LI B R.AR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 FTG>536 
 
 V.I 
 
r«test Date stamped below. 
 
 M)6 -'O f 
 
 0012 0^* 
 
SIR laOLAND. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY. 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 BY HAL WILLIS, 
 
 Stulrcttt at llato, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " CASTLE BAYNARD." 
 
 '• To the hall I to Uie hall ! 
 The banquet iuvites ; 
 There music delight^. 
 And wine crowns with transport the valorous knights.' 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 fiotttion : 
 
 PRINTED FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. 
 
 1827. 
 
8t^ 
 
 ^0 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 X HE musty manuscript materials from 
 which the following Romance is com- 
 pounded and composed, were neither 
 
 s found in an old worm-eaten chest, nor 
 
 ^ discovered neatly sewed up in the horse- 
 hair stuffing of an ancient couch, and mi- 
 
 ;^raculously preserved from demolition, not- 
 
 ^ withstanding all the pressings, squeezings, 
 and kneadings of three or four generations 
 
 v^^of round, plump, portly grandmammas, 
 and as many prim, skinny, sharp-elbowed 
 maiden aunts, setting aside all the bois« 
 
 V terous rompings of the juvenile branches. 
 
 - I do not wish to impose upon the ami- 
 
 B 2 able 
 
IV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 able credulity of my courteous reader (if 
 perchance I be read), setting before them 
 such a dish of indigestible improbabilities, 
 so daintily garnished with a thousand fan- 
 cies; on the contrary, I mean to be un- 
 precedentedly candid in avowing the means 
 whereby I gained possession of every par- 
 ticle of the delectable tale hereinafter re- 
 lated. 
 
 Perhaps my cotemporary brother- scrib- 
 blers (for 111 e'en call myself of that poor 
 but happy fraternity) may deride my 
 wandering from the beaten track — call it 
 all pretension of novelty; no matter — I 
 am an eccentric being — was born so — 
 have lived so — and shall probably die so — 
 and, indeed, I hate nothing worse than 
 plodding on in the old way, and always 
 prefer exploring a new one (be it never so 
 entangled), even at the peril of leaving 
 
 part 
 
INTRODUCTION. V 
 
 part of my skirts behind me, and braving 
 the consequences of being pricked on my 
 route by the sharp-pointed, penetrating 
 thorns of critical and invidious animadver* 
 sion. 
 
 In fine, my motion in the literary 
 " system" is, to that of those bright lumi- 
 naries whose emanations dazzle and de- 
 Hght the world, precisely what the co- 
 met's is to the regular rotatory planets — 
 not that I would have it, for a moment, 
 imagined that I have the ostentation and 
 unpardonable vanity to take unto myself 
 the ideal semblance of the magnitude of 
 that celestial courser, or to hint that the 
 effulgent wit and lightness of my tale 
 resembles the long radiant brush of that 
 fiery orb; on the contrary, I would 
 merely demonstrate (by a heavenly simile) 
 B 3 how 
 
in INTRODUCTION. 
 
 how much we resemble each other in our 
 eccentric course. 
 
 Moreover (let it be understood), al- 
 though I have a kind of " cockletop" pre- 
 dilection for all pieces, scraps, and morsels 
 of antiquity, and the more especially, old 
 black letter and mouldy sheep-skin ma- 
 nuscripts, it is next to impossible that I 
 should ever go digging and groping for 
 them among the ruins of old castles, ab- 
 beys, monasteries, or other structures of 
 that venerable and dilapidated feature. I 
 agree, a moss-covered, grey-looking rem- 
 nant of a Gothic edifice is a vastly pretty 
 object to look at, when peeping at you 
 from the midst of a cluster of embowering 
 trees ; but as to venturing within its crazy 
 walls (crumbling like a pound-cake), I 
 have an obstinate, insurmountable objec- 
 tion, lest any of the crumbs should chance 
 
 to 
 
INTRODUCTION. VU 
 
 to fall to my share, than which nothing 
 could be more unpalatable to a man of my 
 peculiar taste ! 
 
 But lest I be taxed with prolixity, I 
 will proceed, without further comment or 
 circumlocution, to display to my reader 
 the precise and particular manner in which 
 I first obtained, and got possession of, the 
 precious documents wherefrom the fol- 
 lowing delectable pages were extracted, 
 by my unwearying diligence, aided and 
 assisted therein by my worthy chum and 
 croney, master Matthew Mullins, of Port- 
 soken-Ward, chandler ! into whose hands 
 fate or fortune destined they should fall ; 
 for by that identical dealer in soap and 
 sundries was the original MS. purchased, 
 soiled, torn, and mildewed, in a condition 
 capable of lighting up the pyre of enthu- 
 siasm in the cold heart of the most fasti- 
 B 4 dious 
 
Vlll INTRODUCTION. 
 
 dious antiquary. And happy, thrice hap- 
 py, do I consider myself in the possession 
 of that friendship, which so kindly per- 
 mitted me to participate in bringing to 
 light this important historical work, the 
 which will (as Mullins poetically said) 
 — " Shed an immortal halo round our 
 names, and make us be remembered with 
 delight by posterity's posterity !" 
 
 How many eool tankards of twopenny 
 have we sipped — how many pipes have 
 we expended, during the arduous colla- 
 tion, arrangement, and reparation of tliese 
 half-obliterated documents ! and indeed 
 the pains and brains the task required is 
 not to be told: notwithstanding which 
 candid declaration, I dare be sworn, there 
 are those invidious mortals, who will ima- 
 gine we take unto ourselves a greater por- 
 tion of merit than is our due, seeing that 
 
 we 
 
INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 we have but " made up" a book, and not 
 written one. 
 
 This is most true : at the same time, I 
 would observe, with due submission, back- 
 ed by my unassuming coadjutor, master 
 Matthew Mullins, that the better (or the 
 rather the worst) half of the books issued 
 now-a-days are but mere compilations — 
 patchworks composed of snatches and 
 scraps from chronicles, and obscure and 
 little-known black-letter pamphlets; where- 
 as ours at least hath the merit of origina- 
 lity and genuineness; and we could, if we 
 chose to descend to particularities, point 
 out divers little beauties wherewith our 
 work is gemmed, which we could, with 
 honest confidence, claim as our own ; but 
 as master Mullins observed, with a pru- 
 dential pride, whidi I could not but ad- 
 mire — " When we see the tid-bits picked 
 B 5 out 
 
X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 out by the critics, it will be time enough 
 to acknowledge them ; at the same time, 
 by holding our peace, if the work be un- 
 justly decried, we shall then be wise e- 
 nough to let the secret die undivulged 
 within our own breasts." And in this 
 most sage and discreet conclusion, not- 
 withstanding my love of candour and plain 
 speaking, I quietly acquiesced, knowing- 
 full well that Matthew Mullins was deep- 
 ly versed in the opinions and whimsies of 
 mankind; although in the way of author- 
 craft, I have not yielded so implicitly to 
 his ipse dixit on every occasion, from an 
 inward (perhaps egotistical) feeling of my 
 own equality of judgment therein, to say 
 no more of it. 
 
 Even to my first proposal of an intro- 
 ductory preface, master Matthew ISIullins 
 was decidedly averse; and he being a very 
 
 diffident 
 
INTRODUCTION. XI 
 
 diffident man, his objection was further- 
 more strengthened by the knowledge of 
 my resolution, in nowise to screen from 
 the reading public the names of the colla- 
 tors and illustrators, or the precise manner 
 of discovering the MS.; Mullins being of 
 opinion that we should be received far 
 more agreeably by our readers, under an 
 assumed name and title, an affectation of 
 disguise and mystery being the present 
 mode : while, on the other hand, I stre- 
 nuously argued the weight his name 
 would have amongst all honest folks, be- 
 ing a man of some substance, honourably 
 acquired — well to do in the world — and, 
 as all that knew him could faithfully tes- 
 tify, of passing probity and good credit. 
 
 But I was fain, at last, to yield in part 
 
 to his scrupulous particularity, which 
 
 made him shrink so nervously from publi- 
 
 B 6 city 
 
XU INTRODUCTION. 
 
 city and popularity, by putting my name 
 alone in the titlepage ; at the same time 
 positively refusing to omit it in this intro- 
 duction, seeing that I should thereby take 
 upon myself a responsibility which he was 
 equally entitled to share, with the praise 
 which may probably be hereafter awarded 
 to our joint labours. 
 
 Having now, therefore, given this clear 
 and succinct account of its discovery and 
 production, I resign the MS. to the kind 
 care and consideration of the reader, with 
 the cordial wish, that it may be perused 
 with as much gratification as tlie compi- 
 lation afforded; and that while its better 
 parts yield amusement, its many defects 
 may be treated with a generous lenity. 
 
 H. W. 
 
 SIR 
 
H( 
 
 SIR ROLAND 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 U P, up, cousin Perkyn ! come, rouse 
 thee, man — dost hear ? — That's the third 
 cock since I called thee : one would think 
 thou dost sleep with poppies under thy 
 nose — or art thou frozen ?" 
 
 " Frozen! no, certes," said Perkyn, 
 yawning, and rubbing his drowsy eyelids. 
 '* But what makes thee so lively this 
 morning, Ralphe ?" 
 
 " That's but a sleepy question," cried 
 Ralphe; ** arouse thee, and open thine 
 eyes, an' thou wilt not hear the click-clack 
 of Mabil's tongue. By the mass ! when- 
 ever 
 
14 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ever her music st;jkes upon mine ear, it 
 always puts me out of tune, and makes my 
 head go round like a whirligig !" 
 
 ** Mayhap it may," said Perky n, rising 
 from his straw pallet, and stretching his 
 rude-formed limbs ; " but a woman's eyes, 
 as well as a woman's tongue, may turn 
 the head of a carl or a king.'* 
 
 " Thou shak'st thine ears, and look'st 
 so very wise," replied Ralphe, " that for- 
 sooth I think thou hast some notion there, 
 whereof 'twould be better to relieve thee." 
 
 « Thou'rt right," said Perkyn, « I have. 
 I can see through a millstone as far as 
 most folks — I know a hawk from a hand- 
 saw." 
 
 " Ay, thou'rt 'cute enough — in mis- 
 chief!" said Ralphe, " and can'st give a 
 good pail, and kick it down again too." 
 
 " And thou can'st carry it, Ralphe," 
 said Perkyn, " for such a lass as Joan." 
 
 " Joan !" exclaimed Ralphe. " Oh, oh ! 
 what, hast thou tracked me, ey ? But 
 
 what 
 
SIR ROLAND. 15 
 
 what care I? for — " added he, singing 
 and laughing — 
 
 " Folks who go slily creeping, 
 Like jealous and envious elves, 
 
 Do seldom get aught by their peeping, 
 Or hear any good o' themselves/' 
 
 ** Dost think, Ralphe — " cried Perkyn, 
 the colour rising in his cheeks — and he 
 would doubtless have given vent to his 
 indignation, but at this juncture the dia- 
 logue of the two thralls was interrupted, 
 as Ralphe had feared, by the shrill, scream- 
 ing voice of Mabil, the spouse of the ceorl 
 or husbandman whom they served, a blus- 
 tering busy-body, a good manager of her 
 husband and his household, whose hands 
 laboured from early dawn to set of sun, 
 and whose tongue was as unceasingly 
 employed. She had passed her thirtieth 
 year — in stature rather middling, and in- 
 clined to be lusty ; and although an early 
 marriage had made her the mother of a 
 large family, yet she was still reckoned, 
 among the goodwives, a neat handsome 
 
 body 
 
16 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 body — a very good neighbour, but, though 
 no idle gossip, rather given to dilate upon 
 trifles. Among other favourite topics, 
 that concerning her family stood pre- 
 eminent, and on every little squabble — 
 and such things will occur in the best re- 
 gulated families — she was sure to inform 
 her spouse — a good, easy, quiet man, of 
 six feet in height, and withal very slender 
 — concerning the house and lands, and 
 live-stock she had brought him, and of 
 the substance and industry of her family, 
 and the consequence her aUiance had 
 given him; but as tranquillity was his 
 chief characteristic, and reply to these oft- 
 repeated truths was impossible and use- 
 less, he generally beat a speedy retreat 
 whenever this occurred. 
 
 To this excellent housewife, Ralph and 
 Perkyn stood in the relationship of ne- 
 phews; in which respect they endured 
 more than any of the bondmen on the 
 farm. She shewed not the least favourit- 
 ism or partiality towards them, uniformly 
 
 setting 
 
SIR ROLAND. 17 
 
 setting apart the most laborious tasks for 
 her hopeful relatives, keeping a strict eye 
 upon them, and rating them soundly on 
 the least appearance of idleness or waste 
 of time. If they evinced the least dislike 
 to obey her commands, or uttered only a 
 murmur in opposition, she poured forth 
 such a strain of eloquence upon the offend- 
 ers, such a merry peal, that ceased not to 
 ring in their ears for a week afterwards. — 
 " I would make hardy, industrious men 
 o' ye," quoth she — " if ye would thrive, 
 lads, in this world, ye must work and la- 
 bour ; the bread and butter will not come 
 to your mouths, and fill your bellies, if ye 
 stand wi' them open till doomsday ; ye 
 are young now, and complain o' my usage, 
 and call it hardship, but ye will learn bet- 
 ter by-and-by, and, I trust, will live to 
 thank me. The sapling that is pruned 
 and trained, will arrive to a tall, a straight, 
 and a fruitful growth ; but let it shoot and 
 spread its own way, and it will presently 
 run wild and straggling, and be in the or- 
 chard 
 
18 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 chard like a poor, idle, and despicable man, 
 among the rich and industrious." 
 
 The youths listened to her arguments 
 in silence, yet not exactly convinced of 
 their truth, or the necessity there was of 
 enforcing her maxims so rigorously ; but 
 a word in reply on their part, would, they 
 were convinced, be only the means of add- 
 ing to their difficulties ; they therefore 
 very wisely, on every occasion, gave a tacit 
 consent to all her eloquence, urged so for- 
 cibly. 
 
 The well-known tones of Mabil's voice 
 had no sooner reached their ears, than 
 every other thought but instant obedience 
 to her hasty summons, was banished from 
 their unsophisticated minds; and flying 
 towards the extreme end of the hayloft, 
 which served them for a commodious dor- 
 mitory, they descended the ladder in a 
 trice, and, without daring to cast their 
 eyes towards Mabil, they ran to their 
 horses, and began to harness them. 
 
 "Ralph — Perkyn — lads," quoth the 
 
 good 
 
SIR ROLAND. 19 
 
 good woman, eagerly, but in a gentle, 
 milder tone than she ordinarily used, when 
 she had the trouble to come and arouse 
 them — " haste ye, and harness the beasts, 
 and lead 'em to the yard ; there's a gentle 
 come to an accident, a worthy, well-spoken 
 man, of some degree too, I warrant — we 
 may sell one o' the beasts to advantage, 
 lads ; he promises fair, there'll be no stick- 
 ling or bating for a shilling or twain ; take 
 a wisp, and rub 'em down. When the 
 apples fall, let us hold out our hands — har- 
 vest comes but once a-year, and he's a fool 
 who doth not reap when he may. I've 
 a large family, lads, and must look after 
 the penny, ye know — rub down their 
 flanks — take the besom to their legs^ — 
 comb their tails and manes — quick — so— 
 they look comely — now, put on their hal- 
 ters — well done. Come, bring 'em quick- 
 ly to the yard. Lord! an' it were not 
 for me, I know not what would become of 
 my poor family ; an' I had not been up 
 
 wi* 
 
20 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 wi' the lark, now mayhap I should ha 
 miss'd o' this good fortin." 
 
 Followed by Ralph and Perkyn lead- 
 ing the beasts, the loquacious and provi- 
 dent goodwife Mabil, walked and talked 
 all the way to the house. The lads' curi- 
 osity had been greatly excited by her im- 
 portant, yet unintelligible communication, 
 but they endeavoured in vain to glean 
 any information from her discourse, which 
 indeed principally ran upon her own ex- 
 cellent foresight and management, inter- 
 larded with vague hints of an occurrence 
 they could not comprehend, but which 
 was certainly to produce some benefit to 
 her family. 
 
 On arriving at the house, however, the 
 mystery was soon elucidated. A stranger 
 had been riding rapidly towards the farm 
 to inquire his road of Mabil, when just 
 as he arrived at the gate, his jaded and 
 weary beast sunk under him, and expired 
 on the spot, casting him off, and occa- 
 sioning him not only discomfiture, but 
 
 several 
 
SIR ROLAND. Sll 
 
 several severe bruises. But u^hen he dis- 
 covered that his horse had really died of 
 excessive fatigue, he seemed to forget all 
 corporeal suffering, and with much ear- 
 nestness begged the good woman to in- 
 form him where he could instantly pro- 
 cure another, or else obtain him one, offer- 
 ing to reward her handsomely for her 
 pains, as business of the most vital im- 
 portance urged him to resume his journey 
 without the least delay. With the great- 
 est alacrity the goodwife promised to sup- 
 ply the wants of the generous and cour- 
 teous stranger, who spoke so indifferently 
 of money, and appeared so well able to 
 pay ; and the manner in which she so di- 
 ligently and good-humouredly executed 
 his commands, we have already related. 
 
 The stranger was impatiently walking 
 to and fro before the house, awaiting her 
 arrival ; his pace was sometimes quick, 
 then slow and irregular, apparently ac- 
 tuated by the impulse of his passing 
 thoughts, and care and anxiety were legi- 
 bly 
 
ft SIR ROLAND. 
 
 bly written on his wrinkled brow. He 
 was of a fair complexion, but yet there was 
 extraordinary paleness visible; his hair 
 and beard were light, his eyes of the 
 brightest blue, his nose aquiline, and the 
 whole cast of his features noble, and evi- 
 dently the remains of a peculiarly hand- 
 some countenance ; in figure he was erect 
 and commanding, though not what is ge- 
 nerally termed tall. He was enveloped 
 in a large brown cloak, guarded with fur, 
 a trim cap, ornamented with a black 
 plume ; and on his feet he wore a pair of 
 loose Spanish leather boots, armed with 
 sharp pointed spurs. 
 
 The moment he saw Mabil advancing, 
 he walked towards her with long hasty 
 strides — " Hast thou succeeded, good wo- 
 man, in procuring me a steed ?" said he. 
 
 " Yes, sir stranger," replied she, bob- 
 bing a courtesy, and the countenance of 
 the traveller brightened at the welcome 
 intelligence; " they are hard by, just at 
 my heels, coming now round the house. 
 
 1 have 
 
SIR ROLAND. 23 
 
 I have brought two for a choice, and fine 
 beasts they be, used to hard work, but in 
 good condition ; for I take heed neither 
 man or beast is idle on our farm ; plenty 
 o' victuals, plenty o' work, as my hus- 
 band says. A large family needs many 
 things, and God knows I labour hard 
 enough to procure them." 
 
 The good woman's harangue was here 
 fortunately cut short by the approach of 
 Ralphe and Perky n with the horses, which 
 being both tolerably good ones, in this 
 case of necessity one was speedily fixed 
 upon by the stranger, who, with the as- 
 sistance of the young men, immediately 
 stripped the fallen horse of his trappings, 
 and transposed them to the back of the 
 other. 
 
 All this was performed, to the great 
 surprise of Mabil, without any mention 
 of the pecuniary satisfaction she was to 
 receive ; to suppose that he wished to take 
 possession of the horse without remune- 
 ration, was impossible; but she knew 
 
 something 
 
24 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 something of the world, and had heard, 
 though she had indeed suffered very little, 
 by its roguery; where no payment was 
 intended, she was aware there was seldom 
 any haggling about the price, and large 
 promises generally ended in little profits. 
 
 Therefore, maturely deliberating upon 
 all these things, and taking into conside- 
 ration the interests of her family, she no 
 longer permitted her delicacy to overcome 
 her desire of gain, and advancing to the 
 stranger, who she thought really intended 
 to mount — " Pardon, sir stranger," said 
 she, courtesying before him, and effectu- 
 ally preventing his approach to the horse 
 without walking over her, " we have not 
 as yet settled for the price — mayhap " 
 
 ** Right — right, good woman," said he, 
 smiling at her earnestness, for it was im- 
 possible to be offended at her caution, 
 " in my haste I had forgotten, but we 
 shall not quarrel about the purchase." 
 
 " No, I dare be sworn we shall not, sir 
 
 stranger," 
 
SIR ROLAND. ^5 
 
 Stranger," replied she, reassured by the 
 manner in which he spoke. 
 
 " By St. Peter !" exclaimed the stran- 
 ger, suddenly, with a tone and look that 
 startled Mabil, " I have certainly lost my 
 bourse — how unfortunate ! yes— yes, 'tis 
 gone," continued he, searching in vain 
 for it about his person ; " well, no matter ; 
 thou wilt lend me the horse, good wo- 
 man, I trust; and in a few days, when I 
 have executed the commission which now 
 urges me on so pressingly, I will, on mine 
 honour, return and reward thee tenfold 
 for the loan." 
 
 The colour in JSIabil's cheeks assumed 
 a deeper hue; she hesitated, and knew 
 not what to reply to this request. She 
 was a very good-natured woman, and felt 
 for the trepidation and anxiety of the tra- 
 veller, but a horse was a thing of too 
 much value, she thought, to lend on the 
 honour of a total stranger. He read her 
 thoughts, and fearing a refusal, he became 
 angered at her delay. — " Do not hesitate," 
 
 VOL. I, c said 
 
^6 SIR KOLANB. 
 
 said he, biting his lips, " I must have the 
 horse ; this dilatoriness may prove my 
 ruin. Fear not, woman, I will keep my 
 word." 
 
 " Ralphe Perkyn," screamed Ma- 
 
 bil, seeing it was his intention to mounts 
 ** hold the horse for your lives — he shall 
 not go." 
 
 " Slaves," cried the stranger, in a reso* 
 lute tone, " I would not willingly harm 
 ye, but anger me not by resistance, or 
 perchance ye may rue it : hereafter I will 
 reward ye. Surely ye do not take me 
 for a spoiler, that would deprive ye un- 
 lawfully of the beast ?" 
 
 Ralphe, however, who had his suspi- 
 cions, v»^hich were moreover increased by 
 the exclamations of Mabil, paid no atten- 
 tion to the stranger, but jumping across 
 the horse, was about to ride away with 
 him ; yet notwithstanding his alertness, 
 the traveller perceived his intention, and 
 drawing his sword, rushed forward and 
 seized the bridle. — " What, sir knave !" 
 
 cried 
 
SIR ROLAND. 27 
 
 cried the stranger, in a rage, belabouring 
 Ralphe with the flat side of his sword. — 
 " Wilt thou dismount, or I will break 
 every bone in thy skin. Dismount, w^ilt 
 thou not?" and he continued to beat him, 
 while Perkyn interposing his body in de- 
 fence of his cousin, was instantly struck 
 to the ground by the powerful arm of the 
 stranger. 
 
 Meantime the affrighted Mabil, behold- 
 ing this enraged and obstreperous con- 
 duct, began to bawl most lustily for good- 
 man Brisset, her spouse, who came run- 
 ning from the house in the greatest alarm. 
 He was a tall, thin, meagre figure, and 
 there was certainly nothing very fascinat- 
 ing in his exterior, as his head was di- 
 minutive, and by no means proportionate 
 to the diuiensions of his body, though his 
 small features were well embrowned by 
 exposure to the sun ; his black hair was 
 lank and uncombed, hanging down his 
 shoulders ; and his whole appearance plain- 
 ly denoted that Mabil had not promoted 
 c 2 the 
 
3l8 SIR ROLAN0. 
 
 the fortunes of goodman Brisset for his 
 beauty, but rather for his utility, as he 
 was hardworking, honest, and withal do- 
 cile as a child ; and indeed he had more 
 the semblance of an overgrown boy than 
 a man of forty. 
 
 " Help — murther — help !" screamed 
 Mabil, and — " Help — help ! — goodman 
 Brisset !" roared both the lads on his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 " What's the matter?" demanded 
 Brisset, who had only just quitted his pal- 
 let, and was hardly awake. 
 
 " Matter !" repeated Mabil, whose in- 
 dignation was aroused by his apathy — 
 *' dost not see the lads are being murther- 
 ed ! run, sirrah, and take off that despe- 
 rate — shew thyself a man." 
 
 His interference was however happily 
 needless, for the moment he made his ap- 
 pearance, the stranger desisted, and sheath- 
 ing his weapon, turned towards him. 
 
 The youths attributed this sudden be- 
 haviour on the part of their assailant, ta 
 
 the 
 
SIR ROLAND. 29 
 
 the fear of their master's vengeance, for 
 he was a man -who could handle both 
 sword and pike, and had been in many 
 skirmishes under the valiant lord from 
 whom he held the lands he cultivated, 
 from which he had always come off with- 
 out loss of blood or honour; but when 
 they observed the stranger sheath his 
 weapon, and approach their master, they 
 could only marvel at his audacity. 
 
 " Brisset !" exclaimed the stranger, gaz- 
 ing upon the ceorl, " do I hear aright — is 
 it William Brisset v/hom I see ?" 
 
 " I am William Brisset !" replied the 
 other, regarding him with extreme agita- 
 tion — " I am, and thou art " 
 
 " Enough !" said the stranger, frown- 
 ing, and motioning him to be silent. " 'Tis 
 a good chance that hath sent thee hitiier 
 at this moment when I require thine aid 
 — bid those knaves resign the steed. My 
 word, I doubt not, will be a sufficient 
 pledge to William Brisset for my return." 
 
 Brisset bowed obedience to his com- 
 c 3 mands; 
 
id SIR ROLAND. 
 
 mands ; and leading the horse by the bri^ 
 die, with the greatest humility assisted 
 the traveller to mount, who, whispering 
 a few words in his ear, waved his hand, 
 and was out of sight in a moment. 
 
 Mabil stood a wondering spectator of 
 this incomprehensible scene, which had 
 the miraculous effect of silencing her in- 
 defatigable tongue ; in fact, she was afraid 
 to interrupt their dialogue, lest she should 
 bring upon herself the anger of the impe- 
 tuous stranger, which she had witnessed 
 was not to be done with impunity. But 
 the moment bis departure relieved her 
 from this fear, she asked fifty questions, so 
 rapidly following upon each other, that she 
 gave her spouse no opportunity of an- 
 swering any. 
 
 William Brisset was a true Spartan in 
 his speech, a habit arising more probably 
 from necessity than choice, and therefore 
 at one glance perceiving that to satisfy her 
 curiosity as to the name and condition of 
 the stranger, was the sole purpose of her 
 
 inquiries. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 31 
 
 inquiries, he answered her in the follow- 
 ing succinct and comprehensive manner. 
 — " He is a knight of high degree ; I have 
 tnet him in the field; he once befriend- 
 ed me when I was in jeopardy. He'll re- 
 turn the horse," 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 The dark shades of a November evening 
 were fast closing around, and a dense 
 heavy fog floating in thick clouds over 
 the land, presented a most cheerless and 
 unwelcome prospect. The peasant sought 
 his humble hut, where the crackling and 
 hissing of the logs on the blazing hearth 
 cheered his honest heart, and imparted a 
 glowing and genial appearance of comfort 
 to his lowly dwelling. The lowing of 
 cattle, the bleating of flocks returning to 
 the fold, and the baying of dogs, all gave 
 c 4 an 
 
9% SIR ROLAND. 
 
 an intimation that the hour of repose was 
 rapidly approaching — when through the 
 yellow mist might be imperfectly distin- 
 guished the figures of the stranger and 
 his weary beast, toiling up the steep road 
 which led to the ancient city of Old 
 Sarum, or Salisburie, whose noble castle 
 and fair fortifications covered the summit 
 of a high hill, at the foot of which ran a 
 double entrenchment, and a deep dyke, 
 forming an excellent defence. 
 
 There was much rejoicing, pleasantry, 
 and mirth, within the ancient walls; for 
 Roger, bishop of Salisburie, being then 
 vicegerent to king Henry (the first of 
 that name), who had gone over into Nor- 
 mandy, there were divers of the nobility 
 of England, and their retainers, sojourning 
 there. The respect paid to the favourite, 
 in the absence of his royal master, was 
 profound; for the bishop was known to 
 bear great sway with the king, and the 
 smiles of such a man were worthy a cour- 
 tier's wooing : in his regard there was 
 
 certain 
 
SIR ROLAND. 33 
 
 certain preferment and dignities to be 
 won, and ambitious hope flourished in the 
 sunshine of his favour. 
 
 The present high and honourable sta- 
 tion which he held, arose from one of those 
 wonderful freaks, with which fortune de- 
 lights to surprise mankind. While Henry 
 was travelling in Normandy, he happened 
 to enter the church where Roger, then a 
 poor parish priest, was performing m.ass; his 
 impressive manner, his clear and distinct 
 delivery, and the great care and simplicity 
 with which he went through the whole 
 service, attracted the attention of the 
 prince — who had at that time, however^ 
 no prospect of mounting the throne — and 
 so much was he pleased with the propriety 
 of Roger's conduct, that he expressed his 
 wish that he would become his chaplain. 
 The priest was much surprised, yet not 
 less gratified, at this offer of preferment 
 from so noble a prince, and, as may be 
 supposed, required but httle solicitation 
 and entreaty to embrace his offer : he was 
 c 5 not 
 
34 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 not gifted with much learning, and indeed 
 very few, even of the religious order, could 
 boast any pretensions to erudition in those 
 unenlightened days ; but his natural quick- 
 ness and ability amply supplied this de- 
 fect in his education : he was also of a 
 pliant, docile, and yielding disposition, an 
 even temper, possessed of vast discern- 
 ment, and withal so good a courtier, that 
 he failed not speedily to win the confi- 
 dence and affection of his royal patron. 
 The latter continually loaded him with 
 the munificent marks of his favour, and 
 lastly, upon coming to the crown, bestow- 
 ed upon him the bishoprick of Salisburie, 
 from the emoluments of which he derived 
 a large revenue, which was, moreover, 
 augmented by the numerous presents he 
 daily received from those who wished to 
 flatter or ask some boon of the favourite; 
 and by these means he was now become 
 one of the wealthiest subjects in England. 
 Increase of fortune, however, did not in- 
 crease his pride ; he still, at least outward- 
 
SIR ROLAND. 35 
 
 ly, bore that appearance of humility and 
 simplicity which had so fortuitously raised 
 him to his present grandeur; the mild- 
 ness and suavity of his behaviour to all 
 manner of men, of high or low degree, 
 was ever the same; in denial of, as in 
 granting a favour, his speech was equally 
 agreeable, and conciliated even those who 
 were disappointed. That he was fond of 
 wealth and power, there is little doubt, for 
 the quantity of money and jewels he 
 amassed was immense ; but it is also true 
 that he expended large sums in building 
 castles and houses in different parts of 
 England : yet it was obvious he could not 
 possibly enjoy all the noble structures he 
 had caused to be erected ; nor could it be 
 for the benefit of his heirs, for he had none; 
 it was therefore generally thought to be a 
 mark of his vanity and ambition, to per- 
 petuate his memory, and carry down his 
 name to posterity, as the founder of those 
 noble edifices. 
 
 The stranger now entered the gates of 
 c 6 the 
 
86 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the city, and dismounting, led his horse ; 
 for the narrow streets were so thronged 
 with people passing from house to house, 
 where the several noblemen and knights 
 bad taken up their dwellings, that he 
 found it extremely difficult and tedious, 
 in his present apparent haste, to penetrate 
 the crowd ; the obscurity of the evening 
 rendering it still more perplexing, as the 
 improvement of lighting the streets, even 
 in the greatest cities, was then unknown; 
 and, with the exception of now and then 
 a solitary torch, borne in the hand of 
 some vassal, who was leading the steed 
 his lord bestrode, and which momentarily 
 glared red in the fog as they passed along, 
 and dazzling his eyes, left him in a worse 
 predicament, no object was visible. 
 
 The persons of whom he inquired in 
 his route, however, instantly directed him 
 to the bishop's residence, wliich he evinced 
 the greatest anxiety to reach. Having at 
 length arrived at the desired spot, he beg- 
 ged the vassals who were on duty at the 
 
 portal 
 
SIR ROLAND. 37 
 
 portal to admit him without delay to the 
 presence of their lord, as he wished to im- 
 part to him something of the utmost im- 
 portance. 
 
 " I fear me, sir knight," said the man 
 whom he addressed, " my lord hath even 
 now retired to his chamber; his noble 
 guests have all departed hence, since " 
 
 " No matter," replied the stranger, im- 
 patiently, " I must see him ; affairs that 
 wdll brook no delay demand I should 
 commune with him. Here, take this 
 signet, and bear thou my bidding fear- 
 lessly, as thou shalt harmlessly ; no blame 
 shall fall on thee in this proceeding." 
 
