The Betrothed

Chapter 10

They bore him barefaced on his bier,

Six proper youths and tall,

And many a tear bedew'd his grave

Within yon kirkyard wall.

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY.

While these matters took place in the castle-yard, the young

squire, Damian Lacy, obtained the audience which he had requested

of Eveline Berenger, who received him in the great hall of the

castle, seated beneath the dais, or canopy, and waited upon by

Rose and other female attendants; of whom the first alone was

permitted to use a tabouret or small stool in her presence, so

strict were the Norman maidens of quality in maintaining their

claims to high rank and observance.

The youth was introduced by the confessor and Flammock, as the

spiritual character of the one, and the trust reposed by her late

father in the other, authorized them to be present upon the

occasion. Eveline naturally blushed, as she advanced two steps to

receive the handsome youthful envoy; and her bashfulness seemed

infectious, for it was with some confusion that Damian went

through the ceremony of saluting the hand which she extended

towards him in token of welcome. Eveline was under the necessity

of speaking first.

"We advance as far as our limits will permit us," she said, "to

greet with our thanks the messenger who brings us tidings of

safety. We speak--unless we err--to the noble Damian of Lacy?"

"To the humblest of your servants," answered Damian, falling with

some difficulty into the tone of courtesy which his errand and

character required, "who approaches you on behalf of his noble

uncle, Hugo de Lacy, Constable of Chester."

"Will not our noble deliverer in person honour with his presence

the poor dwelling which he has saved?"

"My noble kinsman," answered Damian, "is now God's soldier, and

bound by a vow not to come beneath a roof until he embark for the

Holy Land. But by my voice he congratulates you on the defeat of

your savage enemies, and sends you these tokens that the comrade

and friend of your noble father hath not left his lamentable death

many hours unavenged." So saying, he drew forth and laid before

Eveline the gold bracelets, the coronet, and the eudorchawg, or

chain of linked gold, which had distinguished the rank of the

Welsh Prince. [Footnote: Eudorchawg, or Gold Chains of the Welsh.

These were the distinguished marks of rank and valour among the

numerous tribes of Celtic extraction. Manlius, the Roman Champion,

gained the name of Torquatus, or he of the chain, on account of an

ornament of this kind, won, in single combat, from a gigantic

Gaul. Aneurin, the Welsh bard, mentions, in his poem on the battle

of Catterath, that no less than three hundred of the British, who

fell there, had their necks wreathed with the Eudorchawg. This

seems to infer that the chain was a badge of distinction, and

valour perhaps, but not of royalty; otherwise there would scarce

have been so many kings present in one battle. This chain has been

found accordingly in Ireland and Wales, and sometimes, though more

rarely, in Scotland. Doubtless it was of too precious materials

not to be usually converted into money by the enemy into whose

hands it fell.]

"Gwenwyn hath then fallen?" said Eveline, a natural shudder

combating with the feelings of gratified vengeance, as she beheld

that the trophies were speckled with blood,--"The slayer of my

father is no more!"

"My kinsman's lance transfixed the Briton as he endeavoured to

rally his flying people--he died grimly on the weapon which had

passed more than a fathom through his body, and exerted his last

strength in a furious but ineffectual blow with his mace." "Heaven

is just," said Eveline; "may his sins be forgiven to the man of

blood, since he hath fallen by a death so bloody!--One question I

would ask you, noble sir. My father's remains----" She paused

unable to proceed. "An hour will place them at your disposal, most

honoured lady," replied the squire, in the tone of sympathy which

the sorrows of so young and so fair an orphan called irresistibly

forth. "Such preparations as time admitted were making even when I

left the host, to transport what was mortal of the noble Berenger

from the field on which we found him amid a monument of slain

which his own sword had raised. My kinsman's vow will not allow

him to pass your portcullis; but, with your permission, I will

represent him, if such be your pleasure, at these honoured

obsequies, having charge to that effect."

"My brave and noble father," said Eveline, making an effort to

restrain her tears, "will be best mourned by the noble and the

brave." She would have continued, but her voice failed her, and

she was obliged to withdraw abruptly, in order to give vent to her

sorrow, and prepare for the funeral rites with such ceremony as

circumstances should permit. Damian bowed to the departing mourner

as reverently as he would have done to a divinity, and taking his

horse, returned to his uncle's host, which had encamped hastily on

the recent field of battle.

