J» Y.X.5
 
 E> RAHY 
 
 OF THE 
 UNIVERSITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 v.l 
 c op. 2
 
 ^y^^^t^Z 
 
 MALPAS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LE POURSUIVANT D' AMOUR 
 
 3 Homancc* 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE CAVALIER. 5 
 
 Now hold your mouth pour charite, 
 Bothe knighte and lady fre, 
 And herkeneth to my spell, 
 Of bataille and of chevalrie, 
 Of ladies' love and druerie, 
 Anon I wol you tell. 
 
 Chaucer's " Canterbury Tales. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND BROWN, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1822.
 
 Lokdon : 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spottis*oode, 
 
 New- Street- Square.
 
 TO HIS GRACE 
 THE DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE. 
 
 Right honoured and dread Lord, 
 
 That I have taken the 
 liberty of addressing this epistle to Your 
 Grace, is not, as might be imagined, the 
 consequence of your known respect for 
 literature, your love of science, or patron- 
 age of the arts, in which, I am proud to 
 say, you are emulated by many men of 
 rank in our native country ; but is the 
 effect of a cause far less flattering to Your 
 Grace, than agreeable to your corre- 
 spondent. 
 
 If the feudal tenures still subsisted, I 
 ^ should now be a retainer of Your Grace, 
 ^ as it is probable my ancestors were 
 
 f tenants of Your Grace's; and I have 
 
 A 2
 
 IV 
 
 still so much clannish affection in my 
 blood, as to look up with reverence to 
 the descendant of that great house, which, 
 in times like those depicted in the fol- 
 lowing sheets, hath given shelter and 
 protection to the authors of my being. 
 
 I would not be understood to mean, 
 that I regret the abolition of the feodal 
 tenures, which banished (the fiend) 
 slavery from England, or the iron times 
 cotemporary with their existence. For 
 though the feodal government of this 
 country was conducted with all the 
 wisdom of which that complicated system 
 was capable, and was, indeed, managed 
 with much less turbulence and disorder, 
 than those of France, Germany, or the 
 other kingdoms of a Gothic constitution, 
 yet, in its analysis, there will be found 
 too many things to deprecate, and, 
 among others, the overgrown power of 
 that order to which Your Grace belongs, 
 the nobles, to cause the regret of any 
 wise man at its declension and fall. And
 
 although in the history of the wars and 
 tournaments, the splendour, pomp, and 
 revelry of ancient times, we are led to 
 imagine that glory, true honour, and 
 magnificence, had attained their meridian 
 height, since kings, as at the elevation of 
 their savage progenitors upon the elec- 
 toral buckler, were the leaders of a band 
 of heroes, whose affections were knit 
 unto their sovereign by the renown of 
 his warlike exploits, and beauty, unaided 
 by the glare of ornament, or the fortuit- 
 ous accession of wealth, was worshipped 
 as the star which guided the chivalry to 
 acts of danger and enterprize ; yet, it 
 must be confessed, there was an opposite 
 side of the picture, which showed as 
 leaden and meagre, as this one appears 
 golden and imposing. And, first, though 
 it be true that, in this kingdom, the 
 power and courage of the barons served 
 to counterbalance the weight of sovereign 
 authority, and to prevent the feodal con- 
 stitution from degenerating, as it did in 
 a 3
 
 VI 
 
 other countries, into a perfect despo* 
 tisra, yet it must ever remain a problem 
 with the learned, whether the violence 
 with which the barons executed their 
 plans of opposition, the rigour with 
 which they exercised the functions 
 of government when the sway was 
 in their hands, and the utter contempt 
 in which they regarded, and with which 
 they treated the liberties of their ple- 
 beian countrymen, were not more galling, 
 more intemperate, and more unjust, than 
 could have been the conduct of any king, 
 however despotic and tyrannical. But 
 the private passions of the English no- 
 bility caused more distress and danger to 
 their country than even their public am- 
 bition. Those who pretended to extort 
 laws from the sovereign, for the safe- 
 guard and protection of liberty, were the 
 first to trample on them, and to tyrannize 
 over their fellow-subjects. Each noble, 
 vigilant alone in the protection of his 
 own retainers and vassalage, esteemed it
 
 VJ1 
 
 his right to carry fire and sword, ruin 
 and desolation, among those of his coun- 
 trymen that differed with him in party, 
 or who had become his foes by some act 
 of private, perhaps unwitting, aggression. 
 The potent baron, possessed of almost 
 regal privileges, held it a degradation of 
 his rank, to suffer trial of any cause, 
 wherein he was party before the king's 
 justices 5 and we have, at least, one ex- 
 ample upon record, where the judges, in 
 the reign of Henry III,, having pro- 
 ceeded to try a cause, of which Fulk de 
 Brent, a baron of great power, was one 
 of the parties, the exasperated noble 
 dispatched his brother and an armed 
 force, with directions to seize upon the 
 justices and bring them before him. 
 Two of them escaped ; but the third, 
 less fortunate, fell into his hands, was 
 conveyed by him to Bedford castle, and 
 treated with all the cruelty and indig- 
 nity the tyrant's malice could invent. 
 And, according to the historian, Matthew 
 a 4
 
 V11S 
 
 Paris, the same shameless violator of the 
 law, had thirty verdicts given against 
 him in the trials of novel-disseisin, in 
 each of which he was heavily fined ; 
 every assize being for the forcible occu- 
 pation of the lands of his less powerful 
 neighbours. But instead of the execu- 
 tive of the law being, as in these days, 
 of power sufficient to eject the disseisor, 
 to levy the fines awarded against him, 
 and to punish him for his flagrant agr 
 gression upon its authority, the whole 
 kingdom was constrained to arm against 
 the rebel ; and it was not without much 
 difficulty that a large and regular army 
 could force him to sue for mercy. 
 
 And, even in the baron's own demesne, 
 his protection was seldom exercised to- 
 wards his vassals, except in the single 
 article of personal preservation. The 
 privileges and immunities claimed by 
 each noble over his retainers, both free 
 and bound, rendered them entirely sub- 
 ject to his will and caprice. Under the
 
 IX 
 
 custom of Gwabr-merched, no vassal 
 could marry his daughter, without first 
 surrendering her to the lust of his lord, 
 or paying a heavy commutation. The 
 privilege which many nobles enjoyed of 
 pit and gallows, is thus quaintly deve- 
 loped by Skene. " Erectio furcarum 
 est meri imperii et altas justitise, et sig- 
 niflcat dominium sens, quia suspensi pen- 
 dent in sere : et merum imperium con- 
 sistit in quatuor, sicut sunt quatuor ele- 
 menta. In aere, ut hi qui suspenduntur, 
 — in igne, quando quis comburitur prop- 
 ter maleficium — in aqua, quando quis 
 ponitur in culeo et in mare projicitur, ut 
 parricida, vel in amnem immergitur ut 
 foemina furti damnata : in terra, cum 
 quis decapitur et in terram prosternitur." 
 And by the term literatura was implied 
 a license to vassals by their lords to put 
 their children to school, which, without 
 such authority, w r ould have been de- 
 nounced as an infraction of tenure. 
 
 It would be an easy matter to write a 
 volume on the subject of those oppres-
 
 sions which our ancestors endured under 
 the feodal system ; but I think I have 
 said enough to convince Your Grace, 
 that we (of the commons) have much 
 to be thankful for in the change that 
 has taken place, with very little to regret 
 of that which has been relinquished. 
 If' there be any circumstance which can 
 now occasion dissatisfaction, it is that 
 the statute which abrogated the feodal 
 tenures, should have left us a badge of 
 our ancient slavery in the leet, copyhold, 
 and manorial courts. For although Your 
 Grace's seneschal (par example) does 
 not, as in times of yore, appear before 
 the suitors carrying a look of austere 
 superiority, and weighing in a cheap 
 balance the lives and properties of the 
 tenantry, nor harnessed with mail et 
 cinctus gladio, yet the manner in which 
 he runs over the muster, the fines which 
 he imposes for absence *, and the many 
 
 * I was very lately visited with the fine of 2d. for 
 being absent when the suitors' names were called
 
 iittle arrogancies inseparable from an 
 office of this nature, induce a hearty 
 desire that such relics of ancient bar- 
 barity had consorted with messieurs 
 grand-serjeantie, knight-service, and 
 their kindred, in bidding adieu to this 
 nation ; and were I a member of either 
 house, (as Your Grace) it should be my 
 chief glory, and a glorious achievement 
 it would be, to rescue my native soil 
 from the last remaining fetter of feodal 
 slavery, to drive the evil genius of the 
 north from his last lurking-place, to 
 crumble the last fortility of the barba- 
 rians into dust and powder. Forgetting 
 the paltry advantages to be derived from 
 the continuance of these courts, I would, 
 
 over, which, as I was then engaged in writing this 
 epistle to Your Grace, I trust Your Grace's steward 
 will be directed to refund; and as it hath ever 
 been allowed to the fraternity of authors to be 
 absent when it listed them, I hope it will appear 
 but reasonable to Your Grace to order a general 
 exemption in my favour.
 
 XJ1 
 
 like Cato, mindful only of my country's 
 weal, continually thunder out, " Car- 
 thago delenda est." But I have clone 
 my duty to my fellow-citizens : " I have 
 warned ye," saith Dr. Raffles ; " be your 
 blood upon your heads." 
 
 To my general readers I shall offer no 
 apology for any little deviation from 
 historical fact that may appear in the 
 following pages : they are welcome to 
 find out more than I shall here reveal, 
 and I must be content with their cri- 
 ticism. But to men so profoundly in- 
 quisitive as Your Grace, so acquainted 
 with the minute bearings of history, 
 and so capable of detecting a discre- 
 pancy, however trivial or remote, it 
 becomes me to lay myself, in some mea- 
 sure, open, and to disclose the liberties 
 which I have thought it necessary to 
 take with the recording muse. These 
 liberties, however, extend little further 
 than the manner in which King Edward 
 the Second fell into the hands of his
 
 Xlll 
 
 enemies. It is affirmed by Walsingham, 
 and the other historians, * that Edward, 
 seeking an escape to Ireland, was driven 
 by contrary winds upon the coast of 
 Wales, where he was forced to land ; 
 and that he took refuge in the abbey of 
 Neath. There he intended to remain 
 until the wind became fair, or he could 
 devise some other means of quitting 
 England : but a report being abroad, 
 that he was somewhere concealed in 
 Wales, the queen dispatched in quest of 
 him Henry of Lancaster, who, by his 
 diligence, and a reward of two thousand 
 pounds, promised to any person who 
 should take the younger Despenser, soon 
 gained a knowledge of the king's situ- 
 ation, and made him and his attendants 
 prisoners. From the abbey of Neath, 
 Lancaster conveyed his captives to Mon- 
 mouth castle, and thence, by the queen's 
 order, to Kenilworth." 
 
 The latter part of this narration Your 
 Grace will find altered in my Romance ;
 
 XIV 
 
 but I trust not so extravagantly as to 
 disfigure the truth, and excite disgust in 
 the minds of honest and impartial critics. 
 The fact is, that, instead of the king 
 being captivated by the Earl of Lan- 
 caster at the abbey of Neath, I have 
 done that for him which he doubtless 
 endeavoured to effect himself, raised a 
 party in his favour, a circumstance that, 
 from the turbulent state of the Welsh at 
 that period, had his affairs been con- 
 ducted with common prudence, might 
 certainly have been accomplished. A 
 Welsh chieftain organizes a force for his 
 service, but is defeated by a baron of 
 the marches, (the Lord of Malpas,) 
 which occasions the royal party to fall 
 into the hands of the marcher, by whom 
 the king is treacherously sold to his 
 enemies. Thus, instead of being con- 
 veyed to Monmouth, Edward is taken 
 to Malpas, and thence to Kenilworth, a 
 deviation from history I trust not unpar- 
 donable ; and if some cynical antiquary 
 13
 
 XV 
 
 should exclaim, that he never heard of 
 an abbey having existed at Malpas, I 
 will confess the fact, provided he will 
 allow me to transplant the remains of 
 the great monastery at Bangor, which 
 had been destroyed long before this time, 
 to the one of my own creation ; other- 
 wise I will boldly defy him to prove that 
 an abbey could not by possibility have 
 been founded there after the formation 
 of Doomsday, and before the account 
 taken in the reign of Henry the Eighth 
 at the suppression of religious houses. 
 
 I know of no other discordance be- 
 tween the facts related by historians 
 and my Romance, except it be that I 
 have described King Edward the Third 
 as having quitted Nottingham Castle, at 
 the time of Mortimer's seizure, to reside 
 at a convent without the town ; whereas 
 he is said to have lodged at a house within 
 the fortress. But this is questionable, 
 as, in order to gain the subterranean 
 passage communicating with the castle
 
 XVI 
 
 through which Edward and his associates 
 gained an entrance, he was obliged to 
 pass the walls, which were doubtless well 
 guarded by Mortimer's faction. 
 
 . For the manners, customs, costume, &c, 
 I have nothing to plead : I have de- 
 scribed them with the pages of history 
 and antiquity extended before my eyes, 
 and with the facts themselves engraven 
 on my heart. Your Grace will be able 
 to judge whether I have seen darkly, or 
 whether the sun of information has re- 
 flected a genuine light upon my studies. 
 The contents of the following sheets have 
 cost me much study and reflection, and 
 if they afford any pleasure to my readers, 
 they will answer the purposes for which 
 they were intended. 
 
 With sentiments of profound veneration, 
 I have the honour to be, 
 Your Grace's obedient 
 and humble Servant, 
 
 LEE GIBBONS. 
 
 Nov. 23. 1821.
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Out, alasl what a grief is this 
 That princes' subjects cannot be true, 
 But still the devil hath some of his 
 Will play their parts whatsoever ensue ; 
 Forgetting what a grievous thing 
 It is to offend the anointed kinge ! 
 Alas for woe ! why should it be so ? 
 This makes a sorrowful heigh ho ! 
 
 King of Scots and Andrew Brotvne. 
 
 The town of Malpas in Cheshire, situ- 
 ated near the boundaries of Shropshire 
 and Wales, is now of very little extent 
 and of less importance. It consists of a 
 few score houses rudely built, and, per- 
 haps, half a dozen of a better style of 
 architecture, which serve to show that 
 it was once a place of greater consider- 
 
 VOL. I. b
 
 2 MALPAS. 
 
 ation than it is at present. The houses of 
 a ruder fabrication, are of that kind usual- 
 ly termed post and peverel, from their 
 being formed of timber beams branched 
 out in various directions, having the 
 intermediate spaces filled up with mor- 
 tar or plaster. These give it an ap- 
 pearance of antiquity, and its inhabitants, 
 of a primitive character, have doubtless 
 copied the manners of their forefathers 
 from time immemorial. But if the town 
 itself has few charms for the eye of the 
 traveller, the country which surrounds 
 it will afford him every gratification. 
 Malpas stands on the very summit of a 
 hill, declivitous on all sides, but more 
 particularly on the western, which, slop- 
 ing down with a gentle descent, is lost 
 in an immense valley, composing, in times 
 of yore, part of the western marches of 
 the principality. This valley is watered 
 by the beautiful river Dee, which, mean- 
 dering through the lower grounds, ren- 
 ders them as fertile as they are delight- 
 ful. The town of Wrexham is distant 
 about twelve miles, and, beyond it, the 
 Welsh mountains arise in grand succes- 
 15
 
 :vialpas» 3 
 
 sion, one above the head of another, 
 until the more remote are lost in the 
 obscurity of distance. About twelve 
 miles to the north of Wrexham is the 
 ancient metropolis of Cheshire. The 
 spires and towers of its churches at this 
 day present a fine appearance, from the 
 summit of the hill whereon Malpas 
 stands ; and the effect of the picture is 
 not lessened by its out-line being filled 
 up with several isolated villages and 
 churches, which are sprinkled through- 
 out the rich and well-wooded valley. 
 The eastern horizon is formed by a 
 range of bold, rocky, and sterile moun- 
 tains called Broxton or Bickerton Hills, 
 (at the foot of which are the ruins of 
 Harding Castle), and which, running 
 northward, skirt Vale Royal and the 
 forest De la Mer. At the troubled pe- 
 riod which it is our intention to com- 
 memorate, (the latter part of the reign 
 of the unfortunate Edward II.), the fea- 
 tures of Malpas and the surrounding 
 country wore an expression different 
 from that which they now exhibit. The 
 Welsh, who had been but recently re- 
 b 2
 
 4i MALPAS* 
 
 duced to subjection by the present 
 king's father, were constantly in a state 
 of turbulent excitation, and, had they 
 not been held down by an overwhelming 
 force, would, doubtless, have endeavoured 
 to regain their freedom. In truth, they 
 were much oppressed by those English 
 barons, who held castles on their con- 
 fines, and" were termed Marchiones de 
 Marchia Wallice^ who had their private 
 laws, " et potestatem titce et ?iecis," like 
 petty kings. These privileges they exe- 
 cuted with an unsparing rigour ; and, 
 under the pretext of punishing the Welsh 
 chieftains for the breach of their arbi- 
 trary, and ill-understood laws, the lords 
 marchers frequently overran the Welsh 
 border ; pillaging and destroying the 
 whole country, burning the castles of 
 those who opposed them, and holding 
 their bodies captive, unless released at 
 an exorbitant ransom. Such a system 
 of oppression could not fail to rouse the 
 hardy mountaineers, who had struggled 
 desperately to retain their independence, 
 and who showed, by their readiness to 
 retaliate, that they had not lost their
 
 MALPAS. 5 
 
 courage with their liberty. They did, 
 indeed, retaliate ; and with such circum- 
 stances of savage barbarity, that the 
 outrages of the Goths and Huns upon 
 the inhabitants of Italy, become softened 
 in the comparison. The whole border 
 between England and Wales was ruined 
 and desolated. The people withdrew 
 from their hamlets and rustic dwellings, 
 retreating with their cattle and house- 
 hold stuff into the fortified towns and 
 castles ; and, at length, the country was 
 so completely destroyed, that the fierce 
 adversaries were constrained for a time 
 to give up their expeditions, having 
 (like Alexander) nothing more to win. 
 This scene of devastation extended from 
 Chester (which was considered the lead- 
 ing barrier town on the border) on both 
 sides of the Dee by way of Malpas into 
 Shropshire, and thence to the embou- 
 chure of the Severn. The barony of 
 Malpas was, at this time, possessed by a 
 chieftain of Norman descent, named 
 Bertrand du Chatelet, and who, as a 
 marcher, was entitled to have his castle 
 and town fortified. This was also the 
 b 3
 