 There was something so commanding 
 and assured in the stranger knight, that 
 the vassal no longer hesitated to comply 
 with his request, but taking the offered 
 signet, bowed and departed. The remain- 
 ing vassals promptly offered their services 
 to the traveller, who resigned his horse to 
 their care, with the strictest injunctions 
 to provide him with every thing needful 
 
 in 
 
38 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 in his present galled and jaded condition ; 
 and awaiting the return of the messenger, 
 he seated himself on an oaken bench by 
 the hearth, his large and fair eyes fixed 
 on vacancy, and his brow contracted and 
 heavy with thought. 
 
 This apartment, standing on the right 
 hand when entering the stupendous oaken 
 gates, w^hich were richly carved and 
 adorned with cherubims'^ heads and orna- 
 mental floresc w^ork, fitting the residence 
 of so rich a subject, was built entirely of 
 wood ; its plain, smooth walls, hung round 
 with pikes, morions, targets, and various 
 implements of warfare, its floor laid with 
 broad red tiles ; and the massy girders and 
 bold rafters, blackened with smoke, form- 
 ing its rude roof and ceiling all in one, 
 gave the whole an appearance of unpo- 
 lished substantiality ; while, through a 
 large aperture in the roof, serving the 
 purpose of more modern and convenient 
 chimnies, the white curling smoke from 
 the well-piled hearth freely escaped. On 
 
 the 
 
SIR ROLAND. 39 
 
 the floor of the lodge, or guard-room, lay 
 five or six vassals, stretched at full length 
 upon their straw pallets, ready accoutred 
 to relieve the guard, and enjoying the in- 
 terval in sound and refreshing sleep. 
 
 In the course of a few minutes, though 
 the tedious time appeared an age in the 
 calculation of the impatient stranger, the 
 vassal made his appearance, and having 
 communicated his lord's courteous com- 
 pliance with his request, conducted him 
 across the spacious court to the chamber 
 where the bishop awaited him, who, with 
 that politeness which ever characterized 
 him, met and embraced him at the door. 
 
 " A hearty welcome and true, to Hu- 
 bert de Lacy," said the bishop, " both for 
 thine own sake, and for those, dear to 
 my heart, from whom, I trust, thou 
 bring'st glad tidings;" and leading the 
 knight by the hand, he seated him beside 
 himself on a couch. — " Say," continued he, 
 " how fares his grace, and the good prince 
 
 Stephen, 
 
40 SIR ROLAND, 
 
 Stephen, and all our friends in Norman- 
 dy ?» 
 
 " It grieves me sore to say," replied 
 Hubert de Lacy, sighing, while the firm- 
 ness of his regards, which he directed full 
 upon the venerable countenance of the 
 bishop, exhibited no signs of the sorrow 
 his tongue expressed, " that our beloved 
 king is troubled with such malady, that I 
 fear me (though all the saints avert the 
 blow !) it will go nigh to baffle the skill of 
 his leeches." 
 
 "Now God's will be done!" said the 
 bishop, fervently, yet evidently moved at 
 these tidings : " but truly, I trust, good 
 De Lacy, his friends' fears do magnify his 
 danger. King Henry, though he hath seen 
 full threescore years, I wot doth inherit a 
 goodly constitution, the which he hath 
 not weakened by intemperance ; his mo- 
 deration and abstemiousness have always 
 been remarkable, shewing a good example 
 to many of his nobles, who I am shamed 
 to say, needed, yet ne'er felt the inclina- 
 
 tion 
 
SIR ROLAND. 41 
 
 tioii to follow it. But tell me, sir knight, 
 how came this sad malady upon his grace ? 
 was it excited by fatigue, or did it come 
 i* the air like the deadly blight, which 
 ever blasts and withers the noblest trees 
 with its pestiferous breath ?" 
 
 " Much I fear me, my lord," said De 
 Lacy, " the cause of this sad effect arose 
 rather from undue irritation of the mind 
 — the more sensitive part — than the body. 
 Report says, though his grace is silent, 
 and keeps the secret fast locked and 
 rankling in his own breast, that he had 
 some difference with his son-in-law, the 
 earle of Anjou ; and that Maude too o'er- 
 stepped the bounds of filial duty and re- 
 spect so far, as to abuse her royal sire, 
 taking part against him with her lord. 
 This is but hearsay — this I know, as mine 
 own ears did witness — I heard him talk 
 of Maude, appelling her * shrew and she- 
 devil,' and such other terms, as plainly 
 evinced she had displeased him most un- 
 pardonably." 
 
 ** I would 
 
42 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " I would this were not true !" said the 
 bishop ; " 'tis sad to quarrel with one's kin- 
 dred, nor doth his grace deserve this usage 
 at her hands — she* whom his care and po- 
 licy hath raised, with so much love and 
 goodness, to fortune and command. But, 
 alas ! from her childhood I have noted in 
 that dame a proud and querulous disposi- 
 tion, capricious and overbearing, more 
 willing to command and be obeyed in 
 fear, than take the pains to win with 
 mildness and sweet persuasion, such as 
 should ever dwell on woman's lip — 'tis a 
 sad truth, yet in truth must it be spoken." 
 
 As the bishop concluded, the eyes of 
 Hubert de Lacy were illumined with a 
 pleasure he could not conceal, and his 
 brows relaxed from the anxiety which be- 
 fore contracted them. — " And shall this 
 proud dame !" exclaimed he, " Plantage- 
 net's wife, and withal married in a foreign 
 land, be raised to England's throne — 
 where woman never yet hath sat, and bear 
 capricious sway o'er England's nobles? 
 
 My 
 
SIR ROLAND. 48 
 
 My lord," continued he, grasping the 
 bishop's hand, " I trust I do not err; I 
 think — I hope prince Stephen can boast 
 a friend — a partisan in the good bishop of 
 SaUsburie." 
 
 " All good men," said the bishop, cau- 
 tiously, " shall find a friend in me ; nor 
 can I do otherwise than esteem the nephew 
 and favourite of my good and gracious 
 liege." 
 
 " True, true," said De Lacy, biting his 
 lips, and visibly chagrined at the bishop's 
 intentional misapprehension; " I know 
 thy universal charity, my lord; thy firm 
 unshaken loyalty to our king, whose life 
 may it please the Almighty to prolong ; 
 but — and human life is most uncertain— 
 should death untimely snatch king Hen- 
 ry from us, would it not be policy, my 
 lord, then to elect a successor ?" 
 
 " While the king lives, sir knight," re- 
 plied the bishop, solemnly, " what man 
 dare infringe upon his just prerogative?" 
 
 " In verity, my good lord," cried Hu- 
 bert 
 
44 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 bert de Lacy, perplexed to divine the real 
 sentiments of the bishop, yet still urged 
 on by the interest he had at heart, to gain 
 this man of power to aid the designs of 
 prince Stephen, " thou dost me wrong, 
 and much impeach my loyalty by thy mis- 
 interpretation : nay, I would not, were it 
 in my power, deprive our king of the 
 least particle of his authority, even though 
 my treachery would win me fortune, fame, 
 and favour. But I — and well I know, 
 my lord, thou feelest the same — am only 
 anxious for my country's weal ; all other 
 lesser sentiments are centered in that one, 
 or are but the refulgent rays of that one 
 glory ; therefore I would, and timely so, 
 appoint the king's successor, solely, I do 
 repeat, for my country's good." 
 
 " I do not doubt thy zeal," said the bi- 
 shop ; " I know thee, and thy love and 
 predilection for the prince Stephen, who 
 hath also much influence and favour in the 
 eyes of all the barons. But it must be re- 
 membered, that they all have sworn, nay, 
 
 e'en 
 
SIR ROLAND. 4,5 
 
 e'en this noble prince himself, hath swoni 
 to support the empress Maude's preten- 
 sions." 
 
 " Yea, most true and unanswerable, my 
 lord, is all thou dost aver," replied De 
 Lacy ; " these oaths were indeed demand- 
 ed by a fond father, doting on his favour- 
 ite child, and were as freely taken by his 
 loyal subjects; but, grant this, my lord, 
 tl^ey were conditional, and setting forth 
 provisos, which the king hath broken." 
 
 " I must allow it," said the bishop. 
 
 " And cometh it not to pass most hap- 
 pily ?" continued De Lacy ; " doth not 
 this swerving from his promise shew us 
 an outlet, whereby, with consciences whole, 
 we may escape the shackles and the thral- 
 dom we have unthinkingly brought upon 
 ourselves ?" 
 
 The bishop replied not, but appeared 
 somewhat troubled and confused ; and 
 rising, paced the chamber in silent thought 
 for the space of five minutes. During 
 this tedious interval, De Lacy suffered 
 
 the 
 
46 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the greatest anxiety and doubt, watching 
 every movement of the bishop, and en- 
 deavouring, whenever he turned his face 
 towards him, to penetrate his secret 
 thoughts ; but the faint beams, which di- 
 verged from the flame of a brazen lamp, 
 suspended from the ceiling, gave too im- 
 perfect a light for him to read in the pla- 
 cid countenance of the bishop, ought that 
 was passing in his mind. It was evident 
 however that there was a struggle in the 
 prelate's breast, betwixt loyalty towards 
 Henry, and his predilection in favour of Ste- 
 phen, and it was considerably increased by 
 his dislike to the empress Maude : and this 
 wavering and weakness, trivial as it was, 
 cheered De Lacy, w^ho was aware that 
 every doubt in the bishop's mind was fa- 
 vourable to his prince's cause. 
 
 " Hath the bishop of Winchester com- 
 muned with thee, my good lord, upon 
 this momentous business ?" said De Lacy, 
 wishing to break this silence, which be- 
 came irksome to him. 
 
 «He 
 
SIR ROLAND. 47 
 
 " He hath," replied the bishop, stopping 
 short before the knight ; " we have met." 
 
 " And had not the pious bishop's elo- 
 quence, supported by such cogent reasons, 
 power enough to plead a brother's cause 
 successfully ?" demanded De Lacy. 
 
 " Sir knight," replied the bishop, "what 
 the heart yields freely, needs no pressing 
 suit for hand to give, or tongue to utter." 
 
 The countenance of De Lacy brighten- 
 ed at this confession. 
 
 " Heaven is my witness, I wish prince 
 Stephen well," continued the bishop; 
 " but to my king, my patron, the founder 
 of my fortunes, I owe such gratitude as 
 binds me to his slightest wish ; his will is 
 law to me, in all actions of mundane ten- 
 dency, for the power I possess is but de- 
 rived from him, and shall not his will go- 
 vern what his will hath made? Yea, while 
 he sojourneth in this land of trouble, I am 
 bound to serve him, heart and hand; nor 
 will I league with any one, however in- 
 clined thereto my heart may be, to cross 
 
 his 
 
48 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 his present purposes. When Henry is no 
 more, reason shall then bear sway, where 
 gratitude at present rules despotic." 
 
 Upon this delicate confession, De Lacy 
 took the bishop's hand, and pressed it 
 with fervour. — " I am satisfied," said he, 
 " that my good lord doth act most pru- 
 dently and most laudably ; and that wis- 
 dom and policy have pointed out the 
 course thou dost so unerringly pursue." 
 
 Having thus happily concluded the 
 chief object of his mission, and being 
 now, from the mutual knowledge and 
 communication of their secret sentiments, 
 perfectly free from all constraint, they 
 conversed familiarly together, chiefly on to- 
 pics touching the affair at issue ; and after 
 partaking of some refreshment to recruit 
 him after the fatigue of his hasty journey, 
 the night being far advanced, they retired 
 to rest, De Lacy purposing to set forth 
 again at early dawn, to give intimation to 
 the friends of Stephen of the fears, or ra- 
 ther hopes, they cherished of Henry's sud- 
 den 
 
SIR ROLAND. 4^ 
 
 den dissolution; and to hold themselves 
 in readiness to back the bold pretensions 
 of the prince. 
 
 Passing through Winchester on his way 
 to Salisburie, Hubert de Lacy had already 
 repaired to the palace of the bishop of that 
 city, or see, but found the prelate was 
 gone to London ; to which place he im- 
 mediately proceeded after his interview 
 with the bishop of Salisburie, who faith- 
 fully promised to send trusty messengers 
 to every part of the kingdom, to warn 
 their faction to prepare themselves for a 
 sudden change. 
 
 VOL. L D CHAP- 
 
50 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It was mid-day, and Ralph and Perky ii 
 were busily employed in felling a decayed 
 and aged elm ; and the ringing of their 
 sharp-edged axes, and the deadened sound 
 which the hollow trunk sent forth at every 
 blow, was echoed through the trees and the 
 valley, in which they were diligently prose- 
 cuting their labours. The trees were leaf- 
 less, and the hills were covered with snow, 
 while the frost-spangled greensward glit- 
 tered beautifully in the rays of the sun. 
 The air was clear, cold, and bracing ; but 
 the exertions of the two lusty thralls kept 
 them sufficiently warm to allow them to 
 dispense with their sheep-skin jerkins, 
 which lay beside them. 
 
 The difference betwixt these low-born 
 youths was peculiarly striking; Perkyn 
 
 was 
 
SIR ROLAND. 51 
 
 was extremely taciturn, seldom speaking 
 but in reply, and always heavy, absent, 
 and brooding over his thoughts; while 
 the broad, open, lively countenance of 
 honest Ralphe, was ever illuQiined with 
 mirthful smiles ; and though his wit was 
 coarse and uncultivated, he meant harm 
 to no one, and was the very prototype of 
 vulgar good-nature. Nor had the thral- 
 dom of his situation sufficient influence to 
 dull his good-humour, or suppress the vi- 
 vacity of his wit; while his merry songs, 
 half sung, half hummed, beguiled the toil 
 and labour of his vocation : — 
 
 « The leaves do fall, 
 
 And strew the ground, 
 And twigs and all 
 Do here abound. 
 With a heigh-ho, 
 The frost and the snow !' 
 
 " Nothing keeps the frost from nipping 
 
 a man like hewing of a tree," said Ralphe, 
 
 interrupting the song which he had just 
 
 commenced, and resting from his exer- 
 
 D 21 tions 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLiilOiS LIBRAR^^ 
 
52 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 tions awhile on the implement he had 
 been using. — " This tree," continued he, 
 in a tone which might be as well mistaken 
 for a soliloquy as an address to his fellow- 
 labourer, " minds me of man's estate and 
 fortunes." 
 
 " How so?" quoth Perkyn. 
 
 " Thus," said Kalphe.— " But firstly, 
 it hath the barrenness of my fortune, and 
 the gloominess of thine ; and now will I 
 shew^ thee the semblance 'twixt a man 
 and a tree. When he first cometh forth 
 into this world, he is like a yielding twig, 
 which may be trained and cultured to a 
 fair tree, an the sickly blights do not nip 
 the stripling; if he 'scape these, he wax- 
 eth strong, and groweth to a goodly 
 height, and the greenness of his youth is 
 his beauty and his mishap, for it attracteth 
 the knave and the fool to harbour beneath 
 his shadow; though truly they never take 
 umbrage at aught he says, but smile and 
 flatter while he shelters them. But deep-, 
 brown wisdom pometh with the autumn, 
 
 and 
 
SIR ROLAND. 5S 
 
 and the wintry winds of misfortune bear 
 away his friends ; and so from year to 
 year he increaseth in age, and death comes 
 in the end w^ith his axe, and cutteth him 
 up by the root." 
 
 " An odd vagary," said Perkyn ; ** and 
 prithee what sort o' tree may'st thou be ?" 
 
 " A thorn, in the side of a foe — a birch, 
 beside a fool — an eider, with boys — an 
 apple, with children — a pair, when I am 
 with a good fellow, and so forth, just as 
 the soil, the air, and my company humour 
 me. As for thee, Perkyn, thou art a sap- 
 ling, a yew-tree, or a w-eeping- willow !" 
 
 " Thou shalt find me tough as oak too," 
 said Perkyn, gruffly. 
 
 " I'faith now, call me fool," cried the 
 other, laughing, " an I have not mis- 
 taken thee; why surely now, the very 
 roughness of thy bark plainly shews thee 
 an oak !" 
 
 This sally was by no means calculated 
 to mend the matter, and Perkyn, mutter- 
 ing to himself, resumed his work with 
 D 3 evident 
 
54 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 evident vexation ; and in his heart would 
 have almost as willingly bestowed the 
 mighty blows he hurled at the trunk, on 
 his companion. He was naturally of a 
 revengeful disposition, and was moreover 
 rendered irritable and morose by the ri- 
 valry of Ralphe ; but who was really igno- 
 rant of the predilection which his cousin 
 had for pretty Joan, whom he had hap- 
 pily wooed and won — by his good-hu- 
 mour; and this secret jealousy rankling 
 in the bosom of the disappointed thrall, 
 increased the natural gloominess of his 
 disposition, and rendered him by no means 
 companionable to the laughter-loving 
 Ralphe. 
 
 They had just felled the tree, when a 
 man came riding through the valley on a 
 fine galloway, leading another by a halter. 
 — ** Hallo !" cried he to the thralls, " can 
 ye point me the route to William Bris- 
 set's ?" 
 
 " Certes," replied Ralphe ; " every crow 
 knows bis own nest, I ween ;" looking at 
 
 the 
 
SIR ROLAND. 55 
 
 the horse — " Why, I say, Perkyn, here's 
 the beast come back again. Here's a 
 mouthful of sunshine for us," continued 
 he, approaching and patting the horse ; 
 " this will certainly put Mabil into a bet- 
 ter humour; for, by the mass! the grey 
 mare hath been fretting for the horse 
 most grievously." 
 
 *• Thy mistress, I suppose?" inquired 
 the man. 
 
 " My mistress ! lord, no — but she's my 
 master's mistress, and in good sooth, hath 
 the mastery of us all," replied Ralphe. — 
 " Prithee, doth the gentle, who, with re- 
 verence be it said, was more rude than 
 gentle, as my simple shoulders witness, 
 and who borrowed this nag, serve thee ?" 
 
 " What ?" said the vassal, staring, not 
 comprehending his meaning. 
 
 " I say," quoth Ralphe, " who serves 
 thee?" 
 
 " Serves me? — I serve the baron de 
 Lacy," said the vassal. 
 
 " Ay," cried Ralphe, ** thou serv'st 
 D 4 him 
 
56 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 him for a man, and he serves thee for a 
 master, so stands it in the world's opinion ; 
 but " 
 
 " I pray thee, do not hold me here," 
 said the man, interrupting him — " I'm in 
 haste — I cannot lose my time in changing 
 words with thee." 
 
 " Nay, keep thine own then," said 
 Ralphe; " yet I marvel an thou wilt 
 find a better market for the commodity 
 of thy speech, seeing 'tis of so sHght a 
 texture, 'twill not bear the jack-o-lantern 
 light of my poor wit." 
 
 " Come, come," cried the vassal, " thou 
 hast had thy humour — direct my course 
 now, I prithee?" 
 
 " Ay," said Ralphe, " thou'rt one of 
 those who would run to the devil with 
 their eyes open : I vv^ould teach thee the 
 Christian virtue of patience, but thou'rt 
 an untoward spirit, that hath more moon- 
 shine than gumption in thy brains. Let 
 the horse that beareth thee, who beareth 
 the horse in thine hand, turn his nose to 
 
 windward 
 
SIR ROLAND. 57 
 
 windward over the hill, then wheel to the 
 right, and thou'lt have Brisset's hut in 
 thine eye in a twinkHng." 
 
 Without deigning reply, or thanks for 
 this information, the nian urged on the 
 horses, and was out of sight in a minute. 
 
 " That fellow's a crab," said Ralph e, 
 looking after the vassal, as he scoured over 
 the hills—" I do not hke him." 
 
 " Thou should'st not stand fooling with 
 a man in haste," said Perkyn, ill-naturedly. 
 
 " He was a hasty fool to take offence, 
 I trow," replied Ralphe ; " I only wished 
 to do him a good office ; no matter— Mabil 
 will put his patience to the proof, I war- 
 rant. Will he scowl, and pucker up his 
 black brow at her, think'st thou ? By St. 
 Paul, I like him not ! the wherefore, he 
 hath more vinegar than oil in his tongue 
 and his visage, which suits not my palate^ 
 he is unlike all that is likely — no, I can't 
 like him : may he never stumble over a 
 worse block than Ralphe!" So saying, 
 he resumed his labour, lopping the branches 
 B 5 of 
 
58 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 of the prostrate elm ; but unable to forget 
 the stern and villainous look of the vassal. 
 
 The tall, lank figure of Brisset, issuing 
 from his lowly dwelling, met the eyes of 
 the vassal as he rode towards the spot; 
 and the clattering of the horse's hoofs at- 
 tracted the ceorl's attention, and seeing 
 the horseman approach, he stood still till 
 he came up. 
 
 " Brisset !" cried the vassal, " the baron 
 returns thy horse, his thanks, and these 
 good pieces to boot." 
 
 " Hubert de Lacy is generous," said 
 Brisset, accepting the gift. 
 
 '* Did'st ever know him otherwise?" 
 demanded the vassal. 
 
 " Never," replied the ceorl. 
 
 " Thou'rt changed, Brisset, most won- 
 derfully changed," said the vassal, dis- 
 mounting, and resting one arm upon his 
 horse, while he stedfastly regarded the 
 ceorl, " at least in disposition. I knew 
 thee formerly a sprightly lad ; thou did'st 
 pot bear upon thy brow such gloom and 
 
 melancholy--' 
 
SIR ROLAND. 59 
 
 melancholy— thy tongue ran glibly then 
 as mountain rill" 
 
 " In sooth, and is it so? By what 
 name then shall I know thee ?" said Bris- 
 set, surprised, and aroused from his le- 
 thargy. 
 
 " Have ten years so altered my voice, 
 my features, and my person, that thou 
 can'st not recognise," lowering his voice to 
 a whisper, " Nicol Arnot ?" 
 
 *^ What !" exclaimed Brisset, starting at 
 the sound, and turning deadly pale, " art 
 thou Nicol Arnot ?" and apparently over- 
 come with a variety of contending emo- 
 tions, he remained gazing upon the vassal, 
 unable to utter a word ; but by the fearful 
 expression of his features, it was evident 
 he experienced no very pleasing sensa- 
 tions on the renewal of an intimacy of so 
 old an acquaintance ; nor did his strange 
 behaviour appear either very flattering or 
 very agreeable to Nicol, who slapping him 
 on the shoulder — " Art dumb-foundered, 
 man?" cried he. " What means this 
 D 6 foolery ? 
 
60 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 foolery ? Is this the way thou giv'st a 
 welcome to a friend ?" 
 
 " A friend !" repeated Brisset. 
 
 " Ay, a friend ! likest thou not the 
 term?" said Nicol, frowning, "or 'cona- 
 plice, an' thou wilt; though what the 
 world calls friendship, Brisset, is but a 
 weak unstable compact compared to ours; 
 for we hold each other's secrets in our 
 keeping, and keeping them, we hold to 
 life, and must perforce be faithful for our 
 peculiar 'vantage." 
 
 " True— true," said Brisset, sighing. 
 
 " True — true !" said Nicol, repeating 
 his words with a sneer; " why, matri- 
 mony hath made a milksop of thee, by 
 St. Anthony ! what ails thee ? thou wear'st 
 a most woe-begone countenance; what 
 hath had power to unman thee thus? 
 Thou w^ast a different man when first I 
 knew thee." 
 
 "In truth was I," replied Brisset; "and 
 I would I could see those days again." 
 
 " To be a slave again ? — fool " 
 
 " Nay, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 61 
 
 " Nay, I then was free. I never knew 
 what slavery was, till I transgressed," said 
 Brisset, passionately ; '*' a guilty consci- 
 ence, Nicol, is more galling than the hea- 
 viest chains." 
 
 " Pshaw !" exclaimed Nicol, while a 
 sardonic laugh gave a fiendiike expression 
 to his dark visage ; *' what silly qualms 
 are these ! what have we to fear ? was it 
 so horrible a crime to expose " 
 
 " Murder, percliance !" interrupted Bris- 
 set, shuddering — " murder, for aught we 
 know." 
 
 " And for aught I care," added Nicol, 
 carelessly. " Neither my hand, or thine, 
 did the deed." 
 
 " I would 1 could silence the pricking 
 o' my conscience as readily !" said Brisset. 
 
 " Think no more on't — think no more 
 on't," said Nicol, putting his hand fami- 
 liarly on Brisset's shoulder. " Many years 
 have passed since that affair ; we were 
 mere boys — our chins had scarcely bud- 
 ded ; we regarded it as a freak — a frolic 
 
 void 
 
62 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 void of all guile : the temptation too was 
 enough to make stronger minds than ours 
 yield." 
 
 " 'Twas done so hastily," said Brisset, 
 shaking his head ; " I had not time to 
 weigh the chances in the balance of my 
 better judgment; I was entrapped " 
 
 " Entrapped ! what mean'st thou ?" said 
 
 Nicol, sternly ; " darest thou ? But, 
 
 no — thou didst grasp the offered prize aS 
 eagerly as I, and thou hast reaped, and 
 dost still exist upon the fruits of that un- 
 expected harvest : and wherefore should'st 
 thou, at this distant period, pour into 
 mine ears thy unjust complaints, falsely 
 accusing me of leading thee on to do that 
 which thy avarice and thy desire of en- 
 franchisement prompted thee to? Goto, 
 Brisset, thou'rt too old to play the puling 
 baby now ; methought time had worn 
 away every the smallest trace of com- 
 punction in thy breast." 
 
 " Say rather it hath nourished the bit- 
 terness 
 
SIR ROLANI). 63 
 
 terness of my feelings, and sharpened my 
 affliction," said Brisset. 
 
 " A weak mind is a favourable soil for 
 the growth of such impressions," retorted 
 Nicol, bitterly, incensed at the pusillani- 
 mity, as he termed it, of the ceorl, who 
 was apparently acutely suffering the tor- 
 menting stings of conscience for some 
 early crime, which the sudden appearance 
 of Nicol his accomplice had brought fresh 
 to his memory. 
 
 It was owing probably to this mental 
 and nervous irritability of his mind which 
 made him so fond of silence and solitude, 
 and submit so tamely to the government 
 of his loquacious spouse; and whenever 
 the noble under whose protection he had 
 placed himself, whose vassal he had be- 
 come, called upon him to serve in the civil 
 broils and commotions which were then 
 of so frequent occurrence among the petty 
 tyrants, who, jealous or fearful of each 
 other's power and possessions, were conti- 
 nually flying to arms to settle their dis- 
 putes, 
 
64> SIR ROLAND. 
 
 putes, he was the first to join the warlike 
 band with his complement of thralls ; for 
 in the confusion, noise, and pomp of war, 
 his feelings were partially hushed, and he 
 found repose. He was a brave, hardy, 
 and desperate soldier, fearless of death, 
 which could only relieve him of a burthen 
 become intolerable to him. He was formed 
 for a better and a happier lot, for his heart 
 was warm and generous, and he bore 
 goodwill to all mankind; but one false 
 step had averted all his happiness, embit- 
 tered the very summer of his life, and 
 rendered the remnant of his days cheer- 
 less, hopeless, and unhappy. 
 
 Nicol Arnot, however, regarded him 
 with the most profound contempt — he de- 
 spised him heartily ; for he who had no 
 virtue but his daring courage to commend 
 him, could not be conceived to have any 
 idea of the feelings of an honest man, 
 who had unhappily, in a moment of ex- 
 traordinary temptation, swerved from the 
 path of rectitude. 
 
 « Arnot," 
 
SIR ROLAND. SS 
 
 ** Arnot,'^ said Brisset to his callous and 
 supercilious accomplice, "enter and re- 
 fresh thyself; partake of the best I have, 
 for the baron's vassal and his squire must 
 be treated with due respect; but, mark 
 me," continued he, with a firmness and 
 resolution that he seldom or never evin- 
 ced but upon the most extraordinary oc- 
 casions — " depart hence as quickly as thou 
 wilt, for I hate thee as I hate the fiend." 
 His passions here seemed to overcome 
 him, and he could only add — " Away, 
 and never cross my path again." 
 
 Arnot was unprepared for this sudden 
 burst of passion, and started back with 
 astonishment at the unusual haughtiness 
 of Brisset ; while the tall erect figure of 
 the latter, stretched to its utmost height, 
 and the rage w^hich kindled in his sunken 
 eyes^ seemed to defy his anger or his dis- 
 obedience, and before he could recover 
 from his surprise, Brisset had passed be- 
 yond his reach. 
 
 But notwithstanding the sincerity with 
 
 which 
 
66 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 which Brisset had confessed his utter aver- 
 sion to him, Nicol Arnot was not the 
 man to take his hasty speech in dudgeon, 
 and shew his contempt, by coolly depart- 
 ing without partaking of his ungracious 
 offer; on the contrary, nothing could be 
 more agreeable to his feelings, than to re- 
 gale himself at the expence of an avowed 
 enemy, who had so candidly informed 
 him that his presence was a curse. Lead- 
 ing his horse therefore to the door oC the 
 hut which Brisset occupied, he tapped at 
 the door, and it was presently opened by 
 MabiL Having partly gleaned her cha- 
 racter from Ralphe, as well as had some 
 intimation of it from the baron, he was 
 perfectly prepared to meet her; saluting 
 her courteously — " Good woman !" said 
 he, " I am sent with many thanks to re- 
 turn you the horse, which the baron de 
 Lacy, mine honoured lord, borrowed on 
 an emergent occasion, a few days past." 
 
 "The baron de Lacy!" cried Mabil, 
 holding up her hands with surprise, while 
 
 the 
 
SIR ROLAND. 6? 
 
 the recollection of her over-cautious be- 
 haviour on that occasion recurred to her 
 mind, and caused the blood to mount in 
 her cheeks — " St. Mary, protect us ! — I 
 trust he was not offended at my foolish- 
 ness : dear — dear — the baron de Lacy ! — 
 well — I said he was a noble gentleman, 
 the moment I set eyes on him ; but then 
 travelling without vassal or varlet of any 
 kind " 
 
 " Was a sufficient excuse for any sus- 
 picion on thy part," said Arnot ; " and 
 moreover, the baron is too good humour- 
 ed to be offended at an honest woman's 
 tongue, whereof he hath given goodly 
 proof, by sending thee a few pieces to re- 
 pay thee for the loan, the which I have 
 delivered to William Brisset." 
 
 ** Oh, our lady ! what a gracious noble 
 is thy lord !" exclaimed Mabil delighted. 
 *•' Come — come in, enter, I prithee ; and 
 now thou shalt partake of what thou 
 wilt — though heaven knows, I have a 
 large family to provide for, and a little 
 
 when 
 
6B SIR ROLAND. 
 
 when divided is but a little ; our food is 
 coarse and homely, but thou shalt be free 
 and welcome to eat and to drink of the 
 best. And thou hast seen William ? why 
 didn't the fool call me, and not let thee 
 stand in the cold all this while? come 
 nearer the hearth," continued she, throw- 
 ing some fresh fagots on the fire. 
 
 Nicol Arnot seated himself on a block, 
 or part of the trunk of a tree, which serv- 
 ed for a stool, and was soon served with 
 a wooden bowl of new milk, some black 
 bread, and some fresh eggs roasted amidst 
 the embers on the hearth, which a long 
 ride and the keen air of a frosty morning, 
 rendered very palatable to a hungry tra- 
 veller. Nor did the tongue of Mabil 
 cease to amuse her guest during the 
 homely repast her industrious hands had 
 prepared. 
 
 CHAP- 
 
SIR ROLAND. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 • *^ -f^ ** .r-r J 
 
 The precaution which the policy of prince 
 Stephen had prompted him to take, in 
 giving speedy notice of king Henry's ill- 
 ness to his brother, the bishop of Win- 
 chester, Roger of Salisburie, and the nu- 
 merous partisans his hardiness, his mar- 
 tial policy, gentleness, and liberality, had 
 gained him among the nobles of England, 
 proved of the utmost service to him in the 
 sequel ; for, as had been apprehended, the 
 king's malady baffled the aid of medicine, 
 and on the first of December 1135, he 
 departed this life, at Rouen, in Nor- 
 mandy. 
 