The sun was now high, and the whole plain presented the appearance

of a bustle, equally different from the solitude of the early

morning, and from the roar and fury of the subsequent engagement.

The news of Hugo de Lacy's victory every where spread abroad with

all alacrity of triumph, and had induced many of the inhabitants

of the country, who had fled before the fury of the Wolf of

Plinlimmon, to return to their desolate habitations. Numbers also

of the loose and profligate characters which abound in a country

subject to the frequent changes of war, had flocked thither in

quest of spoil, or to gratify a spirit of restless curiosity. The

Jew and the Lombard, despising danger where there was a chance of

gain, might be already seen bartering liquors and wares with the

victorious men-at-arms, for the blood-stained ornaments of gold

lately worn by the defeated British. Others acted as brokers

betwixt the Welsh captives and their captors; and where they could

trust the means and good faith of the former, sometimes became

bound for, or even advanced in ready money, the sums necessary for

their ransom; whilst a more numerous class became themselves the

purchasers of those prisoners who had no immediate means of

settling with their conquerors.

That the spoil thus acquired might not long encumber the soldier,

or blunt his ardour for farther enterprise, the usual means of

dissipating military spoils were already at hand. Courtezans,

mimes, jugglers, minstrels, and tale-tellers of every description,

had accompanied the night-march; and, secure in the military

reputation of the celebrated De Lacy, had rested fearlessly at

some little distance until the battle was fought and won. These

now approached, in many a joyous group, to congratulate the

victors. Close to the parties which they formed for the dance, the

song, or the tale, upon the yet bloody field, the countrymen,

summoned in for the purpose, were opening large trenches for

depositing the dead--leeches were seen tending the wounded--

priests and monks confessing those in extremity--soldiers

transporting from the field the bodies of the more honoured among

the slain--peasants mourning over their trampled crops and

plundered habitations--and widows and orphans searching for the

bodies of husbands and parents, amid the promiscuous c*****e of

two combats. Thus wo mingled her wildest notes with those of

jubilee and bacchanal triumph, and the plain of the Garde

Doloureuse formed a singular parallel to the varied maze of human

life, where joy and grief are so strangely mixed, and where the

confines of mirth and pleasure often border on those of sorrow and

of death.

About noon these various noises were at once silenced, and the

attention alike of those who rejoiced or grieved was arrested by

the loud and mournful sound of six trumpets, which, uplifting and

uniting their thrilling tones in a wild and melancholy death-note,

apprised all, that the obsequies of the valiant Raymond Berenger

were about to commence. From a tent, which had been hastily

pitched for the immediate reception of the body, twelve black

monks, the inhabitants of a neighbouring convent, began to file

out in pairs, headed by their abbot, who bore a large cross, and

thundered forth the sublime notes of the Catholic _Miserere me,

Domine_. Then came a chosen body of men-at-arms, trailing their

lances, with their points reversed and pointed to the earth; and

after them the body of the valiant Berenger, wrapped in his own

knightly banner, which, regained from the hands of the Welsh, now

served its noble owner instead of a funeral pall. The most gallant

Knights of the Constable's household (for, like other great nobles

of that period, he had formed it upon a scale which approached to

that of royalty) walked as mourners and supporters of the corpse,

which was borne upon lances; and the Constable of Chester himself,

alone and fully armed, excepting the head, followed as chief

mourner. A chosen body of squires, men-at-arms, and pages of noble

descent, brought up the rear of the procession; while their nakers

and trumpets echoed back, from time to time, the melancholy song

of the monks, by replying in a note as lugubrious as their own.

The course of pleasure was arrested, and even that of sorrow was

for a moment turned from her own griefs, to witness the last

honours bestowed on him, who had been in life the father and

guardian of his people.

The mournful procession traversed slowly the plain which had been

within a few hours the scene of such varied events; and, pausing

before the outer gate of the barricades of the castle, invited, by

a prolonged and solemn flourish, the fortress to receive the

remains of its late gallant defender. The melancholy summons was

answered by the warder's horn--the drawbridge sunk--the portcullis

rose--and Father Aldrovand appeared in the middle of the gateway,

arrayed in his sacerdotal habit, whilst a little way behind him

stood the orphaned damsel, in such weeds of mourning as time

admitted, supported by her attendant Rose, and followed by the

females of the household.