 6 
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 more necessary as a monastery of black 
 friars, " sub norma Benedicti famulan- 
 tes," adjoined the baron's afForciament ; 
 and, to the great scandal of all Christian 
 men, as the monks said, the bloody 
 Welsh spared neither houses of religion 
 nor their members. That rich and mag- 
 nificent order of Gothic architecture, 
 which came to perfection in the subse- 
 quent reign, did not make its appearance 
 in the abbey of Malpas ; for although it 
 was strongly built, and the architect had 
 made some attempts at ornament by the 
 formation of corbetels or niches in the 
 exterior wall, wherein were deposited 
 the rude figures of divers saints, and had 
 also erected a lanterium or cupola on the 
 steeple of the church, whereon he had 
 endeavoured to engrave the arms of the 
 founder ; yet its appearance was far from 
 being grand or imposing, and did, in- 
 deed, seem rather a house of religion, 
 than one of those stupendous palaces, 
 which afterwards became the habitation 
 of the regular clergy. But if the out- 
 ward appearance of Malpas Abbey was 
 plain and simple, the rich revenues at-
 
 3IALPAS. 7 
 
 tached to it by numerous grants from 
 the neighbouring Barons, amply compen- 
 sated for its lack of ornament. It had, 
 besides, another source of emolument 
 peculiar to itself; the like privilege 
 being had by no other foundation on the 
 Welsh border. This was the celebrated 
 Fridstol], or chair of peace, which a 
 great author calls " a place privileged 
 by the Prince for the safeguard of men's 
 lives that are offenders, founded upon 
 the law of mercy, and upon the great 
 reverence, honour, and devotion, which 
 the Prince beareth to the place whereto 
 he granted such a privilege.'' The Cathe- 
 dra pacis sheltered felons and traitors, 
 provided that, within forty days, they 
 confessed their crimes and submitted to 
 banishment. If, during that time, they 
 w r ere expelled by any layman, (though 
 the King's officer), he was, ipso facto, 
 excommunicated, and, if by a clerk, he 
 was instantly made irregular. This 
 privilege, of course, drew numberless of- 
 fenders to the Monastery, who paid hand- 
 somely for their security and entertain- 
 ment ; and often, when of rank, made 
 b 4,
 
 O MALPAS", 
 
 gifts of lands on going into exile, more 
 particularly when the crime for which 
 they sought sanctuary was murder, or 
 any other offence which laid hold upon 
 their consciences. An endowment which 
 would support a few monks to say masses 
 for the souls of their murdered victims, 
 they were informed, would appease the 
 vengeance of the Almighty ; and they 
 were glad to purchase acquittances from 
 spiritual destruction at so cheap a rate, 
 The superior was one of those ecclesias- 
 tical lords termed mitred abbots, so called 
 because they had obtained from Rome 
 the privilege of wearing the mitre, riogj 
 gloves, and crosier of a Bishop ; and the 
 Abbey was well able to keep up the state 
 of its head, being one of the richest 
 foundations throughout England. 
 
 Having said thus much of the Monas- 
 tery and its dependancies, we will now 
 speak of the fortress of the Baron du 
 Chatelet. About a bow shot beyond 
 the outer court of the Abbey, a conical 
 hill, elevated about fifty yards from the 
 surrounding plain, sustained the peel or 
 fortress, which, occupying the entire
 
 MALPAS. 9 
 
 surface of the hill top, sat like the crown 
 of towers on the head of Cybele ; a very 
 wide and deep ditch surrounded the foot 
 of the hill, and rendered the castle nearly 
 inexpugnable. The towers and walls 
 were kernelled, that is, built with cran- 
 nies or notches for shooting arrows or 
 cross-bows, as were all the castles on the 
 border ; and over the portal was a ma- 
 checollation or device of war, resembling 
 a grate, through which, in time of siege, 
 those within the castle might annoy the 
 assailants with scalding water, the feu 
 grecquois, or any other offensive liquid. 
 A strong and high wall enclosed the 
 whole town ; and, at the gate of this 
 exterior defence, barriers (or railings of 
 wood) were erected, strengthened with 
 closely set ribeaudeaux, or pointed 
 stakes, which could not easily be dis- 
 lodged by the enemy. In short, no 
 barrier town on the border was more 
 completely fortified; and there were 
 very few whose strength of situation 
 could be compared with this. The cas- 
 tle had usually a garrison of two hundred 
 men at arms, besides twice the number 
 b 5
 
 10 MALPAS. 
 
 of stout varlets and archers who were 
 quartered in the town. 
 
 The Baron du Chatelet, in his office 
 as Lord Marcher, had the usual pri- 
 vileges of furca et fossa, or gallows and 
 pit, a jurisdiction of punishing felons : 
 men with hanging, and women with 
 drowning, together with infangthefe and 
 outfangthefe, hebberthefe, hansokne, 
 and grithbrech, forstall, ferdwite, and 
 frithwite, with a vast number of other 
 immunities, penalties, and mulcts, which 
 are now only known to the scholar and 
 antiquary. 
 
 The reign of Edward II. was one of 
 trouble and misfortune, not only to the 
 monarch himself, but also to his sub- 
 jects, who were harassed by the constant 
 wars and altercations maintained between 
 the king and his favourites on one side, 
 and the great Barons on the other. Little 
 taught by the battle of Bannockburn, 
 which the English lost more through want 
 of unanimity and confidence in their lead- 
 er, than lack of courage and discipline, 
 (many instances of both being shown on 
 that day on their part); theking continued
 
 MALPAS. 1 1 
 
 his favour to the Despensers without any 
 regard to the complaints of the barons, 
 who resolved to continue in rebellion 
 against the royal authority, until they 
 had driven those obnoxious favourites 
 out of the country. The rebellion, our 
 readers will remember, ended for that 
 time with the decapitation of Thomas, 
 Earl of Lancaster, the King's cousin, at 
 the castle of Pomfret in Yorkshire. This 
 act of severity seemed for a short period 
 to quell the spirits of the disaffected, but 
 the arrogance of the younger Despenser, 
 on whom the king had conferred the 
 Earldom of Gloucester, soon raised him 
 up an enemy too potent to crush. His 
 haughtiness had divested him of all pru- 
 dence, and so much did he count upon 
 the King's affection, that he forgot to 
 pay that respect to the Queen Isabella 
 which was certainly her due from every 
 subject. Isabella, cautious and prudent, 
 but cruel and deceitful, gave little inti- 
 mation of that disgust and hatred which 
 the conduct of Gloucester had engen- 
 dered in her breast; but began privately 
 to intrigue with the barons of the Lan- 
 b 6
 
 12 M ALP A 5. 
 
 castrian party. They eagerly met her 
 advances, and willingly coincided with 
 any plan to humble the insolent favorite. 
 It happened at this time that the King 
 of France, Charles the Fair, summoned 
 Edward to do homage for Guienne, and 
 the Queen, under the pretext that it 
 would be dangerous for her husband to 
 quit the kingdom, to which Despenser 
 assented, advised him to resign the 
 sovereignty of that province to his son, 
 fafterwards Edward III.) and to send 
 him over as homager in his stead. This 
 expedient was thought feasible, and the 
 prince joined his mother in France where 
 she had been sometime on a mission to 
 her brother, the king, and did the acus- 
 tomed homage. Isabella, having the 
 heir-apparent in her hands, now began 
 to throw off the mask, and refused to 
 return to England (though ordered by 
 her husband) until the Despensers were 
 banished the country. The king would 
 not give up his favourites, and applied to 
 the pope, who threatened the French 
 monarch with ecclesiastical censures un- 
 less he sent the queen from his court.
 
 MALPAS. 13 
 
 Charles complied, and Isabella took re- 
 fuge in Hainault, to the daughter of whose 
 count, William of Hainault, she had 
 already affianced the young Prince Ed- 
 ward. She remained in that country for 
 some time, making great endeavours to 
 raise an army ; and her friends in Eng- 
 land strove with unremitted diligence to 
 gain over to her party all the English 
 nobility, in which attempt they too fatally 
 succeeded. Of the clergy, those who 
 took part in the struggle were chiefly on 
 the side of the queen, and among the 
 warmest of her partisans, the abbot of 
 Malpas was conspicuous. Sir Walter 
 Marcel, in his early years, had joined 
 the fratres militias Templi Solomonis, and 
 taken the vows of their order : he had 
 been in Palestine fulfilling the duties of 
 his profession, and had fought long and 
 valiantly, like a stout knight and a true, 
 against the enemies of Christianity. Like 
 most of the other brothers of the temple, 
 Sir Walter concealed beneath his monas- 
 tic vestments a heart incapable of re- 
 pressing its passions and desires, and, in 
 the course of his campaigns, he had for-
 
 14 MALPAS. 
 
 gotten his vow of chastity, and became 
 father of a son, whose mother, a Greek 
 slave, died in childbed, leaving the young 
 Templar to the care of God and his father. 
 He soon after returned to his native land; 
 and, after placing his son in a situation 
 proper for his maintenance, retired to 
 the commandry of Temple Bruere in 
 Lincolnshire, to which he had been 
 attached before his voyage to Palestine. 
 Here he remained in undisturbed seclu- 
 sion, until the abolition of the order of 
 Knights Templars. The Templars, from 
 that poverty which had compelled their 
 founders, Hugh de Paganis and Godfrey 
 de Saint Audomar, to use the same steed, 
 (in commemoration whereof, and to be 
 mindful of humility, they had the figure 
 of two men on one horse engraved on 
 their seal,) had risen by their valour and 
 abilities, and by the generosity of the 
 Christian princes and nobility, who had 
 enriched their order with gifts of lands 
 throughout all Christendom, to a state 
 of uncommon wealth and power. They 
 Jhad more than once, single handed, made 
 war upon the Saracens with success ;
 
 MALPAS. 15 
 
 and, at length, became as much dreaded 
 and envied by the sovereigns of their 
 own faith as by the Sultans of the un- 
 believers. The great wealth which, (in 
 despite of their vow of poverty) they 
 had acquired, added to the passions of 
 fear and jealousy in the minds of the 
 European sovereigns that of avarice ; 
 and, by a general combination, the 
 Templars were seized and cast into prison, 
 in almost every state of Europe. In 
 France, scores of those gallant and ac- 
 complished knights were bound and 
 burnt together like felons and traitors ; 
 nor could the high dignity of their Grand 
 Master, John de Molay, nor his relation- 
 ship to the best blood of France, pur- 
 chase an exemption from that degrading 
 fate. Those in England were, after some 
 delay, proceeded against in a general 
 council held at London, where a string 
 of highly-charged and improbable articles 
 was exhibited against them. 
 
 They were accused of heresy, idolatry, 
 and most execrable blasphemy; of having 
 deserted the King of Tarsus in a war 
 with the Saracens, whereby he was killed,
 
 16 MALPAS. 
 
 his army defeated, and his only son made 
 prisoner ; but none of these articles were 
 proved. An author, master of the sub- 
 ject, says, " Quamvis in multis essent 
 accusati, nichil tamen inventum est quod 
 de jure videretur statu m illorum an- 
 nullare." — However, their extinction 
 was predetermined ; and Pope Clement V. 
 the creature of Philip le Bel, King of 
 France, their insatiable enemy, abolished 
 their order in a general council at Vienna, 
 A. D. 1311, (4 Edw. II.) Their lands 
 were afterwards given to the hospitallers 
 or knights of St. John in England, by 
 the stat. De terris Tempi. 17 Edw. II. 
 stat. 3. But, if the allegations against 
 the Templars could have been proved by 
 their powerful antagonists ; if they were, 
 indeed, licentious and luxurious ; and if 
 several of their fraternity at Jerusalem 
 had fallen away from Christianity, and 
 assumed the Mahometan faith \ these 
 crimes, established beyond doubt, would 
 not have been sufficient in foro consci- 
 entice to cause the ruin and destruction 
 of the whole order, much less to have 
 authorised their corporal extirpation, as
 
 M ALP AS, 17 
 
 in France and Germany. Equity, how- 
 ever, was no part of the policy of that 
 age j and as the Templars, though rich 
 and powerful, were unable to withstand 
 the combined injustice of all the sove- 
 reigns of Europe, they sank beneath 
 their oppressive edicts, without striking a 
 blow in their own defence. It appears, 
 that on their abolition they were held in 
 much favour by the English clergy, both 
 secular and regular ; for the same author 
 as we have above quoted, speaking of 
 William de Grenefeld, Archbishop of 
 York, who was contemporary with the 
 order, says, " Archiepiscopus Willielmus 
 pietate motus super statu Templariorum 
 suae diocesis omni auxilio destitutorum^ 
 eos in diversa suae diocesis instituit mo- 
 nasteria, eisque ; suo perpetuo vitae ne- 
 cessaria ministrare praecepit." 
 
 Sir Walter Marcel entered the monas- 
 tery of Malpas, where he renewed his 
 vows, and exchanged the armour and 
 horse of the church militant for black 
 vestments, a shorn head, and the canon 
 religiosorum. He was a man that had 
 profited much by experience ; and his
 
 18 MALPAS. 
 
 knowledge of the world, and the fame of 
 his exploits in defence of Christianity, 
 gave him a great weight and authority 
 with his brethren. On the demise of 
 Abbot Sylvester, who was at the head of 
 the monastery when he joined the con- 
 frairie, he was unanimously elected in 
 his place, and took the name of Ingul- 
 phus. In this dignity he had presided 
 over the concerns of the abbey for some 
 years, much to the satisfaction of his 
 confreres, and greatly to the advantage 
 of their temporal domination. The 
 celebrated Roger Mortimer, Baron of 
 Wigmore, had large demesnes on the 
 Welsh border, and a castle, at which he 
 frequently resided, some half dozen miles 
 on the other side of the Dee, and within 
 the principality. The contiguity of his 
 estates to the abbey of Malpas, and the 
 frequent conjunction of his vassals with 
 those of the Baron du Chatelet in their 
 predatory excursions, begat a mutual 
 understanding between the spiritual and 
 temporal peers ; and, as Mortimer was 
 then one of the greatest Barons of the 
 kingdom, the abbot thought he could
 
 MALPAS. 19 
 
 do no better for his son, (the young 
 Aubrey Marcel,) than place him as a page 
 in his service. With him he would learn 
 all knightly accomplishments, and be- 
 come fitted for any station to which the 
 interest of his father or of his lord 
 might be enabled to advance him. 
 
 Aubrey had for some years attended 
 Mortimer, and, for his gallantry in many 
 expeditions, undertaken by the Baron of 
 Wigmore against the Welsh, had received 
 the honour of knighthood under his 
 master's banner, when that rebellion 
 broke out in which the Earl of Lancaster 
 lost his life. Mortimer, who was one of 
 the leaders, was made prisoner and com- 
 mitted to the Tower of London, whence 
 he escaped by administering to his 
 keepers a soporific potion, and with Sir 
 Aubrey Marcel, who, during his lord's 
 confinement, had enjoyed undisturbed 
 the pleasures of the court, either because 
 he was too young, or of too little conse- 
 quence to excite suspicion, escaped to 
 France, and set at defiance the anger 
 and threats of his sovereign. On the 
 arrival of the queen at Paris, the baron,
 
 20 MALPAS. 
 
 who had both an elegant person and 
 captivating manners, insinuated himself 
 into her confidence, and, eventually, into 
 her heart; and, it is conjectured, that 
 he first suggested that politic scheme by 
 which the young prince Edward was 
 inveigled into France under the mask of 
 his doing homage for Guienne. In his 
 desire of gaining over all persons of rank 
 to the queen's party, Mortimer had com- 
 municated by letter with the Abbot In- 
 gulphus, whom he found by no means 
 backward to revenge upon the king the 
 injuries which he, as a Templar, had suf- 
 fered by the abrogation of the order in 
 England. In short, he entered with his 
 whole soul into the conspiracy, and be- 
 came, instead of an accessory, a principal 
 in the intended revolution. The Baron 
 of Wigmore, pleased with his zeal, vowed 
 to advance the fortunes of his son, and 
 undertook to obtain for him a barony by 
 grant from the crown, when the new 
 order of things should be established ; 
 and, as an earnest of his intentions, pre- 
 ferred him to the service of the prince, 
 with whom he soon became a favourite*
 
 MALPAS* 21 
 
 Oil the other hand, Ingulphus promised 
 to use all his power, spiritual and tem- 
 poral, to win over converts to their fac- 
 tion ; and engaged himself to begin with 
 the Marcher du Chatelet, whose courage 
 and martial experience, as well as his 
 force of soldiery, might be of consider- 
 able assistance to their projects. The 
 abbot had already broken the ice to du 
 Chatelet, but had not found in him the 
 acquiescence he expected. He was 
 cautious and prudent in his commence- 
 ment of an undertaking, though resolute 
 and persevering when he had once en- 
 gaged in it. Ambition was his ruling 
 passion ; and, to say truth, he was calcu- 
 lating the advantages that might accrue 
 to him, either by stedfast loyalty or dis- 
 affection to the king ; and would in no 
 wise commit himself before he was as- 
 sured that fortune clung to the party 
 which he was about to adopt. He had, 
 therefore, made circumstantial enquiries 
 from the abbot of the strength, numbers, 
 and rank of the malcontents ; so that he 
 might judge of the probability of suc- 
 cess j and, after all, he was unwilling,
 
 22 MALPAS. 
 
 openly to declare for the queen, until he 
 should be assured that she had landed 
 in England with a power sufficient to 
 put down all opposition. We have de- 
 tailed these facts somewhat particularly, 
 gentle reader, in order to give thine 
 imagination a clear discernment of the 
 state and condition of our personages 
 when this work commences, and also to 
 preserve that order in our story which 
 is requisite to its being freely and faith- 
 fully understood.
 