 His illness, no doubt, was occasioned 
 by the irritation of his mind, his anger 
 having been excited by a quarrel with 
 the earl of Anjou and his daughter Maude, 
 
 thereby 
 
70 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 thereby predisposing his body to the 
 slightest attack, which he thoughtlessly 
 increased by eating a dish of lampreys, a 
 delicacy of which he was inordinately 
 fond, but which never agreed with him ; 
 and on this occasion his epicurean taste 
 threw him into a dangerous fever, which 
 cost him his life. 
 
 The breath had scarcely left his body, 
 ere the impatient Stephen, with a few fol- 
 lowers, bent his course towards England, 
 well aware that diligence, where there were 
 other competitors for the crown, would 
 aid him more than friends, or at least, 
 strongly co-operate with their designs. 
 But he was not so quickly in England as 
 the intelligence of the king's demise, and 
 he found both Dover and Canterbury for- 
 tified against him on his coming, the in- 
 habitants regarding him as an usurper of 
 the rights of Maude. There was more- 
 over such a tempest of thunder and light- 
 ning on his landing, which was at Whit- 
 sand-bay, that the people imagined the 
 
 world 
 
SIR ROLAND. 7t 
 
 world was about to be at an end ; while 
 others superstitiously prognosticated that 
 it omened the wars and troubles which 
 would arise in England, to oppose the 
 ambitious Stephen, and punish him for 
 his perjury. 
 
 The aspect of affairs was however much 
 more favourable on his arrival in London, 
 where he was joyfully received by his 
 party, which being composed of the wisest 
 and most powerful men in England, both 
 clergy and laity, had great influence, over 
 the minds of the people, and all those 
 who did not willingly acknowledge him, 
 were speedily compelled to do so. The 
 countenance of the bishops, who at that 
 time bore great sway in England, was 
 sufficient assurance of success to Stephen ; 
 and those who refused to come forward and 
 acknowledge his rights, on account of the 
 conscientious fears they entertained of 
 perjuring themselves, were soon absolved, 
 by the declaration of William Curboil, 
 archbishop of Canterbury, that the oath 
 
 required 
 
7^ SIR ROLAND. 
 
 required by king Henry, and taken by 
 the nobles, could not be considered bind- 
 ing, inasmuch as the English had never 
 submitted to the government of a wo- 
 man. 
 
 To strengthen this assertion, the bishop 
 of Salisbury maintained that Henry him.- 
 self had been the first to infringe upon 
 their rights, by marrying his daughter 
 out of the realm without the approval of 
 the barons, thereby rendering their oath 
 null and void, their intention having been, 
 when they swore, only to give themselves a 
 king of the race of William the Conqueror. 
 And still further to eradicate any false 
 impressions their conduct might leave on 
 the minds of the people, Hugh Bigod, se- 
 neschal or high steward to the deceased 
 king, coming over with Stephen to Eng- 
 land, voluntarily swore on the holy evan- 
 gehsts, that Henry in his last moments 
 disinherited his daughter, for some offence 
 she had given him, and nominated his fa- 
 vourite Stephen his successor. Thus, by 
 
 force 
 
SIR ROLAND. 7B 
 
 force of argument, and in many instances 
 by the stronger argument of force, all 
 were inclined to favour Stephen's preten- 
 sions. 
 
 The barons, already prejudiced against 
 Maude, by reason of her haughty and 
 overbearing disposition, readily credited 
 the seneschal's oath, and considered it of 
 sufficient force to palliate their disloyalty 
 to the empress. And on St. Stephen's 
 day, Stephen was crowned at Westmin- 
 ster, by William Curboil, archbishop of 
 Canterbury, Henry, bishop of Winches- 
 ter, and Roger, bishop of Salisbury. 
 
 But although he had received the crown 
 and name of king, his title was so weak, 
 that to win the favour and support of the 
 barons, he was obliged to make them great 
 promises, and grant them more privileges 
 than they possessed under the govern- 
 ment of the Norman kings. The bishops 
 too, in order to hold him as much in their 
 power as possible, swore allegiance to him 
 only so long as he should continue to up- 
 
 VOL. I. E hold 
 
74 SIR ROLAN0. 
 
 hold the dignity of the church ; while the 
 lay-lords, following the cautious example 
 of the clergy, swore fealty to the new- 
 made king, only on condition that he 
 would faithfully observe the covenants 
 with the barons, and preserve his own re- 
 gal estates and honours entire. They did 
 not, however, require his concession to 
 their extraordinary demands with more 
 facility than he complied, assured, that in 
 the present emergency, it would have 
 been the extremest folly, nay, perchance 
 have cost him the crown, to have hesitated ; 
 and knowing that it was easier to undo 
 what he had done when he became king, 
 than to refuse the slightest boon in his 
 present dependent condition. 
 
 Immediately after the celebration of his 
 coronation, he departed for Winchester, 
 to take possession of the treasure of the 
 late king, which amounted to one hun- 
 dred thousand marks, besides plate and 
 jewels ; and afterwards proceeded to meet 
 the corpse of Henry, which, according to 
 
 his 
 
SIR ROLAND. 75 
 
 his dying commands, was to be interred 
 in the monastery of Reading, which he 
 himself had founded. His bowels, brainy, 
 and eyes, had been previously taken out, 
 and buried at Rouen, where he expired, 
 and his body filled with salt, and envelop- 
 ed in ox-hides, was transported to Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Having fulfilled these various duties, 
 and become gradually settled in his new- 
 born authority, king Stephen rewarded 
 the most faithful of his followers, and with 
 the money which he had seized, presently 
 levied men of war out of Flanders and 
 Brittany — a very judicious precaution, 
 and highly necessary to counterbalance 
 the power of the barons, and restrain their 
 actions within proper bounds ; for he was 
 not to be deceived by the false appearance 
 of tranquillity and outward favour, with 
 which he was received by the far greater 
 part of the nobility, and was resolved to 
 hold himself prepared for any sudden ir- 
 E 21 ruption 
 
76 ' SIR EOLAND. 
 
 ruption which the discontented might fo- 
 ment against him. 
 
 Among others who shared the marks 
 of his royal favour, was the baron de Lacy, 
 who was truly devoted to the king; for 
 himself, he was now fifty years of age, and 
 cared little for the advancement of his for- 
 tunes ; but it was for his favourite and 
 only son, William, that he looked forward 
 to his future aggrandizement with the 
 most paternal solicitude ; and the ambi- 
 tious views of the baron were seconded on 
 every occasion by the not less ambitious 
 heir of his wealth and titles. 
 
 William de Lacy was of fair and goodly 
 favour ; handsome face and features ; bold, 
 eloquent, and insinuating in his address; 
 but withal more envious than emulous : 
 and although he possessed too much cun- 
 ning and command over his passions, to 
 betray their evil emotions, by outward 
 show, he was restless till he had revenged 
 even the slightest insult, real or imaginary, 
 upon the head of the unfortunate offender. 
 
 In 
 
SIR ROLAND. ^ 77 
 
 In fine, in mind the very prototype of 
 what his father was — in person the image 
 of what he had been in his youth ; and si- 
 milarity of disposition, rather than natural 
 affection, bound them to each other. 
 
 When sojourning in London, king Ste- 
 phen usually held his court at a noble 
 tower, thence called Tower Royal, near 
 Watling- street — a palace founded by Hen- 
 ry the First, well fortified, and so per- 
 fectly secure, that during the reign of 
 Richard the Second, at the time of Wat 
 Tyler's insurrection, when the rebels gain- 
 ed possession of the Tower of London, 
 this place defied all their efforts, and re- 
 mained perfectly safe ; and here Stephen 
 received and entertained the nobles, who 
 came to pay homage, or swear fealty to 
 their newly-elected king. The entrance 
 into London, as well as the departure of 
 any of the barons, who were all followed 
 by a showy and splendid retinue of their 
 vassals, well habited and mounted, was a 
 pageant which drew forth the people in 
 E 3 crowds 
 
78 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 crowds to gaze at; and the two bailiffs, 
 who were then the civil governors of the 
 city, possessing the same power and au- 
 thority as the present lord mayor, as well 
 as the chiefest and wealthiest of the citi- 
 zens, gave grand entertainments and cost- 
 ly banquets, in celebration of the king's 
 coronation. 
 
 Among those who were in continual 
 attendance, Hubert de Lacy and his son 
 William stood pre-eminent ; they had at- 
 tached themselves to the king, and had 
 followed him through all his devious 
 course, as unerringly as the faithful satel- 
 lites of a planet. Whatever their motive 
 might be, disinterested or otherwise, it 
 was too punctilious a point for a king to 
 inquire; he owed much gratitude for the 
 beneficial effects of their loyalty and 
 promptness in his cause, and it was suffi- 
 cient for him to beheve them true, and to 
 reward them accordingly. Their inter- 
 course with the king was extremely fami- 
 lial'; nor were the elegant manners of the 
 
 elder 
 
SIR ROLAND. 79 
 
 elder De Lacy less agreeabl -i to the youth- 
 ful queen, than his prudence in council 
 was estimable in the eyes of her royal 
 spouse. And immediately Stephen was 
 invested with the title and authority of 
 king, he bestowed the honour of knight- 
 hood upon the younger De Lacy, which 
 was not merely a token of liis favour and 
 an empty name, but he likewise made 
 him a grant of some lands, which produ- 
 ced sufficient funds wherewith to support 
 his new rank with proper dignity. 
 
 One morning, after giving audience to 
 several of the nobles, Stephen was closet- 
 ed with Hubert de Lacy, and engaged 
 in confidential converse with him. — 
 *' Amid the throng that have paid their 
 court to me this morn," said the king, " I 
 could readily point out one who hath more 
 mischief in his head than loyalty in his 
 heart. But I seldom yet did see a clear, 
 serene, and summer's sky, but what some 
 envious cloud, however light, hath come 
 and marred its purity. De Lacy, canst 
 £ 4 thou 
 
80 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 thou divine the man my suspicions point 
 at?" 
 
 " Ay, my good lord," replied the ba- 
 ron ; " and with pity be it spoken, I have 
 remarked more than one who have more 
 stubbornness than wit: but a single pa- 
 triot's breath would mock a hundred such, 
 and wither them, making them droop like 
 the parched and yellow leaves of autumn." 
 
 " In sooth," said the king, *'' this is no 
 flattery." 
 
 " 'Tis honest truth, my liege," replied 
 the baron. 
 
 " I do believe it," said the king ; " so 
 let its wholesomeness amend its bitterness. 
 But he whom I suspect, is greater than a 
 troop of these, fawning and flattering now, 
 attending proper opportunity to bite — a 
 crafty, base-born knave!" 
 
 " Robert of Gloucester !" cried De La- 
 cy, eagerly. 
 
 " By God's birth, the same !" exclaimed 
 Stephen. " And hast thou too marked 
 
 aught 
 
SIR ROLAND. 81 
 
 aught suspicious in his speech and con- 
 duct?" 
 
 " Only inasmuch, my liege," replied 
 the baron, " that he vaunts his loyalty in 
 higher terms than true men do in com- 
 mon ; speaking of more than he can do, 
 and more, I warrant, than he wills, to do. 
 His tongue doth assuredly belie his mean- 
 ing, but in its acting, over acts its part." 
 
 " We must watch his motions with a 
 jealous eye," said the king. " The breath 
 of disloyalty is infectious; and among the 
 unthinking herd, that follow a great ex- 
 ample more from viciousness than convic- 
 tion, it may breed a dangerous discontent. 
 At present, let us shut our eyes against 
 his faults, and meet his dissimulation v/ith 
 the like. The serpent shall crawl and 
 glide along unmolested, as he believes 
 himself unseen; but when he ope's his 
 jaws, and exhibits his envenomed fangs, 
 he shall find us prepared to crush him." 
 
 " And I prithee, my gracious lord, to 
 E 5 let 
 
82 SlU ROLAND. 
 
 let this charge devolve on me ; I will not 
 slumber on the watch," said the baron. 
 
 " Be it so," said the king ; " and I charge 
 thee, make it thy chiefest care to learn his 
 true character; unmask him, that I may- 
 read him readily; place some lynx-eyed 
 varlet about his person — a shrewd, quick 
 fellow, who hath just wit enough to pick 
 up what is dropped, unheeded and fear- 
 lessly, without tagging to it any of his 
 own wise hints and speculations." 
 
 " All which your grace urges is most 
 just," replied De Lacy ; " and without 
 delay I will proceed in this affair, the 
 which if I do not accomplish, to meet thy 
 royal pleasure and approbation, it shall 
 not be for lack of goodwill in the cause." 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Stephen : " thou 
 hast too oft convinced me of thy trustiness, 
 when I had nought to pay thee but my 
 thanks, for me to harbour any fear of thy 
 changing now. This glaive," touching 
 the sword he wore, " adorned vv'ith jewel- 
 led hilt and scabbard, is fair to look upon, 
 
 and 
 
SIR ROLAND. 83 
 
 and like many gay courtiers, who strut 
 and make a dazzling shew of valour, 
 thrown idly by when mostly wanted ; but 
 the steel that I have grasped in many 
 feuds, I prize more highly than this fine 
 glittering bauble. Even so, sir baron, 
 have I tried thy temper in the time of 
 need, and never found thee fail me." 
 
 De Lacy bowed his thanks for this flat- 
 tering eulogy. 
 
 " I pray thee," continued the king, 
 ** where is thy truant son, sir William ? 
 He doth not ordinarily let so many hours 
 pass ere he presents himself." 
 
 ** Pardon him, my kind lord," said the 
 baron ; '•' I do believe the queen hath com- 
 manded his services this morn, and sent 
 him on some errand." 
 
 " Oh, the gallant ! Doubtless a mission 
 of vast import," said the king, smiling; 
 " a fair knight, truly, to execute a lady's 
 bidding; I dare be sworn now, 'tis only 
 to bear some idle message, or to buy some 
 E 6 trinket. 
 
84 Sm ROLAND. 
 
 trinket. Well, well ; on his return bid 
 him come hither." 
 
 The baron de Lacy arose, bowed, and 
 was about to quit the presence, w^hen the 
 king motioned him to resume his seat. — 
 " Tell me," said Stephen, " hast thou any 
 kin beside this only son ?" 
 
 " None, my liege," replied the baron, 
 somewhat surprised at the abruptness of 
 this question. 
 
 " Thou hadst a brother ? — is it not so ?" 
 " I — I — had once," replied De Lacy, 
 betraying great emotion, " but he is long 
 since dead." 
 
 " I have heard of him," said the king : 
 " a noble of just estimation ; mine uncle 
 Henry did oft mention the name of Rich- 
 ard de Lacy as a man of valour, and spoke 
 of him as one whom he regretted ; but I 
 could never learn how or where he died. 
 Was he unmarried ?" 
 
 These curious questions of the king 
 appeared to bring back to De Lacy's 
 mind the remembrance of bitter woe, and 
 
 to 
 
SIR ROLAND. . 85 
 
 to rip up wounds which time had healed 
 but partially ; yet he perceived there were 
 no means to evade relating the circum- 
 stances touching his brother's death ; and 
 although the pallid hue his features as- 
 sumed, and the tremulous tone of his 
 voice, proved that it cost him considerable 
 pain, he obeyed. — " Richard was my elder 
 brother," began he ; " the favourite of my 
 father ; and well he merited that distinc- 
 tion, for a more valiant knight never bore 
 arms in his country's cause. Unfortunate- 
 ly he became enamoured of Lucie D'Or- 
 ville, and secretly espoused her, conscious 
 that the baron would not countenance an 
 alliance so much beneath his rank and ex- 
 pectations ; for, though the child of a 
 brave knight, her beauty was the maiden's 
 sole dowry. To me alone he confided 
 the secret of his marriage, with the strict- 
 est injunction not to divulge it, nor did 
 I ever betray the confidence he reposed in 
 me. Happy in the fond affection of her 
 husband, the lady Lucie lived in a seclu- 
 ded 
 
Sff , SIR ROXAND. 
 
 ded spot, unknown to all the world— ^a 
 beautiful flower blooming in the midst of 
 a wilderness ; but their uninterrupted 
 tranquillity was unexpectedly disturbed, 
 for Richard was suddenly called upon to 
 accompany a mission to the French do- 
 minions. In this dilemma he committed 
 the dame to my protection, and mourned 
 and mourning, he departed, alone upheld 
 by the hope of speedily returning to the 
 arms of his adored Lucie. But alas! a 
 few weeks after his departure, she expired 
 in giving birth to an infant. I cannot 
 enter into a detail of our sad, sad meeting 
 on his return ; even now, my blood runs 
 chill when I remember his look of horror, 
 when I communicated to him the afflict- 
 ing tidings ; the feeling that convulsed 
 his whole frame, his frenzy, and his sub- 
 sequent piteous melancholy. He never 
 recovered the shock, but having assumed 
 the cowl, died a few months afterwards of 
 a broken heart." 
 
 " In sooth, a sad mishap," cried the 
 
 king. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 8T 
 
 king, who had listened with much inte- 
 rest to this succinct, but sorrowful recital ; 
 " but prithee, how fared the little pledge 
 of their affection ? thou hast not told the 
 infant's fate." 
 
 « Said I not the boy died ?" said De 
 Lacy ; " yes, my gracious lord, the infant 
 shared the fate of its unhappy parents." 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 It was spring-tide; the bleak blast had 
 given way to the warm and renovating 
 breeze, and the icicles had long since fallen 
 from the eaves of the thatch and the leaf- 
 less boughs; the fleecy snow had sunk 
 into the earth, and exposed the verdure 
 of hill and dale to the invigorating influ- 
 ence of the mild rays of the sun ; and the 
 whole feathery race were flitting to and 
 fro, from bough to bough, expressing 
 
 their 
 
88 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 their delight by their sprightly cliirping; 
 while the bright green budding of the 
 trees gave an unequalled and almost inde- 
 scribable freshness and beauty to the scene. 
 
 It was at this delightful season of the 
 year, when smiling nature wears so youth- 
 ful an appearance, that Raynard and Col- 
 brande, two vassals pertaining to Baldwyn 
 de Redvers, earl of Oxford, were busily 
 employed in casting their net in the river, 
 and having moored their boat in the midst 
 of the stream, awaited patiently for a 
 draught, wiling away the time in chat- 
 ting and singing. — " By St. Olave," ex- 
 claimed Raynard, suddenly stopping in 
 his song, and casting his eyes towards the 
 banks, " an there be not that crazy-pated, 
 wandering carl, the Black Boy, as they 
 call him ! I have not set eyes on him some 
 months bygone — I thought he were dead." 
 
 " Peradventure *tis his wraith, Ray- 
 nard," said Colbrande. " The poor fool's 
 certainly casting his eyes at us," added 
 he, looking towards him. 
 
 He 
 
SIR ROLAND. 89 
 
 He whom they called the Black Boy 
 was sitting crosslegged close to the wa- 
 ter's edge, with both his hands on his 
 knees, gazing at the vassals, and intently 
 observing their motions. He was of a 
 dark and swarthy complexion, but pecu- 
 liarly well made and muscular, his skin 
 so effectually embrowned by continual 
 exposure to the sun, that it exhibited the 
 colour of an Indian's, while his black, 
 curly hair, and short round beard, indi- 
 cated a superior strength, and gave a fe- 
 rocity to his visage, which was heightened 
 by his wild black eyes. His habiliments 
 consisted only of two garments ; a pair of 
 dark blue woollen drawers, which only 
 reached half way down his thighs, and an 
 old worn-out sheepskin jerkin; but nei- 
 ther cap, bonnet, shoes, or sandals, pro- 
 tected his head or his feet. He appeared 
 far different from what the exclamation of 
 Raynard would lead one to suppose, for 
 he was about five or six and twenty years 
 of age ; but he had received the cognomen 
 
 of 
 
96 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 of the Black Boy when young, and it 
 was probable he would bear no other name 
 if he attained the age of a centenarian. 
 
 " I'll play a joke upon yon crack- 
 brain," said Raynard — •" I'll shew thee 
 some sport, Colbrande, I warrant me." 
 
 " Have a care, comrade," said Col- 
 brande, in a dissuasive tone, " it may 
 prove no sport mayhap; he's not to be 
 jeered or flouted at — he's a tetchy, cross* 
 grained carl. It's ill playing with the 
 devil's imp." 
 
 ** Ha, ha, ha !" cried Raynard, laugh- 
 ing at his fears, *' what a dolorous phiz 
 thou makest, man ! By the mass, look 
 not in the stream, or thou'lt be frighted 
 at thine own face. Pish, man, keep 
 quiet, and thou shalt have the divertise- 
 ment at my cost." So saying, he took a 
 small piece of cheese and some black 
 bread from a kind of scrip which w^as 
 slung at his side — " Hollo, Gervase ! — 
 hollo, boy !" shouted he, holding them 
 up to view, " wilt take a nuncheon ?" 
 
 The 
 
SIR ROLAND. 91 
 
 The Black Boy expressed his willing- 
 ness to accept the offer by nodding, and 
 shewing at the same time a set of teeth of 
 exquisite whiteness and regularity. 
 
 " Come along, then," said Raynard, 
 beckoning to him ; " doff thy jerkin, lad, 
 and swim ; art afeard of wetting thee ? 
 or dost think I'll leave my net to come to 
 thee?" 
 
 The keen appetite of Gervase being 
 whetted by the exhibition of the food the 
 vassal proffered, he required no farther 
 solicitation, but casting aside his sheep- 
 skin covering, plunged into the river 
 without more ado, and swam towards 
 them. 
 
 " How the dog swims !" said Raynard, 
 chuckling ; " I doubt not but he's think- 
 ing of what a relish he'll have." 
 
 *' Wilt thou give him nothing then ?" 
 asked Colbrande. 
 
 " Not I," replied Raynard; " why 
 that's the joke, dost see ? Let him drink 
 
 what 
 
9ta: SIR ROLAND. 
 
 what he likes, but he shall have nothing 
 to eat." 
 
 Colbrande would have remonstrated 
 with him, more through fear than com- 
 passion, but the Black Boy at this mo- 
 ment reached the side of their boat, and 
 prevented farther parley. Supporting 
 himself with one hand upon the boat, he 
 held out the other for his share. 
 
 " Thou swim'st like a barbel, Gervase," 
 said Raynard, pretending not to notice 
 his extended hand, while he began to 
 consume the bread and cheese, addressing 
 himself between every mouthful to the 
 expectant and hungry Gervase.—" Me- 
 thinks the water must be devilish cold^ — 
 dost not find it so? an empty stomach 
 too : when a man hath a belly full indeed, 
 it makes a vast difference. This cheese is 
 passing sweet. — I tell thee, Colbrande, I 
 know the wench that milked the ewes and 
 made it." 
 
 During all this unconnected and frivo- 
 lous discourse, Gervase remained per- 
 fectly 
 
SIR ROLAND. 93 
 
 fectly silent and calm as the river which 
 laved his body; but at last, perceiving 
 that Raynard had finished his meal, and 
 had neither offered him nor Colbrande 
 any part of his scanty provision, he ven- 
 tured to put his hand upon the vassal's 
 knee to jog his memory ; when, with the 
 utmost sang froid imaginable, and re- 
 garding the Black Boy with a stupid stare 
 of unmeaning vacuity, as if he had been 
 just aroused from a dream. — " By the 
 mass," exclaimed he, " an 1 have not for- 
 gotten thee, Gervase! why did'st not 
 speak ?" 
 
 But he had not sufficient command of 
 his muscles to conceal the irresistible in- 
 clination he had to smile at the success of 
 his own unfeeling wit, and the poor fel- 
 low's disappointment, so visible in his 
 face. The gloom that overshadowed the 
 Black Boy's dark countenance vanished at 
 the silent expression of Raynard's glee, 
 and fixing upon him a look fraught with 
 rage, while his dark eyes glanced fiercely 
 
 from 
 
94 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 from beneath his long, black lashes, he 
 muttered, in a deep, sonorous voice — 
 
 ** The tree is grown, and the branch is sprung, 
 On whilk thy body shall be liung !" 
 
 and instantly diving in the stream, he 
 arose again in a few seconds near the 
 bank, and throwing his jerkin over his 
 shoulders, without taking any further no- 
 tice of the vassals, retreated to an adjoin- 
 ing thicket, and was soon lost to their 
 view. 
 
 The vassals looked at each other for se- 
 veral minutes, without uttering a single 
 word. Colbrande was certainly alarmed, 
 and had some kind of credence in the ma- 
 lediction of the Black Boy; but as for 
 Raynard, he was one of those hardy, fear- 
 less souls, who would face a whole legion 
 of devils, with his satanic majesty at the 
 head of them, without shrinking, and felt 
 as little fear for the safety of his neck, on 
 account of Gervase's prophetic warning, 
 as if he had never uttered it ; and his si- 
 lence 
 
SIR ROLAND. 95 
 
 lence was merely occasioned by his curio- 
 sity to read the emotions visible in every 
 line of his comrade's physiognomy, the 
 moment the ominous couplet had been 
 uttered by the Black Boy. 
 
 " By St. Mary ! I don't like that Ger- 
 vase," said Colbrande ; " he hath a — a — 
 something so unhuman about his eyes. 
 I would thou had'st not plagued him, he's 
 the devil " 
 
 " And thou would'st hold a candle to 
 him !" said Raynard ; " thou'rt a fool, 
 Colbrande. Nay, an he be the devil, like 
 a good Catholic, I've only mocked and 
 tormented him — that's no sin, is it?" 
 
 " Nay — nay — I do not fear him— ex- 
 actly," said Colbrande, shrinking from the 
 other's bantering ; " but there's no good 
 comes from jesting with, and vexing these 
 mortals ; I would fain have nought to do 
 with them, and that's the truth on't." 
 
 " For my part, I fear no mischief from 
 his mad prating, not I !" said Raynard, 
 " and think my neck as secure now as 
 
 ever 
 
96 SIR rolakd. 
 
 ever it was. Let children and old wives 
 tremble at his say, I care not a fig for his 
 mowing and devilry !" 
 
 Colbrande was silent, but not convinced ; 
 he had heard strange tales related of the 
 pranks of the Black Boy, exaggerated no 
 doubt by the narrators, but nevertheless 
 they had made a deeper impression on his 
 mind than even he himself was aware of. 
 
 Gervase, the Black Boy, was harmless 
 and inoffensive when unmolested ; and 
 those who were in the constant habit of 
 seeing him appear among them, either 
 from motives of fear or pity, never offer- 
 ed offence to the poor half-witted creature. 
 He was extremely taciturn, and would 
 sit by himself for hours together, with his 
 hands upon his knees, completely ab- 
 stracted, as if gazing upon something 
 passing before him, visible alone to his 
 eyes, and from time to time muttering 
 some unintelligible sounds. When he 
 spoke, his words were uttered with such 
 wildness and incoherency, that his speech 
 
 seemed 
 
SIR ROLAND. 97 
 
 seemed more like the effect of superhuman 
 inspiration, than the language of the 
 heart, or the expression of his own proper 
 feelings; and all he said was listened to 
 with rapt attention, and his inexplicable 
 sayings were treasured up in the memo- 
 ries of his superstitious auditors, more 
 valued on account of the obscurity of 
 their meaning, than for any definable 
 beauty or intelligence in his unconnected 
 sentences. 
 
 There were many reports current of 
 his vindictive disposition, but these spread 
 abroad rather to his benefit than other- 
 wise, for none ever ventured to prove 
 their validity by exciting his resentment. 
 
 Raynard and Colbrande having hauled 
 in their net, and selected the finest fish, 
 now made for the shore, and safely moor- 
 ing their boat in a small creek, Colbrande 
 took the basket containing the fish upon 
 his shoulders, and followed his comrade — 
 his head full of the adventures of the 
 morning, and boding no goodly conse- 
 
 VOL. I . F quences 
 
98 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 quences to Raynard for his freak ; when 
 on coming to a turning in their rcute, 
 which turned round the base of a hill, he 
 observed the Black Boy seated near the 
 summit, trimming a large hazel stick, 
 which he had cut from the thicket. Ut- 
 tering an exclamation on so unexpectedly 
 beholding the being, whose peculiar form 
 was at that moment so busily occupied in 
 raising the most absurd and improbable 
 images in his mind, Colbrande started 
 back, almost involuntarily letting fall the 
 basket, the contents of which were quick- 
 ly strewed upon the ground. 
 
 " What maggot bites now ?" demanded 
 Raynard, turning round upon his com- 
 rade without observing Gervase — " Why, 
 what ails thee ?" 
 
 " Look— look there !" said Colbrande, 
 pointing towards the Black Boy, who be- 
 gan clapping his hands and shouting. 
 
 ** Hath that wizard bewitched thee ?" 
 said Raynard, shaking his staff at Ger- 
 vase. " Hear how the devil's bird crows. 
 
 By 
 
SIR ROLAND. 99 
 
 By St. George !" added he, assisting Col- 
 brande to collect the scattered fish ; " an 
 he comes across me, I'll try my quarter- 
 staff athwart his shoulders." 
 
 A slight tittering made them desist 
 from their tedious occupation, and looking 
 around, they perceived that the Black 
 Boy had descended the hill, and was 
 standing just beside them, resting leisurely, 
 not to say gracefully, on the stick or club 
 he had been trimming, and demonstrating 
 the pleasure this accident gave him, by 
 grinning most ironically ; in their present 
 humour this exultation was very galling, 
 and irritated them exceedingly. — " Out 
 on thee !" cried Raynard, his choler rising 
 as he remarked how little his frowns or 
 his threats moved the curious being he 
 addressed — " Out on thee, brainless varlet! 
 — sort thee with bats and owls, and come 
 not mocking us with thy grimaces. Go 
 to our grannams, and whisper and mum- 
 ble thy ominous catches — we care not, 
 neither fearing thee nor thy deeds — So 
 F 2 hie 
 
100 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 hie thee hence quickly, while thy legs can 
 bear thee, or by St. Anthony ! my staff 
 shall teach thee better manners." 
 
 Gervase drew himself up to his extrem- 
 est height, and advancing at one long 
 stride to the side of Colbrande, he fixed 
 one hand firmly upon his shoulder, a fami- 
 liarity by no means agreeable to the vas- 
 sal, and pointing towards Raynard with 
 his cudgel — " Yon's a mirky cloud !" ex- 
 claimed he — " the storm's rising, but the 
 blast shall not break or bend the oak — if s 
 firm ! — firm ! — firm !" shaking Colbrande 
 rudely, and thrusting him from him — 
 " firm — firm as a rock !" 
 
 "Art mad?" exclaimed Raynard, grasp- 
 ing his staff, and advancing towards Ger- 
 vase in a threatening posture. 
 
 « Off! — off!" cried the Black Boy, 
 standing on the defensive. " The red 
 spot's on thy cheek, and the spark's in 
 thine eye — but 
 
 " Heed thee, carl, nor in thine ire, 
 Grapple with a thorny briar I" 
 
 " Curse 
 
SIR ROLAND. 101 
 
 ** Curse thy gibberish !" said Raynard, 
 falUng upon him. " Dost think to fright 
 us with thy croaking?" 
 
 But he soon found it more expedient to 
 use his staff than his tongue, for Gervase 
 proved more than a match for him ; and 
 Colbrande, who had been thrown sprawl- 
 ing among the fish, (the greater part of 
 which still remained scattered upon the 
 ground,) by the might of the Black Boy, 
 perceiving the fruitless efforts of his com- 
 rade's hardiness, and his fast - failing- 
 strength, ran quickly to his aid, and this 
 able auxiliary soon checked the rapid and 
 victorious progress of the furious Gervase, 
 whose prowess dealt such mighty blows 
 upon the heads and shoulders of his two 
 adversaries, as made them quake again. 
 
 Notwithstanding the dexterity however 
 with which he kept them at bay for many 
 minutes, and the bravery with which he 
 defended himself from their unequal as- 
 sault, he was suddenly thrown into a dan- 
 gerous predicament by the breaking of 
 F 3 his 
 
102 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 his treacherous cudgel ; but he scorned to 
 fly, although suffering under this addi- 
 tional disadvantage, and having little 
 hopes of being able to escape the fury of 
 the enraged vassals. 
 
 As they pressed step by step upon him, 
 their left hands clutched the short knives 
 they bore in their girdles, ready to dispatch 
 him. For in those barbarous times, the 
 murder of a much greater man than the 
 poor half-witted Gervase would have 
 called for but little inquiry or punish- 
 ment ; unless indeed he chanced to be the 
 thrall or vassal of some pow^erful noble, 
 and even in that case the affair could be 
 easily compromised for a sum of money, 
 and be considered a sufficient compensa- 
 tion too. Barons, bishops, clergy, laity, 
 nay, even the sacred person of the king, 
 were all valued at a certain price. 
 
