the

nature and consequences of that important interview. She had seen

Hugo de Lacy, indeed, at the great tournament at Chester, where

his valour and skill were the theme of every tongue, and she had

received the homage which he rendered her beauty when he assigned

to her the prize, with all the gay flutterings of youthful vanity;

but of his person and figure she had no distinct idea, excepting

that he was a middle-sized man, dressed in peculiarly rich armour,

and that the countenance, which looked out from under the shade of

his raised visor, seemed to her juvenile estimate very nearly as

old as that of her father. This person, of whom she had such

slight recollection, had been the chosen instrument employed by

her tutelar protectress in rescuing her from captivity, and in

avenging the loss of a father, and she was bound by her vow to

consider him as the arbiter of her fate, if indeed he should deem

it worth his while to become so. She wearied her memory with vain

efforts to recollect so much of his features as might give her

some means of guessing at his disposition, and her judgment toiled

in conjecturing what line of conduct he was likely to pursue

towards her.

The great Baron himself seemed to attach to their meeting a degree

of consequence, which was intimated by the formal preparations

which he made for it. Eveline had imagined that he might have

ridden to the gate of the castle in five minutes, and that, if a

pavilion were actually necessary to the decorum of their

interview, a tent could have been transferred from his leaguer to

the castle gate, and pitched there in ten minutes more. But it was

plain that the Constable considered much more form and ceremony as

essential to their meeting; for in about half an hour after Damian

de Lacy had left the castle, not fewer than twenty soldiers and

artificers, under the direction of a pursuivant, whose tabard was

decorated with the armorial bearings of the house of Lacy, were

employed in erecting before the gate of the Garde Doloureuse one

of those splendid pavilions, which were employed at tournaments

and other occasions of public state. It was of purple silk,

valanced with gold embroidery, having the chords of the same rich

materials. The door-way was formed by six lances, the staves of

which were plaited with silver, and the blades composed of the

same precious metal. These were pitched into the ground by

couples, and crossed at the top, so as to form a sort of

succession of arches, which were covered by drapery of sea-green

silk, forming a pleasing contrast with the purple and gold.

The interior of the tent was declared by Dame Gillian and others,

whose curiosity induced them to visit it, to be of a splendour

agreeing with the outside. There were Oriental carpets, and there

were tapestries of Ghent and Bruges mingled in gay profusion,

while the top of the pavilion, covered with sky-blue silk, was

arranged so as to resemble the firmament, and richly studded with

a sun, moon, and stars, composed of solid silver. This gorgeous

pavilion had been made for the use of the celebrated William of

Ypres, who acquired such great wealth as general of the

mercenaries of King Stephen, and was by him created Earl of

Albemarle; but the chance of War had assigned it to De Lacy, after

one of the dreadful engagements, so many of which occurred during

the civil wars betwixt Stephen and the Empress Maude, or Matilda.

The Constable had never before been known to use it; for although

wealthy and powerful, Hugo de Lacy was, on most occasions, plain

and unostentatious; which, to those who knew him, made his present

conduct seem the more remarkable. At the hour of noon he arrived,

nobly mounted, at the gate of the castle, and drawing up a small

body of servants, pages, and equerries, who attended him in their

richest liveries, placed himself at their head, and directed his

nephew to intimate to the Lady of the Garde Doloureuse, that the

humblest of her servants awaited the honour of her presence at the

castle gate.

Among the spectators who witnessed his arrival, there were many

who thought that some part of the state and splendour attached to

his pavilion and his retinue, had been better applied to set forth

the person of the Constable himself, as his attire was simple even

to meanness, and his person by no means of such distinguished

bearing as might altogether dispense with the advantages of dress

and ornament. The opinion became yet more prevalent, when he

descended from horseback, until which time his masterly management

of the noble animal he bestrode, gave a dignity to his person and

figure, which he lost upon dismounting from his steel saddle. In

height, the celebrated Constable scarce attained the middle size,

and his limbs, though strongly built and well knit, were deficient

in grace and ease of movement. His legs were slightly curved

outwards, which gave him advantage as a horseman, but showed

unfavourably when he was upon foot. He halted, though very

slightly, in consequence of one of his legs having been broken by

the fall of a charger, and inartificially set by an inexperienced

surgeon. This, also, was a blemish in his deportment; and though

his broad shoulders, sinewy arms, and expanded chest, betokened

the strength which he often displayed, it was strength of a clumsy

and ungraceful character. His language and gestures were those of

one seldom used to converse with equals, more seldom still with

superiors; short, abrupt, and decisive, almost to the verge of

sternness. In the judgment of those who were habitually acquainted

with the Constable, there was both dignity and kindness in his

keen eye and expanded brow; but such as saw him for the first time

judged less favourably, and pretended to discover a harsh and

passionate expression, although they allowed his countenance to

have, on the whole, a bold and martial character. His age was in

reality not more than five-and-forty, but the fatigues of war and

of climate had added in appearance ten years to that period of

time. By far the plainest dressed man of his train, he wore only a

short Norman mantle, over the close dress of shamois-leather,

which, almost always covered by his armour, was in some places

slightly soiled by its pressure. A brown hat, in which he wore a

sprig of rosemary in memory of his vow, served for his head-gear--

his good sword and dagger hung at a belt made of seal-skin.