 SJ3 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Hither the solitary minstrel came, 
 An honour'd guest, while the grim evening sky 
 Hung lowering, and around the social flame 
 Tun'd his bold harp to tales of chivalry. 
 
 Warton. 
 
 One morning in the beginning of the 
 month of September, A. D. 1326, the 
 warder of Malpas, stationed in his lodge 
 over the portal, descried two men on 
 horseback, riding gently towards the 
 barriers. One of them seemed a man 
 of quality by his equipments and bearing, 
 and the other was evidently his servant 
 by his livery and badge. When they 
 came within the barriers, which were 
 usually open, the foremost horseman 
 cried, " Ho, warder, undo the gate, and 
 give us entrance." 
 
 " By my faith," replied he, through 
 the casement of the turret, " ye must 
 tarry, the constable is at the castle, and
 
 24 MALPAS. 
 
 he must have knowledge of your pilgrim- 
 age before ye can enter." 
 
 " Then call him, sir knave !" cried 
 the gentleman, " or send one of thy 
 varlets ; we have business with the Ab- 
 bot lngulphus." 
 
 " Come ye to the Fridstoll ?" said the 
 warder. 
 
 " If it be thy calling to ask questions," 
 answered the stranger, " thou had'st 
 better doff thy horn and girdle, and have 
 thy head shorn at once." 
 
 " Gramercy ! Sir Knight," cried the 
 man, " I meant ye no ill by the question ; 
 but 'tis said Sir Roger Taillebois hath 
 slain a verderor of Threap Forest, and 
 we guess he will speed to the Hidel." 
 
 " Good varlet !" answered the gentle- 
 man, " do thine office, and quit thy 
 gossip. — Either admit us without fur- 
 ther parley, or call your constable" 
 
 " That will I do readily !" said the 
 warder, and applying his mouth to his 
 bugle, he blew a long blast. " The red 
 squire will attend ye anon, Sir Knight." 
 
 The gentleman dismounted, and gave 
 his horse to his retainer. He was clothed
 
 MALPAS. 25 
 
 in a garment, then called a poke or side 
 gown, of party-coloured cloth, with 
 sleeves of an extravagant length and 
 width, which, hanging down from his 
 arms, formed a pair of wings to his body: 
 underneath might be discerned his coin- 
 tese, or silken tunic, girt around him 
 with a belt of broidered velvet, buckled 
 with a golden clasp, and sustaining a 
 long dagger, (the only weapon on his 
 person); his legs were shielded by a pair 
 of stout huseaus, or woollen boots, to 
 which were also attached the gilt spurs 
 declaring his knighthood ; and his hood 
 of black silk, furred with lambskin, bore 
 two labels denoting his degree in the 
 civil law. His age might be about sixty, 
 and the paleness and delicacy of his 
 features betokened ill health ; but his 
 eye emitted a keen expression, which 
 showed that if the body was feeble, the 
 spirit was vigorous and active. His 
 servant wore a habergeon of mail, over 
 which was a tabard or livery, embroi- 
 dered with the arms of his Lord. His 
 head, arms, and legs were unarmed ; and 
 his only offensive weapons were an anlace, 
 vol. i. c
 
 £6 MALPAS. 
 
 or short knife, in his girdle, and a loitg 
 handled and long-headed weapon, called 
 a guisarme, which hung from his wrist* 
 Their horses were stout hacknies, and 
 were handsomely furnished* 
 
 The knight had not long to wait before 
 the gate was unbarred, and the constable 
 made his appearance. His garments 
 were of a deep blood colour, bearing 
 before and behind the green cross of 
 St. George, the distinguishing mark 
 of mercenary companions. He was in 
 the prime of manhood, and his hard and 
 acute phisiognomy bespake a life of trial: 
 and adventure. His mien was erect, His 
 air free and careless, and he addressed 
 the stranger with a kind of familiar 
 courtesy. 
 
 " By St. George and our lady of Mai- 
 pas, Sir Knight ! that rascal of a warder 
 has done ye wrong by holding ye to our 
 custom. — The silly knave imagined, be- 
 like, ye were come to storm our castle." 
 — "Master Constable! Master Consta- 
 ble!" answered the knight smiling, ".if 
 your warder is a droll, I see the castellan 
 is no monk of strict discipline By my
 
 MALPAS. Tl 
 
 head, I believe it would take a thousand 
 men at arms, and a host of cross bows, 
 beside a leader of bolder mettle than I 
 am made of, to capture your fortility." 
 
 The constable laughed, and cried 
 " Sir knight ! I have seen few chevaliers 
 of a more gallant personage, — you 
 wrong your knighthood by your want of 
 assurance, — 1 have seen some chivalry 
 in my time, and by the cross on my breast, 
 I hold ye a model." 
 
 " If I were to return your compliment, 
 Master Constable !" cried the stranger 
 seriously, " I fear I should rouse your 
 anger." 
 
 " By my faith, no," said the red squire, 
 6 ' for I am inclined to believe as well of 
 myself, as any wight can think of me." 
 
 "You are a Gascon?" said the stranger. 
 
 " Yes, sir knight," answered he, 
 " and as good a lance as ever ran tilt 
 among the French chivalry." 
 
 " I do not doubt ye," said the knight. 
 
 " Whosoever does," cried the con- 
 stable, " shall have my glove. — Here 
 am I, Jannequin Fierabras, commonly 
 called LeRougeEscuyer, and constable of 
 c 2
 
 -28 MALPAS. 
 
 Malpas, ready to prove, either on horse- 
 back or afoot, with lance, sword, battle- 
 axe, or other weapon, my skill in arms, 
 body for body, against all comers. " 
 
 " Yon speak boldly, Master Constable/' 
 said the stranger, " and yet I know one 
 young knight that would unhorse ye in 
 the first 000186," 
 
 " Bring your champion hither, 5 ' cried 
 Jannequin, " and I'll bear him through 
 the barriers on the point of my lance." 
 
 " You do well, in truth, to bandy words 
 with an old man ;■" answered the knight ; 
 " but although my champion hath not 
 nineteen summers, he would, in a trice, 
 bring your vaunting to the sand which 
 strews these barriers." 
 
 " I hold him cheap," cried the consta- 
 ble, " your chivalry of England have 
 neither grace nor skill." 
 
 " Ha ! by St. George thou presumest, 
 Gascon," replied the knight fiercely ; 
 " the chivalry of England have more 
 true courage than that of France, or any 
 other nation." 
 
 " By St. Denis, I cry no," said Janne- 
 quin j " the best knight of England is a
 
 MALPAS. 29 
 
 bungler, matched with the lowest squire 
 of France : — but thou seekest the 
 abbot, he hath done me many a free 
 turn, and I hold his friends reverently." 
 
 " I am his brother," said the stran- 
 ger. 
 
 " I cry ye mercy, sir knight !" said 
 the constable ; " the abbot Ingulphus 
 hath bestowed on me many a golden 
 franc, and hath never asked me for 
 church-scot, or pardoner's fee, though 
 many's the wild deed I have done in 
 this country." 
 
 The knight smiled, but shook his head, 
 and passed onward ; the constable fol- 
 lowed, and endeavoured to appease him, 
 by showing him the way to the abbey. 
 When they had arrived at the porch, the 
 stranger said, " Master Constable, you 
 may now return to the castle, and greet 
 your lord in the name of Sir Paschal 
 Marcel ; tell him I am here with my 
 brother, the abbot, and that we will see 
 him forthwith." 
 
 " I will cheerfully obey you, sir 
 knight," replied Jannequin. " Here's 
 for thy service," said Sir Paschal, drawing 
 c 3
 
 SO MALPAS. 
 
 his bourse (or, as we now call it, purse,) 
 and giving him a gold besantine j " men 
 at arms love good living, and this will get 
 thee a few stoups of Gascony wine." 
 
 " Gramercy for your favour, sir 
 knight," said the red squire, and retired 
 towards the castle. 
 
 Sir Paschal rang the bell of the monas- 
 tery, and the ostiary instantly made his 
 appearance. On explaining his relation- 
 ship to the abbot, he was conducted by 
 one of the acholytes to the locutorium 
 or parlour, where he was speedily joined 
 by his brother. They embraced each 
 other with great affection ; for although 
 they had been in the habit of constant 
 correspondence, they had not personally 
 met for several years. After they had 
 made all necessary enquiries upon family 
 subjects, the abbot gave orders for the 
 stickler (that is to say, wood-cutter) of 
 the abbey, to make a large fire on the 
 iron dogs which stood in the hostillaria, 
 (the apartment allotted in monasteries 
 for the reception of guests,) and that the 
 hostiller- should prepare the room for Sir 
 Paschal's occupation, All the officers of
 
 >IALPAS. 31 
 
 the abbey were pat in request: the 
 master of the ambry, the cellarer, the 
 refectioner, the cura monasterii, the 
 ^hamberer, and others were set upon 
 different tasks, and in a short time the 
 knight was as comfortably situated as if 
 he had been at his own mansion in 
 Southwark. The brothers conferred 
 until their pietanciae or pittances were 
 served up : they then adjourned from 
 the locutorium to the hostillaria, which 
 was furnished for dinner. 
 
 The guest-room in the abbey of Mai- 
 pas was large and airy, with two win- 
 dows in the Saxon style of architecture, 
 opening into the garden of the cloisters. 
 At the upper end of the room, a few 
 yards from the fire-dogs, was the dagus 
 or dais, the upper table, at which the 
 abbot, guests of rank, and the superior 
 monks took their dinner, apart from the 
 other members of the convent. The 
 dais had its name from a cloth so called, 
 with which the tables of kings were 
 usually covered. The entire floor of the 
 room was strewn with fresh rushes, and 
 from the ceiling depended a brazen 
 c 4
 
 32 MALPAS. 
 
 candelabrum, branched into many 
 sconces, and then termed arbor Jesse, or 
 stirps Jesse, from its similitude to the 
 branch or genealogical tree of Jesse. 
 It had been introduced into England 
 by Hugh de Flory, abbot of St. Austin's 
 in Canterbury, about the year 1 100, and 
 was at first only used in churches and 
 choirs, for the purpose of spreading the 
 light to all parts, but had been since 
 adopted by the monks for increasing 
 the ornament and comfort of their own 
 habitations. It may, perhaps, be neces- 
 sary to inform our general readers of the 
 nature and properties of the pittances, 
 so called in monkish epicurism. Pietan- 
 ciae, then, were the over-commons on 
 particular days among the religious, as 
 distinguished from thegenerale, — single 
 commons, or ordinary provision ; and 
 the arrival of the abbot's brother at the 
 monastery was considered an epocha 
 sufficiently momentous to take their 
 meals out of the accustomed rule. These 
 over-commons were also called miseri- 
 cordiae, and have incurred the just in- 
 dignation of the historian, Matthew Paris.
 
 MALPAS. 33 
 
 In addition to the misericordias, the good 
 monks were this day allowed their caritas 
 or grace cup, which usually accompanied 
 the sufferance of over-commons, and 
 which they drew from the wastel or 
 wassail bowl, which occupied the upper 
 end of the table, and whence the abbot 
 began the wass-heal or poculum chari- 
 tatis to his brother. They also partook 
 of the wastel-bread, consisting of fine 
 white cakes sopped in the bowl, a favour 
 seldom granted to the confrairie, except 
 on days of peculiar solemnity. The abbot 
 still retained much of the Knight Temp- 
 lar ; and, as a soldier, was unwilling to 
 enjoy himself whilst his brethren were 
 stinted to their ordinary diet. The 
 monks were disciplinarians in the church; 
 but in the hostillaria, and at table, 
 they were jolly fellows : many of them 
 were men of good abilities, who, crossed 
 by misfortune, or disappointed in views 
 of ambition, had sought a refuge from 
 further mishap within the walls of the 
 cloister. It is scarcely to be supposed 
 that the latter had divested themselves 
 of their ambitious dreams, while the rich 
 c 5
 
 £>* MALPAS. 
 
 office, the power, the mitre, ring, and 
 crosier of their titled abbots floated be- 
 fore them ; but the present abbot, In- 
 gulphus, was so much in favour with his 
 brethren, that each, (saving his own 
 interest,) would have prayed heartily for 
 his superior's long existence. After some 
 general conversation, the knight asked 
 his brother if they had any prisoner in 
 sanctuary. 
 
 " By my faith, no !" answered Ingul- 
 phus ; " but it is rumoured we shall have 
 Roger Taillebois, who hath slain a forest 
 verderor." 
 
 " How happened the affray?" cried 
 the knight. 
 
 " That I know not;" returned the 
 abbot ; " but brother Daniel, our prolo- 
 cutor, who hath examined our granger, 
 will inform you ; the granger is germain 
 to the slain verderor — brother ! relate." 
 
 " Cheerfully," replied Daniel : " the 
 granger hath vowed by the virgin he 
 will have revenge for his kinsman's 
 blood." 
 
 " That is unchristian," said a devout 
 brother.
 
 MALPAS, 35 
 
 '« Not a whit !" cried the abbot, as 
 the intrepid spirit of the Templar shot 
 into his veins, " not a whit ! I should 
 count him no man of mettle, were he to 
 sit down with the wrong." 
 
 " Ay, holy father," replied the bro- 
 ther, " but remember, Dieu son act : it 
 is the will of God ; — et eripere telum, 
 non dare irato decet." 
 
 " Proceed, Daniel," said the abbot, 
 not wishing to be further schooled; 
 " proceed with thy narration." 
 
 " Thus it is," said Daniel ; " Evan 
 Fitzwarren, a retainer of Sir Roger 
 Taillebois, was taken by the foresters of 
 Threap in stable stand, with his long 
 bow bent against the earl's * deer, his 
 hands bloody, and his dogs drawing 
 after the slot" " What, in the civil law," 
 interrupted Sir Paschal, " we call furtum 
 manifestum ; that is, ubi latro de.pre- 
 hensus est, seisitus de aliquo latrocinio, 
 — an unequivocal and unconcealable 
 jobbery." 
 
 * The earl of Chester had regal privileges 
 in his palatinate. Leicester's Antiq. folio 164, 
 Cowel, edit. 1727. 
 
 c 6
 
 36 MALPAS. 
 
 The monk bowed his assent to the 
 civil lawyer, and proceeded : " Evan was 
 taken before the regarder, and by him 
 presented ; for many a fat buck has 
 that yeoman's bow brought to the green- 
 sward. — The verderor received his at- 
 tachment, and punished the malefactor 
 with the loss of his ears and nose, be- 
 sides setting on him a fine of twenty 
 marks. 
 
 " Saint Thomas a Becket I" cried the 
 abbot; "that was deadly judgment for 
 slaying a few deer." 
 
 " Ay, by our lady was it," added Sir 
 Paschal j " but remember, brother Ingul- 
 phus, quod multis placet, magno peri- 
 culo custoditur — were the laws not 
 penal and strict in this particular, the 
 king and earl shortly would not have a 
 deer in their forests — But proceed sir 
 monk, I would not interrupt ye." 
 
 " The yeoman," continued brother 
 Daniel, " returned to his lord, bearing 
 upon his visage the bloody marks of his 
 punishment -, and Sir Roger, on behold- 
 ing his condition, wished the deer's horns 
 in the belly of the king, for enacting the 
 accursed forest laws, as he termed them,
 
 MALPAS. 37 
 
 and swore he would have an ample 
 revenge." 
 
 « Did he so, by St. Cyprian ?" cried 
 the abbot. 
 
 " By St. Cyprian he did," answered 
 Daniel ; " and it was not long before he 
 redeemed his oath." 
 
 " As how, good brother?" said Ingul- 
 phus. 
 
 " You shall hear," replied the monk. 
 " On the following morning he mounted 
 his horse, and, with a company of men at 
 arms, rode to Bangor on the Dee, within 
 the purlieu of the forest, where the 
 verderor sat still holding his assize." 
 
 " Well !" cried the abbot " what said 
 the verderor, Hubert de Hautbois ? He 
 is a stout man of his hands, and hath a 
 few foresters and yeomen at his back." 
 
 " Sir Roger, "said Daniel, "surrounded 
 the court-house, and entered the hall, 
 with his men at arms, before Hubert 
 might prepare himself. He reproached 
 the verderor with the punishment of his 
 vassal, and Hautbois excused himself 
 virtute officii. — Hot words soon rose 
 between them, and, in the end, the
 
 38 MALPAS. 
 
 verderor fell under the Lord Roger's dag- 
 ger. He then withdrew, and rode leisurely 
 home again." 
 
 " He will be out of the law by this 
 act," said the abbot; " or, as the country 
 people say, a friendless man." 
 
 " Ay, by my head," cried Sir Paschal, 
 and as that writer on English law, 
 Bracton, saith, si quis talem scienter 
 paverit, receptaverit, vel scienter com- 
 municaverit aliquo modo, vel occulta- 
 verit ; he shall be punished at the King's 
 pleasure ; so, within your county, he 
 must abide the earl's doom. 
 
 " By my faith, brother Paschal," an- 
 swered the abbot, " Taillebois cares 
 little for either earl or law. — He hath 
 an embattled house, and 100 men at 
 arms to guard it ; so that he holds not 
 the earl's power at a rush's worth." 
 
 " Hath he not a daughter?" said the 
 knight 
 
 " Yes, a right fair one," returned 
 Ingulphus; " Blanche Taillebois hath not 
 her peer in Christendom. — She will be 
 a good match, for her father has many a 
 fair manor, beside his barony of Hard- 
 ing." **
 
 MALPAS. 39 
 
 " Hath she a suitor ?" enquired the 
 knight. 
 
 " It is said du Chatelet hath lately 
 tendered himself to Sir Roger," replied 
 the abbot, " and that he hath been 
 accepted. — The lands of Harding and 
 Malpas lie close together, and would 
 make a wide barony if united. — But, 
 brethren, we have sat too long. — God 
 pardon us the sin." — The monks arose 
 from table, and each friar bowing to his 
 superior and his brother, with hands 
 folded on his breast, withdrew to his 
 cell. 
 