 Gervase saw the inevitable blow that 
 threatened to fall upon his devoted head, 
 and crush him ; but panting and foaming 
 with rage at the cowardice of his assail- 
 ants. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 103 
 
 ants, he was resolved to struggle till the 
 last gasp ; though at every blow he ward- 
 ed from his body, the remnant of his cud- 
 gel became more and more useless. 
 
 In this desperate situation, when all 
 hope had fled, a youth, attracted by the 
 noise of their conflict, suddenly made his 
 appearance from behind the hill, and per- 
 ceiving it was not, as he had suspected, 
 only in sport, was immediately prompted 
 to join the weaker party ; and flourishing 
 his staff", he placed himself, to the great 
 surprise of Colbrande and Raynard, be- 
 side the Black Boy ; and there was a mo- 
 mentary cessation of hostility at his unex- 
 pected appearance and interposition— 
 ^' By my soul," cried the youth, with a 
 most commanding look, " ye must and 
 shall desist !" 
 
 " What, thou knave !" exclaimed Ray- 
 nard, fiercely. " Who taught thee to 
 crow so valiantly ? stand back, or by St. 
 Anthonv " 
 
 " I'll crack thy costard !" interrupted 
 F 4. the 
 
104 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the youth, shaking his staff at him, not the 
 least intimidated by his threats. " A 
 pretty couple of hardy varlets truly, to 
 fall upon a single-handed man ! but a 
 truce to parleying, for, by my life, my 
 staff longs to be better acquained with thy 
 ribs." 
 
 " I'll speedily shame thy vaunting !" 
 cried Raynard, brandishing his staff, and 
 attacking him. 
 
 " In truth, thou hast excelled me in 
 that already," replied the youth ; ** but I'll 
 have my revenge, by shaming thy false 
 fighting." And returning the blows of 
 Raynard in good earnest, he acquitted 
 himself so well, that the vassal soon lay 
 sprawling and senseless on the greensward ; 
 and Colbrande, who possessed more policy 
 than courage, immediately he saw his 
 comrade fall, was fain to seek for safety 
 in retreat, and scoured over the ground 
 with the fleetness of a greyhound, leaving 
 Raynard to the mercy of the vanquisher. 
 
 " Hah ! hah '" exclaimed Gervase, exult- 
 
 ingly, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 105 
 
 ingly, while the scintillations of his dark 
 eyes expressed the pleasure he experienced 
 at the flight of his enemy, " when the 
 falcon swoops, the sparrows flee. Hillio ! 
 hillio ! one bird has fallen though," added 
 he, turning towards the body of Raynard, 
 and fixing his eyes upon it, he fell into a 
 musing and reverie, ever and anon giving 
 utterance to his inward thoughts in low 
 murmurings ; while the gallant youth who 
 had rescued him from the merciless hands 
 of the vassals, remained unnoticed and 
 unthanked ; he appeared to have forgotten 
 his presence, and the great cause he had 
 to acknowledge his generous and disinte- 
 rested conduct; while the youth, on his 
 part, was as silently and intently observing 
 the mysterious behaviour of the Black 
 Boy, rather marvelling at his absence of 
 mind, than offended at his apparent lack 
 of gratitude. He was a handsome strip- 
 pling, of not more than seventeen or eigh- 
 teen years; but his actions and speech 
 were those of maturer age ; his mien was 
 F 5 noble. 
 
106 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 noble, and in. his bright blue eye there 
 was more persuasiveness than austerity, 
 though the peremptory tone of his voice 
 commanded attention and obedience : his 
 brown hair curled naturally from beneath 
 his small round cap or bonnet, which was 
 fantastically adorned with a single feather 
 plucked from a raven's wing, and made of 
 the same coarse material as his grey frock 
 or gaberdine, which was buckled t'uAit 
 round his waist by a leathern girdle, ex- 
 hibiting his finely-formed figure to the 
 greatest advantage, even in this simple and 
 humble garb; his nether garments were 
 of the same stuff and complexion; and al- 
 though his well-turned legs were hoseless, 
 he wore a pair of hu scans, or loose half 
 boots of dressed leather, with wooden 
 soles, upon his feet. In the most easy and 
 graceful attitude, he stood observing the 
 actions of Gervase; the utmost benevo- 
 Tence, mJngled with compassion, beaming 
 in his expressive countenance, rendering 
 
 him 
 
 %. 
 
SIR ROLAND. lOJ 
 
 him altogether a most elegant and inte- 
 resting youth. 
 
 After regarding the body of Kaynard 
 some time, absorbed in the profoundest 
 thought, Gervase kneeled down beside 
 him, and thrusting his hand in the other's 
 breast, he found his heart still pulsated, 
 and he exclaimed — 
 
 " The heart beats, and the hrach will live ; 
 But the scoffer, I wot, shall never thrive. 
 The bough sh.ill bend — the bough shall bend, 
 And thou shalt hang !" 
 
 Saying this, he rose ; and turning towards 
 his deliverer, a momentary flash of recol- 
 lection seemed to dart across his bewilder- 
 ed mind, and running eagerly towards 
 him, he cried out — " Fly ! fly ! yon scam- 
 pering hound will yelp and cry, and (let 
 him lick his wounds) bring the pack upon 
 thee presently — fly !" repeated he, earnest- 
 ly, almost beseechingly. 
 
 " Beshrew my heart, good Gervase," 
 
 replied the youth, " but it grieves me 
 
 sore to shrink like a thievish fox from 
 
 F 6 such 
 
108 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 such a foe ; let them come singly on, and 
 give me fair play, the which, by the mass, 
 they neither know nor practise, and I will 
 do my best effort to beat them back again. 
 Think not, Gervase," continued he, while 
 the colour mounted in his cheek at the 
 bare idea of causing such suspicion, " that 
 I repent me of taking part with thee in 
 this broil ; nay, whatever come of it, I 
 will rejoice that my hand hath chastised 
 yon prostrate dastard !" 
 
 The winding of a horn at some distance 
 now sounded through hill and dale, an§ 
 was presently answered in two or three 
 different directions, and startled Gervase, 
 who, looking wildly upon his deliverer, 
 and grinding his teeth, seemed agitated 
 by the mingled passions of fear and rage. — 
 " Rest thee, rest thee here, firm !" cried he, 
 speaking rapidly, " they're out — stir not, 
 or thou'lt rush into their merciless jaws !" 
 and instantly running towards a tall tree, 
 he began to mount it, climbing and cling- 
 ing with his arms and legs with the agi- 
 lity 
 
SIR ROLAND. 109 
 
 lity of a squirrel ; and in a most incred- 
 ible short space of time, reached the top ; 
 and taking firm hold of the tree with his 
 legs and one hand, he held up the other to 
 his forehead, apparently to keep the light 
 from his eyes, and assist his vision in dis- 
 covering the motions, number, and route 
 of the vassals. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Whilst Gervase, the Black Boy, was bu- 
 sily reconnoitering the enemy, who were 
 collecting from all quarters, and flying to- 
 wards the spot where the signal-horn was 
 sounded, and where Colbrande, with woe- 
 ful face and wounds, and piteous tale of 
 the desperate rencounter they had had 
 with Gervase and the youth, excited their 
 anger, and inspired them with the ardent 
 desire of avenging their fallen comrade, 
 
 for 
 
110 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 for Colbrande's friendly fears had reported 
 him dead, Roland (the name of the gal- 
 lant youth) remained below, observing his 
 manceuvres. 
 
 Gervase having looked all around 
 him, descended again v/ith even much 
 greater celerity than he had climbed the 
 tree; and running towards Roland — 
 " Follow !" cried he, "or we are trapped ! 
 they're out !" and, running round the base 
 of the hill, Roland, without uttering a 
 word, followed close at his heels. 
 
 But they had not advanced far in their 
 route, when the quick and vigilant eye of 
 Gervase discerned two or three vassals at 
 some distance, running towards the place 
 through which he was guiding Roland*, 
 and instantly putting his finger on his 
 companion's lips to warn him to remain 
 silent, he made him stretch himself at full 
 length behind a hillock ; and then running 
 forward, he met the vassals, and accosting 
 them, pointed in the opposite direction to 
 where Roland lay. 
 
 « Seize 
 
SIR ROLAND. Ill 
 
 " Seize him !" cried all of them in one 
 breath, the moment they beheld him ; but 
 they all seemed more willing to command 
 than execute, each leaving the honour of 
 capturing him to his fellows, and they all 
 remained irresolute how to act. It was 
 certainly their duty to hold him a pri- 
 soner, as well as all they should meet in 
 their way, as the signals of their comrades 
 had given thepi notice that there was mis- 
 chief abroad ; but the fearlessness with 
 which Gervase regarded them, and his tall, 
 muscular, and formidable figure, made 
 them dread his resistance to such arbitrary 
 measures. 
 
 " Whither art thou going ?" demanded 
 one of them. 
 
 " To chase the frogs in the meadows, 
 and seek cuckoos' eggs," replied Ger- 
 vase. 
 
 " Know'st thou thecauseof this bruit?" 
 said another. 
 
 " They've smote a carrion-crow, and 
 the horns call to the feasting !" replied he 
 
 o — " there 
 
112 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 — " there — there !" pointing the way he 
 v/ished them to go — " there it lies, thro' 
 yon brake — run fleetly, or ye'll have not 
 a feather." 
 
 The horns sounded again. 
 
 *' Hah !" cried the vassal, who appeared 
 to possess the most intelligence of the 
 three, " they sound again ; fly onwards, 
 and I'll remain and take charge of the 
 boat yonder, to prevent the escape of any 
 one that way," looking significantly at 
 Gervase; " 'tis probable they may make 
 for that, and peradventure elude our com- 
 rades in case of pursuit — ye'll know where 
 to find me." 
 
 His companions nodded, and fortunate- 
 ly struck into the road Gervase had point- 
 ed out ; and the vassal thinking it advis- 
 able perhaps to take no farther notice of 
 him, walked immediately towards the boat. 
 However, the moment his back was turn- 
 ed, and Gervase imagined the other vassals 
 were beyond the reach of his voice, he 
 beckoned Roland, who was upon the watch, 
 
 to 
 
SIR ROLAND. 113 
 
 to come forth. They then followed the vas- 
 sal as quickly and quietly as possible ; for, 
 as the man suspected, it was really the in- 
 tention of Gervase to make use of the 
 boat to facilitate the escape of himself and 
 Roland from the fury of Colbrande and 
 the whole troop of vassals, who, in a com- 
 bined body, would, he was aware, instant- 
 ly assemble, and fly with alacrity to avenge 
 an injury done to one of their clan. 
 
 The vassal however hearing their ap- 
 proach, turned round, and the moment he 
 beheld Roland in company with the Black 
 Boy, he suspected treachery — the truth 
 flashed across his mind ; and taking to his 
 heels, he endeavoured to reach the boat 
 for safety ; but his swiftness availed him 
 nothing, for Gervase no sooner saw they 
 were observed, than he bounded forward 
 like a hart before the hounds, and over- 
 took him just as he reached the margin of 
 the river ; when, finding it was impossible 
 to unmoor the boat in time, the vassal 
 bravely turned upon his pursuers, and, 
 
 with 
 
114 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 with his knife in his left hand, and bran- 
 dishing his staff, he stood prepared to de- 
 fend himself, and resist any attempt to 
 gain the boat. But with the quickness of 
 lightning, Gervase, unarmed as he was, 
 darted upon him, and grasping him by the 
 throat, deprived him bot!i of breath and 
 ability to act, and thrust him backwards 
 into the stream. Meanwhile Roland un- 
 tied the rope which fastened the boat, and 
 both jumping in, pulled lustily for the op- 
 posite bank, leaving the vassal to shift for 
 himself as well as he was able. Fortu- 
 nately for iiim however he could swim, 
 and therefore scrambled out again with 
 little difficulty. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards he was sur- 
 rounded by at least a score of vassals, led 
 on by Colbrande, and the two who had 
 just before quitted him, eagerly inquiring 
 for Gervase and Roland, and they learned 
 their escape with the bitterest demonstra- 
 tions of rage; and moreover had the mor- 
 tification 
 
sill ROLAND. 115 
 
 tifi cation of seeing them safely land on the 
 opposite bank. 
 
 " By St. Anthony !" said Colbrande, 
 " they have escaped us ! — Why — why did 
 ye let that madman, that mooncalf and 
 planner of mischiefs, slip so foolishly 
 through your fingers ?" addressing tha 
 vassals, who had previously informed him 
 of their meeting with Gervase. 
 
 " Truly, because we did not suspect 
 him," replied one of them. 
 
 " Thou had'st no right to judge," said 
 Colbrande, angrily, " and should'st have 
 seized him. Curse on thy folly and faint- 
 heartedness !" 
 
 " Wheugh !" cried the man, who had 
 been cast into the water in the execution 
 of his duty, and was still dripping. " In 
 verity, Colbrande, thou speak'st mighty 
 big words; but I pray thee, who wilt 
 thou find to catch that imp of darkness? 
 for what man ever grappled with him, or 
 crossed him, but hath sorely suffered for his 
 fool-hardiness?" 
 
 " What ? 
 
116 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ** What ? did I not struggle with him ?'* 
 said Colbrande, in a tone of defiance. 
 
 "Doubtless; but after all thou wast 
 fain to take to thy heels for safety," replied 
 the other. 
 
 " 'Sdeath ! what mean'st thou ?" said 
 Colbrande, drawing his knife; " I fought 
 till that fellow, his abettor, came and struck 
 down Raynard." 
 
 " Come, come, let's have no brawling 
 'mong friends, a' God's name !" said one 
 of the party, interfering ; " put up thine 
 anlace, Colbrande, and let's seek our com- 
 rade's body. The truth is, the foul fiend 
 hath fallen upon ye both, and buffetted 
 you, and ye doubtless fought like true 
 men ; and what could mortals do more? 
 So come, Colbrande, lead us to the spot 
 where ye encountered these lawless 
 knaves, and let's see whether that strip- 
 ling's staff hath dealt a death's blow to 
 Raynard or not." 
 
 Colbrande w^as pacified ; and bitterly 
 disappointed at the failure of the venge- 
 ance 
 
SIR ROLAND. 117 
 
 ahce he had meditated on Roland and 
 Gervase, he led his comrades to the spot 
 where Raynard had fallen. 
 
 The first object that struck them on 
 winding round the hill, was Raynard him- 
 self, not lying as Colbrande had left him, 
 stretched like a corse on the greensward, 
 but sitting upright, with his hand to his 
 head ; alive and breathing, though pallid, 
 and apparently ill at ease from the effects 
 of the blow he had received, and which 
 had for a time deprived him of sense and 
 motion. The vassals welcomed this un- 
 expected sight with a ioud huzza, and 
 rushed towards him with every expression 
 of delight. 
 
 " Holy Virgin be praised !" cried Ray- 
 nard, though rather faintly — " the thick- 
 ness of my nonce hath saved my life ! 
 But how camest thou off so cleverly, Col- 
 brande?" 
 
 ** I was overmatched," replied Colbrande, 
 reluctantly, " and fled." 
 
 " Thy light heels then served thee bet- 
 ter 
 
118 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ter than my thick head, by the mass!" 
 vsaid Raynard ; " for, without jesting, that 
 varlet's staff hath shaken all my bones. 
 ' — Comrades, lend me a hand." 
 
 They raised him gently up, and sup- 
 ported him. — " That knave was too quick 
 for me — a dog ! — I must seek father Fran- 
 cis, for truly I wot 'twill need his leech- 
 craft to set me to rights again. — Confound 
 that varlet ! — Lead me to tiie monastery, 
 I pray ye — my head whirls, and swims, 
 and rolls about in an odd manner.™ Curse 
 the staff — ril pay him, and kindly too, 
 an' I catch him, trust me. — Gently — 
 gently — an' ye let me slip, I shall break 
 to pieces." 
 
 Conversing in this strain, and inter- 
 larding his speech with invectives against 
 his enemies, they led him to the monas- 
 tery, according to his request, to receive 
 the beneMt of father Francis's chirurgical 
 skill, or leech-craft, as he termed it; by 
 the way his comrades informed him, in 
 answer to his inquiries, of every circum- 
 stance 
 
SIR ROLAND. 119 
 
 stance concerning the escape of Roland 
 and the Black Boy. 
 
 Meanwhile Gervase, upon gaining the 
 opposite bank, threw the paddles into the 
 boat, and left it to chance, and the force 
 of the wind or tide to direct its course 
 w^herever they might. 
 
 '* There's no nest in the lands of De 
 Red vers for thee or nae!" said the black 
 boy. 
 
 '' And whither wilt th^u bend thy 
 steps ?" asked Roland. 
 
 " Where the fox kennels, or the bat 
 builds, I can dwell," replied Gervase, pon- 
 dering; then presently looking in Ro- 
 land's face, while his own appeared mo- 
 mentarily illumined by a ray of returning 
 reason and intelligence — " Good den — 
 good den," said he, shaking Roland's hand 
 — " guard thee cunningly from yon carls 
 — they feel not here," pointing to his heart, 
 " what I feel !" and the moisture which 
 dimmed the brightness of his dark and 
 piercing eyes, evinced the tenderness of 
 
 its 
 
120 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 its feeling towards the youth ; " the fire 
 glows when the warm blood flows! but 
 go — go — my head whirrs and wanders, 
 and my tongue grows thick: when the 
 tempest roars, and the pelting rains fall, 
 I'll bring a forest bough to shield thee !" 
 
 And waving his hand, before Roland 
 could reply, he bounded lightly over an 
 adjoining hedge, and vanished in a mo- 
 ment. 
 
 " Poor fellow !" exclaimed Roland, 
 moved at the expression of his gratitude ; 
 " 'tis pity thy head should wander so, 
 when thy heart is so sensible and so full 
 of grateful feeling! He must be a brute 
 (a giant too in strength) who would harm 
 thee ; and he no true man, who would 
 tamely stand by and see thee injured and 
 oppressed." 
 
 His own peculiar situation however de- 
 manded immediate consideration, for the 
 vassals of De Redvers having marked the 
 spot of his landing, would doubtless pur- 
 sue him as soon as they could procure an- 
 other 
 
SIR ROLAND. 121 
 
 other boat. To return to his own cot was 
 impossible, for it was unfortunately situate 
 just on the borders of the earle of Ox- 
 ford's demesnes, and although hot apper- 
 taining to that noble, was very likely to be 
 visited by his vassals, who, under shelter 
 of their great and arbitrary lord, commit- 
 ted numerous depredations with impunity 
 on those, who were unfortunate enough 
 to be so contiguous as to tempt them : 
 and in this instance, where they really 
 had some shadow of an excuse, though 
 an unjust one, they would not hesitate 
 to avail themselves of it ; for it was more 
 than probable that many of the vassals 
 would recognise him from Colbrande's de- 
 scription, and seek him in his humble 
 dwelling. 
 
 Tormented with the thought that his 
 aged father, the only relative he had in 
 the world, should suffer any insult from 
 the unfeeling brutality of the vassals for 
 his offence, he cast himself in despair up- 
 on the earth — " Alas !" cried he, " how 
 
 VOL. I. G irretrievably 
 
1^2 SIR ROLAND, 
 
 irretrievably unhappy have I rendered 
 myself, by exerting my arm in a just 
 cause, to which every feeling of humanity 
 prompted me ! Oh, my kind and revered 
 father ! what bitter pangs will thine affec- 
 tionate heart suffer, when the shades of 
 evening obscure the light, and the re- 
 turning night brings not thy Roland with 
 it ! What anxious fears and evil fore- 
 bodings wilt thou endure for thy truant 
 son [ Would that I could behold thee, 
 but one short moment, to unfold to thee 
 the cause of my flying so suddenly from 
 the peaceful home, where all the joys of 
 infancy and youth have burst upon me, 
 pleasant and smiling as a summer's morn ! 
 Oh, what an eve is this to such a day I 
 and I am assured thou would'st not blame 
 (too well I know thy goodness) but laud 
 me for the deed I've done, though thine 
 eyes wept, while thy tongue should praise 
 me. But no — thou shalt not feel the lin- 
 gering pain of expectation, never to be 
 satisfied — kind Heaven will guide my 
 
 erring 
 
SIR ROLAND. 123 
 
 erring steps, and I will hazard all — my 
 life — to bid thee but farewell." 
 
 Having thus given vent to his filial 
 sentiments, and his final resolution, he be- 
 came calm again, and rising from the 
 earth where he had prostrated himself, he 
 sought some more sequestered spot, where 
 he might remain concealed till the ap- 
 proach of night, at which season he de- 
 termined to fulfil his intentions of once 
 more revisiting his father, trusting the 
 darkness and the lateness of the hour 
 would effectually preclude any detection 
 from his enemies. 
 
 G 2 CHAP. 
 
124 SIR EOLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ■^^■»^^^*~^^.»^,s^.r^.»^.r^ 
 
 The loneliness and uninterrupted silence 
 of the spot he had chosen, and the exer- 
 tion he had undergone, disposed Roland 
 to repose ; and reflecting on his mishap, 
 and the dangerous enterprize he had re- 
 solved to undertake on the coming night, 
 he gradually sunk into a sound sleep, 
 which happy forgetfulness endured for se- 
 veral hours ; and w^hen he awoke, he was 
 surprised at the utter darkness that sur- 
 rounded him. Fearful of having slept too 
 long, he aroused himself, and grasping his 
 trusty staff, began hastily to retrace his 
 way to the banks of the river — a task 
 which the darkness rendered extremely 
 difficult to accomplish. At last however 
 he had the happiness of hearing the gen- 
 tle rippling and splashing of the waters, 
 
 occasioned 
 
SIR ROLAND. 125 
 
 occasioned by the evening breeze ; and he 
 hailed the welcome sounds with rapture. 
 
 Quickly stripping himself, he bound 
 up his garments with his girdle, and, fas- 
 tening them to his head, plunged boldly 
 into the river; dashing aside the waters 
 with his vigorous arm, and fearlessly set- 
 ting every danger at defiance, he thought 
 only of his parent, and this thought in- 
 spired him with more than ordinary 
 strength to perform his arduous task, and 
 in a short time he reached the opposite 
 bank in safety. Donning his habiliments, 
 without a moment's delay, he proceeded 
 through many a well-known field and 
 meadow, and many a tangled brake, to- 
 wards his father's cot ; but never before 
 had the way appeared so long and tedious 
 as in his present eagerness he deemed it. 
 
 In half-an-hour he had advanced so far 
 on his journey, that he was within a short 
 distance of the pleasant valley, in which 
 stood the humble dwelling of his father, 
 surrounded, at irregular distances, by 
 G 3 about 
 
126 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 about a dozen others, built much after the 
 same model, and with the same materials, 
 consisting chiefly of turf and wood, shel- 
 tered by a thick strong thatch of straw ; 
 the whole forming a small village, most 
 romantically situated; for the surround- 
 ing hills, covered with the knotted oak, 
 the dark green elm, and broad-leaved ches- 
 nut, with many shrubs of meaner growth, 
 and blooming heath, and harebells, and a 
 thousand wild and beautiful, though scent- 
 less flowers, formed a natural wall around 
 their lowly habitations, and equally se- 
 cured them from the severer blasts of win- 
 ter, and the sultry heat of the summer sun. 
 In the midst of this delightful retreat, 
 there was an extensive green, where, after 
 the labours of the day, the villagers were 
 v/ont to assemble, and recreate themselves 
 in various games and pastimes — wrestling, 
 jumping, running, pitching the bar, or 
 shooting their arrows at a butt, or mark, 
 fastened to the trunk of a decayed oak, at 
 the extreme end of their rural lawn : and 
 
 then 
 
SIR ROLAND. 127 
 
 then the maidens, blooming, fresh, and 
 wild, as the flowers adorning their native 
 valley, would come tripping forth, arrayed 
 in dimpled smiles, while the echoes re- 
 peated their merry laugh, and in an in- 
 stant the rustic swains would lay aside 
 their warlike weapons, and quit their ruder 
 games, to join in the fantastic and inspir- 
 ing dance. 
 
 As Roland trudged on, a thousand fond 
 recollections of the happy and peaceful 
 days he had passed in that valley (which 
 he was about to quit for his own safety, 
 and the tranquillity of the inhabitants 
 whom he loved) recurred to his mind, and 
 he was sad, for he loved his father most 
 affectionately. Roland too was the pride 
 of the old man's heart ; he had trained him 
 up to arms from his infancy, and had the 
 gratification of seeing him excel all his 
 youthful companions in every warlike 
 game and exercise ; and eagerly he looked 
 forward to the time, when, at a maturer 
 age, the youth would be enabled to follow 
 G 4 the 
 
12fS SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the noble whose vassal he was, and sig- 
 nalize himself in the field ; well convinced, 
 that his courage and his skill would insure 
 him brilliant success, and soon gain him 
 that approbation and distinction he merited. 
 
 Roland was fired with the same ambi- 
 tion, and ardently wished for an opportu- 
 nity to display his valour and attainments, 
 for of late, though he scarcely dared con- 
 fess this to himself, he had experienced an 
 irksomeness, and a distaste for the com- 
 pany and pastimes of the peasantry, among 
 whom he had already attained such a su- 
 periority, that he longed for a wider field 
 for the exercise of his prowess. 
 
 The youth had now but one hill to sur- 
 mount, and his heart leaped with joy as 
 he entered the narrow pass, that would 
 presently lead him to his home, and his 
 affectionate father's arms ; he pressed for- 
 ward with renewed ardour, and threaded 
 the winding way with lusty strides, when 
 he was startled by a sudden illumination 
 of the surrounding obscurity, and looking 
 
 upward. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 129 
 
 upward, with beating heart he beheld the 
 red glare reflected in the dark heavens 
 above; he dared hardly suspect the mean- 
 ing of this sudden burst of light— his 
 heart sunk within him, and rushing wild- 
 ly forward, his trembling steps bore him 
 towards the valley. 
 
 As he approached nearer and nearer to 
 the village, the light rapidly increased; 
 and now the mingled sounds of the pea- 
 sants' horns, and a confusion of voices, 
 struck terror into his soul ; and when the 
 valley opened upon his distracted view, he 
 beheld the peasants assembled round his 
 father's cot, from which the fierce red 
 flames issued in all the horrors of confla- 
 gration; their pale, fear-stricken features 
 visible in the appalling light, and their 
 long dark shadows spreading o'er the 
 ground. In an instant he rushed breath- 
 less among the astonished crowd, and — 
 " My father ! my father !" was all he could 
 utter. 
 
 Twenty shrieking voices informed him 
 G 5 the 
 
130 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the old man was still in the burning dwel- 
 ling, and they called loudly, but in vain, 
 upon the despairing youth to stay. Ro- 
 land heard not their intreaties, but preci- 
 pitated himself into the burning pile, 
 amid loud exclamations of terror and as- 
 tonishment from the peasantry. 
 
 " He is lost ! the brave Roland is lost !" 
 cried every foreboding voice, and every 
 honest heart instantly poured forth a si- 
 lent prayer, for the repose of the souls of 
 the good old father and his valiant son. 
 Scarcely, however, were their prayers ut- 
 tered, when the figure of Roland again 
 appeared, emerging from amidst the 
 flames, bearing the body of his aged sire 
 in his arms. 
 
 Loud acclamations rent the air at this 
 affecting sight, and many an eye was dim- 
 med by a starting tear, a precious tribute 
 to the heroism of the gallant Roland ; and 
 in one body they rushed forward, and re- 
 lieved him of his precious burthen. 
 
 The fire had most miraculously raged 
 
 in 
 
SIR ROLAND. 131 
 
 in a dijfferent direction to where the old 
 man slept, and though the thick smoke 
 and heat had almost suffocated him, as he 
 lay sleeping and unconscious of danger 
 upon his lowly pallet, the refreshing ac- 
 tion of the cool atmosphere soon restored 
 him to life and recollection : and when 
 he beheld his dear Roland, whose unusu- 
 ally protracted absence had alarmed him, 
 kneeling beside him, and learned that he 
 had providentially arrived in time to res- 
 cue him from a dreadful death, he pressed 
 him to his heart, and called down the 
 blessing of Heaven upon his head, while 
 the tears slowly trickled down his furrow- 
 ed cheeks. 
 
 All attempts to rescue the cot from de- 
 struction would have been fruitless, for 
 the light combustible materials of which 
 it was composed, when once thoroughly 
 ignited, were not to be extinguished ; the 
 fierce element besides consumed the fabric 
 too rapidly for any human aid or art to 
 arrest its progress with any hope of ulti- 
 G 6 mate 
 
132 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 mate success ; and therefore abandoning 
 it to its fate, the peasantry turned their 
 whole attention towards the comfort of 
 old Geoffrey, whom they so much esteem- 
 ed, both for his own sake, and that of his 
 valiant son. And the only difficulty 
 which arose among these honest, unso- 
 phisticated peasants, was, who should have 
 the honour of entertaining their houseless 
 neighbour — a most amiable contention, 
 which was at last decided in favour of the 
 eldest inhabitant of the village, a man but 
 a few years younger than old Geoffrey, 
 and his chief gossip. This matter being 
 satisfactorily arranged, Roland led the old 
 man to the place of his destination, where 
 he recounted to him the unfortunate broil 
 in which he had been so suddenly and 
 unexpectedly engaged, and concluded by 
 asking his advice in what manner he 
 should conduct himself — whether to re- 
 main, and endeavour to justify himself by 
 an appeal to the noble earle of Oxford, in 
 case of any attempt on the part of the vas- 
 sals 
 
SIR ROLAND. 133 
 
 sals to avenge the fall of their comrade, or 
 to depart, and enlist himself under the 
 banner of some chief, who was about to 
 wage war at home or abroad. And in 
 asking him to decide upon these queries, 
 he put the last alternative in such strong 
 terms, that it was evident to Geoffrey 
 that he was prejudiced in favour of its su- 
 periority ; and wishing not to thwart the 
 natural bent of his inclination, or damp 
 the glowing ardour of his youthful spirit, 
 the old man reluctantly consented to his 
 departure. 
 
 There were other cogent reasons too, 
 which urged him to this decision ; he 
 feared not only that Roland's life would 
 be in jeopardy, but that the tranquilHty 
 of the whole village would be disturbed, 
 by a feud with the minions of such a 
 powerful baron as Baldwyn de Redvers ; 
 nor would the vavasour, or petty baron, 
 under whose protection they all lived, 
 deem so trivial an affair worthy his repro- 
 bation, or his avenging, even if there 
 
 were 
 
1S4 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 were the least shadow of a possibility, that 
 his threats or his forces possessed sufficient 
 power or influence to demand restitution 
 from the earle. He explained these ap- 
 prehensions to Roland, who gladly coin- 
 cided Avith him in every thing tending to 
 promote his own wishes. But when 
 Geoffrey informed him of the cause 
 which gave rise to these reflections, the 
 youth was struck dumb with astonish- 
 ment, and was now convinced that his 
 own fears were well founded. 
 
 It appeared, that just before set of sun, 
 Colbrande, accompanied by a few of his 
 comrades, had entered the village, and in- 
 stantly proceeded to the cot of Geoffrey, 
 hoping perchance to entrap the youth by 
 coming thus unawares upon him ; but 
 they discovered Geoffrey sitting alone, 
 and wondering at the stay of Roland. He 
 arose on their entrance and demanded 
 their will ; though their numbers and ap- 
 pearance rather excited suspicion of the 
 goodness of their errand. 
 
 « Thou 
 
SIR ROLAND. l35 
 
 " Thou hast a son ?" said Colbrande, in- 
 quiringly. 
 
 " I have, thank Heaven !" replied the 
 old man ; " and one whom I am proud to 
 call by that name. Dost thou know aught 
 of him?" 
 
 " More than we wish," answered Col- 
 brande. 
 
 '' Then, by St. Mary !" said the old man, 
 " thou know'st but little of him, an thou 
 yearn'st not for better knowledge; for 
 those who know him, love him, and still 
 desire to know him better — and none but 
 his enemies, the which I trust ye are not, 
 think a little of him, far too much !" 
 
 " Dotard !" cried Colbrande, frowning, 
 for he felt the truth of this assertion, ** we 
 came not hither to list to thy lauding, but 
 to seek the reckless ronyon whom thou 
 call'st thy son — to teach him better man- 
 ners, a cub !" 
 
 " Would he were here, to teach thee 
 better !" said Geoffrey. 
 
 " Peace !" cried Colbrande, drawing his 
 
 sword. 
 
136 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 sword, " or, by the holy rood, I'll make a 
 scabbard of thy wrinkled carcase !" 
 