Thus accoutred, and at the head of a glittering and gilded band of

retainers, who watched his lightest glance, the Constable of

Chester awaited the arrival of the Lady Eveline Berenger, at the

gate of her castle of Garde Doloureuse.

The trumpets from within announced her presence--the bridge fell,

and, led by Damian de Lacy in his gayest habit, and followed by

her train of females, and menial or vassal attendants, she came

forth in her loveliness from under the massive and antique portal

of her paternal fortress. She was dressed without ornaments of any

kind, and in deep mourning weeds, as best befitted her recent

loss; forming, in this respect, a strong contrast with the rich

attire of her conductor, whose costly dress gleamed with jewels

and embroidery, while their age and personal beauty made them in

every other respect the fair counterpart of each other; a

circumstance which probably gave rise to the delighted murmur and

buzz which passed through the bystanders on their appearance, and

which only respect for the deep mourning of Eveline prevented from

breaking out into shouts of applause.

The instant that the fair foot of Eveline had made a step beyond

the palisades which formed the outward barrier of the castle, the

Constable de Lacy stepped forward to meet her, and, bending his

right knee to the earth, craved pardon for the discourtesy which

his vow had imposed on him, while he expressed his sense of the

honour with which she now graced him, as one for which his life,

devoted to her service, would be an inadequate acknowledgment.

The action and speech, though both in consistence with the

romantic gallantry of the times, embarrassed Eveline; and the

rather that this homage was so publicly rendered. She entreated

the Constable to stand up, and not to add to the confusion of one

who was already sufficiently at a loss how to acquit herself of

the heavy debt of gratitude which she owed him. The Constable

arose accordingly, after saluting her hand, which she extended to

him, and prayed her, since she was so far condescending, to deign

to enter the poor hut he had prepared for her shelter, and to

grant him the honour of the audience he had solicited. Eveline,

without farther answer than a bow, yielded him her hand, and

desiring the rest of her train to remain where they were,

commanded the attendance of Rose Flammock.

"Lady," said the Constable, "the matters of which I am compelled

thus hastily to speak, are of a nature the most private."

"This maiden," replied Eveline, "is my bower-woman, and acquainted

with my most inward thoughts; I beseech you to permit her presence

at our conference."

"It were better otherwise," said Hugo de Lacy, with some

embarrassment; "but your pleasure shall be obeyed."

He led the Lady Eveline into the tent, and entreated her to be

seated on a large pile of cushions, covered with rich Venetian

silk. Rose placed herself behind her mistress, half kneeling upon

the same cushions, and watched the motions of the all-accomplished

soldier and statesman, whom the voice of fame lauded so loudly;

enjoying his embarrassment as a triumph of her s*x, and scarcely

of opinion that his shamois doublet and square form accorded with

the splendour of the scene, or the almost angelic beauty of

Eveline, the other actor therein.

"Lady," said the Constable, after some hesitation, "I would

willingly say what it is my lot to tell you, in such terms as

ladies love to listen to, and which surely your excellent beauty

more especially deserves; but I have been too long trained in

camps and councils to express my meaning otherwise than simply and

plainly."

"I shall the more easily understand you, my lord," said Eveline,

trembling, though she scarce knew why.

"My story, then, must be a blunt one. Something there passed

between your honourable father and myself, touching a union of our

houses."--He paused, as if he wished or expected Eveline to say

something, but, as she was silent, he proceeded. "I would to God,

that, as he was at the beginning of this treaty, it had pleased

Heaven he should have conducted and concluded it with his usual

wisdom; but what remedy?--he has gone the path which we must all

tread."

"Your lordship," said Eveline, "has nobly avenged the death of

your noble friend."

"I have but done my devoir, lady, as a good knight, in defence of

an endangered maiden--a Lord Marcher in protection of the

frontier--and a friend in avenging his friend. But to the point.--

Our long and noble line draws near to a close. Of my remote

kinsman, Randal Lacy, I will not speak; for in him I see nothing

that is good or hopeful, nor have we been at one for many years.

My nephew, Damian, gives hopeful promise to be a worthy branch of

our ancient tree--but he is scarce twenty years old, and hath a

long career of adventure and peril to encounter, ere he can

honourably propose to himself the duties of domestic privacy or

matrimonial engagements. His mother also is English, some

abatentent perhaps in the escutcheon of his arms; yet, had ten

years more passed over him with the honours of chivalry, I should

have proposed Damian de Lacy for the happiness to which I at

present myself aspire."