 The abbot then rang that small bell 
 called schilla, which instantly summoned 
 the chamberer to his presence. With 
 his assistance, Ingulphus assumed his 
 exterior garment, and the caparo, or 
 hood, commonly worn by churchmen 
 of rank beyond the walls of their 
 cloisters. 
 
 His brother also put on his poke, and, 
 leaving the abbey, they walked towards 
 the castle of du Ghatelet. 
 
 The draw-bridge being down, they 
 entered without difficulty, and, passing
 
 40 MALPAS. 
 
 the court yard, began to ascend a flight 
 of steps leading to the great hall. A 
 loud uproar, intermingled with laughter, 
 singing, minstrelsy, and the rattling of 
 arms, assured the brothers that the 
 inmates were enjoying their evening 
 carousal. When they arrived upon the 
 lintel or threshold of the hall, the scene 
 came fairly before their eyes. About 
 300 persons, some armed, others partly 
 so, but the greater number unarmed, 
 sat or reclined upon long benches 
 surrounding several oaken tables, upon 
 which were fixed many large flaggons of 
 wine and ale, with horn drinking cups. 
 At the upper end, in an immense 
 chimney nook, were the fire-dogs, upon 
 which an enormous fire of wood sent 
 forth an astonishing heat, and a light 
 which took away all necessity for torch 
 or candle. Le rouge escuyer sat at 
 the head of the first table, accompanied 
 by the men at arms ; whilst the domes- 
 tics, archers, and varlets, occupied the 
 others : the minstrel attached to the 
 household, sat in his blue robe and gilt 
 chain, to the right of the Gascon, and
 
 MALPAS. 41 
 
 was now tuning his harp to a merry 
 roundelay, well known among the red 
 crosses. Armour and arms of all kinds 
 were hung up against the walls. Hau- 
 berks, haubergeons, corselets, gambe- 
 zons, gardebraches, pectorels, jambeaux, 
 cuissarts, greves, chapelles de fer, salets, 
 bassenets, shields, targets, together with 
 guisarmes, haiberts, bills, pikes, and 
 lances, swords, battle-axes, maces, and, 
 indeed, all the armoury of active and de- 
 fensive warfare. Over the fire place was 
 the Baron du Chatelet's banner, (three 
 castles on a field azure,) and beneath it 
 the polished tabards of his marshal and 
 body squires, emblazoned with the same 
 arms. Large stag-hounds lay before the 
 lire, undisturbed by the noise and revelry ; 
 whilst several spar-hawks, and a beau- 
 tiful pilgrim falcon, which had chosen 
 their mews on the rafters of the hall, were 
 equally docile or indifferent. The abbot 
 laid his hand upon his brother's arm to 
 restrain him from entering : the lay of the 
 minstrel had caught his ear, and he hung 
 with earnestness upon the voice and harp, 
 as they concluded the last stanza of the 
 roundelay. He had heard it in Palestine,
 
 ~i2 MA LP AS. 
 
 and on the shores of the Bosphorns, and 
 the remembrance clang to him like the 
 image of a friend long dead, but never 
 forgotten. The rush of ancient reminis- 
 cences brought the blood into his face, 
 and his eye glistened with a tear-drop as 
 they entered the hall. 
 
 The clamour instantly ceased, and 
 Jannequin stood up and welcomed them 
 to the castle. The minstrel rose from 
 his seat, and struck a chord and a verse, 
 improviso, in the praise of the lord 
 abbot and the knight his brother. Each 
 of them rewarded him handsomely. In- 
 gulphus, acting upon his late feelings, 
 drew a gold ring set with a rich stone 
 from his finger, and put it into the hand 
 of the bard, whilst Sir Paschal presented 
 him with five golden francs. 
 
 " God reward your princely munifi- 
 cence," cried the minstrel; " 1 shall de- 
 clare your bounty whilst I can strike 
 harp in hall." 
 
 One of the household then conducted 
 the abbot and his brother to the oriel 
 chamber of the baron, but we shall detain 
 our readers a short time in the hall, in
 
 MALPAS. 43 
 
 order to witness the carousal of the olden 
 time. No sooner had Ingulphus and 
 Sir Paschal withdrawn, than Jannequin 
 cried out, " Ho ! Sir Minstrel ; here's 
 to thy mistress ; may she be as chaste as 
 St. Ursula, and as fair as the princess 
 Eglantine." 
 
 " She is both, Sir Constable," replied 
 the harper, who was a young man of an 
 elegant appearance ; " woman chaster 
 never lived, and woman fairer," he con- 
 tinued in an ecstasy, " never can live." 
 
 " Think ye she is worthy," cried le 
 rouge escuyer, " that Jannequin Fiera- 
 bras should splinter a lance for her 
 beauty ?" 
 
 The men at arms roared with laughter 
 at this gasconade, and one of them 
 named Guisbert Hay replied, " By my 
 faith, Jannequin, if she is not, I hold 
 her but blowsy faced, as they say in 
 Kent." 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Roche a Beam," cried 
 the constable, " I hold myself fit to do 
 battle for a queen." 
 
 " Are you then of gentle blood?" 
 said the minstrel,
 
 44 MALPAS. 
 
 " Ay, by St. Dennis," replied Fiera- 
 bras, " though I never yet bore pennon 
 in field." 
 
 " And what are your arms ?" said the 
 harper. 
 
 " My arms, Sir Minstrel ! my arms 
 are, egad they are from my name Fiera- 
 bras, a dexter hand, armed, bearing a 
 sword gules, on a field or. 
 
 " And your cry of war ?" 
 
 " Ha! Monseigneur St. Dennis !" 
 shouted the Gascon, " it is, — it is — it 
 
 is—" 
 
 " The devil for Fierabras," cried 
 Guisebert, and the hall re-echoed at the 
 expense of the red squire. 
 
 " Guisebert," cried he, " I shall hold 
 thee accountable for this insolence when 
 time serves." 
 
 This threat increased the mirth of 
 Guisebert and his companions, who no 
 longer attempted to put any restraint on 
 their laughter, so that the Gascon was 
 obliged to give way to the torrent. At 
 length the minstrel put a stop to the 
 uproar by striking a few chords, and 
 the men at arms were instantly silent in 
 expectation of what was to follow. The
 
 M ALP AS. 45 
 
 harper ran over the roundelay he was 
 about to sing, and the silver tones of his 
 harp soothed the jarring spirits of the 
 soldiers into peace and unanimity. The 
 constable filled a goblet with wine and 
 handed it to the minstrel, saying, " Here, 
 Sir Minstrel, a cup of Gascony wine will 
 make your voice as soft as a Lombard's." 
 The minstrel drained the cup and 
 returned it to the squire. He then sang 
 the following song, w r ith a voice highly 
 melodious, and, for that age of simplicity 
 in the art of singing, with a judgment 
 tolerably cultivated. 
 
 Sweet bugle ! blow thy melody, 
 And banners glance in rivalry, 
 From English strand to Holy Land, 
 Goes forth our gallant chivalry, 
 
 Gay gallies deck'd with broidery, 
 Fair 'scutcheons, gold, and blazonry, 
 Do softly ride upon the tide, 
 Awaiting England's hauthonry. 
 
 And there is heard sweet minstrelsy, 
 From mandolin and psaltery, 
 Viol and harp sound sweet and sharp, 
 And waken notes of ecstasy.
 
 46 MALPAS- 
 
 Forsake their ease and revelry, 
 Bold baron, knight, and escuyer, 
 Each dons his harness, cries to arms. 
 And mounts his foaming destrier. 
 
 Yell, forest beasts ! scream, birds of prey'. 
 Yell out for very gratitude ; 
 The murth'rous hound will now be bound, 
 The falcon eke will wear his hood. 
 
 Wail, lovely ladies, weep and wail 
 Cry out for very solitude ! 
 England hath lost a gallant host, 
 By brave and noble hardihood. 
 
 And now against the Saracen, 
 Advances the bold company, 
 With rested lance they onward prance, 
 To charge the false Moslemerie. 
 
 Like thunder bursts the dread melee,- 
 Peals forth the shouted enseignyie *, 
 Lance, helm, and shield, bestrew the field. 
 And hundreds of our chivalry. 
 
 But where each Christian's corse is hid. 
 Around, a heap of paganry, 
 A bloody band struck by his hand, 
 Do form his gory sepulchre. 
 
 - * Slughorn or cri de guerre.
 
 MALPAS* 47 
 
 And now the shout of victory, 
 Peals onward through Heaven's canopy ; 
 The mad'ning strain, peals on amain, 
 Saint George ! upon the foemanrie ! 
 
 Fly, Moslem, fly, the field is won, 
 
 Death leads the croissed chivalry, 
 
 Your black Mahound hath kiss'd the ground, 
 
 His star has set in drouperie. 
 
 Blow, bugle, blow thy melody, 
 And banners glance in rivalry, 
 From Holy Land to England's strand. 
 Returns our conqu'ring chivalry. 
 
 The minstrel concluded amid the 
 plaudits of his companions. Guisebert 
 exclaimed, " By the rood of Hastings, 
 better minstrelsy than thine, Sir Harper, 
 heard I never since I bore arms ; it is 
 powerful enough to make a man take 
 the cross, would he or no." 
 
 " And if any man would flee in the 
 hour of battle," cried another man at 
 arms, " having heard thine harping, he 
 deserves to have his hauberk drawn over 
 his ears." 
 
 " Ye should hear Colibert of Langue- 
 doc," said the Gascon ; " he is a trou-
 
 48 MALPAS. 
 
 badour, and knoweth to fight as well as 
 to sing ; he is not to be matched either 
 with harp or lance. ,, 
 
 " A pize on Colibert of Languedoc," 
 replied Guisebert ; " I will wager my 
 courser against a foundered rouncey * 
 that I find his master at both, without 
 stirring from this hall." 
 
 The red squire answered with a scorn- 
 ful sneer. 
 
 " By our lady, Jannequin !" cried 
 Guisebert, "this is the way with you 
 French — there is nothing great, noble, 
 or valorous, save in France — that is the 
 only country, with you, for princely 
 nobility, gallant knights, and handsome 
 ladies." 
 
 " And if I had sworn it," said Janne- 
 quin, " I had still been a true man." 
 
 " Say ye then there is no knight of 
 England," cried Guisebert, " who can 
 match the chivalry of France ?" 
 
 " Not one, by St. Denis," returned 
 the constable. 
 
 " By St. Edward, Constable ! thou art 
 
 * A sorry horse.
 
 MALPAS. 49 
 
 mistaken ;" cried Hay, " for there is 
 many a knight of English blood, and out- 
 master, Bertrand du Chatelet, among 
 the rest, that would never need to run 
 two courses against the best men ye 
 have ; and sooner than they should fail, 
 I would gage my own glove against the 
 pride of your chivalry." 
 
 " If you throw down your glove 
 against France, here," cried Jannequin, 
 reddening with anger, " you shall not 
 take it up again for lack of answer — I 
 live in your England now, but I am a 
 Gascon still." 
 
 " Ay, that are you !" replied Guise- 
 bert, " no man here doubts it — and I 
 trow it is Gascon honour to place other 
 knights before your liege lord." 
 
 " Do'st thou doubt mine honour, 
 Guisebert Hay ?" cried the constable 
 fiercely. 
 
 " I pray ye peace, worthy sirs !" said 
 the minstrel, " I did my best for your 
 entertainment ; and had no thought of 
 stirring up a broil by any mention of my 
 desert. I would give my chain and pal- 
 
 VOL. I. d
 
 50 MALPAS. 
 
 frey, so that ye would leave this quar- 
 rel." 
 
 " Thou shalt not need, Sir Minstrel," 
 said Guisebert, " for our strife is over ; 
 but prithee, constable ! what made thee 
 quit France, since thou likest it so well." 
 
 '« Because all men were not of my 
 mind," answered Jannequin, " I was for 
 living in common, whilst those who had 
 fair lands, and plenty of gear, would not 
 lend a franc's worth to my necessities. — 
 Want produces invention, and I had soon 
 a strong hold, with live and twenty men 
 at arms under the free banner of St. 
 George ; — we pillaged the country for 
 a year and a half, just as we do here, in 
 a larger way, on the Border." 
 
 " That was a fine life," cried Guise- 
 bert. 
 
 " True, if it had lasted," answered 
 Fierabras ; " but the king one day got 
 to hear of our pranks, and sent the con- 
 stable with five hundred men at arms, 
 and two thousand cross-bows, to besiege 
 our fortress. — You may swear we did 
 not stay to receive them \ but dividing 
 our spoil, each of us provided for him-
 
 MALPAS. 51 
 
 self; — I came to England, and my 
 companions went to the devil for what I 
 know. — However, the falcon knows his 
 eyrie, and I shall wing home again when 
 my time comes.' ' 
 
 " What ! now thou hast got enough of 
 English gold to buy thee a French 
 barony," said Guisebert, " thou would'st 
 quit our service, and set up thy dexter 
 hand with the cross sword on a banner 
 of thine own. — Thou wilt make a 
 worthy addition to the French chivalry.' ' 
 
 The Gascon turned pale with rage at 
 this sarcasm. " Guisebert ! my man," 
 cried he, " beware ! I wear not my 
 basillard for fashion. — Thou may'st 
 play a point too strong, and I warn thee 
 in time." 
 
 " Good Sirs !" said the minstrel, 
 " disturb not our harmony with this 
 jarring. — Sir Guisebert ! do not enrage 
 the gallant squire." 
 
 The man at arms laughed, and replied, 
 " Not I ; though I care not a breath for 
 his basillard, nor all the weapons he is 
 master of. — But come, Sir Minstrel ! 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52 MALPAS. 
 
 strike up — thy soft notes are better 
 peace-makers than even the lord abbot." 
 " Willingly," replied the harper ; and 
 he instantly began a brisk madrigal, or 
 country song, which soon drove away all 
 thoughts but those of pleasure and en- 
 joyment.
 
 JIALPAS. S3 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 I am no knight-errant to seek adventures 
 For the mere bubble of a splendid name. 
 Give me my guerdon, — hard, unyielding gold, 
 Something to touch and handle for my service ; 
 No visionary payment will I have 
 That slips the fingers ere it be well grasp'd. 
 
 The Lombard. 
 
 Our readers will now attend the abbot 
 and Sir Paschal to the chamber of the 
 Baron du Chatelet. The henchman, 
 who had led them from the hall, ad- 
 vanced up a broad stair, with a torch in 
 his hand, and opened a pair of highly 
 carved oaken folding doors, which ad- 
 mitted them to the apartment. This 
 was the oriolum or oriel chamber. The 
 name, which became general for' a pri- 
 vate cabinet, was borrowed from the 
 oriel cloister of a monastery. It was a 
 small room, but perhaps the best fur- 
 nished in the castle : the walls were 
 wainscotted with slabs of carved oak 
 finely polished, and adorned, in many 
 d 3
 
 54 MALPAS. 
 
 places, with the arms of the baron em- 
 blazoned on banners of white sarcenet. 
 A few portraits of starched dames and 
 fierce warriors, for that age indifferently 
 painted, filled up some of the com- 
 partments of the wainscotting ; and at 
 one end of the room, in a recess, latticed 
 off by a Gothic railing, was the oratory, 
 raised above the level of the chamber, 
 by an ascensorium of three steps. It 
 contained a rood of pure gold, with two 
 large golden sconces, each holding a 
 lighted wax taper, exalted on a lectur- 
 nium or reading desk, which was 
 covered with a pall of eastern ta- 
 pestry, and at the foot of the lectur- 
 nium were placed several bancalia, or 
 cushions for the use of the penitent j a 
 veil of red silk usually hung before the 
 oratory as a screen, but it was now 
 withdrawn. Near the chimney was a 
 raised couch, surmounted with a canopy 
 of red silk, adorned as the banners, with 
 the arms of Sir Bertrand ; and on that 
 part of the floor which was raised, both 
 in the oratory and the dais, a pedale or 
 foot cloth had been laid down for greater 
 state. The windows of the chamber
 
 MALPAS. 55 
 
 were illuminated with clivers figures 
 painted in gold and colours, intended to 
 represent the exploits of some ancestors 
 of du Chatelet, who had engaged in the 
 holy wars. In the midst of the chamber 
 was a round, heavy table covered with 
 chequered tapestry, upon which were 
 several silver comfit boxes, filled with 
 spices, and cans of gold containing rich 
 wines. Several chairs, of a substantial 
 construction, stood in different parts of 
 the room ; in the corners were hunting 
 spears, whiniards, and daggers of the 
 chase ; and a beautiful hound, called a 
 berselet, lay before the fire. We have 
 given a particular description of this 
 chamber, in order that those of our read- 
 ers who are less informed, may observe 
 the state and magnificence, in which the 
 ancient nobility of this country enjoyed 
 themselves ; and we shall now proceed 
 to delineate the person and dress of the 
 baron himself. As the abbot and Sir 
 Paschal entered the chamber, he stood 
 with his back to the fire, and appeared 
 a stout and well made man, nearly six 
 feet in height : his age might be thirty ; 
 d 4
 
 56 MALPAS. 
 
 his visage dark, and his black hair was> 
 turned up into what were then called 
 croks, large bunches of curls. His eyes 
 were also black ; but when he was more 
 than usually warm, they emitted a sort 
 of fiery scintillation, which cast a glare 
 over his sallow countenance. His fea- 
 tures were not uncomely ; but they dis- 
 closed a spirit, fierce, turbulent, and 
 cruel ; and were of themselves a suffi- 
 cient warning to a foe of open violence 
 or secret treachery. He wore a tunic 
 reaching to his knees of a fine cloth 
 called celestrine, (sky colour), the edges 
 of which were adorned with broders of 
 gold, and a rich fur called lucerne, 
 mailed red and brown, and mingled with 
 black spots : his hose, closely fitted to 
 his shape, were of the same stuff, and 
 laced, as his tunic, with golden embroi- 
 dery ; and his poleins or peaked boots 
 were fastened to his knees by chains of 
 silver : in his girdle he wore a basillard* 
 of capital workmanship ; and his single 
 sword lay on the table before him, with 
 
 * A large poignard.
 