 Unmoved at this threat of the bluster- 
 ing Colbrande, the old veteran drew him- 
 self up with all the dignified pride of a 
 true soldier ; and regarding him with the 
 utmost coolness and indifference, he point- 
 ed to his polished arms, which hung sus- 
 pended on the walls of his cot. — " I have 
 borne these arms," said he, " and though 
 the hand of time hath somewhat bowed 
 me down, and blanched my locks, I still 
 can wield them, when just occasion calls 
 me to the field ; nor am I to be frighted 
 by the brawling of a boy. Nay, sheathe 
 thy glaive, there is no shame in't ; 'tis a 
 greater far to grasp it naked." 
 
 Colbrande rebuked, and yet ashamed 
 to show it by any outward sign, struggled 
 hard to conceal his real feelings ; while he 
 returned his glittering blade to its scab- 
 bard. — " Old man," said he, " we wish not 
 to offend thee ; we come to seek thy son, 
 who hath offended us, and we do believe 
 
 thou 
 
SIR ROLAND. 137 
 
 thou hold'st him here in close concealment, 
 whate'er thou sayest." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Geoffrey. 
 
 " By the mass, we do !" cried Col- 
 brande. 
 
 " And may I ask his crime?" said Geof- 
 frey. " What outrage hath he commit- 
 ted, that ye come in such a formidable 
 body to arrest him ? say, tell me, what hath 
 Roland done?" 
 
 " This seeming ignorance doth become 
 thee well, by my troth," said Colbrande, 
 sneeringly ; " but 'twill not do. We must 
 and will beat the bushes for the fox ; so, 
 by thy leave " 
 
 " An it be so, and only by my leave," 
 replied Geoffrey, " thou hast it not, I do 
 assure thee. Were he here, I would not 
 let thee harm him without cause ; but 
 wherefore dost thou seek him with so 
 much earnestness ? is his guilt so heinous 
 that it doth offend thy tongue to name it, 
 or else so slight thou art ashamed to speak 
 it?" 
 
 "He 
 
188 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " He hath stricken one of our comrades 
 sorely, and peradventure mortally," said 
 one of the vassals. 
 
 " What provocation? — Roland never 
 strikes without a cause," said Geoffrey. 
 
 " He had none !" said Colbrande, im- 
 petuously — " an he had, what then ? he 
 shall not strike De Redvers' men without 
 return : but I'll hold no longer parley 
 with thee. — Comrades " 
 
 Colbrande was here interrupted by the 
 opening of the cottage-door, and the en- 
 trance of the villagers, who foreboding no 
 good from the hostile appearance of De 
 Redvers' vassals, had buckled on their 
 swords, and flown in a body to the assist- 
 ance of their old neighbour, determined 
 to protect him from any insult which 
 they might be inclined to offer. Their 
 number and appearance had the good 
 effect of checking the audacity of Col- 
 brande and his fellows, and at the same 
 time it encouraged Geoffrey to resist 
 them. 
 
 " What 
 
SIR ROLAND. 139 
 
 "What make these men of war here?" 
 inquired one of the villagers. 
 
 " They seek Roland," replied the old 
 man. 
 
 " Roland — Roland !" repeated a dozen 
 voices in a breath — " What hath Roland 
 done, that they should seek him in such 
 unfriendly shape ?" 
 
 " Some deed," replied Geoffrey, " that 
 hath given umbrage ; a deed, I vow, that 
 will not blur his name, so well I know 
 him ; but a deed no less, than calls these 
 men all hither in hottest haste, eager for 
 revenge ; and yet a nameless deed !" 
 
 " Goodman !" said Colbrande, " thou 
 say'st thy son is not here?" 
 
 " I do repeat it ; Roland is not here, 
 nor have I seen him since the morn," said 
 Geoffrey. 
 
 " Enough !" said Colbrande, " I'm sa- 
 tisfied. Comrades, away; we'll take a 
 fitter opportunity to face him:" and 
 followed by his companions, he abruptly 
 quitted the cottage, fearful that should 
 
 they 
 
140 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 they irritate the peasants, whose numbers 
 were so far superior, they might suffer a 
 defeat, where they came with full intent 
 to conquer and chastise ; and the greater 
 part of those who had accompanied the 
 poUtic, but far from brave, Colbrande, 
 much resembled him in temperament and 
 disposition, being never inclined to draw, 
 but where there existed an indisputable 
 advantage on their side. 
 
 After they had withdrawn themselves, 
 Geoffrey imparted to his kind friends all 
 that had transpired; and though the 
 shades of night were fast coming on, 
 many of them volunteered their services, 
 and sought for some distance round the 
 valley for the absent Roland ; suspecting, 
 that having seen the vassals approaching, 
 he had been deterred from coming home, 
 and wisely concealed himself among the 
 hills or forests. But after an hour's fruit- 
 less search, they returned to the anxious 
 Geoffrey, who sighing, thanked them 
 heartily for their kindness; and all had 
 
 long 
 
SIR ROLAND. 141 
 
 long retired to their homes, when they 
 were alarmed by the sudden blaze of 
 Geoffrey's cot. 
 
 Thus much the old man was in posses- 
 sion of — the cause of the fire could not 
 be accounted for, although it was gene- 
 rally suspected among the villagers, that 
 Colbrande and his party were principally 
 concerned in it. Perchance believing, 
 notwithstanding the earnest asseverations 
 of Geoffrey, that Roland was still con- 
 cealed within the dwelling, they had se- 
 cretly and maliciously set it in flames, 
 hoping the inhabitants, whose senses 
 would be lulled in overpowering sleep, 
 might inevitably perish in the sudden 
 conflagration. 
 
 CHAP- 
 
142 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Matilda, the young and beautiful con- 
 sort of king Stephen, in all the joyfulness 
 and mirth of an innocent heart, was wiling 
 away her happy hours in sweet discourse 
 with her fair companion and confidante, 
 the enchanting Avis Delavigne, the eldest 
 daughter of a distinguished noble of Bou- 
 logne, whose ndiveVe and fascinating man- 
 ners attracted the notice, and ultimately 
 gained her the confidence and affection of 
 the queen. The figure of Avis, although 
 rather below the middling stature, was 
 incomparably well formed, exhibiting such 
 fine and exquisite proportion, as feasted 
 the eyes and ravished the hearts of all the 
 gallants, and noble and valiant knights of 
 king Stephen's court. Her beautiful 
 countenance was continually illumined by 
 
 the 
 
SIR ROLAND. 143 
 
 the cheerful glow of smiling good nature ; 
 and while her mellifluous voice ran gaily 
 on, her dark eyes sent forth such bright 
 scintillations, as won the love and admira- 
 tion of her hearers; but what rendered 
 her more charming, was the natural and 
 unaffected grace which accompanied all 
 her words and actions, drawing forth ad- 
 miration, without the desire to be pre- 
 eminent in aught but what was good and 
 virtuous. Coquetry and envy were alike 
 strangers to her innocent bosom ; the one 
 she needed not for conquest, and nature 
 had precluded her from experiencing the 
 bitter torment of the other, by lavishly 
 bestowing upon her such transcendant 
 beauty, as rendered her superior to the 
 influence of its envenomed sting. 
 
 Both Matilda and her confidante were 
 employed in embroidering various tinted 
 stuffs with gold and silver thread, in fair 
 devices of floresc and figure, either for 
 their own divertisement or use. Indeed, 
 in those days, when learning and books 
 
 were 
 
144 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 were so rare, this elegant employment 
 formed the chief amusement of the ladies, 
 on whose hands time would have other- 
 wise hung heavily, being immured within 
 the walls of their lords' castles, more state- 
 ly and magnificent than convenient or 
 agreeable, and they were seldom or ever 
 permitted to participate in, or witness the 
 pleasures of the rude and boisterous revels 
 in the hall — a prohibition which was ex- 
 tended even to the queen herself, except 
 on particular occasions of great state and 
 ceremony, a custom (however singular it 
 may appear to the ladies of the present 
 polished and enlightened age, whose fas- 
 cinating manners and conversation form 
 the greatest charm of modern assemblies) 
 dictated by the nicest sentiment of deli- 
 cacy and propriety; for the unlicensed 
 freedom of speech and manners in those 
 assemblages was not at all fitted for female 
 ears or eyes. On their part, the ladies felt 
 no inclination to infringe upon this strict 
 observance, but solaced themselves with 
 
 their 
 
SIR ROLAND. 145 
 
 their damsels and children, or in music 
 and singing, which accomplishments were 
 cultivated with great felicity, and some- 
 times with much proficiency ; and although 
 they could not boast the improvements 
 of later ages, their melodies were simple, 
 sweet, and affecting, and were certainly 
 calculated to touch the heart, to sooth 
 the fiercer passions, and create the softest 
 emotions of pleasure. Their ditties were 
 simple, wild and uncultivated flowers; 
 while the ballads and madrigals of the 
 common people were extravagantly long, 
 sometimes consisting of twenty and thirty 
 verses, and generally partaking too much 
 of coarse ribaldry and obscenity to delight 
 any but the vulgar herd of clowns and 
 huscarls, although the chanting of these 
 lewd rhimes by the unpolished lords them- 
 selves at their festive carousals and ban- 
 quets, was a thing of no uncommon oc- 
 currence. 
 
 The apartment in which the queen and 
 her maid of honour were seated, was ra- 
 
 voL. I. H ther 
 
146 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ther capacious than commodious, bearing 
 not the slightest resemblance to the ele- 
 gant boudoir of a modern lady. The 
 lofty ceiling was of oak, carved in various 
 rude devices of fruit and flowers, and gro- 
 tesque heads of satyrs or cherubims ; the 
 stone walls, hung with tapestry of Nor- 
 man fabrication, representing subjects from 
 mythologic store, either amatory or heroic; 
 the floor strewn with clean rushes (a lux- 
 ury only to be found in the castles of the 
 great) ; and at the extreme end of the 
 chamber was a toilette, or dressing-table, 
 the slab whereof was of polished chesnut, 
 and the legs carved and gilt, whereon 
 stood a mirror, set in a silver-gilt frame, 
 and an ivory casket, containing various 
 gawds and trinkets ; and opposite to it 
 stood one of a similar description, bearing 
 a handsome lute, and two painted flower 
 vases, of Flemish manufacture, filled with 
 bouquets, prettily trimmed and arranged 
 by the fair and delicate hands of Avis, 
 who was herself seated beside her royal 
 
 mistress 
 
SIR ROLAND. 147 
 
 mistress on a couch, covered with fine 
 stuff of a deep rose colour, richly embroi- 
 dered and laced, and there were footstools 
 of the same. 
 
 Their conversation was mostly carried 
 on in French, their native tongue, flowing 
 in more expressive strain, and describing 
 their thoughts and sentiments with more 
 facility than their knowledge of the Eng- 
 lish would have enabled them to have 
 done, although they were perfectly con- 
 versant in that language. 
 
 " By our lady, sweet Avis !" said the 
 queen, with all the characteristic vivacity 
 of her nation, " England is a fairer place 
 than report doth speak it; 'tis true, I 
 have seen but little yet, but what I have, 
 doth make me desire to see much more 
 on't. What think'st thou ?" 
 
 " Truly, thus," replied Avis; " the 
 
 place is of as good seeming in riches, 
 
 power, and strength, as any potentate 
 
 would wish to govern ; so doubtless doth 
 
 H 2 his 
 
148 Sm ROLAND. 
 
 his good highness think, I wot ; and so 
 your grace, but " 
 
 " But what?" interrupted the queen, 
 eagerly. " Hast thou then found some 
 bhir or blemish to rail at ? Come, prithee 
 let's hear thy nice exceptions." 
 
 " Your grace hath ta'en offence ?" said 
 Avis. 
 
 " Nay, none, sweet Avis, by our lady 
 of Roche ! none," said the queen. " Speak 
 fairly out, I will not impeach thee of trea- 
 son." 
 
 " England is fair, I do allow," said 
 Avis. 
 
 " A fair allowance," cried the queen, 
 smiling at Avis's precision, " which comes 
 like a well- trimmed page to usher in a 
 good apology." 
 
 " The nobles, knights, and vassals," 
 continued Avis, " all fair too, of goodly 
 carriage and demeanour; and yet withal 
 there is a rudeness, a bluntness in their 
 speech, which makes not such music on 
 
 mine 
 
SIR ROLAND. 149 
 
 mine ear as that of the courteous vassals 
 of dear Boulogne." 
 
 " Ha, ha !" cried the queen, laughing ; 
 ** in good sooth, an honest confession, of 
 great credit to thy penetration too ! And 
 I vow to thee, Avis, an' I have power to 
 polish the roughness of which thou mak- 
 est so rueful a complaint, thou shalt be 
 quickly rid of all impertinence which 
 now thou takest so much to heart. I will 
 proclaim it to all England, to all courtly 
 suitors who would sue for the fair hand 
 of Avis Delavigne, that they must first 
 reform their manners and their speech, or 
 else yield up the prize in hopelessness." 
 
 " Or I will teach them that truth my- 
 self," said Avis, gaily. " I'll play the co- 
 quette, and torment them ; now raise 
 their hopes with smiles, and then depress 
 them with a killing frown. What, lead a 
 bear in the rosy wreaths of love? _^ done! 
 the thorns are good enough." 
 
 *' There are a few among them that are 
 
 better than the rest," said the queen. 
 
 H 3 " They 
 
150 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " They are not all alike ; I trust there are 
 surely some more gentle, gallant, and 
 sooth than their fellows. Is't not so. 
 Avis ?" 
 
 "A — a few — a scanty few," replied 
 Avis ; ** some flowers among the weeds, 
 but rather damaged by their vicinage." 
 
 " And would flourish better, perchance, 
 an' they were transplanted beneath the 
 influence of thy favouring smiles — ey. 
 Avis ?" 
 
 " They must inevitably improve," said 
 Avis ; " but then the pains of culture ? 
 no — no, spare me that, kind Cupid ! 
 there's not such lack of gallants that I 
 must train one purposely to please me. 
 In France I can pick a bouquet, where 
 in England I can only find one solitary 
 flower." 
 
 ** Compare the bouquet to that single 
 flower," said the queen ; " one rose is 
 worth fifty poppies!" 
 
 " Why, ay, I think your grace hath 
 reason there," said Avis. 
 
 " I love 
 
SIR ROLAND. 151 
 
 " I love my country, and my country- 
 men," said the queen ; " but truly I have 
 ever thought, and happily have found, 
 that France produces better gallants, Eng- 
 land better husbands." 
 
 « I shall reflect—" 
 
 " Thou giddy girl !" interrupted the 
 queen, smiling, " when did'st thou such a 
 thing ? — reflect !" 
 
 " Ay, your grace !" replied Avis, with 
 pretended gravity ; " a husband is a seri- 
 ous — very serious thing." 
 
 " And doth thine heart fail thee ?" 
 
 " Nay," said Avis, " when that hap- 
 pens, 'twill be time to surrender it on the 
 best terms." 
 
 A page in waiting announced sir Wil- 
 liam de Lacy. 
 
 " Give the knight entrance," said the 
 queen, " and we will give him audience." 
 Then, turning to Avis, observed — " A fair 
 knight, and a handsome. Avis — what 
 think'st thou, is he one of the few ?" 
 
 " He is — courteous," replied Avis, re- 
 H 4 luctantly, 
 
152 STR ROLAND. 
 
 luctantly, while a slight tinge suffused her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " And handsome ?" said the queen. 
 
 " Why — yes — tolerable." 
 
 " Brave?" added the queen. 
 
 " He is an English knight." 
 
 " Provoking !" said the queen. " Veri- 
 ly, Avis, thou wilt not allow him any 
 grace or favour but by halves. By our 
 Lady, this is feigned ! — he is " 
 
 " Here !" interrupted Avis, archly, as 
 the young knight entered the apartment, 
 and courteously saluted them. 
 
 He was tall, but peculiarly well made, 
 and the graceful and easy manner in which 
 he moved, shewed how used he was to 
 all the forms and ceremonies of a court; 
 and there was a modest confidence in his 
 address, which at the same time it ob- 
 tained him the attention, insured him the 
 approbation of those whom he addressed ; 
 and he had too much discretion to take 
 advantage of this favour when obtained, 
 to run the chance of losing it by letting 
 
 his 
 
SIR ROLAND. 153 
 
 his vanity or conceit prompt him to over- 
 step the bounds prescribed by the strictest 
 decorum or etiquette ; nay, not even so 
 far as he might have done with impunity. 
 He had scarcely seen twenty summers, 
 yet had already proved himself brave and 
 hardy in the field, which gained him the 
 esteem of the men, and being withal 
 handsome and gallant, he easily won the 
 favour of the fair. He could moreover 
 sing, dance, and play on the lute ; and 
 was in every respect an accomplished ca- 
 valier — a soldier in the field, but a gallant 
 at court. 
 
 His long flaxen hair curled naturally, 
 and hung gracefully down his shoulders ; 
 his mustachios were neatly trimmed, and 
 curled with scented wax ; while the ruddy 
 glow of health and exercise bloomed upon 
 his downy cheeks, and his blue eyes, al- 
 most too soft for a man, were turned in 
 silent admiration towards the fair Avis, 
 even while his speech was directed to the 
 queen. The latter observed it with in- 
 H 5 ward 
 
154 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ward pleasure, pleased to find a confirma- 
 tion of her suspicions, both in the actions 
 of the knight and the lady ; and there is 
 assuredly nothing gives a lady more satis- 
 faction than to discover the justness of her 
 penetration in a love affair. From that 
 moment the lovers' cause becomes her 
 own, and she promotes their designs with 
 as much earnestness as if it were for her 
 own peculiar gratification and delight. 
 
 The rich habit of the knight was not 
 less calculated to set off those advantages, 
 which nature had bestowed upon his per- 
 son. It was of French workmanship; 
 his doublet was of sky-blue cloth of the 
 finest texture, adorned with silver bro- 
 derie ; his lower habiliments of the same ; 
 his hu scans or loose boots of doe-skin 
 armed with gilt prycks, or spurs with a 
 single point; a short silver-hilted sword 
 hung gracefully by his left side, a small 
 dagger in his girdle on the right, while in 
 his Iiand he bore his plumed bonnet or 
 cap. 
 
 He 
 
SIR ROLAND. 155 
 
 He was the bearer of a message from 
 the king, bidding the ladies to a select 
 party on the Thames, to which the queen 
 returned a most gracious acquiescence : 
 the weather was fine, clear, and inviting, 
 and nothing could possibly be more agree- 
 able than such an excursion, for the banks 
 on both sides the river were inconceivably 
 beautiful and picturesque. Commerce, 
 at that period, had not covered the waters 
 with her numerous and richly-laden arks, 
 as at the present day ; coals were not then 
 in use, wood being the chief fuel con- 
 sumed; and therefore the black barges, 
 which now line the banks for a consider- 
 able extent, adding to the wealth of the 
 city, but not to its beauty, more especial- 
 ly above London-bridge, the only one 
 then over the Thames, and built entirely 
 of wood, did not then disfigure the river. 
 Tall trees and beautiful verdure bordered 
 this deep, broad, and gentle stream, which 
 may properly be ycleped a cornucopia to 
 H 6 this 
 
156 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 this city, seeing how productive and lucra- 
 tive is its traffick to the country. 
 
 The horses were ah'eady caparisoned, and 
 the gaily-livery ed grooms and squires were 
 leading the prancing steeds to and fro in 
 the inner court of the Tower Royal ; and 
 at last the king, accompanied by the baron 
 de Lacy, his son sir William, and three 
 other nobles of high degree and favour, 
 who were to be of the company, descend- 
 ed to the court below, where they were 
 speedily joined by the queen, her favourite 
 Avis, and her ladies of honour; and now 
 began the doffing of caps, and bowing and 
 courtesying; which ceremony being ended, 
 the king gave his hand to Matilda, at the 
 same time paying her a compliment, and 
 saluting her cheek ; and she being mount- 
 ed, her ladies received the same compli- 
 ments from the nobles; and the gallant sir 
 William de Lacy had the honour of sa- 
 luting the fair Avis, which the queen per- 
 ceiving, smiled significantly at her confi- 
 dante, saying — "Une rose vaut einquante 
 
 pavots r 
 
SIR ROLAND. 157 
 
 pavots * !" which caused deep blushes on 
 the cheek of the lady, although the mean- 
 ing of the queen's expression, and the con- 
 fusion of Avis, was an enigma to all ; ne- 
 vertheless the knights bowed, and the la- 
 dies simpered, for royal words are precious, 
 and often, like antiques, more valued from 
 the ignorance of their meaning and intent. 
 
 The ladies being all mounted, there was 
 now a struggle among the nobles which 
 should have the honour of holding the 
 king's stirrup — a circumstance, however 
 puerile and ridiculous, that was mightily 
 enjoyed by the king, who laughed heartily, 
 waiting patiently the issue of the scuffle 
 beside his steed ; although his squire, who 
 held the bridle, could have easily assisted 
 him. Sir William de Lacy was the for- 
 tunate victor in this momentous conflict, 
 which circumstance he owed as much to 
 the co-operation of his father, as to his 
 own exertions. 
 
 " liy God's birth f/ sir knight," said 
 
 Stephen, 
 
 * One rose is worth fifty poppies, 
 t Stephen's usual oath, according to the old chroniclers. 
 
158 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 Stephen, patting him on the shoulder, " an 
 thou dost overcome thine enemies as rea- 
 dily as thou hast thy friends, losing more 
 sweat from thy brow than blood, I shall 
 marvel an thine honours and thy life do 
 not endure longer than thy spurs !" 
 
 " May it prove thus, my liege," replied 
 sir William ; " and may your grace com- 
 mand my humble services," and bowing, 
 he quitted the king's side, and mounted 
 his charger. 
 
 The whole cavalcade were presently on 
 their way to the river, while numberless 
 gazers at the doors and windows of their 
 habitations, as well as in the streets, cheer- 
 ed them as they passed. 
 
 The king rode beside the queen, both 
 graciously returning the loyal salutes of 
 the multitude, and sir William de Lacy 
 on the right hand of the fair Avis, con- 
 versing with her in the most gallant terms ; 
 nor did the sprightly maiden lack aught 
 in wit or repartee ; and her lively sallies 
 ofttimes caused the regards of the queen to 
 
 be 
 
SIR ROLAND. 159 
 
 be directed towards her as they rode along ; 
 and the amiable expression of her looks 
 were regarded by the knight as a proof of 
 her good wishes, and his own consequent 
 success. 
 
 Two barges, richly adorned, with banks 
 of rowers in splendid liveries, received the 
 party ; and they glided gently down the 
 river, still cheered by the crowd, who had 
 hastily assembled on the bridge. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The universal rejoicing and festivity which 
 manifested itself throughout the realm, 
 during the first months of Stephen's ac- 
 cession to the throne, began gradually to 
 subside, and the pageantries, which grati- 
 fied the popular curiosity, and pleasantly 
 soothed for a time any disloyal feelings 
 which the doubtfulness of the king's title 
 
 might 
 
160 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 might have given rise to among the lower 
 orders, all passed away, and with them 
 much of that favourable impression they 
 w^ere intended to produce. And now, 
 notwithstanding the trifling opposition he 
 at first encountered in obtaining the sum- 
 mit of his ambitious views, and supported 
 as he was by the countenance and favour 
 of the most puissant heads of the church, 
 when he looked down from the height he 
 had gained with so much facility, he be- 
 held himself surrounded by innumerable 
 dangers and difficulties. He saw, and not 
 afar off, the gathering of the storm, which 
 unhappily threatened to mar the present 
 brightness and tranquillity which shone so 
 delusively around him. To the barons he 
 had granted much — nay, in almost every 
 instance, had acceded to their own terms, 
 although in this, it was evident he acted 
 with more policy than sincerity. For his 
 regal power and authority once establish- 
 ed, he trusted, by his wealth, and the 
 strength of his alliances, to be enabled to 
 
 command 
 
SIR ROLAND. l6l 
 
 command the few who were not already 
 bound by their interests to serve him, and 
 suppress the factious. 
 
 But at that period, when every baron 
 was a petty prince within his own domain, 
 and, if possessing power and means, was 
 seldom at peace with his weaker neigh- 
 bours, feuds and party-spirit ran so high, 
 that the very espousing of the royal cause 
 by one party, was sufficient excuse for en- 
 kindling the animosity of the other, who 
 probably rejoiced in the offer of a fair op- 
 portunity for a rupture ; this petty war- 
 fare being but a profitable pastime to the 
 greater, who took advantage of every op- 
 portunity of plundering the lesser. Among 
 those who first reared the bloody banner 
 of faction, was Baldwyn de Redvers, who, 
 fortifying the castle of Exeter, openly 
 avowed himself the enemy of the newly- 
 elected king and all his liegemen, boldly 
 calling him the usurper of the lawful 
 rights of his cousin Maude, and all his par- 
 tisans traitors to their country, against 
 
 whom 
 
162 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 whom it would be laudable and just for 
 every true man to raise his sword. 
 
 Such a daring and inflammatory avowal 
 quickly spread itself in every quarter, and 
 decided those who were before wavering 
 in doubt, or won over those who were 
 already inimical to the government, who, 
 too vv^eak to lead or raise a faction them- 
 selves, readily embraced the present op- 
 portunity, and followed the treasonous 
 call to arms. 
 
 The unwelcome tidings of this revolt 
 was soon made known to the king, who 
 lost no time in calling a council of war, 
 and with that policy and decision for 
 which he was remarkable, issued his conf)<- 
 mands for immediately summoning a suf- 
 ficient force to quell the insurrection. — 
 " And we," said the king, addressing the 
 council with the warmth of feeling cha- 
 racteristic of a soldier, " though surround- 
 ed by so many brave nobles and gallant 
 knights, whose loyalty makes them to 
 feel our cause their own, and whose fealty 
 
 and 
 
SIR ROLAND. l63 
 
 and tried valour alike claim the honour of 
 leading our forces to chastise the traitorous 
 De Redvers, yet we, in person, do intend 
 to marshal forth the troops, and lead them 
 on. His foul and calumnious breath 
 hath sullied our honour, and impeached 
 our right, and even our royal sword shall 
 answer his defiance, and punish his auda- 
 city. This is our resolve. And now let 
 each depart in all expedient haste, assem- 
 ble his men-at-arms without delay, and 
 rendezvous before the traitor's hold ; so 
 speedily we'll make this disloyal knave 
 bend his stubborn neck beneath our feet. 
 Away — we long to tread out this danger- 
 ous little spark, which unregarded may 
 soon blaze out, and inflame the minds of 
 our disaffected subjects." 
 
 Upon which the nobles and knights, 
 having signified their zeal, and promised 
 prompt assistance, separated, each instant- 
 ly setting out for his own domain, to ga- 
 ther together his armed retainers for the 
 approaching conflict. 
 
 Among 
 
164 SIR ROLAKD. 
 
 Among others who evinced their readi- 
 ness to punish the disaffection of Baldwyn 
 de Redvers, none was more prominent in 
 shew of loyalty and affection to his liege 
 lord and sovereign, than Hubert de Lacy, 
 who immediately upon the breaking up^ 
 of the council, summoned Nicol Arnot, 
 his confidant, and ordered his steed to be 
 forthwith caparisoned, and himself, and 
 all his officers and servitors who were then 
 sojourning at Tower Royal, to equip with 
 the utmost dispatch, in order to proceed 
 to his baronial castle ; and one short hour 
 saw them all prepared, and, in company 
 with many other nobles, bidding adieu to 
 the festivities and pleasures of the metro- 
 polis, they issued from the city gates ; 
 and on the evening of the second day, 
 when within a few hours ride of his castle, 
 De Lacy dispatched a vassal as avant- 
 courier, to advertise the warder of his ap- 
 proach. 
 
 As he drew nigh the vaw-mure, or out- 
 ward wall, the guard stationed on the bar- 
 bican 
 
SIR ROLAND. 165 
 
 bican or watch-tower descried him ap- 
 proacliing, and recognizing him by his 
 arms and livery, instantly gave notice to 
 the warder, who upon the vassal's advan- 
 cing and winding his horn, threw open 
 the portal, and gave him free ingress and 
 hearty welcome. 
 
 " And how fares our noble lord and 
 master, the invincible De Lacy?" said 
 the warder, with such a tone of earnest- 
 ness and genuine respect, that none who 
 heard could doubt his attachment and fi- 
 delity to the baron. He was a stout, hurley 
 man, with an honest breadth of counte- 
 nance, that beamed with health and good- 
 will. Fifty winters had somewhat thinned 
 his locks, and blanched his curling beard and 
 mustachios; but half a century spent in a 
 hardy and warlike career, appeared rather to 
 have added to the natural strength of his 
 brawny well-knit frame, than bowed him 
 with its weight ; and both on account 
 of his valour and experience he was justly 
 esteemed by the politic De Lacy. 
 
 « The 
 
166 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " The baron," replied the vassal to the 
 bluff warder's inquiry after his health, " is 
 surpassing well, as thou shalt soon have op- 
 portunity of witnessing, for my lord follows 
 not far behind in my track, with all his 
 train. An hour or twain will bring them 
 hitherwards." 
 
 " rfaith so near ?" said the warder, in 
 surprise mingled with delight at this in- 
 telligence ; " I marvel then there is some- 
 thing evil brooding. He is not wont to 
 return so unexpectedly, though, God wot, 
 he hath had a long, yet doubtless a merry 
 holyday time on't." 
 
 " Perchance, coming so soon, so un- 
 heralded," said the vassal, hesitatingly, 
 " all is not exactly (that is for my lord's 
 reception) in pmper order ?" 
 
 " Hold thy peace, boy," said the war- 
 der, slapping the other on his breast with 
 the back of his broad hand, as it were in 
 gentle rebuke ; " didst ever know Jean- 
 not de Cordonne backward in the per- 
 formance of his office? By St. George, 
 
 there 
 
SIR ROLAND. 167 
 
 there shall no grass grow beneath the 
 feet of the noble De Lacy's vassals while I 
 have the honour to command them-— there 
 shall be no slovenly lack of discipline or 
 duty. All goes on here as regularly as 
 the uprising and setting of the sun." 
 
 " ISFay— but " 
 
 " Well — well," interrupted the good- 
 natured warder, preventing his apology, 
 " say no more — say no more, but content 
 ye that all within these walls is in such 
 good trim, that the king even might look 
 with admiration on such order: nor shall 
 it ever be otherwise," added he, with a 
 tincture of pardonable pride, " while 
 Jeannot de Cordonne hath the rule of it." 
 
 " There cannot be a more proper man," 
 said the vassal : but Jeannot appeared not 
 to listen to this complimentary concession. 
 
 " Prithee, boy," said he, " comes Nicol 
 Arnot with the baron ?" 
 
 " He does," replied the vassal ; " and 
 (a word in thine ear) there hath been a 
 little hurly-burly, or so, betwixt that dog 
 
 and 
 
168 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 and his master! Thou may'st stare — but 
 by St. Winifred, 'tis true ! nay, mine eyes 
 cheated me, an I did not see the baron 
 raise his hand." 
 
 " Did he strike the knave ?" interrupt- 
 ed Jeannot, eagerly. 
 
 " Nay, but he seemed to threaten him; 
 and I distinctly heard his angry voice, 
 though somewhat less than a furlong off." 
 
 " By the rood ! I would that he had 
 beat him soundly," said Jeannot. " He 
 is a very devil's bird — a plotter of mis- 
 chiefs, and I like him not. I marvel 
 much the good baron is so deluded by 
 his duplicity. But the rankest weeds do 
 often grow^ nearest the sweetest flowers !" 
 
 " Thank Heaven !" cried the vassal, 
 " we were not honoured with his com- 
 pany to sour the sweets of our pleasures 
 at the Tower Royal." 
 
 "No?" 
 
 " No ! by our lady ! Jeannot de Cor- 
 donne, was it not a blessing? He was 
 employed (and most truly for our especial 
 
 benefit) 
 
SIR ROLAND. 169 
 
 benefit) by his grace, the king, on some 
 private mission to the good bishop of Sa- 
 lisburie — at least, so it was bruited at 
 court; and I have heard he was almost 
 choked with the pride which swelled 
 within him at the honourable appoint- 
 ment ; and we were not a whit less pleased 
 at his riddance. Oh ! but we had a rare, 
 roystering time on't ! Such feasting, re- 
 velries, and pageants ! Eating, drinking, 
 singing, dancing, and sleeping, was our 
 daily business! Hard work, truly, for 
 our heads, while our hands were idle for 
 lack of employment. Foregad ! de Cor- 
 donne, but that city is a famous place for 
 good living ! Why, wouldst thou credit 
 it ? as I'm a sinner, we drank wine at two 
 pennies the pint ! and his grace (God bless 
 him !) paid the shot. In truth, he hath a 
 power of riches, and the baron, I can tell 
 thee, is mighty great with him : and who 
 dare gainsay he is not a proper king, and 
 fit to wear a crown, who treats his loyal 
 subjects with such good fare !" 
 