The Constable of Chester paused upon the threshold of the outer

gate, and, pointing to the cross signed in white cloth upon his

left shoulder, with a lowly reverence resigned to his nephew,

Damian, the task of attending the remains of Raymond Berenger to

the chapel within the castle. The soldiers of Hugo de Lacy, most

of whom were bound by the same vow with himself, also halted

without the castle gate, and remained under arms, while the death-

peal of the chapel bell announced from within the progress of the

procession.

It winded on through those narrow entrances, which were skilfully

contrived to interrupt the progress of an enemy, even should he

succeed in forcing the outer gate, and arrived at length in the

great court-yard, where most of the inhabitants of the fortress,

and those who, under recent circumstances, had taken refuge there,

were drawn up, in order to look, for the last time, on their

departed lord. Among these were mingled a few of the motley crowd

from without, whom curiosity, or the expectation of a dole, had

brought to the castle gate, and who, by one argument or another,

had obtained from the warder permission to enter the interior.

The body was here set down before the door of the chapel, the

ancient Gothic front of which formed one side of the court-yard,

until certain prayers were recited by the priests, in which the

crowd around were supposed to join with becoming reverence.

It was during this interval, that a man, whose peaked beard,

embroidered girdle, and high-crowned hat of gray felt, gave him

the air of a Lombard merchant, addressed Margery, the nurse of

Eveline, in a whispering tone, and with a foreign accent.--"I am a

travelling merchant, good sister, and am come hither in quest of

gain--can you tell me whether I can have any custom in this

castle?"

"You are come at an evil time, Sir Stranger--you may yourself see

that this is a place for mourning and not for merchandise."

"Yet mourning times have their own commerce," said the stranger,

approaching still closer to the side of Margery, and lowering his

voice to a tone yet more confidential. "I have sable scarfs of

Persian silk--black bugles, in which a princess might mourn for a

deceased monarch--cyprus, such as the East hath seldom sent forth

--black cloth for mourning hangings--all that may express sorrow

and reverence in fashion and attire; and I know how to be grateful

to those who help me to custom. Come, bethink you, good dame--such

things must be had--I will sell as good ware and as cheap as

another; and a kirtle to yourself, or, at your pleasure, a purse

with five florins, shall be the meed of your kindness."

"I prithee peace, friend," said Margery, "and choose a better time

for vaunting your wares--you neglect both place and season; and if

you be farther importunate, I must speak to those who will show

you the outward side of the castle gate. I marvel the warders

would admit pedlars upon a day such as this--they would drive a

gainful bargain by the bedside of their mother, were she dying, I

trow." So saying, she turned scornfully from him.

While thus angrily rejected on the one side, the merchant felt his

cloak receive an intelligent twitch upon the other, and, looking

round upon the signal, he saw a dame, whose black kerchief was

affectedly disposed, so as to give an appearance of solemnity to a

set of light laughing features, which must have been captivating

when young, since they retained so many good points when at least

forty years had passed over them. She winked to the merchant,

touching at the same time her under lip with her forefinger, to

announce the propriety of silence and secrecy; then gliding from

the crowd, retreated to a small recess formed by a projecting

buttress of the chapel, as if to avoid the pressure likely to take

place at the moment when the bier should be lifted. The merchant

failed not to follow her example, and was soon by her side, when

she did not give him the trouble of opening his affairs, but

commenced the conversation herself.

"I have heard what you said to our Dame Margery--Mannerly Margery,

as I call her--heard as much, at least, as led me to guess the

rest, for I have got an eye in my head, I promise you."

"A pair of them, my pretty dame, and as bright as drops of dew in

a May morning."

"Oh, you say so, because I have been weeping," said the scarlet-

hosed Gillian, for it was even herself who spoke; "and to be sure,

I have good cause, for our lord was always my very good lord, and

would sometimes chuck me under the chin, and call me buxom Gillian

of Croydon--not that the good gentleman was ever uncivil, for he

would thrust a silver twopennies into my hand at the same time.--

Oh! the friend that I have lost!--And I have had anger on his

account too--I have seen old Raoul as sour as vinegar, and fit for

no place but the kennel for a whole day about it; but, as I said

to him, it was not for the like of me, to be affronting our

master, and a great baron, about a chuck under the chin, or a

kiss, or such like."