 MALPAS. 57 
 
 his mantle of crimson damask embroi- 
 dered with castles of gold. He advanced 
 to meet Ingulphus and his brother as 
 they entered the room, and cried out in 
 a tone of perfect familiarity, " By my 
 faith, Lord Abbot, you have a mind to 
 exercise my Christian patience ; I have 
 waited for ye these two hours, with no 
 companion save the flaggons on the 
 table, and this gay berselet ; — and you, 
 Sir Paschal ! treat ye all friends as ye do 
 me? I thought to have seen ye at the 
 heels of my constable. 5 ' 
 
 Ingulphus made the apology of both, 
 by informing the baron he had been 
 engaged in business of a private nature 
 with his brother, which had occasioned 
 the delay ; " and beside," continued 
 he, " Paschal needed both bite and sup 
 after his morning ride." 
 
 " And think ye," cried du Chatelet, 
 " we could not have purveyed for him ; 
 he should have had the best buck in 
 Threap forest, tho* I had slain another 
 verderor in the purchase ; and I have as 
 good wine in the vaults of this fortress 
 d 5
 
 58 MALPAS. 
 
 as the Pope at Avignon : but sit, Lord 
 Abbot ! sit, Sir Knight ! what ho, knave 1" 
 
 He stamped several times on the 
 floor, and his henchman appeared at the 
 door. 
 
 " Give us a light, and have some fuel 
 to this fire ; and hark, knave ! bid the 
 botiler bring more wine and cups : tell 
 Sir Whitespurs, the constable, to keep 
 his beavy in better order, the house 
 rings with their revelry." 
 
 The henchman disappeared, but pre- 
 sently returned with the dapif er, or house 
 steward, attended by the botiler, and 
 several huscarles or inferior servants. 
 One bore the flaggons of wine, another 
 the bactiles or candlesticks, a third fag- 
 gots of wood to replenish the fire ; a 
 fourth the wine cups, which were of 
 polished horn tipped with silver or gold ; 
 and a fifth with an augmentation to the 
 spice box : the dapifer and botiler bore 
 nothing ; but with great ceremony mar- 
 shalled the servants into the chamber, 
 and, when they had performed their 
 offices, marshalled them out again. When 
 they had withdrawn, the baron pressed
 
 MALPAS. 59 
 
 his guests to partake of his wines and 
 spices, which, like polite gentlemen, they 
 did not refuse. 
 
 " Your claretum," said Sir Paschal, 
 " is admirable ; the red wines of France 
 are weak and without body, but this is 
 sound, mellow, and of extraordinary 
 strength." 
 
 " And your galrigaches is equally 
 good/' cried the abbot, " I could drink 
 it with gusto in articulo mortis ; but I 
 have not to praise either for the first 
 time : I am inter amicos" 
 
 They continued for some time to praise 
 and swallow the claretum and galriga- 
 ches ; but as their good fellowship would 
 perhaps form an uninteresting feature 
 of our history, we shall pass it by, and 
 fall to something more serious. 
 
 Ingulphus was the first to interrupt 
 their enjoyment, and said " but a truce, 
 Sir Knights, to your debauch : it is now 
 time to enter upon the important part of 
 our visit." 
 
 " Ay, by St. Winifred," continued 
 Sir Paschal, " it befits us not to sit was- 
 sailing here, when we have matters of 
 d 6
 
 60 MALPAS. 
 
 urgency to debate upon ; we have already 
 communicated with you, Sir Bertrand, 
 by letter, on the subject which my lord 
 Mortimer is engaged in." 
 
 " Speak out, Sir Knight !" cried du 
 Chatelet ; " your brother, the Lord Ab- 
 bot Ingulphus, has used all his power, 
 by persuasion and offers of service, to 
 shake my allegiance : ye would wish me 
 to abandon the king, and join the rebel 
 standard under the queen and Mortimer ; 
 what need of ceremony ? Is it not so ?" 
 
 " The facts are such," answered the 
 abbot, " but my brother would couch 
 the sense in language less objectionable." 
 
 " Pish !" ejaculated the baron, " why 
 need ye to go out of your way to seek 
 far fetched terms, when plain language 
 will serve the turn ? I am master in my 
 own castle, and care not, though the king 
 and his minion Gloucester heard each 
 word I utter." 
 
 " You are a soldier, Sir Baron," replied 
 Sir Paschal, " whilst I, who am but a 
 doctor of civil law, love best the vim 
 temperatam." 
 
 " I understand ye not," cried du Cha-
 
 MALPAS. 61 
 
 telet, " but did I miss the mark ? Do 
 ye not now seek the marcher du Chate- 
 let, to win him over to your party ?" 
 
 " Ay, by our lady of Malpas," cried 
 the abbot, " we have no other busi- 
 ness." 
 
 " It is at the desire of the Lord Mor- 
 timer," said Sir Pascal, " who holds you 
 in much favour, that I have ridden thus 
 far north to see you. 
 
 " When heard ye from Sir Roger ?" 
 cried the baron. 
 
 " I had sealed letters from him," re- 
 plied the lawyer, " brought by a trusty 
 hand, on the eve of my quitting Lon- 
 don." 
 
 " Well, Sir Knight," said du Chatelet 
 hastily, " what offers doth he make for 
 my alliance ?" 
 
 " Offers ! Sir Bertrand !" replied the 
 civilian. 
 
 " Ay, offers, Sir Knight !" continued 
 the marcher ; " pledges and troth, that 
 he will make recompense for my services : 
 think ye I will be made his tool for the 
 very honour ? Much honour it is by my 
 holy faith !"
 
 62 MALPAS. 
 
 " It is surely no stain to be sworn 
 brother to a Mortimer/' said the abbot. 
 
 " Stain or glory," cried the baron, 
 " I'll none on't, save I win by the bar- 
 gain — What ! do I not peril life, limb, 
 and land by this rebellion, and am I not 
 to reap where I have sown ? No, if the 
 honour of the alliance is all that may be 
 won, let those knights that love adven- 
 tures seek it ; but no man of mine shall 
 clap harness to his back, or put lance in 
 rest on such a bootless errand." 
 
 " You travel too fast, Sir Bertrand," 
 answered the lawyer, " I did not say 
 that your services would go unrewarded, 
 for whoever aids the queen and prince in 
 this enterprize will assuredly gain more 
 than they can expect." 
 
 " I will not seal covenant," cried the 
 marcher scornfully, " on any such idle 
 expectation ; I will have it down in black 
 and white, sealed and sworn to as a 
 treaty ought to be : we are no Borrel 
 churls, nor is our compact on a rood of 
 land ; we are on an adventure where 
 the lives of gallant men are perilled, and
 
 MALPAS. 63 
 
 I will have no starting when the storm is 
 over." 
 
 " What would ye, Sir Knight ?" cried 
 Ingulphus. 
 
 " Look ye, my Lord Abbot, and you 
 Sir Doctor," cried the baron forcibly, 
 " were I to live in peace, and on the 
 produce of my land, I should be little 
 better than a vavasor. * The situation 
 of my fortress, and the bad spirit of the 
 Welsh, have made it necessary that I 
 should hold a large retinue of men at 
 arms in my pay. Than these gallants 
 there are not better in their profession, 
 nor men more to be relied on, for good 
 deeds in the day of peril, as you, holy 
 father, can witness. 
 
 « By St. Paul," cried the abbot, " I 
 have seen them do many a fair deed. 
 They are right valiant men at arms." 
 
 " There is a handsome district," con- 
 tinued Sir Bertrand, " on the other side 
 of the Border, and adjoining the demesnes 
 
 * A title in dignity next to a baron* Camd, 
 Brit, 109*
 
 6l< M ALP AS. 
 
 of Mortimer, which I would fain add to 
 iny barony of Malpas. St. George to my 
 aid ! I might in time conquer the whole 
 western March. This is worth fight- 
 ing for, and if you, Sir Doctor aud my 
 Lord Abbot, will enter into covenant for 
 its surety to me and my heirs, in the 
 event of my driving out the present 
 Welsh lord, I will to-morrow hoist the 
 cross of St. George on my fortress, and 
 declare for the queen. " 
 
 The brothers looked at each other, 
 but hesitated to speak. The baron con- 
 tinued. " On no other condition will I 
 advance my banner, and ye may now 
 know whether I am to be your feal 
 friend, or remain the liegeman of Plan- 
 tagenet. But mark ye, sirs, if ye refuse 
 me, I throw my whole weight into your 
 adversary's scale. My friends are not 
 few : Taillebois of Harding is like to 
 become my near kinsman, and the king 
 will gratify those who stand firm to him 
 in his need." 
 
 " I am not commissioned," said Sir 
 Paschal, to go so far ; neither am I sure, 
 17
 
 MALPAS. 65 
 
 were I to assent to your terms, that Sir 
 lloger would ratify the compact." 
 
 " That is your business, Sir Doctor," 
 said the baron smiling, " but Sir Roger 
 shall not order my banner, nor any man 
 under fear of it, unless he do." 
 
 " Are you under contract, Sir Knight," 
 said the abbot, " with Blanche Taille- 
 bois ?" 
 
 " With her father I am," answered 
 the baron. " She is mine or I win 
 oOOO gold francs. The girl is comely 
 and fit for a baron's lady love ; but if 
 she were not, she is heir to a fair barony, 
 rich enough to supply a thousand defi- 
 ciencies." 
 
 " And should we seal a covenant with 
 you," continued Ingulphus, " and take 
 upon ourselves the responsibility of its 
 perfection, will you swear by your knight- 
 hood that Taillebois shall join our fac- 
 tion ?" 
 
 " I swear by my knighthood, Lord 
 Abbot," replied the baron, " that no 
 endeavour on my part shall be wanting 
 to his conversion."
 
 66 MALPAS. 
 
 " Nay, Sir Baron," said the abbot, 
 " now you fly off. If we engage to ob- 
 tain you a grant of the Welsh barony, 
 which, with your own of Malpas and 
 Taillebois, of Harding, might well form 
 a good earldom, you must give us your 
 faith and troth, that your intended kins- 
 man shall join us, and in force, like a true 
 knight." 
 
 " This will be but quid pro quo" 
 continued the Civilian. 
 
 The baron mused, and took several 
 strides over the chamber. He then said, 
 
 " But if the match be broken off, and 
 not by my means ?" 
 
 " Why then you shall stand excused," 
 replied Ingulphus, " for you will suffer in 
 losing Harding." 
 
 " And what force would ye I should 
 retain?" said the marcher. 
 
 " At least three hundred men at 
 arms," replied the abbot, " and six hun- 
 dred archers. — Less would not serve ye 
 on your Welsh expedition ; but as many 
 more, Sir Baron, as ye list." 
 
 " I will bear, or send ye my resolution 
 on the morrow," said duChatelet, "Taille-
 
 M ALP AS. 67 
 
 hois will be here early, and if he will gage 
 his faith to second me, I will be stirring 
 with a handsome force when the foe shall 
 least expect me. My men at arms are 
 ready for mounting, and I will give 
 orders to my vadelect * to have my own 
 arms ready for a present adventure. 5 ' 
 
 " Then peace be with you, Sir Baron/' 
 cried the abbot, " we will await your 
 
 decision. 
 
 '^ 
 
 " But you have forgot to tell me the 
 news," cried du Chatelet, " when will 
 the queen arrive ?" 
 
 " The queen and prince," replied Sir 
 Paschal, attended by Sir Roger Mortimer, 
 Sir John of Hainault, and a large force 
 of men at arms, will sail for England in a 
 few days' space. The news of their ar- 
 rival will be brought here direct by our 
 kinsman, young Aubrey Marcel." 
 
 " By St. George," cried the baron, " I 
 am right glad to hear it ; for whether I 
 am with your faction or against it, there 
 will be deeds of chivalry well performed 
 in this gallant enterprize. Ho, knave !" 
 
 * A gentleman servitor. Selden's Tit. of Honotnf.
 
 viS MALPAS. 
 
 (continued he, stamping on the floor, at 
 which signal his henchman appeared) 
 " lights for the Lord Abbot. " 
 
 The lienchman expanded the folding 
 doors, and Iiigulphus and his brother 
 withdrew, being lighted down the stair- 
 case by half a dozen huscarles, who stood 
 holding torches, like so many statues, 
 from the chamber door to the hall en- 
 trance. The carousal was now over : 
 the soldiers had withdrawn to their re- 
 pose, and nothing living was to be seen, 
 but several stag hounds and bracelets, 
 that were allowed to roam about undis- 
 turbed. They lay supine before the 
 embers of the fire, and raised their heads, 
 and gave a fierce growl, as the abbot and 
 Sir Paschal passed through the hall. 
 The flaggons and drinking cups were 
 overthrown, and the tables swam with 
 the shedden ale and wine. When they 
 had passed the hall, they came to the 
 court yard, which was deserted except 
 by the warders. The bridge was up ; 
 but it was lowered for the spiritual fa- 
 ther and his companion, who, passing 
 over, entered the abbey.
 
 MALPAS. 69 
 
 Early on the morrow, the Baron du 
 Chatelet's vadelet rang at the door of 
 the monastery, and was admitted by the 
 ostiary to the hostillaria, where the ab- 
 bot and Sir Paschal sat at breakfast. 
 He bore a message from his lord, desir- 
 ing that Ingulphus and his brother would 
 accompany him to Harding Castle on a 
 visit to Sir Roger Taillebois, who had 
 informed him he was obliged to keep 
 house ; the sheriff and the posse comi- 
 tatus, being out to take him for his mur- 
 der of Hubert de Hautbois. 
 
 " The baron is now horsing," conti- 
 nued the page, " and will ride anon.*' 
 
 Ingulphus and Sir Paschal consented 
 to accompany him. The former called 
 for his hood and round boots, and order- 
 ed four of the brethren to prepare to 
 attend him. The civilian accoutred 
 himself in his riding dress, and sent 
 word, by an acholyte * to his retainer, 
 to caparison their palfreys, and join the 
 cavalcade in the court. When they were 
 
 * An inferior church servant. — Spelman,
 
 70 M-ALPAS. 
 
 ready to set out, the abbot, followed by 
 his brother and the four monks, came 
 to the porch of the abbey, and the former 
 mounted his mule, an animal of exceed- 
 ing beauty, with rich housings of purple 
 and gold, and small silver bells to his 
 bridle reins, which, as Chaucer says, 
 jingled " eke as loud as doth the chapell 
 belle." The monks were mounted on 
 mules also, but of a more homely appear- 
 ance. One of them acted as crociarius, 
 and bore a large cross before his supe- 
 rior : another carried his cloca or riding 
 mantle, which was of purple cloth, lined 
 with the skin of the black-fox, the warm- 
 est of all furs ; whilst the two last did 
 nothing more than attend to the personal 
 service of the holy father. Sir Paschal 
 and his servant being seated on their 
 palfreys, the cavalcade moved out of the 
 abbey yard, and advanced beneath the 
 portal of the fortress. They did not 
 wait long before they were joined by the 
 baron and his retinue, consisting of fifty 
 men at arms. They were armed as for 
 battle. Sir Bertrand wore complete 
 mail, except his helmet and lance, which,
 
 MALPAS. 71 
 
 with his battle axe of Bourdeaux steel, 
 were borne by his body squires. Over 
 his armour he had a quartelois, similar 
 to the tabards of his squires, with his 
 arms embroidered on the back and 
 breast ; he rode a black courser of the 
 heavy Flanders breed, which, in addition 
 to its being completely barbed, was co- 
 vered with a superb housing of red 
 cloth, decorated, in many places, with 
 the arms of his rider, worked in gold. 
 On his head du Chatelet wore an abacot, 
 or cap of state, looped at one side with 
 a jewelled button. A marshal bore his 
 banner at the head of the company, 
 which moved in slow and regular order, 
 with their long lances pointed to Hea- 
 ven, like a closely set wood. 
 
 Several veltrarers, or dog leaders, fol- 
 lowed the cavalcade on foot, each man 
 having a leash of greyhounds, braceletts, 
 or couchers. The braconier, or hunts- 
 man, rode a fleet chaser, or horse of the 
 field. A few falconers, and ostringers, 
 with their hawks hooded on their fists, 
 completed the procession ; all the sports- 
 men were clad in "the Lincoln Green,"
 
 72 MALPAS. 
 
 and many of them had long bows and 
 bugles. 
 
 It was a gallant sight to see the free 
 companions in their polished mail, ready 
 to undertake any deed of arms, or hazar- 
 dous adventure, with a right good will. 
 They halted when they had passed the 
 drawbridge, and du Chatelet saluted the 
 abbot and Sir Paschal. He then formed 
 his men at arms into two parties. One 
 of them, headed by the marshal, led the 
 vaward, followed by the baron on one 
 side, Sir Paschal on the other, and the 
 Lord Abbot with his attendant monks, in 
 the middle ; Sir Bertrand's body squires 
 flanked the extremities, and the rear was 
 brought up by the other division of men 
 at d arms, and the huntsmen and falcon- 
 ers. In this order they moved towards 
 the gate of the town, which they passed, 
 as well as the barriers, and proceeded 
 at a regular pace, on the great Chester 
 road toward Harding Castle. In a short 
 time they came upon a vast unenclosed 
 heath or moor, spotted with gorse bushes^ 
 fern, bushwood, and patches of trees, 
 and intersected with a ditch or brook of
 
 MALPAS. 73 
 
 water. Here, at the desire of the abbot, 
 who was a keen sportsman, the braconier 
 let slip a few of his beagles and couchers. 
 The dogs scattered over the heath, and 
 soon drove several hares from their 
 forms. The abbot set up the cry for 
 chase, and the huntsmen slipped the 
 leashes of their greyhounds, which fol- 
 lowed the quest in great style, much to 
 the satisfaction of the spiritual father. 
 At this moment several herons, scared 
 by the shouts of the hunters, rose from 
 the brook, which Sir Bertrand observing, 
 cried " Ho, knaves, cast off your fal- 
 cons/' 
 
 The falconers unhooded their birds, 
 and slipped their jesses in an instant, and 
 they mounted after the herons in a gal- 
 lant flight. The whole company kept 
 their eyes upon them. 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Hubert," exclaimed the 
 abbot, " that saur hawk is a gallant bird. 
 So ho ! So ho, boy ! mark how he strikes 
 down that coward heron !" 
 