 VOL. I. I Having 
 
170 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 Having thus concisely disburthened 
 hinaself of his modicum of news, and sa- 
 tisfied the warder that there had been a 
 great irregularity and want of proper dis- 
 cipline among his lord's retainers, while 
 sojourning at the royal court, and further- 
 more, raised his curiosity with sundry sur- 
 mises upon their hasty departure from 
 London, without advancing a single satis- 
 factory supposition or fact of the true 
 cause, the vassal led his weary beast to 
 his stall, where having safely lodged and 
 provided him, he repaired to the buttery- 
 hatch, or larder, to satisfy the cravings of 
 his own appetite. 
 
 In the mean time, Jeannot de Cordonne 
 marshalled out the whole garrison, ob- 
 serving the utmost precision, for the re- 
 spectful reception of the baron and his 
 train, in due form, and with all the ho- 
 nours due to one of his exalted rank. 
 
 He had scarcely concluded his opera- 
 tions, and delivered to each his particular 
 orders and injunctions, when the cheering 
 
 and 
 
SIR ROLAND. 171 
 
 and warKke music of the baron's heralds 
 rang in the air, and summoned him to 
 throw wide the gates for De Lacy's en- 
 trance. The trumpets within loudly re- 
 sponded to the challenge ; the drawbridge 
 was lowered, and at the same moment 
 Jeannot de Cordonne appeared at the head 
 of the vassals, bareheaded ; when the he- 
 ralds, with the party of archers who had 
 preceded the baron some hundred yards, 
 divided and arranged themselves on either 
 side the drawbridge, forming two lines^ 
 through which De Lacy rode at a round 
 trot into the court-yard of the castle, sa- 
 luted by the martial sounds of the clang- 
 ing trumpets, and the loud cheers of the 
 vassals; his squires, bearing his broad 
 target, emblazoned with his arms, and his 
 spear and battleaxe, followed ; with one 
 hundred men, arrayed in shirts of mails, 
 with pikes and bills ; and last of all came 
 Nicol Arnot, without a smile or word of 
 recognition to welcome his return ; indeed 
 the downcast look, and unusually gloomy 
 I 2 brow 
 
172 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 brow of the veteran squire, was not cal- 
 culated to excite any pleasure in the breasts 
 of those who were all and one prejudiced 
 against him ; nor had the post of prime 
 favourite and confidential body squire, 
 which he enjoyed, the least influence over 
 the sentiments of the vassals, with whom 
 his overbearing and abuse of the baron's 
 confidence and favour rendered him most 
 cordially despised. 
 
 As he crossed the bridge, the two lines 
 advanced — formed — closed up the rear, 
 and galloped in. The long oaken tables 
 were now speedily covered with the plain, 
 but wholesome (and to the '^vassals, not 
 unwelcome) fare, which had been hastily 
 prepared for their entertainment, and 
 which needed no better sauce than the 
 keenness of their hearty appetites. 
 
 In the mean time, whilst they were so 
 pleasantly employed, baron de Lacy, even 
 before unarming, or partaking of any re- 
 freshment, summoned the warder and the 
 various officers of his house, and held a 
 
 council. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 173 
 
 council, briefly explaining the cause of 
 his sudden arrival at the castle, the urgent 
 necessity of prompt measures, and con- 
 cluded by commanding them forthwith to 
 call to arms the knights, the vavasours, 
 ceorls, and villeins, and every individual 
 whose tenure was held by service of arms, 
 and assemble them on the morn of the 
 morrow, in order to set forth and join the 
 royal standard, in the expedition against 
 the castle of Exeter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was at a late hour on the same night 
 of his arrival, that De Lacy, harassed with 
 the unremitting exertion and fatigues of 
 the day, entered his chamber, and throw- 
 ing aside his large wrapping cloak, and 
 cap of fox-skin, he cast himself listlessly 
 on an elegantly-carved oaken couch, co- 
 I S vered 
 
174 sill ROLAND. 
 
 vered with embroidered cushions of Nor- 
 man fabric. He had laid aside, for a few 
 short hours, the heavy armour he wore 
 on his arrival, and now appeared in a 
 plain gambeson (a military vestment, 
 composed of divers folds of linen, stuffed 
 with cotton, and covered with chamois 
 leather), ordinarily worn in those days be- 
 neath the suit of chain-mail. 
 
 But a little time had he spared to the 
 refection of his body, and the remaining 
 hours had been dedicated to the inspec- 
 tion of his forces, already collected within 
 the walls — their accoutrements, weapons, 
 horses; and without meaning, or giving 
 offence to the vigilance of that infallibly 
 correct and industrious disciplinarian, 
 Jeannot de Cordonne, the watchful " mas- 
 ter's eye" supervised every particular de- 
 partment. The armoury was soon dis- 
 mantled of the bright and shining pikes, 
 bills, glaives, morions, helms, and targets, 
 which illumined its dingy oaken walls 
 with the radiance of their reflected beams, 
 
 and, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 175 
 
 and, with the hauberks, and common 
 cuirasses, and breast-plates for the villeins, 
 were all ranged round the court-yard, 
 ready for harnessing the men, and glitter- 
 ing and flashing in the red light of the 
 large fire, which sent up its long, forked 
 flames, whirling and roaring in the midst 
 of the place, where it was kindled for the 
 use of the armourers, who, stripped to 
 their skins, with no other covering than 
 a pair of coarse woollen drawers, were la- 
 bouring lustily in their vocation, repairing 
 and rivetting the armour wheresoever ac- 
 cident or wear had rendered their assis- 
 tance necessary ; whilst the men, scattered 
 here and there in groups, were busily oc- 
 cupied in cleaning their arms, or groom- 
 ing and dressing their cattle for the com- 
 bat. In fine, every division of the castle 
 exhibited the bustle, confusion, and noise 
 of a hasty preparation, and which en- 
 dured, almost unceasingly, till break of 
 day; and, however inclined to repose 
 the baron De Lacy might have been, he 
 1 4 found 
 
176 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 found it utterly impossible to woo the 
 blessing of sleep, while such a clanking 
 and ringing of arms, the loud, hoarse 
 voices of the vassals bawling to each 
 other, and the clattering and neighing of 
 the prancing steeds, pealed in such a 
 chaos of discord through the place. 
 
 The dying flame of the nearly-exhaust- 
 ed lamp, which had illumined, now wink- 
 ed and fluttered in one corner of the spa- 
 cious apartment, its feeble ray rendered 
 unnecessary by the broad glare of light 
 from the court below, which poured its 
 rich red stream through the narrow case- 
 ments, throwing up a strong reflection 
 upon the engroined and fretted compart- 
 ments of the ceiling. 
 
 As De Lacy lay stretched on his couch, 
 he appeared watching the fitful changes 
 of the shadows, as they were affected by 
 the flickering flames below ; but he was 
 absorbed in a profound, although, judging 
 by the placid smile that played upon his 
 facfe, not unpleasant, reverie, when he 
 
 was 
 
SIR ROLAND. ' 177 
 
 was suddenly startled by a figure stalking 
 cautiously betwixt him and the light. — 
 ** Who goes?" cried he, hastily rising 
 from his recumbent posture. 
 
 " 'Tis I !" laconically answered the 
 gruff, sullen voice of Nicol Arnot, the 
 surrounding din having drowned the 
 slight noise occasioned by his entrance, 
 and he proceeded, without deigning fur- 
 ther notice, towards the brazen tripod, in 
 order to feed the lamp from a small stone 
 flagon he bore in his hand. 
 
 " Thou mayest spare thy pains, Arnot," 
 said the baron, " for the light of the fire 
 will serve me well till daylight breaks. 
 And, Nicol, mind thee, the moment sir 
 Gerard Dubois arrives, with his band of 
 archers, to bid him hither. Tell Jordain 
 to see the links of my long-armed gaunt- 
 lets be properly repaired and polished; 
 and likewise examine the wadding of 
 L'Astre's poitrinal * be in such a condition 
 1 5 that 
 
 * Poitrinal— breastplate for the horse. 
 
178 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 that the beast may not be galled there- 
 with." 
 
 " 'Tis done," replied Nicol Arnot. 
 " 'Tis well ; an hour hence then I will 
 arm, for my eager spirit is restless till I 
 am in that field, where my trusty glaive 
 will probably reap me a harvest of golden 
 ears !" 
 
 " Nor shall mine be idle in the strife, 
 and perchance Fortune may not deem me 
 too mean an object for her favours — I too 
 may glean a little !" said the squire, with 
 a tone and an intrusive bearing that but 
 ill suited with his condition, or the respect 
 he owed his lord and master ; but De 
 Laey's confidant seemed rather to court 
 than fear rebuke. 
 
 " Thou speak'st boldly !" remarked the 
 baron, with surprise. 
 
 " I can act bolder !" shortly replied 
 Arnot. 
 
 " What mean'st thou ?" said De Lacy, 
 with increased astonishment — " what wilt 
 thou ? what is the import of this strange 
 
 language ? 
 
SIR ROLAND. 179 
 
 language? This to me! Speak, knave! 
 give utterance to the workings of thy 
 mind, be they good or evil. Thou art 
 not as thou art wont to be; what hath 
 chafed thee? Is not the gloom of the 
 morning's rebuff yet passed away ?" 
 
 " No," sharply retorted Nicol ; " nor 
 will it ever !" 
 
 « Indeed !" 
 
 " The tale of my disgrace is broached 
 to all ; and in every knave's face I meet, 
 I read mockery and derision, smirking at 
 my expence ; and knowing not how firm 
 a footing I hold here, from this rupture 
 they unwittingly augur my downfal ! — I 
 can feel a wrong deeply too !" 
 
 " Are thy feelings so refined ?" said De 
 Lacy, smiling contemptuously — " Pshaw ! 
 get thee gone, knave. Let me have no 
 more of this — To thy duty " 
 
 " My duty !" repeated Nicol ; then low- 
 ering his voice — " I never yet neglected 
 it — I have served, my lord— for years 
 have served thee but too well ; and my 
 1 6 reward 
 
180 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 reward hath been menaces and angry 
 upbraidings !" 
 
 The baron half rose from the couch, but 
 curbing his kindling anger at his squire's 
 audacious speech, he resumed his recum- 
 bent posture — " Give thy tongue full play, 
 a' God's name — that it may the sooner 
 have a holyday !" said the baron. 
 
 " But I will serve no more !" continued 
 Nicol ; " the time hath now arrived 
 when I may signalize myself, and gain the 
 proud height my ambition points to. 
 Baron de Lacy," said he, advancing with 
 a firm step towards him, " thou art not 
 more weary of my service than I of 
 bondage — Free me then — Confer on me 
 the honourable order of knighthood, 
 which my skill in arms and secret ser- 
 vices equally deserve — nay, demand from 
 thine hand — and I will seek my fortune 
 in the field ^" 
 
 " Hell and the devil !" exclaimed the 
 furious De Lacy — " This from thee ! — am 
 I awake, or this the mockery of a dream ? 
 
 or 
 
SIR ROLAND. 181 
 
 or have I long been dreaming, and now 
 lately 'wakened, and found a selfish and am- 
 bitious man, in the place of the faithful and 
 obsequious Arnot? — the servile, cringing 
 cur, changed on the sudden to a wily fox ? 
 A knight! in troth thou would'st make 
 a stalwart, gallant knight ! Why, Arnot, 
 what unruly devil doth possess thee ? — 
 What next will thy unrespectful audacity 
 — ambition as thou calPst it — ask ? The 
 half my barony perchance would be too 
 limited for the mightiness of thy desire ?" 
 ** Hark'ee, sir baron !" cried the squire, 
 with a fierce undaunted look, roused by 
 the other's bantering. " I despise thy 
 scoffing and jeering — but I will not tamely 
 submit to be the butt of any one, be he 
 knight — baron — or whatsoever degree he 
 may. And since thou talk'st of thy ba- 
 rony — who helped thee to it? I — I — 
 Arnot — who destroyed the heir that thou 
 mightest hold undisturbed the lands thou 
 hast wickedly usurped. Yea — Arnot — 
 the * cringing, servile cur,' thou holdst in 
 
 such 
 
182 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 such contempt. Is this gratitude to spurn 
 the wretch whose hand hath dealt thy 
 daggers — whose suppliant neck hath been 
 thy stepping-stone to wealth and honour 
 
 — and now " 
 
 " Slave !" exclaimed De Lacy in a voice 
 of thunder — " darest thou beard me thus, 
 or bandy words with me as freely as with 
 thy fellows ? Away ! from my presence, 
 
 ere I strike thee to the earth " 
 
 <><-But neither sword nor poignard, nor 
 other offensive or defensive weapon had 
 De Lacy at hand, to put his threat in ex- 
 ecution, or intimidate the bold, presump- 
 tuous confidant of his villainy. While on 
 the other hand, Nicol Arnot, standing be- 
 twixt the baron and the door, apparently 
 to prevent any ingress, placed his hand 
 with a firm grasp on the hilt of a basillard, 
 or long dagger, which was slung on his 
 right side, and fixing his dark eyes upon 
 the exasperated baron — " De Lacy !" he 
 replied, " I have fearlessly advanced thus 
 far. Neither furious look nor angry me- 
 nace 
 
SIR ROLAND. 18^ 
 
 nace have power now to move me from 
 my purpose — I have served thee truly, 
 and only demand my just reward — grant 
 it, or suffer the consequences of exaspe- 
 rating an abused and vindictive man. 
 Raise me to honour, or my breath shall 
 tarnish thine — poison thy yet fair, un- 
 spotted name with damning truths, and 
 cast thee lower than thy obsequious 
 slave !" 
 
 " And can'st thou — darest thou do 
 this ?" asked De Lacy, in a voice tremu- 
 lous with anger, but ill-suppressed, which 
 blanched his cheeks and quivering lips. 
 " Is this the way my bounty is requited ? 
 — Wilt thou be the viper to sting the bo- 
 som that hath cherished thee, and sully 
 the brightness of a name, the reflected 
 radiance of which hath been like a genial 
 sun wherein thou hast basked in the ple- 
 nitude of ease and luxury? Too sui'e 
 thou art bewildered by some hellish fan- 
 tasy, which makes thee run headlong upon 
 thine own destruction ; for do not thy 
 
 fortunes 
 
184 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 fortunes solely depend upon the stability 
 of mine? Seek not then to overthrow 
 them for thine own sake ; or by accusing 
 me of crimes, and divulging the dange- 
 rous secrets in thy keeping, cause thine 
 own destruction, as an accomplice in my 
 guilt. Reflect, A mot : ponder well, ere 
 thou dost rush heedlessly into the pitfall 
 thy blind and unworthy passions have dug 
 beneath thy feet !" 
 
 " Thy speech was ever sooth and mild, 
 sir baron," replied Arnot, assuming a gen- 
 tler tone, in unison with his master's ; but 
 his resolves were unshaken by the danger 
 which De Lacy would fain have persuaded 
 him was ready to fall upon his devoted 
 head, if he swerved from his sworn alle- 
 giance to him — " But," continued he, " for 
 myself, I fear nor harm nor scaith— thanks 
 to thy gracious solicitude for my welfare. 
 I am in all prepared to pass the severest 
 ordeal of justice. I have pondered well, 
 and know that I can sting unharmed, for 
 whatever my crimes, I have been but as a 
 
 scourge 
 
SIR ROLAND. 185 
 
 scourge in thy cruel hand — a mere obe- 
 dient tool of thy caprice. 'Tis there- 
 fore for thee, De Lacy, ' to ponder well/ 
 ere thou refuse the boon I ask in reward 
 for long and faithful services. I wish not 
 to die the mean and abject — unknown 
 slave I've lived. Thou hast taught me 
 to pant for fame !" 
 
 " And thou would'st have me blur the 
 honour and purity of knighthood, by con- 
 ferring its proud title upon such a vile 
 reptile as thee !" exclaimed De Lacy, 
 biting his lip in rage. 
 
 " Nay, more," replied Arnot, unmoved 
 by this scornful language ; " fearing that 
 thou, who made me that ' vile reptile,' 
 hast not sufficient godliness and worth to 
 ensure the purity of that proud title, I must 
 further crave thy puissant intercession 
 with the king, to confirm with his royal 
 sword that honourable distinction. Nay, 
 spit forth thine hate in harmless words, 
 but curb thy rage — offer no violence," 
 continued Arnot, half unsheathing his 
 
 basillard. 
 
186 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 basillard, as the exasperated baron rushed 
 towards him with his clenched hand to 
 strike him down : " I can use this weapon, 
 as thou hast taught me, against the un- 
 armed and helpless." 
 
 De Lacy recoiled in horror from the 
 cold-blooded, deliberate villain, whose pier- 
 cing eyes watched his every motion, and 
 whose hand was ready to execute the pur- 
 pose of his threat. 
 
 " And remember," continued he, " there 
 still lingers a living witness, a miserable 
 victim, of thy treachery, whose trembling 
 voice can yet repeat her many wrongs, and 
 hold me out in my allegations against 
 thee. Brisset too still lives, and would 
 give all his little wealth to have his tender 
 conscience relieved from its oppressive bur- 
 then. But no more — my mind's made 
 up; if thou dost still refuse to seal my 
 tongue, I will divulge — nay, more, I— — " 
 
 " Seize the slave !" exclaimed De Lacy ; 
 and on the instant the arms of the sur- 
 prised and struggling Nicol Arnot were 
 
 pinioned 
 
SIR ROLANt). 187 
 
 pinioned behind him by the strong, ner- 
 vous grip of Jeannot de Cordonne, who 
 had thus opportunely rushed into the 
 chamber to the rescue of the incensed but 
 unguarded baron, who was incapable of 
 offering any resistance to the wily Arnot, 
 who had, as he imagined, taken every 
 precaution to prevent interruption, having 
 even formed some trivial excuse for re- 
 moving the guard, who was usually sta- 
 tioned within call in the gallery or anti- 
 chamber, and moreover placed much de- 
 pendence on the noise and commotion 
 which reigned without ; but that which he 
 so confidently relied upon as a safeguard, 
 eventually proved his ruin, for it prevent- 
 ed him from hearing the warder's ap- 
 proach, and consequently from the chance 
 of making his escape. 
 
 Indeed on any other occasion than the 
 present, when all form and etiquette were 
 set aside in the pressing expedition of 
 affairs, the warder would not have ven- 
 tured to break in so abruptly upon the 
 
 baron's 
 
188 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 baron's privacy unannounced, or uncalled 
 for, the more especially when he was en- 
 gaged in consultation with his confidant ; 
 but Nicol Arnot was the honest warder's 
 bane, and he always considered, however 
 erroneously, that the baron was as good 
 and brave as he always appeared in the 
 field, and that he was the dupe of the art- 
 ful Arnot, who was universally regarded 
 as the vile source from whence sprang the 
 casual petulance, or ill humour, of the 
 baron ; and having been informed by the 
 guard that Nicol Arnot had removed him, 
 so unusual a proceeding naturally awaken- 
 ed his surprise, and apprehending some 
 design upon his honoured lord, he sum- 
 moned the baron's squires, and resolving 
 to run the risk of De Lacy's displeasure, 
 if his zeal should be construed into intru- 
 sion, under the pretence that it was the 
 hour to arm in readiness for the field, hap- 
 pily arrived in time to render Arnot's de- 
 signs abortive. 
 
 Unarmed, and speedily bound by the 
 
 trusty 
 
SIR ROLAND. 189 
 
 trusty warder, all the fire ambition had 
 kindled in his breast, and his haughty 
 bearing, seemed to have wholly deserted 
 him ; with his head sunk upon his breast, 
 he preserved the most sullen silence. He 
 who threatened and exacted so imperi 
 ously his own conditions, foolishly believ- 
 ing he had such absolute controul, saw 
 himself unexpectedly dwindled to the 
 most abject state of despair, for he had no- 
 thing to expect from the mercy of his of- 
 fended master. 
 
 For a few short moments succeeding 
 his apprehension, not a word was uttered ; 
 the warder held his prisoner, while the 
 two squires stared in mute astonishment; 
 and De Lacy paced up and down the 
 chamber, his breast agitated with a thou- 
 sand contending emotions. At last, ob- 
 serving Jeannot de Cordonne patiently 
 awaiting his commands, he exclaimed, in 
 a sharp, hasty tone, as if the sight of such 
 an object pained him — " Bear him hence, 
 quickly ! load him with chains, and cast 
 
 him 
 
190 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 him in the lowest dungeon ! there let his 
 carcase rot !" 
 
 The warder dragged him away, and the 
 squires followed, heartily rejoiced at an 
 opportunity to escape from the presence 
 of the baron, lest they should suffer in the 
 violent ebulHtion of his rage. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Although an historian, in his vocation, 
 is universally allowed to possess the qua- 
 lifications of ubiquity, to be here, there, 
 and every where, and to be gifted with 
 the centocular powers of Argus, yet is he 
 wanting in the many arms of Briareus, 
 and the fabled tongues of gossipping Ru- 
 mour, to relate all he sees and hears at 
 once. The courteous reader must there- 
 fore kindly excuse an impossibility (which 
 if overcome would probably only prove a 
 
 confusion 
 
SIR ROLAND. 191 
 
 confusion of tongues), and permit us to 
 retrograde forty- eight hours or so, to that 
 precise tinne when De Lacy and the seve- 
 ral barons rode forth from the city gates, 
 to assemble their forces, and the king's 
 royal proclamation was issued for the 
 mustering of his own troops, who were 
 quartered in divers parts of the city, at a 
 grievous expence to many honest victual- 
 lers, hostellers, and publicans dwelling 
 therein. 
 
 But those " men of warre,'' the Fle- 
 mings, whom the policy of Stephen had 
 levied out of Flanders, with the savings of 
 his right good uncle, Henry Beauclerc, in 
 order to counterbalance and keep in awe 
 the overweening power of the barons, were 
 the best trained soldiers, and the hardest 
 drinkers in the country, and their riotous 
 drunkenness and unlicensed debauchery 
 was a constant source of trouble, and 
 withal a sore scandal to the sober and re- 
 putable citizens of London ; but neither 
 the two bailiffs, the then supreme autho- 
 rities, 
 
192 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 rities, nor the king himself, would give 
 ear to any complaints against his staunch 
 defenders, whose offences were winked 
 at, and whose conduct consequently grew 
 daily worse, and being thus unbridled, 
 branched forth in all the wild luxuriance 
 of unrestrained licentiousness. 
 
 At the eastern extremity of the city, 
 near Aldgate, stood a large, commodious, 
 and well-frequented hostelrie, known by 
 the sign of the Wine Skin (a bona-Jide 
 wine shin, stuffed with straw, and daubed 
 with an attractive flame colour), which 
 dangled (a plaything of the winds) from 
 some twelve inches of rusty chain, just be- 
 low the window of the first floor. 
 
 On entering the low door, supported on 
 either side by Bacchanals and grapes, 
 rudely carved, a spacious room displayed 
 its blackened walls to view, hung round 
 with caps, swords, and jackets, pertaining 
 to the company assembled, who were 
 quaffing their wine, and singing merrily 
 round a large fire of green wood, which 
 
 blazed 
 
SIR ROLAND. 193 
 
 blazed and crackled in the midst of the 
 red- tiled floor. 
 
 The party was mostly composed of 
 Flemings and Bretons, archers and warlike 
 men of the king's party ; and in one cor- 
 ner sat a tall, meagre, half- starved friar, 
 barefooted, with a most acrimonious as- 
 pect of sanctity and mortification. — " Man 
 of war !" said he, turning to one of the 
 Flemings, who had clenched some asseve- 
 ration by a thundering oath, " swear not 
 so loudly nor so lewdly. There is neither 
 courage nor magnanimity in an oath ; it 
 is the coward's weapon and the liar's sub- 
 terfuge." 
 
 " Man of peese," replied he to whom 
 this remonstrance was addressed, " holt 
 your peese, or I sal svear more. Go 
 breach your pader-nosders and afe-Marys, 
 olt man; go cound your beets. Vat duy- 
 vels! sal you mak me zermens. Cot tarn ! 
 I sal svear ane tousan oats and trink too ! 
 Hah, hah ! shak your peart and rollt your 
 oogen — your eyes, olt man ! Gerrit Oos- 
 
 VOL. I. K terwyk 
 
194) SIR ROLAND. 
 
 terwyk is ane man of war — is't niet ? soe 
 lat him fight, and trink, and svear ; and 
 you, man of peese, sail breach, and vast, 
 and bray, and knog your potty apout mit 
 your robe — yaw — and croan your croans 
 als you bleese ! Bote you most niet bood 
 your hant atop mine mout, or I sal pide 
 you — zie daar ! — hah ! hah ! I sal !" 
 
 A loud and general laugh followed this 
 half angry, half jocose sally of the Flem- 
 ing's, intermingled with sundry exclama- 
 tions of — " Dat is coot !" — " Bravo ! zeer 
 goed !" — " Well said, my man of war !" — 
 " Wei gezegt, myn kammeraad !" and a 
 score others, from as many speakers, sea- 
 soned with a few oaths, which made the 
 friar turn up the whites of his large pro* 
 jecting eyes in horror, at the profanity of 
 the crew that surrounded him ; but de- 
 spairing of amending them by his admo- 
 nition, he uttered a groan of commisera- 
 tion, and finished the scanty, frugal dole 
 the hosteller had bestowed on him, with- 
 out offering further comment. 
 
 " Holt 
 
SIR ROLAND. 195 
 
 " Holt dere ! Jan Hakkebort, you vish !" 
 cried Gerrit Oosterwyk, addressing one of 
 his boon companions, who had just raised 
 the bowl to his lips, " you sal trink it air 
 ob. Cot tarn ! I sal haf niets to vet mine 
 troat mit. Duy vels oogen ! you sug enofF 
 voor twenty mans!" continued he, eyeing 
 with open mouth the dregs of the bowl. 
 " Here's ane tarn liddle drob ! Vhy, Jan, 
 you haf ane liddle hell in your pelly, I 
 dink ; you leaf niets more dan de boddom 
 te loog at. Veil ! here's ane belt, myne 
 kammeraaden ! ane coot belt ;" and the 
 bowl was drained in a moment. " Yaw, 
 yaw, dat is coot!" said he, smacking his 
 lips. " Holloa ! myn host, anoder liddle 
 powl voor me ! Suel, suel ! quick, myn 
 coot man ! Now, Lou van Zwaartbeeken, 
 zing ous ane zang." 
 
 Hereupon all eyes were instantly turn- 
 ed towards Lou van Zwaartbeeken, a dark 
 swarthy little Fleming, who, without any 
 preliminary excuses, instantly commenced 
 the following beautiful words, in a strong 
 K 2 guttural 
 
196 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 guttural voice, bearing more resemblance 
 to the cawing of a crow, or a concert of 
 frogs, than the warble of a nightingale : — 
 
 SONG. 
 " Alderbeste karameraad, 
 0ns vermaak gaat vast en zeker. 
 Door het minnen van den beker,. 
 Die ons nooit verlegen laat 
 LafFe zielen 
 Mogen knielen 
 Voor de blonde Cipria : 
 Wy, yvy volgen Bacchus na ! 
 
 « Die vryd " 
 
 Lou van Zwaartbeeken had proceeded 
 thus far, when his tuneful lay was inter- 
 rupted by a loud, hearty, irrepressible 
 laugh. 
 
 In an instant the eyes of the Flemings, 
 scowling with anger, were directed to- 
 wards the intruder, whose fit gradually 
 subsided into an inaudible convulsion, 
 which obliged the offender to hold in his 
 
 sides with both his hands. 
 
 "Holler 
 
SIR ROLAND. 197 
 
 " HoUe r exclaimed the half-drunken 
 Jan Hakkebort, drawing his knife ; " kom 
 you here to mog us, scoontrel ? I sal cud 
 your dong out!" 
 
 " Peace a' God's name I peace !" cried 
 the friar, interposing his long, lank form 
 between Hakkebort and the offender ; 
 " slay not thy brother in wrath !" 
 
 " Broder ! tarn broder ! de scoontrel 
 mine broder?" 
 
 " Bah !" cried Gerrit Oosterwyk, put- 
 ting him back with his hand ; " sal ve gill 
 ane man voor ane laugh ?" 
 
 " Excuse me," said Ralphe (for it was 
 no less than the good-humoured, honest- 
 hearted nephew of Brisset), recovering his 
 breath and speech—" excuse me, right va- 
 liant sirs ! but of a truth I was so tickled 
 by the oddity of thy comrade's chaunt, 
 that by the mass ! I should have bursten 
 had I not given vent to my humour; al- 
 beit thou may'st plainly see the tears of 
 penitence have oozed out of mine eyes 
 even in my mirth. So whip me ! an I be 
 K 3 not 
 
198 . SIR KOLAND. 
 
 not sorn^ for the offence ; but in verity I 
 did think th\^ comrade was sinking: for a 
 wager with a f3ask of wine in his throat, his 
 words gurgled and rattled so comically." 
 
 This joking apology, however, far from 
 appeasing the Flemings, only aggra- 
 vated the offence, by raising a laugh at the 
 expence of Lou van Zwaartbeeken, w^ho, 
 drawling his knife, rushed furiously to- 
 wards the inconsiderate Ralphe, followed 
 by Jan Hakkebort. A general uproar 
 and confusion ensued, in which the medi- 
 ating voice of the friar was drowned in the 
 overflowings of rage and remonstrance. 
 
 But Gerrit Oosterwyk, notwithstanding 
 he felt the affront offered to his national 
 tongue, was a brave and generous man ; 
 and seeing that Ralphe was already strug- 
 gling in the grasp of the infuriate 
 Zwaartbeeken, he unceremoniously seized 
 Jan Hakkebort by the waist and collar of 
 his doublet, and raising him up, lifted him 
 over the long oaken table, with the same 
 facility a huge mastiff would take a puppy 
 
 in 
 
SIR ROLAND. 199 
 
 in his jaws. — " Duy velsbaart en oogen ! 
 Jan Hakkebort,gifde carl vair blay !" cried 
 he. '' Is niet von Flamand voort twenty 
 England's mans ? Stant bag dere, kam- 
 meraaden ; vair blay ! Dat is veil — dat is 
 veil !" 
 
 This seasonable interposition of the ho- 
 nest Fleming intimidated his countrymen 
 from venturing to advance to the succour 
 of their comrade, who appeared to be well 
 matched by the robust, muscular frame of 
 the young countryman, who succeeded in 
 wresting the long knife from his antago- 
 nist's hand, at the same time shghtly, 
 though unintentionally, wounding him ; 
 but in the act of disarming Zwaartbeeken, 
 Ralphelost his advantage in the struggling 
 hold, and was thrown a heavy fall. 
 
 " Dat is coot !" exclaimed Gerrit Ooster- 
 wyk. 
 
 " Wei gedaan !" said another. 
 
 " 'Tis gewonnen !" cried a third. 
 
 But scarcely were these words uttered, 
 
 than the agile Ralphe bounded from the 
 
 earth again with the elastic lightness of a 
 
 K 4 blown 
 
£00 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 blown bladder, and, like Antaeus of old, 
 seemed to have gained renewed strength 
 from his mother earth ; for, darting head- 
 long upon his antagonist, with his whole 
 weight centered in that one effort, he 
 stretched him almost senseless upon the 
 tiled floor of the hostelrie. 
 
 The Flemings now observing that Ralphe 
 wielded their comrade's knife, and fearing 
 the consequences of his revenge, interposed 
 betwixt Lou van Zwaartbeeken and his 
 vanquisher. 
 
 " By St. George," cried the panting, 
 and almost exhausted thrall, guessing the 
 cause of this sudden movement, " ye do 
 me wrong ! True 'tis a Flanders blade I 
 grasp, but it is in the hands of an English-, 
 man, that scorns to take unfair advantage, 
 even of an enemy. I do not hold thy 
 comrade one, neither am I his ; my fool- 
 ishness hath wrought upon his rashness ; 
 I merely wished to defend myself, not 
 harm him. To this brave and honourable 
 man, I owe much for the vantage of fair 
 play," and at the same time presenting 
 
 Zwaart- 
 
SIR ROLAND. 201 
 
 Zwaartbeeken's knife to Gerrit Ooster- 
 wyk, he continued — " thou hast the best 
 right to this weapon, for thou hast courage 
 and moderation to use it." 
 