"You--you, my lord!--it is impossible!" said Eveline, endeavouring

at the same time to suppress all that could be offensive in the

surprise which she could not help exhibiting.

"I do not wonder," replied the Constable, calmly,--for the ice

being now broken, he resumed the natural steadiness of his manner

and character,--"that you express surprise at this daring

proposal. I have not perhaps the form that pleases a lady's eye,

and I have forgotten,--that is, if I ever knew them,--the terms

and phrases which please a lady's ear; but, noble Eveline, the

Lady of Hugh de Lacy will be one of the foremost among the

matronage of England."

"It will the better become the individual to whom so high a

dignity is offered," said Eveline, "to consider how far she is

capable of discharging its duties."

"Of that I fear nothing," said De Lacy. "She who hath been so

excellent a daughter, cannot be less estimable in every other

relation in life."

"I do not find that confidence in myself my lord," replied the

embarrassed maiden, "with which you are so willing to load me--And

I--forgive me--must crave time for other inquiries, as well as

those which respect myself."

"Your father, noble lady, had this union warmly at heart. This

scroll, signed with his own hand, will show it." He bent his knee

as he gave the paper. "The wife of De Lacy will have, as the

daughter of Raymond Berenger merits, the rank of a princess; his

widow, the dowry of a queen."

"Mock me not with your knee, my lord, while you plead to me the

paternal commands, which, joined to other circumstances"--she

paused, and sighed deeply--"leave me, perhaps, but little room for

free will!"

Imboldened by this answer, De Lacy, who had hitherto remained on

his knee, rose gently, and assuming a seat beside the Lady

Eveline, continued to press his suit,--not, indeed, in the

language of passion, but of a plain-spoken man, eagerly urging a

proposal on which his happiness depended. The vision of the

miraculous image was, it may be supposed, uppermost in the mind of

Eveline, who, tied down by the solemn vow she had made on that

occasion, felt herself constrained to return evasive answers,

where she might perhaps have given a direct negative, had her own

wishes alone been to decide her reply.

"You cannot," she said, "expect from me, my lord, in this my so

recent orphan state, that I should come to a speedy determination

upon an affair of such deep importance. Give me leisure of your

nobleness for consideration with myself--for consultation with my

friends."

"Alas! fair Eveline," said the Baron, "do not be offended at my

urgency. I cannot long delay setting forward on a distant and

perilous expedition; and the short time left me for soliciting

your favour, must be an apology for my importunity."

"And is it in these circumstances, noble De Lacy, that you would

encumber yourself with family ties?" asked the maiden, timidly.

"I am God's soldier," said the Constable, "and He, in whose cause

I fight in Palestine, will defend my wife in England."

"Hear then my present answer, my lord," said Eveline Berenger,

rising from her seat. "To-morrow I proceed to the Benedictine

nunnery at Gloucester, where resides my honoured father's sister,

who is Abbess of that reverend house. To her guidance I will

commit myself in this matter."

"A fair and maidenly resolution," answered De Lacy, who seemed, on

his part, rather glad that the conference was abridged, "and, as I

trust, not altogether unfavourable to the suit of your humble

suppliant, since the good Lady Abbess hath been long my honoured

friend." He then turned to Rose, who was about to attend her

lady:--"Pretty maiden," he said, offering a chain of gold, "let

this carcanet encircle thy neck, and buy thy good will."

"My good will cannot be purchased, my lord," said Rose, putting

back the gift which he proffered.

"Your fair word, then," said the Constable, again pressing it upon

her.

"Fair words are easily bought," said Rose, still rejecting the

chain, "but they are seldom worth the purchase-money."

"Do you scorn my proffer, damsel?" said De Lacy: "it has graced

the neck of a Norman count."

"Give it to a Norman countess then, my lord," said the damsel; "I

am plain Rose Flammock, the weaver's daughter. I keep my good word

to go with my good will, and a latten chain will become me as well

as beaten gold."

"Peace, Rose," said her lady; "you are over malapert to talk thus

to the Lord Constable.--And you, my lord," she continued, "permit

me now to depart, since you are possessed of my answer to your

present proposal. I regret it had not been of some less delicate

nature, that by granting it at once, and without delay, I might

have shown my sense of your services."

The lady was handed forth by the Constable of Chester, with the

same ceremony which had been observed at their entrance, and she

returned to her own castle, sad and anxious in mind for the event

of this important conference. She gathered closely round her the

great mourning veil, that the alteration of her countenance might

not be observed; and, without pausing to speak even to Father

Aldrovand, she instantly withdrew to the privacy of her own bower.