 " Ha! now he wheels," cried Sir 
 Bertram, " down goes another \ and see 
 
 vol. 1. E
 
 74 MALPAS. 
 
 my little Tercelet, how gallantly he 
 spars." 
 
 In a few minutes the falcons had 
 stricken down all the birds which ap- 
 peared, and were holding their flight 
 onward, when the baron called out with 
 great vociferation, " Hillio! So ho, boys! 
 So ho ! Hillio ! Come, birds !" 
 
 He was joined by the abbot, and all 
 the falconers, who made a most deafen- 
 ing halloo. The falcons, however, knew 
 the recall, and, returning with great 
 velocity, alighted upon the lures, which 
 were strapped to the falconer's arms, 
 and suffered themselves to be jessed and 
 hooded. The dogs had now been suf- 
 ficiently breathed, and had caught seve- 
 ral hares ; they began to scatter from the 
 multiplicity of game, and the baron 
 commanded the braconier to sound his 
 horn. The huntsman, and his attend- 
 ants who had bugles, instantly sounded, 
 and the hounds came in from all sides, 
 and were again leashed. 
 
 " Have ye had sport enough, lord 
 abbot/' said Sir Bertram, " or shall the 
 knaves go forward with us ?"
 
 MALPAS. 75 
 
 " No, by St. Paul," answered Ingul- 
 phus, " we will neither hawk nor hunt 
 more to-day." 
 
 " Then ye may return, Sirs 1" cried 
 the baron. " Ho ! Egerton, how hath my 
 greyhound played her part ?" 
 
 " She has more beauty than bottom, 
 my Lord Baron 1" rephed the braconier. 
 " She would not run above a mile's cast 5 
 and threw the bracelets out, by my fay, 
 half a score times." 
 
 " Hang her, or give her to thy wife, 
 Egerton !" said Du Chatelet ; " she is fit 
 for nought, save a woman's plaything." 
 
 The sportsmen then drew off, and 
 returned to Malpas, whilst the gentry 
 and men at arms proceeded over the 
 moor. As they advanced, the road be- 
 came wilder and more sterile: the ground 
 changed from moss and green-sward to 
 loose sand and gravel, as if it had been 
 on the sea-shore ; and to the right, rose 
 from their path by a steep ascent, which 
 formed the base of an immense pile of 
 brown and hard rock, called Broxton 
 hills. Neither tree, nor shrub, nor blade 
 of vegetable matter grew upon their 
 e 2
 
 /£> MA LP AS. 
 
 rugged sides ; they seemed rather those 
 rocks in the deserts of Asia and Africa? 
 where the old anachoretae lived upon 
 stale bread and water, than any part of 
 the noble county of Chester, in merry 
 England. To the left of the road was 
 the Welsh border, still fertile and beau- 
 tiful, though ravaged and desolated ; and 
 the Dee, which ran through the midst of 
 the valley, and now flashed dazzling 
 scintillations under the rays of the sun, 
 added not a little to the beauty and 
 magnificence of the scene. The castle 
 of Harding stood on a hill side, its lower 
 part being formed out of the hard rock : 
 it had three embattled towers, which 
 made the fortress triangular ; and in the 
 midst stood the keep, or house of refuge ; 
 the court-yard was a sort of platform on 
 the top of the hill, and the portal was 
 beneath that tower which fronted the 
 road from Chester to Malpas. 
 
 It had neither ditch nor drawbridge, 
 but a large portcullis, in addition to 
 the gate, defended the entrance. The 
 horse-path to the portal, which parted 
 from the high way, was shelving and
 
 M ALP AS. 77 
 
 declivitous, so that an enemy could not 
 advance upon the castle without great 
 caution ; and a large wood of oak, ash, 
 beech, and fir, embowered the whole 
 fortress. When the cavalcade had ar- 
 rived within a short distance from that 
 turn in the road which led to Harding, 
 the abbot and his companions were sur- 
 prised to hear tiie sound of clarions and 
 trumpets, with the trampling and neigh- 
 ing of horses, and the ringing of arms; 
 but their admiration soon ceased, for ad- 
 vancing onward, they discovered the 
 sheriff of Cheshire, (whom they knew 
 by his banner) attended by twenty spears, 
 and nearly a thousand bowmen and 
 archers. They had beleaguered the 
 castle, and would hear of nothing but 
 the instant surrender of Sir Roger Taille- 
 bois, to stand trial for the homicide of 
 Hubert the Verderor. As might have 
 been expected, the baron was inflexible, 
 and swore by St. Werburgh of Chester, 
 he would never put himself into the 
 hands of his enemies. The sheriff was 
 on the point of commanding an assault, 
 e 3
 
 78 M ALP AS. 
 
 when Sir Bertrand and his companions 
 made their appearance. 
 
 The men at arms, in expectation of a 
 rencontre, tightened their helmets, and 
 laid their lances in the rests ; whilst 
 those spears attached to the sheriff did 
 the like, and the archers and cross-bows 
 drew up at the entrance of the wood. 
 
 But before any mischief could ensue, 
 the sheriff sent a squire to Sir Bertrand 
 du Chatelet, (whose arms he recognized, 
 and whose renown made him dread an 
 unfortunate issue in case of a combat,) 
 to enquire the meaning of his coming 
 thither in warlike array, and whether he 
 intended to oppose himself to the laws 
 of the country. Sir Bertrand replied 
 that he had no such desire ; that he had 
 come on a visit to Sir Roger Taillebois, 
 on a treaty of marriage with his daugh- 
 ter, and that, as a proof of his peaceful 
 intention, he had in his company the 
 Lord Abbot Ingulphus, and his brother, 
 a learned civilian ; that as a marcher he 
 was entitled by law to the state he kept 
 with him ; and that he had never heard 
 the sheriff was abroad with an armed
 
 MALPAS. 79 
 
 force. With this reply (which Du Cha- 
 telet had made, more out of a prudent 
 desire not to commit himself by an at- 
 tack upon the earl's officer, than any fear 
 he had of the sheriff's company,; the 
 squire returned to his commander, and 
 upon the delivery of it, the sheriff rode 
 from his party, and advanced to that of 
 Du Chatelet. 
 
 Sir Bertrand, the abbot, and Sir Pas- 
 chal saluted him, and Ingulphus, who 
 was not desirous that he should become 
 acquainted with the real motives of their 
 visit to Sir Roger, willingly corroborated 
 the statement of Du Chatelet. After 
 some coversation, the sheriff', at the de- 
 sire of the abbot, consented to accom- 
 pany them, unattended, into the castle, 
 and Sir Bertrand pledged himself that 
 some arrangement, satisfactory to all 
 parties, should be entered into by the 
 Baron Taillebois. This convention was 
 notified to Sir Roger, who immediately 
 ordered the portcullis to be raised, and 
 the gate thrown open. The spears and 
 archers of the sheriff were left under the 
 command of the constable of Chester 
 e 4
 
 80 MALPAS. 
 
 castle, with orders to remain on the spot 
 until the return of their chief; but the 
 men at arms of Sir Bertrand followed 
 their leader into the fortress, casting 
 looks of contempt upon the force of 
 the shrievalty, as they passed their 
 array.
 
 MA LP AS. 81 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Hear me, Monimia, my dear only child ! 
 Hear that on which thy father's fate doth hang ! 
 Wilt thou be toward, merciful, relenting, 
 And save the life of him who gave thee being, 
 Or, by a stern and stubborn obduracy, 
 Draw on thy head my curses and my blood ? 
 
 The Bride of Marseille*. 
 
 1 he abbot, Sir Bertrand, Sir Paschal, 
 and the sheriff having dismounted in the 
 court, Sir Roger Taillebois advanced to 
 meet them. He was of low stature, but 
 of a make peculiarly robust and muscu- 
 lar ; his age about fifty-five, and from his 
 sandy hair, and fair complexion, he was 
 usually denominated the Red Knight of 
 Harding. His eyes were quick and fiery, 
 and his changeable countenance, and 
 quivering lip, showed that he had no 
 command over his passions, which were, 
 on some occasions, outrageously violent 
 He now wore a green surcoat, lined with 
 e 5
 
 S2 MA LP AS, 
 
 a fur called grey genet, girt around him 
 with a hunters's belt, to which was at- 
 tached his basiilard. He received Sir 
 Bertrand with open arms ; to the abbot 
 he was submissively respectful j and Sir 
 Paschal acquired his favour by his af- 
 finity to the holy father ; but upon the 
 sheriff he vented his rage and indig- 
 nation. 
 
 " Were it not," cried he, " that these 
 honourable persons are pledged for thy 
 safety, I would hang thee, Sir Sheriff, 
 over my portal, as a warning to all those 
 who dare to attempt my fortress. What 
 seek you here, with your spears and 
 archers? " I am the earl's officer," re- 
 plied the viscount " sworn to execute 
 the laws, and I come hither to attach 
 you, Sir Baron, for the murder of Hubert 
 de Hautbois, verderor of Threap forest." 
 
 Taillebois grinned fiercely at the bold 
 officer, and laid his hand on his basii- 
 lard ; but Sir Paschal took him by the 
 arm, and led him to a window, where 
 they held a short conference. On re- 
 turning, the civilian said, " I am bid by 
 my Lord Taillebois to inform you, Sir
 
 MALPAS. S3 
 
 Sheriff, that he denies the charge ; and 
 that against any man, his peer, who 
 dare affirm it, he throws down his glove. 
 — If the accuser be of an inferior qua- 
 lity, Sir Roger defies him still, and will 
 prove upon him, by his champion, that 
 he is a liar and a recreant." 
 
 " This is well/' said the sheriff; " and 
 there is nothing more to do, than for 
 the baron to surrender himself into my 
 hands." 
 
 " 1 surrender into thy hands !" cried 
 Taillebois; " by the mother who bore me, 
 I would sooner throw myself from the 
 highest turret of my castle." 
 
 " Then I cannot accept your wager 
 of battle;" answered the sheriff; " for 
 by law you must be in close keeping, 
 till you are delivered by the judgment of 
 God." 
 
 " That will I never be," cried Sir 
 Roger, "whilst I have a man to stand 
 by me." 
 
 " He is certainly entitled to his dies 
 concilii," said the lawyer. " Not in a 
 criminal case," replied the sheriff 
 
 " In all cases," returned Sir Paschal : 
 e6
 
 84 
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 " Si quis a justitia regis implacitatus, ad 
 consilium exierit." 
 
 " I pretend not to understand the 
 law, cried the sheriff; " but I know it is 
 my duty to apprehend murtherers." 
 
 " How know ye, " Sir Sheriff," said 
 du Chatelet, "that Sir Roger is the 
 murtherer " 
 
 " The whole country cries out upon 
 him," replied the viscount, " from one 
 end of the border to the other." 
 
 " But have you examined witnesses?" 
 said Sir Paschal, " or do you proceed 
 upon hear-say ?" 
 
 " There was no occasion to examine 
 witnesses," answered the sheriff, " when 
 the bloody deed is in every one's mouth." 
 
 u The baron denies the accusation," 
 returned the civilian ; " and it appears 
 to me, that by the common law he is 
 entitled to his wager upon his own oat]), 
 se defendere unica manu." 
 
 " Sir Doctor!" replied the sherirl, 
 " you understand the civil law better 
 
 ml 
 
 than the common. — By Harry the First's 
 law, chapter twelfth, this crime is Ebere-
 
 MALPAS. 85 
 
 murder, and will not even admit of com- 
 mutation." 
 
 " But this is a county palatine," cried 
 the sophistical doctor, " and your earl 
 holds ita libere per gladium, sicutipse rex 
 per coronam ; ye have your own laws." 
 
 " They meddle not with the general 
 laws of the kingdom," answered the 
 sheriff; " the only difference is, that the 
 baron hath contravened the dignity of 
 the sword of Chester, instead of the 
 king's peace." 
 
 " Argue as ye will," cried Taillebois ; 
 " though the law were as plain against 
 me as the sheriff could make it, I would 
 not surrender. — You have your answer, 
 Sir Viscount, and may do your pleasure." 
 
 " I will do my duty," cried the sheriff, 
 advancing to the baron, and laying his 
 hand upon him. " I arrest thee, Roger 
 Taillebois, for murder and felony ; and 
 I charge all present to aid and assist 
 me in conveying him to prison." 
 
 This bold act so astonished Taillebois 
 and his friends, that for some moments 
 no one spake. There had been one 
 spectator ot % this singular scene, un-
 
 86 MALFAS. 
 
 known to the rest of the company. It 
 was Blanche Taillebois. She had en- 
 tered the room unobserved, and was 
 chilled with terror, to hear that the earl's 
 officer had come thither to arrest her 
 father ; and more so, that her father was 
 accused of murder ; for he had strictly 
 forbidden his retainers, who were present 
 when Hautbois fell under his dagger, to 
 make any report within the precincts of 
 Harding. Blanche leaned, breathless 
 with alarm, on the back of a chair, 
 where she had heard nearly the whole of 
 the preceding discourse ; but when she 
 saw the sheriff lay his hand upon the breast 
 of her parent, her native courage was 
 aroused by the insult, and before any 
 one had time to interfere, she had sprung 
 between them, and grasping the arm of 
 the viscount, flung it off with an air of 
 determined scorn. 
 
 The baron's eye glistened as he pressed 
 her in his arms, whilst Du Chatelet, and 
 his friends gazed at one another, and at 
 the sheriff, with looks of astonishment. 
 Blanche Taillebois was about seventeen 
 years of age, and at King Edward's court,
 
 MALPAS. 87 
 
 which she had the last year visited, she had 
 been held la reine de beaute. Like her 
 father she was fair ; but, with the soft- 
 ness usual in women of a light com- 
 plexion, she possessed a great portion of 
 dignity, and an uncommon animation of 
 countenance. This might arise from her 
 eyes, which, instead of being " orbs of 
 rolling blue," to match the style of her 
 beauty, were a dark hazel, and shot 
 glances of brilliant fire, which astonished 
 and captivated the beholder ; her hair 
 was brown and voluptuously plentiful, 
 and its dark shade well served to deve- 
 lope the regularity of her features : she 
 was tall, slender, and graceful ; but her 
 figure was not strictly sylph-like : it 
 possessed strength and activity, as well 
 as elegance ; and her whole air and 
 carriage conveyed to the observer, a 
 high notion of the energy and resolution 
 of her character. She was clad in a 
 tunic of green sendal, or silk of Cyprus, 
 interwoven with threads of gold and 
 silver wrought into flowers, gathered 
 round the waist by an embroidered girdle, 
 and fastened with a buckle of gold.
 
 88 maj:pas. 
 
 Over her tunic she wore a mantle of 
 violet-coloured diaper, adorned with 
 stars of silver, and lined with watchet 
 (or sky blue) taffeta. Her stockings 
 were of the same stuffj richly variegated 
 with figures of gold ; and her shoes or 
 sotulares were of filigree work, laced 
 with points of silver. Her luxuriant 
 tresses, disposed in numerous small braids, 
 were confined by a crestine or caul of 
 silken net-work, enriched on the border 
 with a row of large pearls ; and she had 
 a necklace, or rosary, of gold beads, with 
 a crucifix of the same metal suspended 
 on her bosom. Such was the person 
 and figure of the youthful heroine who 
 stood between her father and the law. 
 Du Chatelet, who was desperately in love 
 with her, (if his fierce passion was de- 
 serving of so tender an appellation) 
 thought the best way of gaining her 
 favour was by, at once, espousing the 
 cause of her father, and taking upon 
 himself his defence : he therefore said, 
 " Hark ye, Sir Sheriff! before you con- 
 sented to enter Harding with us, we 
 promised to arrange this broil between
 
 MALPAS. 89 
 
 you and our kinsman ; but we had no 
 thought of seeing you lay hands upon 
 him in his own castle. By St. George, 
 this insult cannot be borne ; and it be- 
 hoves every true knight to espouse his 
 cause. — You have nigh forfeited the 
 benefit of our safe conduct." 
 
 " I have but done my duty," replied 
 the sheriff; " and ye are not liege men 
 to your sovereign if ye withhold your 
 assistance." 
 
 " By our Lady of Malpas, sheriff!" 
 cried Du Chatelet, " since thou art so 
 bold, I tell thee, despite thine array, Sir 
 Roger shall be safe and free — What, ho 
 there ! Bonnelance ! 
 
 One of his body squires attended his 
 summons, and he continued, " Mount for 
 battle, and throw open the gate. — Bring 
 my arms and courser." 
 
 " By St. Edith!" cried the sheriff, 
 " ye are traitors ali." 
 
 " Ha ! traitors !" cried Du Chatelet ; 
 " by St. George, thou art rude, sheriff 
 and shaft be taught better." 
 
 SirBertrand, who was all muscle, seized 
 the viscount by the throat, and threw
 
 90 M ALP AS. 
 
 him on his back, holding his dagger over 
 him, but Blanche interfered. 
 
 " Oh ! for the Virgin's sake," cried 
 Blanche, " spare his life ; let not his 
 blood defile our walls. — Sir Bertrand ! 
 Father ! my Lord Abbot ! I conjure you 
 by your holiness !" 
 
 The marcher relaxed his grasp, and 
 sheathed his basillard, crying, " Thank 
 the maiden for thy life, sheriff; but for 
 her prayer thy soul had now quitted thy 
 body." 
 
 " Quit the house," continued Taille- 
 bois, " and withdraw thy rabble from my 
 precincts, as ye value life." 
 
 Du Chatelet's squires now entered 
 with his arms, and assisted him to lace 
 his helmet, and buckle his shield on 
 his breast. When these preparations 
 were completed, he commanded them 
 to conduct the sheriff out of the 
 castle, and expel him from the gate : 
 and continued — 
 
 " If ye are not withdrawn by the time 
 I can mount, and put spear in rest, I 
 will have a charge against your array, 
 for the honour of Lady Blanche."
 