 " Dat is coot !" said the approving Ger- 
 rit. 
 
 " The Flemings now raised up Lou 
 van Zwaartbeeken, whose hide being as 
 tough as that of a rhinoceros, or a wine- 
 skin, in recovering his breath, recovered all 
 he had lost, and found himself as sound 
 again as ever. 
 
 Ralphe approached, and offered him 
 his hand in token of amity, which he re- 
 ceived with a hearty, generous grip in his 
 broad, brown paw, with a grunt like — 
 « Yaw— vel !" 
 
 " Henceforth let us be friends," said 
 Kalphe : " thou shalt sing to thine heart's 
 content, and thy friends' pleasure ; and I, 
 have the privilege of laughing for mine 
 own." 
 
 « Yaw — yaw — 'tis right vel !" said Ger- 
 rit Oosterwyk ; " laugh till you borst, so 
 K 5 it 
 
202 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 it blease you, yonker man, 'tis var bedder 
 dan breaching," glancing at the friar : 
 " here, vet your hbs a hddle. Cot's truce ! 
 vriend, but Lou van Zwaartbeeken haf 
 squeedze you like as ane sponge." 
 
 Ralph e took the offered bowl, and 
 drained the generous liquor to the health 
 of Gerrit Oosterwyk and his comrades; 
 and the jolly merriment which had been 
 so unpleasantly interrupted, now resumed 
 its sway with redoubled vigour; the 
 joke was cracked — the song — the rounde- 
 lay, and thundering chorus, sung with the 
 greatest good-humour and fellowship by 
 Fleming, Norman, Breton, and English, 
 when a loud and alarming cry of " fire !" 
 disturbed the revellers, who instantly arose 
 in the utmost consternation, and rushed 
 towards the door, hustling, swearing, and 
 tumbling over each other. 
 
 The friar alone appeared unmoved by 
 fear ; he hastened not from the spot, but 
 raising his right hand in a prophetic man- 
 ner, while his left rested on his rude staff, 
 
 or 
 
SIR ROLAND. 203 
 
 or cross — " Lo !" cried he, in a deep voice, 
 " here is a judgment come upon ye for 
 your profaneness and debasherie. The fire 
 hatli descended from the heavens to purify 
 the sins of the children of the earth. Ye 
 grovelling worms, in vain ye endeavour 
 to crawl out of the reach of the dreadful 
 decree which is denounced against ye. 
 Ye must all perish — yea, even in thy 
 drunkenness and folly !" 
 
 But neither Gerrit Oosterwyk nor Lou 
 van Zwaartbeeken heard or rebuked him ; 
 they were too busy in effecting their es* 
 cape to listen to his " breaching," as they 
 termed it. Fortunately, however, the 
 conflagration, which in reality did then 
 rage with destructive fury on both sides 
 the street, had not yet reached the hostel- 
 rie, which, like the rest of the houses of 
 London, was built entirely of wood, and 
 roofed with common thatch, or it would 
 have proved fatal to the philosophic and 
 fanatical friar, and likewise to Ralphe, the 
 last of the revellers who fled. This tardi- 
 K 6 ness 
 
204 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 iiess in escaping, however, arose entirely 
 from a feeling of generosity ; for in the 
 hurry of the retreat, no respect was paid 
 to friend or foe ; and Ralphe observed that 
 Jan Hakkebort, who had been so rudely 
 repulsed by Oosterwyk, was lying fast 
 asleep behind the long table, where he 
 had been so dextrously laid by his com- 
 rade, and inspired by the genuine feelings 
 of humanity, and pleased with an oppor- 
 tunity of the noblest revenge, Ralphe 
 raised him with difficulty (for he was so 
 overcome with sleep and liquor, that he 
 could not arouse him), and bore him safely 
 into the middle of the street, to the sur- 
 prise and admiration of the Flemings, who 
 bestowed on him the loudest, but by no 
 means the most intelligible, commenda- 
 tions. 
 
 As for Gerrit Oosterwyk, who had al- 
 ready conceived a partiality for the youth, 
 he felt a world of gratitude, and cordially 
 pressing his hand, said to him, in a voice 
 
 full 
 
SIR ROLAND. 205 
 
 full of the truest feeling — " Dat is coot, 
 myn vriend !" 
 
 Every one's attention, however, was 
 directed to the fire, " which kindled," as 
 the antiquary Stow saith, " in the house 
 of one Ail ward, neere vnto London Stone, 
 and consvmed eastward to Aldgate, and 
 westward to St. Erken ward's shrine, in 
 Paul's church." 
 
 Fire-engines, more necessary then than 
 now, when the improvements of building, 
 and the less combustible materials used, 
 render that calamity of less frequent oc- 
 currence, and not such extensive conse- 
 quences, were not invented. The nar- 
 rowness of the street in this instance made 
 assistance impossible, if not useless ; for 
 the flames spread right across from build- 
 ing to building, and the little water-buck- 
 ets which were filled at the river, were of 
 little or no avail even in arresting the pro- 
 gress of the destructive element. Much 
 property was consumed, and the inhabi- 
 tants had scarcely time to escape ; for it 
 
 being 
 
206 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 being near nine o'clock in the evening (a 
 late hour in those days) the good citizens 
 had all retired to rest. 
 
 The pious monks of Bermondsey too, 
 saw with dismay a part of their revenue 
 consumed in this awful visitation. For 
 one Thomas Arderne had liberally be- 
 queathed to that holy fraternity the church 
 of St. George, in Southwark, with the 
 sum of five shillings rent " by the yeere," 
 out of the lands of London-bridge, which 
 fell an easy prey to the devouring flames, 
 being built entirely of timber. 
 
 At the foot of this wooden bridge, on 
 the London side, there stood a magnificent 
 mansion, pertaining unto sir Reginald de 
 Travers, a knight of great wealth and re- 
 nown, and held in much esteem by Ste- 
 phen, by reason of his policy and valour, 
 and firm adherence to his cause. On the 
 first alarm of fire, the knight had sought 
 the chamber of his only child — a beloved 
 daughter ; but finding it empty, and his 
 hurried and repeated calls unanswered, he 
 
 fled 
 
SIR ROLAND. 207 
 
 fled (finding further delay dangerous) into 
 the pubHc street, eagerly inquiring of all 
 he encountered for his daughter; and 
 some of his vassals, who had rushed out 
 on the first alarm, half dead with terror, 
 and scarcely awake, informed him that 
 the \vomen had fled in the direction of 
 Tower Royal, and doubtless their lady 
 was with them. 
 
 Thither he sped in anxious haste; but 
 how was the knight horror-struck when 
 he learned that she had not been seen by 
 any of them ; and half frantic, he flew 
 back again to his blazing mansion, deter- 
 mined to rescue his adored child, or sacri- 
 fice his life in the attempt. But by the 
 time he arrived, the whole building was 
 enveloped in one terrific blaze. It would 
 have been madness to have ventured to 
 gain an entrance; it would have been a 
 certain and useless sacrifice of human life. 
 
 His friends, moved at his distress, had 
 followed, endeavouring to persuade him 
 of the possibility of her escape, and to 
 
 mitigate 
 
208 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 mitigate the anguish of the father's heart* 
 But he was deaf to their friendly remon- 
 strances, and struggled to be freed from 
 the reasonable restraint which they kindly 
 imposed upon him. His wild and des- 
 pairing shrieks, as he hopelessly called 
 upon his adored — his only child, froze 
 their hearts. Fain would they have forced 
 him from this scene of woe, but he would 
 not quit the spot where he had left his 
 soul's best treasure. — " Give me my child," 
 he cried, " my darling child !" 
 
 " She lives — she lives !" exclaimed his 
 exulting squire, rushing through the crowd, 
 and in the extacy of his joy dropping at 
 his master's feet, and embracing his trem- 
 bling knees. 
 
 " Thank God ! thank God !" fervently 
 ejaculated the happy father, bursting into 
 a flood of tears. 
 
 Returning immediately to Tower Royal, 
 he there had the felicity of embracing his 
 daughter ; and while he gazed fondly on 
 her animated countenance, as she re- 
 counted 
 
SIR ROLAND. 209 
 
 counted him the miraculous manner of 
 her escape, the storm of grief which had 
 erewhile clouded his brow, and almost 
 bursten his heart with insupportable fore- 
 bodings, gradually gave way to the gentle 
 calm of renewed joy. 
 
 Awakened almost at the same moment 
 as her father, by the screams of her af- 
 frighted women, and the retreat of the 
 household, the affectionate Myriol had 
 descended a private staircase which led 
 from her boudoir to a gallery below, at 
 the extremity of which her father slept ; 
 but finding it unoccupied, (for the same 
 impulse had just then hurried him to 
 hers, which he must have most inoppor- 
 tunely entered at another door the minute 
 after she had quitted it), she therefore 
 made the best of her way towards the 
 principal gates ; but the flames and smoke 
 arrested her progress, and in the utmost 
 dismay she ran to the back part of "the 
 mansion, where there was a long gallery 
 overlooking the river. 
 
 Thousands 
 
SIO SIR ROLAND. 
 
 Thousands were assembled on the op- 
 posite bank to view the conflagration, but 
 none were near to lend their aid; and 
 though she waved her veil incessantly, 
 and called aloud, they seemed for a long 
 time neither to observe or hear her. Her 
 beating heart almost died within her. 
 One end of the gallery was already in 
 flames, and she began to despair of at- 
 tracting attention to her perilous situation, 
 when she perceived a sudden rushing and 
 commotion towards the spot nearly oppo- 
 site the mansion, and plainly observed 
 them pointing towards her; and a small 
 boat, with two men, almost immediately 
 pushed from the bank, and rowing vigor- 
 ously, soon arrived beneath the gallery. 
 
 The flames were now fast approaching 
 from every side, and Myriol called aloud 
 on them to be quick and save her, 
 
 " The nest is fired, but the young dove 
 shall not perish !" cried one of them, and 
 standing up in the boat, sprang eagerly 
 forward, clasping hold of one of the rude 
 
 columns 
 
SIR ROLAND. 211 
 
 columns which supported the gallery, and 
 began to ascend ; but being unfortunately- 
 pierced with the iron spikes wherewith 
 caution had guarded it — " Curse on the 
 thorns!" cried he, wincing with pain, 
 and losing his grasp, was instantly pre- 
 cipitated headlong into the river. 
 
 Myriol shrieked with terror. The other 
 boatman, however, seeing the extremity 
 of her danger, took no notice of his com- 
 panion, who quickly rose to the surface of 
 the water, and was swimming to the boat, 
 but pitching up a rope, which was luckily 
 lying in the bottom of the skiff, Myriol, 
 with trembling hands, fastened it firmly 
 to the gallery, and the youth by its aid 
 presently ascended, and fixing the rope 
 round her delicate waist, lowered her 
 gently and safely on board the boat, which 
 the fallen man had just gained in time to 
 lend his assistance (and she here shewed 
 the marks of his bleeding hands on her 
 soiled robes) ; her liberator then descend- 
 ing, he pushed off, and politely demanded 
 
 whither 
 
212 Sin ROLANn. 
 
 whither he should transport her, begging 
 her at the same time to tranquillize her 
 hurried spirits, for that all danger was 
 past. 
 
 But her mind was so bewildered, and 
 her heart fluttered so fearfully, that she 
 had scarcely power to name the king's 
 residence, when she swooned away. Of 
 what further passed till her revival among 
 her kind and happy friends, she was wholly 
 unconscious ; nor could any other informa- 
 tion be gained, than that two men had 
 brought her to Tower Royal, and consign- 
 ing her to the care of some of her distract- 
 ed women, who were present on their ar- 
 rival, and recognised their mistress, had 
 gone away in the confusion almost unseen, 
 and unrewarded. 
 
 CHAP. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 2iS 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Many of those mortals who love to pre- 
 dict, and peep into futurity, began to 
 croak upon the event of this calamitous 
 fire, which, by the dark and abstruse 
 rules of their calculation, was proved an 
 unfavourable omen to the success of the 
 enterprise which the king had undertaken 
 against the traitor De Redvers. But the 
 wisdom or fallacy of their forebodings will 
 sufficiently develop itself in the course of 
 the following veracious and luminous ac- 
 count of that chronicled occurrence. 
 
 On the morrow following, the king set 
 forth, with a numerous body of knights 
 and armed men, to lay siege to the castle 
 of Exeter, where having safely arrived, 
 he found his loyal barons and allies, with 
 their several forces, impatiently awaiting 
 
 his 
 
214 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 his commands. The banner of De Ked- 
 vers was displayed, flying in defiance, on 
 the citadel ; and his archers, slingers, and 
 others, practised and well disciplined in 
 the art of casting the various missiles then 
 used in warfare, manned tlie walls. 
 
 Having dispatched a formal challenge 
 by the royal herald, to demand his sur- 
 render, De Kedvers haughtily replied — 
 " To the earl of Morton and Boulogne 
 (for the title of king of these realms hath 
 he unjustly usurped), bear this response ; 
 that Baldwyn de Red vers holds himself 
 his equal, and therefore hath he no right 
 to command him — that Baldwyn de Red- 
 vers enjoys his lands and title by heirship, 
 by the laws of William the Conqueror — 
 that he is no usurper, and loving justice 
 better than the earl, he hath espoused (as 
 a true knight) the cause of Henry's injured 
 daughter, and set up his standard, in de- 
 fiance of Stephen and all his partisans, 
 who have, in raising him to the throne, 
 forsworn themselves, and forgotten their 
 
 allegiance. 
 
SIR ROLAND. 215 
 
 allegiance. Nor shall his * grace' (for so 
 ye grace him, though, God wot, he hath 
 nor grace nor faith !) prove his enemy a 
 cur, who is to be beaten into fawning 
 compliance. Tell him, Baldwyn de Red- 
 vers hath a strong hold, a firm heart, and 
 a faulchion and friends that never failed 
 him in the time of need! so let him 
 strike, and God defend the right !" 
 
 *'By God's birth," cried Stephen, stung 
 with rage at this unexpected answer, 
 ** 'tis a bold reply !" 
 
 "In truth is it so, your grace," said 
 Hubert de Lacy ; " and yet methinks 
 the varlet would not crow so merrily, had 
 he not friends to back his blustering, I 
 should not marvel to behold a troop or so 
 of traitors riding hitherwards !" 
 
 " Think'st so, De Lacy ?" said the 
 king, thoughtfully; then, after a mo- 
 ment's pondering, he continued — " Well, 
 well, it may be. At all events, it be- 
 hoveth us to proceed briskly to our work, 
 that the fray being ended, we may be 
 
 prepared 
 
216 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 prepared to entertain these honest friends 
 in all courtesy when they do arrive; for they 
 will doubtless be better pleased with a 
 feast than a fray;" and anon the trumpets 
 rent the air with their hoarse blasts, and 
 the general attack began. The wide field 
 of armed bands rushed, like a sea of roar- 
 ing billows, rudely impelled by the 
 stormy winds of heaven, towards the 
 frowning walls and lofty towers of the re- 
 doubtable castle, which sustained the 
 shock like a mighty rock in the midst of 
 the raging elements. Large fragments of 
 stone were hurled, with destructive vio- 
 lence, on the compact bodies, as they ap- 
 proached the walls with their battering- 
 rams, breaking through their cover of up- 
 lifted shields. Flights of arrows wounded 
 the horses and their riders, and threw 
 them into confusion. Dismounted horse- 
 men, heavily armed, could scarcely make 
 good their retreat, and many fell in the 
 confusion, and were trampled to death 
 beneath the feet of those who pressed to 
 
 the 
 
SIE ROLAND. 217 
 
 the charge on foot. Coursers were seen 
 m every direction, with their flowing 
 tails and manes floating wildly in the 
 breeze, galloping and dashing along, 
 without their riders, affrighted by the 
 cries of the wounded, and the din of the 
 rattling arms. 
 
 Stephen, armed cap-a-pie, in complete 
 steel, with a huge battle-axe and shield, 
 and mounted on an immense, large-boned, 
 fiery war-horse, was riding up and down 
 the ranks, attended by De Lacy and his 
 squires, issuing his commands, directing 
 the efforts of the engineers, and encou- 
 raging all by his confidence and presence. 
 But the besieged, secure in their num- 
 bers, and the impregnable strength of 
 their fortress, bravely repulsed the foe, 
 and baffled all their attempts to make a 
 breach, deluging them with a cataract of 
 boiling pitch, water, stones, and destruc- 
 tive missiles, wherever they slung their 
 warlike instruments to batter the walls. 
 And the night came on without any ap- 
 
 VOL. I. L parent 
 
220 SIR ROLAND, 
 
 fiercest fire must dwindle into nothing— 
 so must they feed on each other, like 
 hungry wolves, or famine bring down the 
 stomach of their pride, and drive them 
 forth. What saith De Lacy?" 
 
 " Your grace's view is just. We needs 
 must conquer, if we starve them out. 
 This is your grace's policy, but too tardy 
 in its progress, I wot, for the eager spirit 
 of your grace, which wills a prompter pu- 
 nishment than this proceeding promises." 
 
 " It doth— in truth, it doth," said Ste- 
 phen ; " and the rage this cause hath bred 
 within us, will, for lack of vent, turn and 
 feed upon ourself" 
 
 " Then let us forth and try our strength 
 and skill this very night," replied De 
 Lacy, " even at this dark and starless 
 hour, when the foe rests secure in the be- 
 lief that we are all reposing in our tents, 
 fatigued with the great but useless efforts 
 of the day. Yes, even now I would dis- 
 patch a chosen band to the rearward of the 
 castle, which is backed with the thick um- 
 brageous 
 
SIR ROLAND. 221 
 
 brageous cover of a wood — and issuing 
 thence with slow and cautious steps to 
 evade the observance of the sentinels, who 
 are, perchance, winking on their posts, 
 fearless of danger from that well-guarded 
 quarter, and then suddenly raising our 
 escaliers, mount the walls, strike down 
 all opposition, and having gained a foot- 
 ing, rush speedily to the castle gates, and 
 throw them wide to welcome in our ready 
 troops." 
 
 " 'Tis a bold scheme, and well deserves 
 our commendation," said Stephen ; " and 
 to thy care and skill, De Lacy, be its ex- 
 ecution given. Go forth, and single out 
 in silence those whom thou shalt deem 
 most worthy for this daring enterprise. 
 Set forth, divided in small bodies, and 
 form a large circuit in thy march, that 
 not the slightest tread may strike upon 
 the watchful ear of our enemy, and by 
 alarming them, render our plans abortive. 
 Let each man strictly conceal his sliining 
 arms beneath the dark cover of his cloak ; 
 L 3 and. 
 
220 SIR ROLAND, 
 
 fiercest fire must dwindle into nothing— 
 so must they feed on each other, like 
 hungry wolves, or famine bring down the 
 stomach of their pride, and drive them 
 forth. What saith De Lacy?" 
 
 " Your grace's view is just. We needs 
 must conquer, if we starve them out. 
 This is your grace's policy, but too tardy 
 in its progress, I wot, for the eager spirit 
 of your grace, which wills a prompter pu- 
 nishment than this proceeding promises." 
 
 " It doth— in truth, it doth," said Ste- 
 phen ; " and the rage this cause hath bred 
 within us, will, for lack of vent, turn and 
 feed upon ourself" 
 
 " Then let us forth and try our strength 
 and skill this very night," replied De 
 Lacy, " even at this dark and starless 
 hour, when the foe rests secure in the be- 
 lief that we are all reposing in our tents, 
 fatigued with the great but useless efforts 
 of the day. Yes, even now I would dis- 
 patch a chosen band to the rearward of the 
 castle, which is backed with the thick um- 
 brageous 
 
SIR ROLAND. 221 
 
 brageous cover of a wood — and issuing 
 thence with slow and cautious steps to 
 evade the observance of the sentinels, who 
 are, perchance, winking on their posts, 
 fearless of danger from that well-guarded 
 quarter, and then suddenly raising our 
 escaliers, mount the walls, strike down 
 all opposition, and having gained a foot- 
 ing, rush speedily to the castle gates, and 
 throw them wide to welcome in our ready 
 troops." 
 
 " 'Tis a bold scheme, and well deserves 
 our commendation," said Stephen ; " and 
 to thy care and skill, De Lacy, be its ex- 
 ecution given. Go forth, and single out 
 in silence those whom thou shalt deem 
 most worthy for this daring enterprise. 
 Set forth, divided in small bodies, and 
 form a large circuit in thy march, that 
 not the slightest tread may strike upon 
 the watchful ear of our enemy, and by 
 alarming them, render our plans abortive. 
 Let each man strictly conceal his shining 
 arms beneath the dark cover of his cloak ; 
 L S and. 
 
222 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 and, on pain of death, let not a word — 
 nay, not a whisper, escape their lips; but, 
 the leader of each separate body having 
 first received his full instruction, bid them 
 keep their eyes on him — and march — halt, 
 or wheel, as his movements, and not 
 his voice, shall command. And like some 
 stream, which pursueth its devious course 
 within the bowels of the earth, in silence 
 and obscurity, and then suddenly gushes 
 forth in an astounding cataract of foaming 
 waters, so will ye approach, and break 
 with irresistible force upon the dismayed 
 few who shall be keeping their nocturnal 
 vigils — and conquest shall crown ye with 
 honour. Go forth, baron de Lacy, and 
 success attend thee. Meanwhile, we will 
 not be idle; all shall be ready to effect 
 the proposed completion of thy project. 
 Farewell ! Prosperity be with thee !" 
 
 In the course of an hour, De Lacy, de- 
 lighted with the command which devolv- 
 ed upon him, and which promised to dis- 
 tinguish him in the eyes of his partial 
 
 prince, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 2I2S 
 
 prince, marched forth from the camp with 
 his little band, followed at concerted in- 
 tervals by others — each led by experien- 
 ced veterans; and as the last company 
 were lost in the darkness of the wood, 
 which skirted the plain in the rear of the 
 encampment, Stephen and the barons, who 
 anxiously witnessed their departure, turn- 
 ed away in order to prepare for the in- 
 tended grand manoeuvre. But scarcely 
 had they commenced their cautious ope- 
 rations, when the distant clashing of arms 
 aroused their fears ; and ere the scout, de- 
 spatched to learn the cause of this alarm, 
 had reached the wood, he was encounter- 
 ed by a breathless messenger, flying to- 
 wards the camp with tidings of a surprise. 
 A force, superior in numbers to their se- 
 lected band, had rushed from an ambush 
 upon them as they were silently stealing 
 along, and fallen upon them sword in hand. 
 Caution and silence were of no longer 
 avail — their designs were frustated; the 
 trumpets and drums therefore sounded to 
 L 4. arms, 
 
224 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 arms, and the cavalry were speedily 
 mounted and galloping to the succour of 
 baron De Lacy ; but the foe was on the 
 alert, and expecting no less than a prompt 
 rescue, had placed their spies to watch the 
 motions of the king's troops, and the mo- 
 ment they began to muster, the signal 
 was given for retreat, which was obeyed 
 without loss of time or difficulty, for the 
 valiant band, headed by De Lacy, had suf- 
 fered dreadfully in the conflict, and could 
 offer no opposition, while the bold baron 
 himself was borne away in captivity. 
 
 Pursuit was vain, through the dark and 
 intricate mazes of the wood ; and when 
 the cavalry reached it, they found the 
 earth strewed with their killed and wound- 
 ed comrades, and all traces of the subtle 
 foe were lost. From the information 
 gleaned from those that had fought and 
 survived the action, it was proved, beyond 
 the shadow of a doubt, that it was a 
 strong party of De Redvers' men, who 
 had secretly issued from the castle, im- 
 pelled, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 225 
 
 pelled, no doubt, by the same design with 
 De Lacy, of taking their enemy by sur- 
 prise ; and by making a sudden incursion 
 upon them, rout and perchance put them 
 to a disgraceful flight. 
 
 The king was enraged beyond measure 
 at this unexpected overthrow of his hopes, 
 and vowed the direst vengeance on the 
 head of De Redvers, whenever he should 
 fall into his hands. 
 
 " Let able scouts and spies be stationed 
 in every direction," said the king ; " we 
 must — we will be more guarded in our 
 future movements. It mads us to think 
 our foe should find us so unprepared to 
 meet and punish him," and slapping his 
 forehead, he strode up and down his tent, 
 completely armed as he was (with the 
 exception of his helm and gauntlets,) for 
 the field. " Much, niuch do we owe," 
 continued he, " to our vahant De Lacy ; 
 his vigilance hath shielded us from the 
 blow, which our honour must have inevi- 
 tably sustained in a surprise. That loyal 
 L 5 knight 
 
226 - SIR ROLAND. 
 
 knight hath right nobly done, and we 
 grieve to know that he hath lost his free- 
 dom, by displaying that courage which 
 hath justly won our favour. 'Tis the 
 meed a traitor hath bestowed on loyalty. 
 But though De Lacy hath proved so un- 
 successful in his bold design, we ought to 
 rejoice, seeing that it hath at least been 
 the means of foiling the cunning of our 
 foe." 
 
 At this moment a horseman galloped 
 up to the king's tent, and hastily chang- 
 ing words with the guards, hurried un- 
 bidden to the royal presence. 
 
 " What makes this haste ? what tid- 
 ings, good sir lieginald ?" eagerly deman- 
 ded the king ; *' do they purpose another 
 sortie ? by God's birth, but they will not 
 find us winking on our post !' 
 
 " Not so, my liege," replied sir lieginald 
 de Travers, " but I have sure intelligence 
 of a strong force marching hitherward, 
 to De Redvers' succour." 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 
 " 'Tis 
 
SIR ROLAND. 227 
 
 ** ^Tis true." 
 
 " What numbers do they shew ?" 
 
 " Some thousand strong, your grace." 
 
 ** Learnt ye what traitor leads them 
 on ? under what device and colour do 
 they come ?" 
 
 " The ' Bloody Hand.' " 
 
 " On a field argent ?" quickly demand- 
 ed the king. 
 
 " 'Tis even so, my liege," replied sir 
 Reginald. 
 
 " 'Tis a fair escutcheon for the base 
 Conrad Villiers who bears it," said the 
 king. " Now, by my halidome ! but we 
 will make his head as bloody as his hand, 
 and as pale as the field whereon 'tis bla- 
 zoned, shall the fear-stricken faces of his 
 flying troops appear. To horse ! to horse ! 
 my noble friends and stalwart knights ; 
 draw out your shining glaives, and let 
 each loyal brand be sheathed in the hearts 
 of these treasonous knaves. An hour 
 hence, day breaks, so let the dawning of 
 heaven's light behold us ready for the 
 L 6 combat. 
 
228 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 combat, and let the sun's first rays be re- 
 fleeted in our coats of glittering mail." 
 
 Hereupon sir Reginald de Travers 
 bowed, and quitted the royal tent, follow- 
 ed by some fifty noblemen and knights, 
 who, in obedience to Stephen's commands, 
 were speedily equipped and mounted, and 
 ready with their several detachments in 
 the field, galloping or marching, each to 
 his particular station, to await the approach 
 of baron Villiers and his troop, a thousand 
 strong ; while Stephen lost no time in ap- 
 pearing among them, to encourage them 
 by his presence, and set them a laudable 
 example, by the coolness and alacrity with 
 which he made his arrangements, and rode 
 from post to post. 
 
 CHAP- 
 
SIR ROLAND. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The gay and sprightly morning, array- 
 ed in garments of molten gold, came 
 smiling over the distant hills, and cheered 
 with her genial glances all-bountiful na- 
 ture, whose vestments embroidered with 
 the fairest flowers, and spangled with dew- 
 drops, sparkled in her joyful beams. It 
 was pity so fair and beautiful a morn 
 should be the herald of a bloody fray ; and 
 the warbling and twittering of the fea- 
 thered tribe, be drowned in the discor- 
 dant clanking of warlike arms and mailed 
 warriors, who were galloping to and fro 
 in the tented field, eager for the appear- 
 ance of the hourly-expected foe, to give 
 them battle. 
 
 At this early hour, four or five pike- 
 men were discoursing together at the en- 
 trance 
 
^30 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 trance of sir Reginald de Travers' tentj 
 upon the last night's unfortunate rencoun- 
 ter. — " By the mass," said one of those 
 who had been in the fray, " it was sharp 
 work. We really thought, upon the first 
 onset, that the trees were rising against 
 us. I verily believe there was not a 
 man in the band that ventured to fetch his 
 breath for a minute or two. None dared 
 wag a tongue, or whisper his fears; si- 
 lence had been enjoined, and every thrall's 
 death-knell was in his mouth. We were 
 all as mute as night, and as fixed as the 
 trees around us. But the enemies had 
 marked us, and in vain we cowered down 
 to hide ourselves. The word to charge 
 was given, and like magic, a hundred 
 naked blades lightened the darkness a- 
 round us. The baron de Lacy threw off 
 his dark cloak, and we followed the move- 
 ment in an instant : but no sooner had we 
 advanced upon the foe, and met them hand 
 to hand, than another party attacked us 
 in the rear, and we were presently over- 
 whelmed 
 
SIR ROLAND. SSI 
 
 whelmed with numbers, and thrown into 
 confusion — it was one man to a whole 
 field. Retreat was impossible — we were 
 fighting in a circle, which, as our comrades 
 fell, engirdled us in tighter and tighter. 
 Never did I behold a knight fight so bold- 
 ly, or deal such deadly blows, as our leader ; 
 at every stroke a man seemed to bite the 
 dust : he struck lightning out of the arms 
 that were raised against him, and fought 
 in a circle of glory, formed by his own in- 
 domptable valour. But his sword proved 
 treacherous, and breaking, yielded him a 
 prisoner. It was a mercy he did not fall, 
 or our good king would have missed so 
 brave a knight." 
 
 " But he is now lost to us — at least for 
 this campaign," replied another ; " for De 
 Redvers is too keen a fox to break the 
 chains of one of the best hounds in the 
 king's pack." 
 
 " Nay, but we have strength enough 
 still, with a little cunning, to unkennel 
 the fox," said the other. 
 
 " Well 
 
2S2 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " Well said, red-muzzle !" cried a third, 
 alluding to the bright red beard and mus- 
 tachios of the last speaker : " but, marry, 
 methinks we have a small game to play 
 first, seeing there is a trifling band of 
 some thousand strong, who are tramping 
 hitherwards, for our especial entertain- 
 ment — fierce and hungry as a troop of 
 howling wolves in December, for doubt- 
 less they've taken in more air than food in 
 their march ! By the Lord ! 'twill be like 
 carving blown-up bladders ! They'll find 
 our blades as keen as their own appetites, 
 and ere they break their fast, we'll break 
 their heads." 
 
 " Perchance they are aware of our pre- 
 paration to receive them." 
 
 " Aware ! then egad any where will be 
 a better where than where we are ; and 
 they were very noodles, to thrust in their 
 noses where they'll get a dressing, which 
 their carcases may not find so pleasant a 
 wear as they are aware of." 
 
 " We shall however have the disadvan- 
 tage 
 
SIR ROLAND. 233 
 
 tage of having an enemy both in van and 
 rear,'* said another ; " and while we are 
 fighting Conrad Villiers, we shall have De 
 Redvers come pricking behind." 
 
 " If it chance, as thou fearest, good red- 
 muzzle, then must we teach them that 
 we wield a two-edged sword, from the 
 which a back-stroke is as fatal as a cut or 
 a thrust. And an they do hem us in, 
 they will be but as a harmless scabbard to 
 a sharp sword." 
 
 " And we as useless as a sheathed blade." 
 
 " Not so ; for the royal hand hath wit 
 and courage to draw us out, and use us 
 too." 
 
 " But truly I think the rebel hath more 
 cunning than to quit his hold — and would 
 rather lose what he hath not, than risk 
 what he hath to gain it. Trust me, while 
 we are at w^ork, they'll look over the ram- 
 parts, and bite their lips; and we shall 
 then plainly perceive that De Redvers' 
 forte is not fighting !" 
 
 ** Cot's truce ! an' is id mine yonker 
 
 vriend ?'* 
 
SIR ROLAND. 
 
 vriend ?" said Gerrit Oosterwyk, who was 
 accidentally passing, and recognized the 
 jocose Ralphe, who was amusing his com- 
 panions with his merry humour. 
 
 " Yea, God mend us !" exclaimed Ralphe, 
 shaking him heartily by the hand, " the 
 self-same irreverent that had nigh gotten 
 his weazond slit, for grinning at thy com- 
 rade's piping. Am I not changed ?" turn- 
 ing about, and shewing himself: " yet in 
 verity, only in the outward, having cast 
 my old slough, or rather slipped into a 
 new one, for my heart is as merry, and 
 my tongue as glib, as when I wielded a 
 flagon in yon hostelrie with ye. And 
 prithee how fares Lowfan Swartbacon, 
 the broad-bottomed nightingale, and Van 
 Hacking-board, the tippler ?" 
 