"No wonder you are so sorry for so kind a master, dame," said the

merchant.

"No wonder, indeed," replied the dame, with a sigh; "and then what

is to become of us?--It is like my young mistress will go to her

aunt--or she will marry one of these Lacys that they talk so much

of--or, at any rate, she will leave the castle; and it's like old

Raoul and I will be turned to grass with the lord's old chargers.

The Lord knows, they may as well hang him up with the old hounds,

for he is both footless and fangless, and fit for nothing on earth

that I know of."

"Your young mistress is that lady in the mourning mantle," said

the merchant, "who so nearly sunk down upon the body just now?"

"In good troth is she, sir--and much cause she has to sink down. I

am sure she will be to seek for such another father."

"I see you are a most discerning woman, gossip Gillian," answered

the merchant; "and yonder youth that supported her is her

bridegroom?"

"Much need she has for some one to support her," said Gillian;

"and so have I for that matter, for what can poor old rusty Raoul

do?"

"But as to your young lady's marriage?" said the merchant.

"No one knows more, than that such a thing was in treaty between

our late lord and the great Constable of Chester, that came to-day

but just in time to prevent the Welsh from cutting all our

throats, and doing the Lord knoweth what mischief beside. But

there is a marriage talked of, that is certain--and most folk

think it must be for this smooth-cheeked boy, Damian, as they call

him; for though the Constable has gotten a beard, which his nephew

hath not, it is something too grizzled for a bridegroom's chin--

Besides, he goes to the Holy Wars--fittest place for all elderly

warriors--I wish he would take Raoul with him.--But what is all

this to what you were saying about your mourning wares even now?--

It is a sad truth, that my poor lord is gone--But what then?--

Well-a-day, you know the good old saw,--

'Cloth must be wear,

Eat beef and drink beer,

Though the dead go to bier.'

And for your merchandising, I am as like to help you with my good

word as Mannerly Margery, provided you bid fair for it; since, if

the lady loves me not so much, I can turn the steward round my

finger."

"Take this in part of your bargain, pretty Mistress Gillian," said

the merchant; "and when my wains come up, I will consider you

amply, if I get good sale by your favourable report.--But how

shall I get into the castle again? for I would wish to consult

you, being a sensible woman, before I come in with my luggage."

"Why," answered the complaisant dame, "if our English be on guard,

you have only to ask for Gillian, and they will open the wicket to

any single man at once; for we English stick all together, were it

but to spite the Normans;--but if a Norman be on duty, you must

ask for old Raoul, and say you come to speak of dogs and hawks for

sale, and I warrant you come to speech of me that way. If the

sentinel be a Fleming, you have but to say you are a merchant, and

he will let you in for the love of trade."

The merchant repeated his thankful acknowledgment, glided from her

side, and mixed among the spectators, leaving her to congratulate

herself on having gained a brace of florins by the indulgence of

her natural talkative humour; for which, on other occasions, she

had sometimes dearly paid.

The ceasing of the heavy toll of the castle bell now gave

intimation that the noble Raymond Berenger had been laid in the

vault with his fathers. That part of the funeral attendants who

had come from the host of De Lacy, now proceeded to the castle

hall, where they partook, but with temperance, of some

refreshments which were offered as a death-meal; and presently

after left the castle, headed by young Damian, in the same slow

and melancholy form in which they had entered. The monks remained

within the castle to sing repeated services for the soul of the

deceased, and for those of his faithful men-at-arms who had fallen

around him, and who had been so much mangled during, and after,

the contest with the Welsh, that it was scarce possible to know

one individual from another; otherwise the body of Dennis Morolt

would have obtained, as his faith well deserved, the honours of a

separate funeral. [Footnote: The Welsh, a fierce and barbarous

people, were often accused of mangling the bodies of their slain

antagonists. Every one must remember Shakspeare's account, how

-----"the noble Mortimer,

Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight,

Against the irregular and wild Glendower--

Was, by the rude hands of that Welshman taken,

And a thousand of his people butchered;

Upon whose dead corpse there was such misuse,

Such beastly, shameless transformation,

By these Welshwomen done, as may not be,

Without much shame, retold or spoken of."]