 MALPAS. 91 
 
 The squires led the sheriff away, and 
 put him out at the gate. They then 
 brought the courser of their lord to the 
 hall door of the castle, where he came 
 attended by Taillebois, the abbot, and 
 Sir Paschal. Having mounted, he grasped 
 his lance, and formed his men at arms : 
 they put spurs to their horses, and gal- 
 loped out of the gate, crying " Mai pas 
 for Du Chatelet;" but the sheriff and 
 his array had entirely disappeared, with- 
 out leaving a trace of their encampment. 
 Sir Bertrand and his companions returned 
 to the castle, and again dismounted : 
 the marcher took off his helmet and 
 shield, and gave them, with his lance, to 
 his squires. The Baron Taillebois re- 
 turned him many thanks for his service, 
 and swore he would never abandon him 
 when in like peril. They returned to 
 the apartment where they had left 
 Blanche ; but the damsel had retired. 
 As it was now mid-day, Sir Roger or- 
 dered dinner to be served in the hall, 
 where the Lady Blanche, the Lord 
 Abbot, Sir Bertrand du Chatelet, Sir 
 Paschal Marcel, the four brethren at-
 
 92 MALPAS. 
 
 ten dan t upon the abbot, and himself, 
 sat down at a raised table, or dais, situ- 
 ated at the upper end of the hall. There 
 was another, much larger, for the men 
 at arms, and household domestics, where 
 the castellan of Harding presided. Both 
 tables were plentifully, if not elegantly 
 provided : the dilligrout, or rich pottage, 
 could only be equalled by the froyse, or 
 frittered pancakes, mixed with collops 
 of fat bacon, and the hasta porci, or 
 shield of brawn, retained its accustomed 
 consequence at the baron's board. There 
 were also haunches of deer, not, perhaps, 
 so tender as those cooked for the tables 
 of this day's nobility, but, doubtless, 
 somewhat more savoury : wines, ale, and 
 metheglin were in great abundance, not 
 any of which was spared by the men at 
 arms. When the gentry had finished 
 their meal, wines and spices were set 
 upon their table, and Du Chatelet rose 
 and offered the drageoir or comfit box 
 to his fair mistress, who fancying it to 
 be the mere effect of his gallantry, with- 
 out scruple availed herself of his polite- 
 ness, and partook of the spices ; in the
 
 MALPAS. 93 
 
 same manner he handed her wine, and 
 showed, by the urgency of his attentions, 
 that she had made an impression on his 
 heart, which he did not seek to disguise. 
 This discovery alarmed her, and she 
 begged permission to retire. It was with 
 difficulty granted, and she withdrew to 
 her own chamber. After a short time 
 spent in carousal, Sir Bertrand mentioned 
 the business which had brought Sir Pas- 
 chal from London ; and that knight, 
 and the Abbot Ingulphus, with himself 
 to Harding, together with the offers 
 which had been made him, and the part 
 which he had engaged himself to play in 
 the intended revolution : — he continued, 
 " I have already declared to my friends, 
 that I am in treaty for Blanche, and that 
 I hold your assent ; and if the marriage 
 be concluded- — " 
 
 " Doubt it not/' interrupted Taille- 
 bois, " I will it, and the thing is done : 
 I give you my hand on't, for the service 
 you have this day so gallantly done me." 
 
 " If then," Sir Bertrand continued, 
 " you will assist me to drive black 
 Gwyneth from his lands, they, with those
 
 94- MALPAS. 
 
 of Malpas and Harding, will make me 
 the most potent baron on the western 
 march ; and if I do not win an earldom, 
 my son, the son of your Blanche, your 
 grandchild, Sir Roger, will win one, 
 or it will be for lack of courage." 
 
 The old man's eyes sparkled with in- 
 tense pleasure, and he cried, striking his 
 hand on the table, " 'Tis done : — I 
 swear by the cross and sanctuary of our 
 Lady of Malpas, I will do as ye would 
 have me: the marriage shall be solem- 
 nized forthwith, and I will join you in 
 your expedition with one hundred men 
 at arms, and three hundred varlets ; for I 
 see honour, fame, riches, and power are 
 within our grasp, and, by my knighthood, 
 Sir Baron, we will not lose them out of 
 fear or indolence." 
 
 " But when fix ye the day of mar- 
 riage ?" cried Sir Paschal, we have no 
 time to lose : the queen is, perhaps, in 
 England by this, and on her way to 
 Bristol, where, it is said, the king will 
 make his stand." 
 
 " When ! " cried Taillebois, " have 
 I not said forthwith ? — Now ! Instantly !
 
 MALPAS. 95 
 
 — What, ho ! Blanche ! Blanche Taille- 
 bois ! The marriage shall be concluded 
 out of hand." 
 
 " Ha ! by my soul," said Du Chatelet, 
 " you rejoice me beyond measure, thus 
 soon to complete my happiness." 
 
 " What, hoi" shouted Sir Roger; 
 " why the devil does not my daughter 
 answer my summons ? You, sir knave, 
 henchman !" 
 
 The henchman, who was sitting at the 
 large table with the men at arms, where 
 the laughter and din were so great they 
 could scarce hear each other, much less 
 any sound coming from a distance, paid 
 no attention to his lord, whose anger 
 became roused at the neglect (as he 
 supposed it) of his vassal. He, there- 
 fore, arose from his seat, and, walking 
 up to the table where the henchman sat, 
 lent him a sound buffet on the ear, which 
 quickly awoke his slumbering observ- 
 ation. 
 
 " I cry ye mercy, my Lord Baron !" 
 exclaimed he; " what is my offence?" 
 
 " I will teach thee, varlet!" replied 
 his master, " to be more attentive in
 
 96 MALPAS. 
 
 future ; seek thy lady, and bid her hither 
 on the instant." 
 
 The man withdrew, and the baron re- 
 turned to his companions. In a few 
 minutes the Lady Blanche made her 
 appearance, and requested to know her 
 father's pleasure. 
 
 " It is my pleasure, Blanche!" an- 
 swered Sir Roger, " that thou be here 
 instantly married to my son, Bertrand 
 du Chatelet." 
 
 The damsel stood for some time silent 
 and then said smiling, " It is a pity, fair 
 Sirs ! that ye have no other way to pass 
 your time, than that of making a May 
 game of a silly damsel! Shall I call ye 
 the minstrel ?" 
 
 " To the devil with the minstrel !'•' 
 cried her father; " I mean no May game ; 
 but that ye be seriously married by my 
 Lord Abbot or our chaplain." 
 
 " Married !" exclaimed Blanche, 
 " seriously ; married !" 
 
 Her tones were awfully mournful and 
 impressive, and her manner full of so- 
 lemnity. Sir Roger now began to be 
 wrathful, and said, " Why, daughter !
 
 MALPAS. 97 
 
 thou seemest as if thou wast going to be 
 hanged, 'stead of being made a bride j 
 why stand ye there, as if ye were alone 
 in your chamber, without a soul to speak 
 to?" 
 
 She did indeed stand before them, lost 
 in thought : her eyes seemed wild, and 
 her head giddy : she pressed her hands 
 together, but spoke no word. 
 
 " Speak to her," said her father to 
 Bertrand ; " her folly will drive me 
 mad." 
 
 The marcher rose from his seat, and 
 took the hand of his mistress, which 
 action she did not seem to notice. 
 
 " Have I not your consent, fair 
 Blanche !" said he, softly, " our wooing 
 has been brief ; but trust me I will make 
 thee amends after our marriage." 
 
 His voice seemed to recall her recol- 
 lection ; for she raised her eyes, and 
 looked upon him with a countenance 
 full of scorn and aversion. 
 
 " Marriage !" she exclaimed, " mar- 
 riage ! and with thee ! Oh, no, no, no ; I 
 can never have deserved from Heaven 
 a doom so bitter." 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 9-5 MALPAS. 
 
 A sort of hysterical struggle convulsed 
 her features, and she fell breathless on a 
 seat. 
 
 " What is the meaning of this ?" cried 
 the abbot : " I had deemed the maiden 
 was agreeable to this match. " 
 
 " Heed her not lord abbot," replied 
 her father ; " her late sojourn at court 
 hath made her wilful and froward ; but 
 she is my daughter, and shall obey my 
 will. Rise, Blanche, and let not thy maid- 
 enish fantasies cross the hopes of thy 
 father ; obey me, or dread mine eternal 
 curses. " 
 
 " My good lord ! be more gentle," 
 cried Ingulphus ; " you confound the 
 damsel with your rigour ; ye had best 
 give her time to think upon this mar- 
 riage, and her duty will doubtless over- 
 come all scruples." 
 
 " Not an hour, " cried Taillebois, 
 6i will I give her for consideration. What! 
 hath this noble baron, no later than this 
 morning, rescued me from death by the 
 law y and flown to my assistance in time 
 of grievous peril, and doth she refuse to 
 reward the deliverer of her father with so
 
 M ALP AS. 99 
 
 small a matter as her hand ? A mighty 
 boon I ask of her, to marry the noble Cha- 
 telet, the best baron on the Welsh 
 border." 
 
 " Let us enquire her objections to 
 Sir Bertrand," said the lawyer ; " they 
 may doubtless be removed by fair argu- 
 ment." 
 
 " What objection can she have ?" 
 answered her father: "is he not a proper 
 man ? Look at him; here he stands. Is he 
 not brave, noble, generous, and rich ? 
 By our Lady, he has few peers, to my 
 my mind, in Christendom." 
 
 " I will not speak of my person, Sir 
 Roger," said Du Chatelet, "but I will 
 yield to no living man in love and de- 
 votion to your daughter; and on this 
 point I will gage battle against the chi- 
 valry of Christendom." 
 
 " Come, thou undutiful daughter!" 
 said Taillebois, seizing Blanche by the 
 arm, for she had now somewhat recover- 
 ed, " What answer makest thou ? Wilt 
 thou obey me, that cherished thee 
 throughout life ; and do'st thou refuse 
 to grant me one poor request ?" 
 f 2
 
 100 MALPAS, 
 
 " Would to the Virgin it were mjr 
 death 1" replied Blanche. 
 
 " Thy death! "cried her father; " and 
 is not thy death in my hands who gave 
 thee life ?" 
 
 " I question not your authority," re- 
 plied the damsel, with eyes swimming in 
 tears ; " give me death, and I will re- 
 ceive it as the best mark of your love,> 
 rather than wed this man." 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Edith !" exclaimed Sir 
 Roger, "thou perverse one! thou wilt 
 break my heart. — Listen. Thy children 
 by this marriage are like to become of 
 the first rank of nobles in this land ; and 
 is nothing to be sacrificed, if there were 
 any thing thou couldst lose by it, to attain 
 that station ? What if thou couldst not 
 love Sir Bertrand ? 
 
 " Love him !" ejaculated Blanche, 
 shuddering and casting a glance of hor- 
 ror upon the marcher. 
 
 " I say if thou couldst not love him," 
 continued Sir Roger ; " though I see no 
 reason that thou shouldst hate him ; ye 
 would but be as others have been ; and 
 for the ennobling of your children — " 
 
 « Hear me, father ! and you, holy
 
 MALJ>AS. 101 
 
 abbot," exclaimed Blanche. " I address 
 myself to ye in particular, because the 
 one is bound by the ties of nature, and 
 the other by those of duty, to protect me 
 in my calamity. It would be a mockery 
 of that holy ordinance, marriage, were I 
 to plight my troth before God to Sir Ber- 
 trand du Chatelet. He is, I know not 
 why, the last man on earth I would min- 
 gle my lot in life with. Much sooner will 
 I take the veil, and dedicate myself to a 
 virtuous celibacy than join my hand to 
 that of the lord marcher. I acknow- 
 ledge, with feelings of high gratitude, 
 the great service he hath this day ren- 
 dered us > but his present conduct shows 
 it was the issue of a selfish feeling, which 
 had no particle of disinterestedness in 
 it" 
 
 " Blanche! Blanche !" cried her fa- 
 ther, " thou wilt have me distraught. 
 Is this thy pretended gratitude, and 
 thankfulness to a friend, who for our 
 sake has incurred the penalty of death, 
 by rescuing me from the law? I tell 
 thee I have no way left of satisfying 
 tihis mighty obligation, and mine own 
 f3
 
 3 02 MALPAS. 
 
 honour, than by requiting him with thy 
 hand, and my fortune j and if thou wilt 
 not consent, for I pretend not to force 
 thine inclination, I swear by the honour 
 of my ancestors I will never survive the 
 loss of my own." 
 
 He drew his basillard from his girdle, 
 and continued — " Speak, Blanche ! If 
 thou dost wish thy father's death, thou hast 
 only to continue thy perverse refusal." 
 
 The old man melted into tears, and 
 his daughter sobbed aloud ; but made no 
 reply. 
 
 "Speak, Blanche!" he exclaimed; "my 
 arm is uplifted, — one word can save thy 
 father's life, and thy conscience a load 
 oi' remorse. — Speak, Blanche !" 
 
 His daughter, who imagined he had 
 no intention to execute his threat, but 
 merely practised on her feelings, did not 
 reply. The company, who surrounded 
 him, evidently held the same estimation 
 of his conduct ; but Taillebois, fancying 
 Iiis daughter preferred his death, to the 
 alternative of entering into a disagree- 
 able marriage, cried out, in a tone of 
 jealous rage, " Blanche ! Blanche ! thou
 
 "MA LP AS. IDS 
 
 hast slain thy father," and buried the 
 basillard in his side. 
 
 The damsel, at this bloody deed, fell 
 headlong forward at her father's feet, and 
 swooned away; whilst the abbot and his 
 companions stood for some moments 
 speechless. At length, they aroused 
 themselves, and the attendant monks 5 
 raising Sir Roger up, (for he had sunk 
 upon the table,) bore his bleeding body 
 to a bed; and one of them, who acted 
 in the double capacity of doctor to the 
 soul and to the body, staunched the 
 wound, which, fortunately, was not 
 dangerous. The women raised Blanche, 
 whose insensibility continued, and con- 
 veyed her from the hall. 
 
 The abbot was much affected at this 
 catastrophe ; but his brother made light 
 of it, saying the wound would be of no 
 consequence, and that it was a master- 
 stroke of policy, if by it the young lady 
 should be induced to marry Sir Bertrand 
 The marcher adduced the frenzy of the 
 baron as a triumphant proof of attach- 
 ment to himself; and asked his com- 
 F 4-
 
 104 MALPAS. 
 
 panionsif they needed any other evidence 
 than this, that Taillebois would join him 
 in the rebellion ? 
 
 When Sir Roger had recovered him- 
 self, (for he had fainted with loss of 
 blood,) and was somewhat composed, he 
 desired the abbot, Sir Bertrand, Sir Pas- 
 chal, and his daughter to attend him. 
 The three former left the hall, and joined 
 him in his chamber, where he lay pale 
 and ghastly on the bed. The damsels 
 who attended Blanche led her into the 
 room supported on their arms, and 
 seated her near her father. The colour, 
 which usually enriched her complexion, 
 was entirely fled ; and she looked like 
 the lily which has been plucked, and 
 has lost its bloom, though not its fra- 
 grance. A sickly yellow overspread her 
 features ; she had lost the whole of her 
 spirit and animation ; horror appeared to 
 envelope her whole soul ; and, at times, 
 it seemed as if a spectre crossed her 
 vision, for she started and violently 
 shuddered. When she had sat a few 
 moments, she fixed her lustreless eyes
 
 MALPAS. 105 
 
 upon her father, and gazed at him with- 
 out intermission. The scene resembled 
 the return of a departed spirit, to warn 
 a dying sinner of his approaching end, 
 rather than that of two living persons. 
 When Sir Roger addressed his daughter 
 by name, she awoke, as from a dream, 
 though her eyes were full upon him. 
 
 " Blanche! cried her father, " it is thou 
 who hast brought me to this state; I 
 sought but thy good, and thou hast re- 
 quited me with death. " 
 
 She arose from her seat, and, stagger- 
 ing towards the bed, fell on her knees, 
 and grasped her father's hand. He flung 
 it off, and continued, " Away, thou hypo- 
 crite, thou art dutiful in words, but 
 when thou comest to the touchstone, thou 
 art but dross." 
 
 « Ah, holy Virgin ! protect me" cried 
 the ill-fated Blanche, bursting into tears ; 
 " I am lost for ever." 
 
 " Thou art indeed, Blanche ?" replied 
 her parent, " if thou dost not now recall 
 thy refusal. The dagger, which thy 
 disobedience would have guided to my 
 heart, was not sure. The blow was struck 
 t5
 
 106 MALPAS. 
 
 by a hand feeble with age, and trembling 
 with passion; but know, Blanche, and I 
 now swear it by the holy Virgin we adore, 
 that if thou dost not here consent to 
 plight thy troth to Sir Bertrand, I will 
 tear this bandage from my breast, and 
 let out the remains of that blood which 
 gave thee life." 
 
 He accompanied his speech with a 
 determined action, and would have ful- 
 filled his threat had not his daughter 
 shrieked out, and retained his arm. She 
 then said in a voice, hollow and impres- 
 sive, " Do with me as ye list : I am your 
 
 victim." 
 
 Du Chatelet knelt down, took her 
 hand, and kissed it. She rose with a 
 firm and angry countenance, and with- 
 drew it from his caress ; but at a glance 
 from her father she restored it, and the 
 marcher found it cold and clammy as in 
 the article of death. The Baron Taille- 
 bois, who was touched with the misery 
 of his daughter, endeavoured to soften 
 the painfulness of her feelings, after ex- 
 pressing his joy at her acquiescence, 
 which, he said, restored her to his affec-
 
 MALPAS. 107 
 
 tion, and would complete his happiness. 
 He continued, " Thou hast, I know, 
 Blanche, acquired, in the foolish and 
 fantastical court of Edward of Caernar- 
 von, a notion of romantic love, which 
 does not exist upon earth. Experience 
 will make thee wiser, girl ; and what 
 thou now deemest the greatest evil that 
 can befal thee, thou wilt find hereafter the 
 best fortune that could chance to thy 
 lot." 
 