 " Vel — all vel," replied Oosterwyk, 
 smiling ; " von zink all te tay — an' toder 
 trink — an' botes vight like als duyvels! 
 Maar — bote, mine coot yonker, voor vot 
 man's vight you here ?" 
 
 " I serve that invincible and most noble 
 
 knight, 
 
SIR ROLAND. 235 
 
 knight, sir Reginald de Travers," said 
 Ralphe. 
 
 " Yaw vel ! ane right coot — Duy vel's- 
 baart en oogen !" exclaimed he, interrupt- 
 ing himself, and staring at the tall, stately- 
 figure of the friar, who at that precise 
 moment emerged (like some gaunt spectre 
 fleeing away before the light of day) from 
 De Travers' tent. " Dare is dat lang olt 
 man ! dat breaching friar ! vat voor koms 
 he here ? koms he te bray mit us ? te gib 
 us pader-nosders an' homilies voor our 
 svorts. Cot " 
 
 " Fear not," said Ralphe. 
 
 " Vear ?" cried Oosterwyk, contemptu- 
 ously — " Vear ! dat is vel — Gerrit Oos- 
 terwyk vear? var is de hant can mak hem 
 vear ? maar — bote, mine coot yonker 
 vriend, dar is mosh te vear vrom dit lang 
 olt man. He deach braying in de blace 
 of vighting. Inderdaad! Gerrit Ooster- 
 wyk vears dat man, voor he vights mit 
 vorts an' afe mary's — an' Gerrit Ooster- 
 wyk vights mit de svort !" 
 
 " Nay, 
 
236 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " Nay, prithee, good Gerrit, be not 
 harsh in judging of that shaven crown. 
 Though it seemeth mightily like unto a 
 death's-head, there is more good than 
 guile in't. And though his buckler be 
 a psalter, and his sword a cross, he is a 
 good warrior in the cause he serves — he 
 fighteth the fiend wheresoever he finds 
 him, and driveth him from his lurking- 
 place ; leaving corporeal and visible ene- 
 mies to us soldiers, and waging war with 
 the infernal and invisible with his own 
 weapons." 
 
 " Yaw vel!" said Gerrit Oosterv^^yk, 
 shrugging his shoulders, as if he regarded 
 the friar's services of very little import- 
 ance compared to his own. 
 
 " And moreover," continued Ralphe, 
 " he hath a vast skill in leech-craft, and 
 culls herbs and simples from the fields 
 and woods for the healing of wounds — 
 therefore we needs must own our obliga- 
 tion to the man who so kindly takes care 
 both of our souls and our bodies." 
 
 " Yaw 
 
SIR ROLAND. 237 
 
 " Yaw vel ! dat is coot ! dat is coot !'* 
 said the man of war, whose prejudices be- 
 gan to fade fast away before the explana- 
 tion of Ralphe. " He is voort his vood 
 an' his bay — dat is var bedder dan breach- 
 ing." 
 
 " Why, truly, a good leech earns his 
 feed and his pay — Yet wilt thou credit it 
 — this lean friar will take nothing for his 
 pains, but a cup of spring water, and a 
 dole of black bread." 
 
 " Cot's truce !" exclaimed Oosterwyk — 
 " vater an' pread ! — no vlesh nor vine ? 
 Duyvels! dat is enufF te mak de boor 
 man breach !" 
 
 " And yet methinks the like hard fare 
 would breed more oaths than prayers in 
 thine ungodly stomach — Gerrit, ey ?" 
 
 The Fleming smiled, and nodded assent. 
 
 " Henceforth then look on this shorn 
 friar as a goodly appendage to the tail of 
 an army. And remember, though the 
 king heads us in the fray, he kindly heals 
 us after it !" 
 
 The 
 
238 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 The calls of duty now separated the 
 hardy Fleming, and the jocose, and not 
 less brave Ralphe. And soon afterwards, 
 Conrad Villiers and his men, having ap- 
 peared in the field, every glaive was 
 grasped, and every pike was levelled. For 
 some minutes the hostile parties regarded 
 each other in silence, evidently recon- 
 noitring and comparing their respective 
 forces. But the king was beyond all com- 
 parison the greater, and eager to disperse 
 the rebels, Stephen was about to give the 
 signal to charge, when a royal herald rode 
 hastily towards the king, and proclaimed 
 that a flag of truce had arrived from the 
 castle. This circumstance appeared to 
 create a general sensation of surprise 
 among the barons. 
 
 " What, doth the traitor's heart fail 
 him ?" cried the king. " Would he crave 
 our pardon for his offences ? Quick — 
 bring his herald hither, and let us learn 
 his message." 
 
 The herald, bearing the flag, appeared 
 
 in 
 
SIR ROLAND. 239 
 
 in sight, and rode up the ranks towards 
 the king, followed by five other horsemen, 
 saluted by loud cheers from every warrior 
 as they passed. 
 
 " What mean these demonstrations of 
 joy ?" demanded the king in utter asto- 
 nishment, in vain seeking in the equally 
 wondering faces of his barons for an ex- 
 planation ; but as they approached nearer, 
 the mystery was solved. 
 
 " By the mass!" exclaimed sir William 
 de Lacy — " my father! the baron de 
 Lacy comes with them." 
 
 *' What means this ?" said the king. 
 
 At the same moment the herald reined 
 in his horse and saluted, while the four 
 squires who accompanied the prisoner De 
 Lacy, drew on either side, and the baron 
 rode forward, loudly welcomed by Stephen 
 and his brother barons. 
 
 The herald advanced : — 
 
 " Baron de Red vers greets the earl of 
 Boulogne, and knowing the worth and 
 good service of baron de Lacy, herewith 
 
 returns 
 
240 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 returns him without fee or ransom ; for 
 De Red vers scorns to deprive the weak 
 man of his sword ; but trusts that the 
 earl will have the wisdom to use De Lacy 
 in a better cause, and straitway withdraw 
 from a contest which is hopeless." 
 
 " Audacious traitor !" exclaimed the 
 king, exasperated at this galling taunt of 
 De Redvers; then addressing the herald, 
 he answered—" Go tell the base knight 
 thou call'st thy master, we'll speak with 
 him anon ! ay, even within those walls, 
 from whence he dares send forth such emp- 
 ty, boasting messages ; for the which we'll 
 whip him soundly with a rod of iron ;" 
 and motioning with his hand for the he- 
 rald to depart, he turned towards the libe- 
 rated De Lacy, who briefly related to him 
 all that had passed since his capture — the 
 mock urbanity and derision of De Redvers, 
 and his subsequent release; and the latter 
 action was by no means disagreeable to 
 Stephen, however the manner of perform- 
 ing it might have chagrined him. 
 
 But 
 
SIR ROLAND. 241 
 
 But there was little time to waste in 
 words, when the bold display of hostility 
 which was spread before their eyes called 
 so loudly for chastisement ; each leader 
 therefore welcomed the sound of the sig- 
 nal-trumpet; and charging briskly for- 
 ward, they were saluted by a shower of 
 arrows and javelins from the enemy, who 
 received their charge with unshaken firm- 
 ness ; and then, in the confusion and dis- 
 order into which the well-aimed javelins 
 and long- shafts had thrown their assail- 
 ants, they rushed in with sword, battle- 
 axe, and bill, and the havock became ge- 
 neral ; not a sword was idle. 
 
 The redoubtable Conrad Villiers, clad in 
 a suit of black-ringed mail, stained witii 
 the blood of his foe, was seen towering 
 above his warriors, flying in every direc- 
 tion, cheering his followers with his Sten- 
 torian voice, and setting them an example 
 by his dauntless bravery. Wherever he 
 bent his course, he hewed his way with his 
 two-handed sword, dealing death and de- 
 ' VOL. I. M struction 
 
242 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 struction to all that opposed him : and 
 notwithstanding the superiority of the 
 king's force, and the no less distinguished 
 courage of himself and his barons, Stephen 
 found that Conrad rather gained upon, 
 than flinched, from them. Neither were 
 they so despicable an enemy as he had 
 been led to imagine from the first report of 
 their numbers, which, far from being ex- 
 aggerated, fell short of the truth, for they 
 had gathered additional strength in the 
 course of their march. 
 
 William de Ypres, the bold leader of the 
 Flemings, however was not idle ; and hav- 
 ing observed an advantageous position on 
 an eminence, which was kept by a band of 
 skilful archers, who annoyed the horse by 
 a continual and harassing discharge of 
 their shafts, he directed his whole atten- 
 tion to that point, and with the aid of his 
 brave comrades, and a trivial loss, drove 
 them from the height, whereby he gained 
 considerable vantage over the enemy, ha- 
 rassing them in the rear, and causing them 
 
 a deplorable 
 
SIR ROLAND. 
 
 a deplorable loss, which they were by no 
 means able to sustain ; at the same time 
 their attention being called to the point 
 they had so unfortunately lost, it naturally 
 caused a diversion, which materially weak- 
 ened the van of their army, turning the 
 scale most obviously in favour of the king's 
 troops, who hereupon pressed on with in- 
 creased spirit, as they perceived them gra- 
 dually yielding to their blows. 
 
 " On— on !" cried the valiant Stephen, 
 who had played a conspicuous part in the 
 fray, and was now animated with the fa- 
 vourable appearance which manifested 
 itself in the fighting retreat of his oppo- 
 nents. Driving his spurs into the foam- 
 ing sides of his plunging destrier, he dash- 
 ed forward, throwing down all opposition, 
 and slaying all who came within the dead- 
 ly circumference of the mighty battle-axe 
 he wielded. 
 
 The retreat now became more rapid, 
 and the foe was evidently seeking the co- 
 ver of the woods. Conrad Villiers was no 
 M 2! longer 
 
244 SIR KOLAND. 
 
 longer to be seen urging on his men to 
 deeds of noble daring. Stephen sought in 
 vain for the valiant leader of the flying 
 army, who still fought bravely while they 
 fled, covering the retreat of the rear. 
 
 In the ardour of pursuit, royalists and 
 rebels were soon mingled, for the ranks 
 were broken by the heavy charge, and the 
 foe fought almost hand to hand, combat- 
 ting in one grand and confused melee. 
 
 The king however in the spirit of the 
 charge, unfortunately discovered that his 
 unbridled courage had carried him far be- 
 yond the bounds his cooler discretion 
 would have permitted, for the dismayed 
 numbers which yielded to him on his first 
 irresistible onset, closed in upon, and as- 
 sailed him on every side. He saw the 
 dangerous error into which his impetuo- 
 sity had led him ; but he had advanced 
 too far to retract, and therefore boldly de- 
 fended himself against the assaults of those 
 who multiplied in such numbers around 
 him. 
 
 In 
 
SIR ROLAND. ^45 
 
 In the heat of the battle his perilous 
 situation passed unobserved by his follow- 
 ers, or else they were not able to distin- 
 guish him among the many who were 
 fighting on the battle-field. But he pre- 
 served himself unharmed, keeping the cir- 
 cle, that surrounded him, at bay, wheeling 
 about, until his heavy war-horse fell be- 
 neath him mortally wounded. 
 
 In this predicament all chance of avert- 
 ing his fate by the valour of his single 
 arm, seemed hopeless ; but the indompt- 
 able Stephen vv^as determined to meet death 
 bravely, and not unrevenged ; and many 
 were felled to the earth by his swinging- 
 blows, never more to rise. But, even at 
 that moment, when he imagined himself 
 inevitably lost, and cut off from all suc- 
 cour, a mounted w^arrior (who had pro- 
 bably witnessed his courageous struggle 
 with his foes, and seen him fall), arm- 
 ed with bill and targe, loosed his rein, 
 and leaped fearlessly among the com- 
 batants ; and furiously spurring the spirit- 
 M S ed 
 
24i6 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 ed animal he bestrode, and reining him in 
 at the same time, his desperate plunging 
 threw down some, and trampled on others, 
 for a moment causing those who hemmed 
 in the king to draw back. 
 
 With the celerity of lightning the sol- 
 dier dismounted, while the king as quick- 
 ly vaulted into the saddle, and profiting 
 by the panic, and taking advantage of the 
 opening his deliverer had made, galloped 
 out of the reach of danger, without cast- 
 ing a look behind him, till he again found 
 himself surrounded by his knights ; nor 
 could his searching eye discover in the 
 mass before him any trace of the brave 
 warrior who had flown so providentially 
 and so fearlessly to his rescue; and he 
 felt pained in the reflection that he had 
 probably fallen a victim to his loyalty. 
 
 His whole attention, however, was soon 
 attracted to the movements of the rebels, 
 of whom only an inconsiderable few ap- 
 peared, still contending the field foot by 
 foot, while the main body were lost in the 
 
 thick 
 
SIR ROLAND. ^47 
 
 thick wood on their rear. The retreat, 
 however, ultimately proved to be merely 
 a concerted manoeuvre to draw away the 
 royalists from before the castle, where 
 Conrad Villiers wished to gain admit- 
 tance, and by this ruse de guerre he ef- 
 fectually gained his point ; for while only 
 a small part of his force bravely engaged 
 the king, and kept up a running fight, 
 Conrad, under cover of the thick wood, 
 drew off the main body of his little army, 
 and dextrously moved towards the castle, 
 within whose impregnable walls he safely 
 marched before the royalists could turn 
 upon him, surprised and mortified as they 
 were at the success of his stratagem. Im- 
 mediately on the signal of their success 
 being communicated to those few who 
 still maintained with difficulty such an 
 unequal fight, they fled precipitately, leav- 
 ing the field to their duped conquerors, 
 who were by no means pleased with the 
 laurels they had won. 
 
 " By God's birth !" exclaimed Stephen, 
 M 4 " the 
 
248 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " the rebel hath truly cajoled us. He 
 hath yielded the field for the fort. A 
 cunning game well played, and to our 
 especial loss. The castle was already 
 strong enough, and by our lack of wari- 
 ness, we have helped to add to it." 
 
 All the barons assembled concurred 
 with the king, that they had lost a ma- 
 terial advantage, which would give new 
 vigour to De Redvers, and protract the 
 siege, or tend perhaps to baffle their uf^ 
 most to subdue him. 
 
 De Lacy, who seldom or never yielded 
 to the stream of general opinion, however 
 strong, till his own reason had accurately 
 examined and proved it just, listened with 
 profound attention to all that was ad- 
 vanced, and then, with an air of the ut- 
 most diffidence, which he knew so well 
 how to assume, and which invariably 
 gained him the attention of his auditors, 
 he spoke — " All that your grace hath 
 been pleased to say, as well as the con- 
 currence of these your wise and able 
 
 counsellors 
 
SIR ROLAND. 249 
 
 counsellors in this affair, may be most 
 true ; and who shall say the result ye fear 
 shall not arrive ? But yet to mine eyes 
 there doth appear no cause for grieving at 
 the success of Conrad Villiers's manoeuvre, 
 inasmuch as I do consider by this acces- 
 sion that De Redvers is weakened ; for 
 already had he sufficient strength within 
 to keep us without from harming him. 
 Nay, could he have parted with one half 
 of his garrison, he would have done a 
 wiser act than to give welcome to so 
 many, who must needs prove unwelcome 
 guests in the end — for they must feed, 
 and so will they as surely undermine the 
 main prop of his present power; for his 
 opposition cannot be of much longer dura- 
 tion than his provisions. Therefore is his 
 submission by his success accelerated. 
 His friends will prove his greatest foes ; 
 for they will bear famine with them, and 
 work us a speedier victory !" 
 
 This view appeared so very plausible, 
 
 that it received the general approbation of 
 
 M 5 the 
 
250 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 the council ; and at the same time that it 
 soothed the apprehensions of the king, it 
 exalted De Lacy in the estimation of his 
 brother barons. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 The policy of Stephen forbad him, under 
 existing circumstances, to risk the loss of 
 a single warrior in fruitless attacks upon 
 the well- fortified castle of Exeter, which 
 he now foresaw must eventually fall into 
 his hands, as he had taken every precau- 
 tion to prevent the approach of any emis- 
 sary from his allies, or cut off any supplies 
 Avherewith any of De Redvers's auxiliaries 
 might justly deem it necessary to dispatch 
 to his aid. 
 
 This proceeding, however dilatory and 
 wearying, opposed to the hasty and ardent 
 
 spirit 
 
SIR ROLAND 251 
 
 spirit of the warrior, was nevertheless ap- 
 proved by judgment as the safest and 
 surest mode of terminating the affair. 
 
 Meanwhile the royal party revelled in 
 the abundance that flowed from many 
 sources towards their camp, which exhi- 
 bited more the smiling appearance of a 
 carnival, than the frowning front of war. 
 But even when seeming most incautious, 
 they never forgot, in the enjoyments of 
 festivity, that a foe was engirdled in their 
 vast circle ; their vigilance was unwink- 
 ing and unrelaxed ; and while the wine- 
 cup was to their lips, the naked glaive 
 glittered in their hands. 
 
 Stephen was indefatigable in enforcing 
 the absolute necessity of the strictest 
 watchfulness; and notwithstanding the 
 confidence he placed in the co-operation 
 of his barons, he rode from post to post 
 several times in the course of the day and 
 night, to be perfectly assured that all his 
 commands were properly fulfilled; and 
 as no one could calculate upon the precise 
 M 6 time 
 
252 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 time of his going his rounds, as he pur- 
 posely moved at different hours — at longer 
 or shorter intervals, they were continually 
 on the alert, thereby rendering it a matter 
 of impossibility for a single soul to effect 
 an escape from the castle by day or night, 
 without detection. Thus hemmed in on 
 all sides by a large army, who shewed no 
 symptoms of again assailing the castle, 
 De Red vers began at first to wonder at 
 their supineness; and then, as the light of 
 their real intentions gradually burst upon 
 him, to tremble at the irremediable con- 
 sequences which must necessarily ensue 
 from their patient inactivity. For a long 
 time he dared not to communicate his 
 fears to those around him; but he was 
 conscious that his fortunes were hourly 
 arriving to that fatal crisis which would 
 speak but too plainly for itself. A sharp 
 sword hung suspended in fearful threat 
 over his devoted head, and he found the 
 strength of his arm paralyzed, and his 
 buckler useless. The artifice of Stephen 
 
 was 
 
SIR ROLAND. 253 
 
 was slowly sapping the life and vigour of 
 his garrison, and he beheld with dismay 
 that his strong castle would prove at last 
 a tomb or a prison. To avert a blow so 
 unexpected — so unforeseen, was utterly 
 hopeless, for his enemy had cut off every 
 chance of communication with those who 
 might aid in extricating him from the 
 perils of death and starvation, which glared 
 appallingly upon him, which ever way he 
 turned his despairing eyes. 
 
 As De Lacy had foretold, the worse 
 than useless addition of Conrad's army 
 became a grievous burden. De Redvers 
 felt it, and turned over in his anxious 
 mind some plan of quickly ridding him- 
 self of those who had, in their willingness 
 to serve, only oppressed him. Pondering 
 on his unenviable situation, he was walk- 
 ing on the ramparts, arm in arm with the 
 redoubtable Villiers. 
 
 The sun was just setting — the sky shone 
 bright and ruddy, and the departing rays 
 gilded the dark green bosom of the woods, 
 
 which 
 
^5^ SIE ROLAND. 
 
 which fluttered and breathed in the cool 
 breezes of a summer's eve, and gave to 
 the few fleecy clouds which floated in the 
 horizon the brilliant appearance of molten 
 gold. It was indeed a gladdening sight, 
 of such exquisite beauty and imposing 
 calmness, that, looking on such a heaven, 
 man could for awhile forget the petty 
 troubles and wayward passions that are 
 continually rebelling to disturb the peace 
 and tranquillity of this earth, which else 
 were paradise. But De Red vers felt not 
 the benign influence of Nature's placid 
 smiles. His eye was inward turned in 
 fearful forebodings, and every thing around 
 was clouded, dismal, and repulsive. His 
 brow was knit in anxious thought, which 
 was scarcely interrupted by the passing, 
 trite, and shortly-answered observations 
 of his bold ally, who began to wax weary 
 of the confined and inactive life to which 
 the policy of Stephen had doomed them. 
 — " Look on those troops," said he, point- 
 ing to the royal army, who surrounded 
 
 them 
 
SIR ROLAND. 26S 
 
 them, and were amusing themselves at 
 various warlike games and pastimes, " how 
 gaily they are disporting, while their 
 blades are rusting in their scabbards for 
 lack of use ! Doth king Henry's nephew 
 wish to win us by this parade and show, 
 think ye, De Redvers ? Would he have 
 us sheathe our swords, and quitting our 
 hold, go play with him ?" 
 
 " Play !" cried De Redvers, with a look 
 of wildness and despair, laying his mailed 
 hand firmly upon the arm of his com- 
 panion ; " his play, Conrad Villiers, is our 
 destruction. The clashing of sword and 
 buckler would be more harmonious than 
 the joyful music of peace which is now 
 sounding. My heart sinks within me, 
 for their song of joy is our dirge." 
 
 "What meanest thou, De Redvers?" 
 demanded Conrad, to whom this speech 
 appeared strange and incomprehensible. 
 " Wherein can Stephen's fooling harm 
 
 us?" 
 
 " In this — their feasting starves us." 
 
 " How ? 
 
256 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 " How ? do we purvey for them ?" 
 
 " Nay," replied De Redvers ; 
 we for ourselves mucli longer. A day or 
 two at farthest can elapse before we shall 
 be destitute of every necessary." 
 
 " Ay— stands it so ?" 
 
 " 'Tis true— too true." 
 
 " And the consequences " 
 
 " Are obvious," replied De Redvers. 
 " This castle must be our tomb." 
 
 " What, die here ?" exclaimed the fierce 
 warrior, indignantly. " 'Sdeath ! think'st 
 thou Conrad Villiers will die like a dog in 
 his kennel ? De Redvers, I came hither 
 to aid thee ; I drew my sword in thy 
 cause, but I find it useless. Throw wide 
 thy gates, therefore, and let us forth again. 
 I will at least endeavour to carve a route 
 through yonder lines ; we may there, at 
 the worst, meet an honourable death, while 
 here an unrevenged, inglorious one awaits 
 us." 
 
 " Thy number is so unequal to the 
 force without," said De Redvers, yet in- 
 wardly 
 
SIR ROLAND. 257 
 
 wardly rejoiced at the prospect of hi§ de- 
 parture : and he knew, when once re- 
 solved, danger, however threatening it 
 miglit appear, would rather give a spur to 
 the spirit of the brave Conrad, than deter 
 him from encountering it. 
 
 " They are few," answered Conrad, 
 proudly, " but they are firm." 
 
 " But brave as they are, thou shalt not 
 lead them on unaided. One hundred from 
 my garrison will be proud to join so va- 
 lorous a band, commanded by such a 
 chief. Nay, in truth, thou must not deny 
 me this. I shall retain a sufficient force 
 to repel any attack that may be made." 
 
 " Well, well — be it so," said Conrad ; 
 " and now let's hence, and speedily make 
 preparation to depart." 
 
 "To-night?" 
 
 " Even so ; and, I trust, with the aid 
 of my never-failing axe, to hew a passage 
 through those trim lines ; ay, even were 
 they as stubborn and as numerous as the 
 trees that grow around us. And when 
 
 once 
 
258 SIU ROLAND. 
 
 once I have safely cleared these barriers, 
 I will speed me to arouse those whose 
 hands seem not so ready as their tongues 
 would teach us, in this cause. Mean- 
 while, hold out against the proud usurper, 
 and in a few days I will bring up a suffi- 
 cient force to succour thee. We must 
 not let the champion fall, who hath stood 
 so boldly forth, and loudly proclaimed 
 those sentiments so many feel. The flag 
 of defiance is unfurled, and we must not 
 retract. Let us away, and prepare to sal- 
 ly forth at nightfall." 
 
 The courageous determination of Con- 
 rad Villiers thus happily relieved the de- 
 sponding De Redvers ; and hope pictured 
 to him, in flattering colours, the fair pro- 
 spect of a safe and speedy release from the 
 galling bondage in which the superior po- 
 licy of Stephen at present so securely held 
 him. 
 
 The silent hour of midnight arrived. 
 All was in readiness within the castle to 
 put the desperate measures they had con- 
 certed 
 
SIR ROLAND. 259 
 
 certed in execution. Unfortunately, how- 
 ever, the moon shone with resplendent 
 brightness, and every object became al- 
 most as visibly distinct as in the broad 
 glare of daylight. 
 
 But Conrad depended much on the se- 
 curity which Stephen appeared to place 
 upon the superiority of his numbers and 
 situation, and the improbability of any es- 
 say from the castle. He believed too, 
 that the boldness of such an enterprise, 
 and the sudden surprise it would occasion, 
 would throw them into a confusion which 
 would offer every advantage to facilitate 
 his escape. 
 
 Having fixed on the point from whence 
 he intended to issue (a small postern on 
 the side of the castle which was in the 
 shadow of the moon), he gave his final 
 orders, and the strong barred gate was 
 slowly opened. 
 
 Near this spot a party of Flemings were 
 stationed, and among them Gerrit Ooster- 
 
 wyk, 
 
260 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 wyk, Jan Hakkebort, and the musical 
 Lou van Zwaartbeeken. 
 
 " Vat sleeby togs deese repels are !" said 
 Hakkebort; " vy do dey niet kom oud an 
 vight like als men ? Ven dey starf an cod 
 niet meer te pood in dere pellies, an be als 
 din als pikestaffs, dey zal vight." 
 
 " Bah !" cried Oosterwyk, with a con- 
 temptuous sneer ; " de vools are plind." 
 
 " No madder, 'tis de bedder voor us — 
 ist niet? yaw !" said Lou van Zwaartbee- 
 ken ; " do ve niet trink an zing, an zing 
 an trink, an ead an ead ? 'tis cood vight 
 voor us, I dink," and then he commenced 
 singing in a loud voice — 
 
 " Wyn ! o edele wyn, 
 
 Die al de pyn 
 En zorg, van my terstond verdwynen doet, 
 Wat geef je my een hart vol moed ! 
 
 Een stoop, twee, drie, 
 Maakt dat ik geen gevaar, hoe zwaar })et is, outzie, 
 
 Noch vlie.'' 
 
 " Bah ! holt your dong, Zwaartbeeken," 
 said Oosterwyk, " your lout vois raddles 
 t'rough de voods like als ane horn. Ve 
 
 zal 
 
SIR ROLAND. 261 
 
 zal pring de king atop on us bresently. 
 Hah ! zilence !" continued he,' in a sup- 
 pressed tone, pointing towards the pos- 
 tern. " Zie daar ! dere is zom duy veVs 
 verk dere ! — hah ! ane man kom oud — 
 twee — drie — vier ! Brebare ! gib de zig- 
 nal ! de vyand komt — plow de horn — bre- 
 bare ! close order !" 
 
 All eyes were instantly directed towards 
 the postern, from whence Conrad and his 
 vassals presently rushed forth, and dashed 
 courageously forward, with the impetu- 
 osity of some mountain stream, with the 
 firm resolve of cutting through all oppo- 
 sition. 
 
 It happened at this juncture the king 
 was going his ordinary rounds, with an es- 
 cort of about fifty, composed of his bravest 
 and staunchest knights, all mounted and 
 armed for the combat, and hearing the 
 loud blast of the signal horn, whose harsh 
 notes broke on the sullen stillness of the 
 midnight hour, and made the woods and 
 welkin echo the discordant strain, the king 
 
 pressed 
 
262 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 pressed forward to the point of danger. 
 In a few minutes the call to arms was an- 
 swered from every quarter, and the troops 
 came galloping in haste to strengthen the 
 Flemings. 
 
 The athletic form of Conrad was soon 
 descried at the head of his vassals; his 
 black harness, strongly contrasted with 
 his milk-white charger, and the snowy 
 plumes which waved in his bacinet, shone 
 conspicuously in the clear silvery light of 
 the moon, which beamed brightly upon 
 him as he emerged from the shadow of the 
 castle. Meanwhile the king's troops kept 
 pouring in on all sides, and soon formed a 
 strong barrier to oppose his progress. 
 
 As they approached, Stephen remarked 
 the gallant bearing of Conrad Villiers with 
 a generous admiration, which well accord- 
 ed with his martial spirit. — " How proud- 
 ly he bears upon us," said he, " as fear- 
 lessly as if his body were invulnerable, and 
 his proud spirit scorned the opposition of 
 our arms ! but if this good faulchion fail 
 
 us 
 
i i j li um HWJ 
 
 SIR ROLAND. 26S 
 
 US not, with God's good will, we'll pluck 
 that plumage from his crest, which now 
 waves in haughty defiance to our power ;" 
 and herewith spurring on his courser, he 
 rode gallantly forward to put his threat in 
 execution. 
 
 The quick, dark eye of Conrad ob- 
 served his approach, and immediately re- 
 cognized his opponent — " Prince Ste- 
 phen," cried he, tauntingly, and proud in 
 his superior might, " thou had'st far better 
 have slept safely in thy tent, than have 
 ventured to oppose thy devoted head to 
 the keen edge of Conrad's faulchion !" 
 
 " The young lion trembleth not at the 
 voice of the fiercest boar of the forest !" 
 replied Stephen. ** I bear a faulchion too, 
 and have an arm can wield it." 
 
 " Still would'st thou be wise to retreat 
 before the impetuous band that follows at 
 my heels, or thee and thine will presently 
 be but as feathers on the waves of the sea !" 
 
 " Thou speakest bravely," replied Ste- 
 phen ; " but we have yet to try if thy skill 
 
 in 
 
2:64 SIR R0LAND4 
 
 in arms as far exceedeth mine, as doth thy 
 vaunting ;" and so saying, without farther 
 parley, he aimed a blow, which the other 
 dextrously caught upon his ringing targe, 
 and at the same time swinging his battle- 
 axe round his head, he vigorously attack- 
 ed his noble antagonist, whose renown in 
 arms he soon found was most justly his 
 due. For notwithstanding the superiority 
 of Conrad's physical powers, and his gigan- 
 tic stature, he found both might and skill 
 baffled by the dexterity and quickness of 
 Stephen's movements, who managed his 
 weapons and his well-trained steed with 
 most admirable precision, striking, and 
 wheeling, and turning about with such 
 continual and indefatigable motion, that 
 it. put Conrad's utmost cunning to the 
 proof to defend himself, and keep his more 
 agile enemy at bay : but in proportion as 
 Stephen became every moment more and 
 more aware of his equality, he grew more 
 daring and hazardous, for as yet he had 
 only exhibited his defensive and offensive 
 
 tactics, 
 
SIR ROLAND. ^65 
 
 tactics, without gaining any material ad- 
 vantage over his opponent. Warmed 
 with the exertion, while his courageous 
 heart beat high with emulation, he pres- 
 sed more closely on his valiant adversary, 
 when, foiled in his aim, he received a heavy 
 stroke from Conrad's faulchion, which split 
 his shield in twain, and likewise consider- 
 ably injured his left arm. 
 
 Furious at his failure, and this conse- 
 quent discomfiture, he would probably 
 have thrown himself, in the momentary 
 desertion of his coolness, into unnecessary 
 danger, if the impetuosity of Conrad had 
 not suddenly turned the preponderating 
 scale of chance in his favour. Elated with 
 the effect of his staggering blow, Conrad 
 eagerly spurred on his horse to the charge, 
 to follow up his success, when, in the 
 endeavour to wheel quickly round upon 
 his foe, he threw the spirited animal upon 
 his knees, and at the same instant the 
 faulchion of the king, with the rapidity of 
 lightning, rattled on his helm, and struck 
 
 VOL. I. N him 
 
266 SIR ROLAND. 
 
 him senseless to the earth. Hereupon 
 those who had watched with feelings of 
 the most intense interest, the fluctuating 
 fortunes of this unequal conflict during 
 its continuance, not daring to listen to 
 their fears, or anger their prince by their in- 
 terference, now galloped to the side of the 
 conqueror, exultingly shouting—" Victory ! 
 victory !" and " long live king Stephen !" 
 
 While their gallant leader was engaged 
 in the mortal combat we have attempted 
 to describe, and wherein he bravely closed 
 a glorious career of unequalled valour, his 
 hardy followers were not idle in carrying 
 his commands into effect; and notwith- 
 standing the numbers opposed to them, 
 they successfully achieved their purpose. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by J. Dariing, Leadenhall-Street, London.