 " If riches, power, and love can make 
 her happy," cried Du Chatelet, " the lady 
 Blanche shall be an enviable woman. — 
 Beshrew me if there is aught on earth, I 
 would not sacrifice to her enjoyment j 
 even my life." 
 
 <c Hearest thou him ?" said Taillebois 
 to his daughter, tc and dost thou regret 
 thine accord ? Is not the sterling love of 
 such a noble and gallant knight better 
 than the flimsy vows of some court fop, 
 whose protestations are forgotten as soon 
 as made, as empty of truth as his own 
 head of sense, or his heart of courage ? 
 Oh, Blanche ! Blanche ! bless the Virgin 
 thou art not abandoned to thine own
 
 108 MALPAS. 
 
 inclination. Good Son ! and ye friends ! 
 ye will now return homeward, and when 
 I can ride I will be with ye, attended 
 by my daughter. In the mean time, Sir 
 Bertrand, thou mayest make thy pre- 
 parations for a public bridal." 
 
 " I vow by our Lady of Malpas," cried 
 Du Chatelet, " that, anxious as I am to 
 gain the person of the Lady Blanche, and 
 however tormenting delay may be to the 
 ardour of my passion, I will yet do 
 some deed of arms which shall be worthy 
 of her regard, and to this end, Sir 
 Roger, I crave the assistance of your re- 
 tainers." 
 
 " Thou shalt have them," replied 
 Taillebois ; " and would to St. George I 
 could be of thy party. I will order my 
 constable to obey thy summons, and to 
 hold my vassals in readiness to march." 
 
 The abbot, Sir Paschal, and the 
 marcher now took their leave of the 
 baron and his daughter ; the men at arms 
 were ordered out ; the abbot and his 
 monks mounted their mules ; whilst Sir 
 Bertrand and his lay-brethren bestrode 
 their coursers. The marshal advanced
 
 MALPAS. 109 
 
 with Du Chatelet's banner, and was 
 followed in the same order as had been 
 observed in the morning. They rode 
 swiftly towards Malpas, where they 
 arrived before nightfall.
 
 110 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAP. V 
 
 A stately knight without doth wait, 
 
 But further he will not hie, 
 Till the Baron himself shall come to the gate, 
 
 And ask him courteously. 
 
 Joanna Baillie. 
 
 On the morning subsequent to the re- 
 turn of Sir Bertram! and his friends 
 from Harding, the warder of Malpas, 
 observing a body of men at arms making 
 for the barriers, blew his horn, and sent 
 a varlet to the castle with notice of their 
 approach. The garrison instantly armed, 
 and, with Sir Bertrand at their head, ad- 
 vanced to the gate. The strange force 
 amounted to one hundred men at arms, 
 gallantly mounted, and their leader (who 
 was richly armed) bore for his device, 
 both upon his pennon and shield, a heart 
 transfixed by an arrow. On their arrival
 
 MALPAS. Ill 
 
 at the barriers, Jannequin Fierabras came 
 out to meet them, and to enquire their 
 design in coming to Malpas. The 
 knight replied, " I am Aubrey Marcel, 
 brought hither on state business to the 
 Lord Abbot Ingulphiis." 
 
 " You are welcome, Sir Knight !" 
 cried the baron advancing : " I am Sir 
 Bertrand du Chatelet, and greet ye right 
 heartily : your coming has been expected. 
 — Ho ! warder ! throw the gate open. — 
 Constable ! I charge ye with these men 
 at arms. — Follow him, sirs, he will make 
 ye welcome." 
 
 The knight dismounted, and gave his 
 horse, lance, and helmet to his body- 
 squires, who led their comrades after the 
 constable into the town. 
 
 Aubrey Marcel was perhaps three and 
 twenty, perfectly handsome and well 
 made ; and though he was not very tall, 
 the symmetryfof his form made him more 
 remarkable than if he had been of gigantic 
 proportions. He had dark hair and laugh- 
 ter-loving eyes, with a countenance full of 
 hilarity and health. A lady's portrait, 
 attached to his gorget by a crimson rib-
 
 112 MALPAS. 
 
 bon, marked him for the poursuivant 
 d'amour * ; and the richness of his ar- 
 mour, of his arms, and the housing of 
 his courser, bespoke him a courtly and 
 fashionable gallant. His pennon showed 
 he was but a bachelor t, though the 
 number of his company might have 
 caused him to be mistaken for a knight 
 of higher rank. 
 
 Sir Bertrand led the young bachelor 
 to the porch of the abbey, and on appli- 
 cation, they had instant admission. 
 
 We need not say that the abbot was 
 rejoiced to see his son ; for they had 
 been separated many years without seeing 
 each other. Aubrey was but a boy when 
 he first joined Lord Mortimer, (the com- 
 mencement of their separation,) and he 
 had now attained perfect and settled 
 
 * Poursuivant d'amour, was a title that knights 
 and squires gave themselves, on account of their 
 wearing the portrait or colours of their mistresses, 
 and challenging each other to fight in honour of 
 their ladies. Froissart, n. 
 
 \ Bacheleria, the commonalty, as distinguished 
 from haronage. The pennon was the proper ensign 
 of a bachelor.
 
 MALPAS. 113 
 
 manhood. Nor was it a slight addition 
 to the abbot's joy that he found his son 
 a knight of so handsome and gallant an 
 appearance ; and that he had been in- 
 trusted by the queen with a force so 
 considerable as that under his command. 
 Sir Paschal, (who had seen him constantly 
 in London before Mortimer fled to 
 France,) received him with equal affec- 
 tion ; and it was some time before he 
 could withdraw himself from their em- 
 braces. Sir Paschal at length said, 
 " Whence come you, fair nephew ? and 
 how far behind is our sovereign lady, and 
 the prince, with the good Lord Mor- 
 timer ?" 
 
 " By my faith, fair uncle !" replied 
 Aubrey, " I and my Hainaulters landed 
 but three days past at Southampton ; 
 we have ridden hither on the pryk ; the 
 queen and her suite were hard upon our 
 heels, and are by this time landed in 
 England." 
 
 " What persons of note attend her ?" 
 said Du Chatelet. 
 
 M Many, Sir Knight," replied Aubrey; 
 " but chief that gallant gentleman, Sir
 
 114 MALPAS. 
 
 John of Hainault. He is our staff and 
 stay until we be joined by our English 
 friends." 
 
 " They will flock to the queen's 
 standard," said Sir Paschal, " when they 
 know she is arrived. The king is at 
 Bristol attended by the Despensers, 
 where, it is reported, they will abide 
 the queen's coming." 
 
 "As I rode hither ward," returned 
 Aubrey, " I heard they had quitted that 
 fortress, and made for Ireland. Glou- 
 cester does well to look to his safety ; 
 if he be caught he will be shown no 
 favour." 
 
 " If the king has left England," cried 
 Sir Bertrand, " he has thrown away his 
 last weapon ; he had some friends here, 
 and many in Wales, who would have 
 made a stand for him. Our neighbour, 
 Sir Price ap Gwyneth, is his fast liege- 
 man, and could have raised several 
 thousand men on summons for his 
 service ; but they will not dare to stir 
 without a leader." 
 
 " Ha ! by St. George," cried young 
 Marcel, " if they have force to gather
 
 MALPAS. 115 
 
 head, they will soon have the king back. 
 It will be good policy to strike the first 
 blow, and nip them in the bud ; what 
 say you, Sir Knight?" 
 
 " By our Lady !" replied the baron, 
 who perceived the ardour of the young 
 bachelor tallied well with his intended 
 expedition, " you speak right gallantly, 
 and I will join you in the adventure with 
 a good will. Ap Gwyneth has ever been 
 my foe, and the time sorts to humble his 
 pride." 
 
 " And what counsel do ye give, my 
 dear father, and honour'd uncle ?" said 
 Aubrey: " doth not our design jump 
 with your advice? Could there be a bet- 
 ter opportunity to do the prince good 
 service ?" 
 
 " Sir Bertrand will best know," re- 
 plied the abbot, " the fittest season to 
 make an excursion across the border ; 
 and to his judgment we leave all martial 
 considerations. There was a time," he 
 continued, sighing, and looking at his 
 son, " when I might have aided ye in 
 otherwise than by words." 
 
 il You do better now, my lord ab-
 
 116 MALPAS. 
 
 bot" returned Du Chatelet ; "for 'you 
 have the head of an experienced soldier, 
 whilst you perform the duties of a young 
 knight in the gallantry of your son." 
 
 " A truce to compliment, Sir Baron !" 
 cried Aubrey, " and let us fix a time for 
 our adventure. Our horses are too 
 much worn to ride further to day ; but 
 on the morrow we might leave Malpas 
 at early morn, and be on the other side 
 of the border by sun-rise. Caergwyneth, 
 the castle of Sir Price, is on the west 
 bank of the Dee, and haply we may 
 carry it by surprise." 
 
 " He keeps too strict guard," an- 
 swered the marcher, " or he would have 
 lost it long since. But if we cannot take 
 it by stratagem, we can by force, for it 
 is to be taken ; and I here vow by St. 
 Benedict of Malpas, that I will capture 
 that fortress or lay my bones beneath its 
 walls." 
 
 " And I swear by the lady I wor- 
 ship," cried the poursuivant, kissing the 
 portrait which was suspended from his 
 neck, " that I will never see her face
 
 MALPAS. 117 
 
 until I set my foot on the highest turret 
 of Caergwyneth." 
 
 " Thou art a right forward armeret ? 
 Aubrey," said his uncle, " and art re- 
 solved, I see, to pay court to thy mis- 
 tress." 
 
 " Ay, good uncle Paschal !" returned 
 Aubrey, " and for her sake I would nigh 
 doff my mail and casque for a lawyer's 
 birret and poke gown." 
 
 " Thou mightest make a worse ex- 
 change," cried the civilian. "What! thou 
 thinkest, perchance, strong of limb and 
 stout of heart never dwelt under the 
 gown of a lawyer? but I tell thee boy, 
 there are many who, in the day of bat- 
 tle, would cry ' Jamais arriere !' as loud 
 as your men at arms." 
 
 " Ay, and full louder by my faith," 
 cried Aubrey ; " for it is known they are 
 doughty men in a combat of words, 
 though I never heard lawyer famed for 
 skill at arms." , 
 
 " Heard ye never of Hubert de 
 Burg?" returned Sir Paschal ; " he was a 
 learned lawyer, and a right valiant cap- 
 tain to the boot."
 
 118 MALPAS* 
 
 " Faith, good uncle !" answered Au- 
 brey, " I am not book-learned ; and save 
 a little ancient song and romance, which 
 I may have learned from the minstrels? 
 I know as much of times past as they dc* 
 of me." 
 
 " It is enough for a knight," cried Da 
 Chatelet, u to be skilled in deeds of arms ? 
 without binding his free soul in the 
 trammels of bookish jargon, The best 
 history ever written will not add an 
 ounce of weight to his battle-axe, nor 
 one jot of courage to his heart. Let 
 priests and gownsmen become learned, 
 but let my books be my lance and 
 courser, my good sword, and my casque 
 of war. If a knight be perfect in his 
 warlike exercises he is a fit peer for a 
 king, or monseigneur St. George." 
 
 " You are right, Sir Baron !" said the 
 abbot. " Each man should be alone 
 studied in his province of life ; and, trust 
 me, I should prefer iron mail and a 
 barbed war-horse, to the ecclesiastical 
 power and soft living which I enjoy as 
 abbot of this rich monastery. Beshrew 
 the hearts which caused the do\qpfall of
 
 MALPAS. 119 
 
 Our noble order. Edward of Caernarvon 
 was one of our persecutors. He hath 
 sown a cruel seed, and he shall reap a 
 bitter harvest." 
 
 The lord marcher now departed from 
 the abbey, leaving the poursuivant to 
 unarm and refresh himself after his 
 morning's ride. 
 
 In the meantime, whilst the abbot and 
 his friends were engaged in the foregoing 
 discourse, the constable of Malpas had 
 engaged himself in providing quarters 
 for the men at arms, attached to Sir 
 Aubrey Marcel, and as each had his 
 body-squire, and squire of the lance, 
 they amounted to three hundred horse- 
 men. The castle of Du Chatelet was 
 already filled with the baron's own re- 
 tainers ; and Fierabras was, therefore, 
 obliged to seek quarters in the town for 
 the great body of the company ; but the 
 squires of Sir Aubrey, and about a dozen 
 of his hauthoners *, were stationed at the 
 abbey. The remainder were accommo- 
 dated at an inn, or hosterie, called the 
 Castle, and at private houses, whose 
 
 * Homo loricatus ; a man at amis.
 
 120 MALPAS. 
 
 owners, much against their inclination, 
 received these military guests. The 
 hosterie was kept by a man named Miles 
 Aprisidly, who, in the days of his youth, 
 had been a soldier under the renowned 
 Edward Longshanks, and had seen much 
 service in the Scottish wars. He was 
 now about fifty, and his lack of exercise, 
 after the toils of his military life, had 
 made him pursy and bloated. He was 
 a great favourite with the men at arms, 
 and other soldiers of the garrison, asw r ell 
 for his frank and hearty humour, as be- 
 cause he was the father of a very pretty 
 girl, who, at this time, was openly be- 
 sieged by the red squire. When not on 
 duty at the castle, Fierabras usually 
 spent his time at the hostel with the fair 
 Joan, who, fearing his power and inte- 
 rest with their liege lord, durst not reject 
 his attentions ; but she was secretly at- 
 tached to the minstrel, whom our readers 
 have seen at the castle, and who was 
 named Oliver Blondel. 
 
 Aprisidly stood at the door of his hostel, 
 clad in a jerkin of blue Normandy cloth, 
 and under-garments of the same stuff, as 
 Jannequin led a score of the Hainaulters
 
 MALPAS. 121 
 
 down the causeway. When he came op* 
 posite the inn he ordered a halt, and 
 nodding to the hosteller, cried " Ho ! 
 Friar Miles 1 I have brought a few bro- 
 thers to your monastery.' ' 
 
 " Do ye bring church scot and wax 
 scot, ciricksceat and aelmefeoh ?" replied 
 Aprisidly ; " if ye have not, ye may 
 chance to ride further for a lodging." 
 
 " Ha ! by Notre Dame de Roquema- 
 dour," cried Jannequin, " my friends 
 are men of substance, and have where- 
 withal to make due offerings to the 
 shrine of your patroness St. Joan." 
 
 " St. Joan have them in her keeping 
 then," answered the hosteller. " Dis- 
 mount, Sirs, if it like ye." 
 
 He then addressed himself to several 
 of the men at arms ; but they, being 
 foreigners, and ignorant of his language, 
 made him no reply. 
 
 " Hollo ! Sir Constable," cried Miles, 
 " are your monks of the anchorite order, 
 who are forbidden the use of speech ? or 
 are they all under the weight of some 
 magic spell, which has clapped a padlock 
 on their tongues ?" 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 MALPAS. 
 
 " Neither," replied Jannequin, laugh- 
 ing ; "they are from Hainault, and do 
 not understand English." 
 
 Fierabras addressed the men at arms 
 in French, and they instantly dismount- 
 ed, and gave their horses to their re- 
 tainers, who led them into the stables 
 belonging to the hostel. The fair Joan, 
 attracted by their arrival, now came 
 forth. She was habited in a kirtle of 
 white russet, with slight broders of silver 
 lace around the hem and waist ; and her 
 chitte or shirt, puckered or folded from 
 the waist to the neck, was of fine napery, 
 worked on the back and bosom with 
 gold thread : her girdle, supporting a 
 bunch of keys, was of velvet, attached 
 by a silver buckle ; and her short wool- 
 len boots were fancied and gartered with 
 knots of ribbon, the ends of which de- 
 pended below her kirtle. She was scarce 
 twenty years old, and was well worthy 
 the attention of the Red Squire. Her 
 face was round and rosy, bespeaking 
 health and content, and her eyes, broad, 
 black, and sparkling, spoke her meaning 
 clearly before she opened her mouth. Her
 
 MALPAS. 123 
 
 complexion was dark, and her black hair 
 hung in clusters down her neck, and 
 upon her shoulders. She was arch and 
 mischievous; but her playfulness w r as 
 frolicksome, and not malignant ; for her 
 character was humane and forgiving, 
 without any spice of envy, hatred, or un- 
 charitableness. She was her father's 
 only child ; and it was supposed would 
 not marry without a handsome dowry, 
 independent of the military fief which 
 Aprisidly held as homager to the Baron 
 du Chatelet. It was no wonder then, 
 that Fierabras, the minstrel, and many- 
 others, should make love to the fair 
 saint of the Castle. Such attractions 
 were irresistible, and drew a great con- 
 course of customers to the hostel. 
 
 The Red Squire took off his hood when 
 he saw his mistress, and said to her, 
 " Ha ! fair Joan, thou lookest more 
 beautiful than the queen of England." 
 
 " How can'st thou tell that," replied 
 the damsel, " when thou hast never 
 seen her?" 
 
 " Not seen Queen Isabel !" cried the 
 Squire ; " by St. Roche a Beam ! I have 
 g 2
 
 124 MALPAS. 
 
 seen her many a good time and oft be- 
 fore she was Edward's wife ; and she 
 hath seen me too." 
 
 " What !" said Miles Aprisidly, " thou 
 wouldest have us credit thee, that she 
 fell in love with thy proper person." 
 
 " Truth to tell," replied Jannequin, 
 after some consideration, " I was then 
 squire to a knight of her chamber ; and 
 many a gold crown hath she given me 
 for little or no service. Ye would not 
 think she did thus out of her nobility ? 
 No, no, good fellow, I have seen some- 
 what of the world, and know better." 
 
 " Tush ! Master Constable," cried 
 the hosteller, " Queen Isabel is a gallant 
 and a generous dame ; her hand was 
 free, and her heart open to all her do- 
 mestics : and I fear me, ye requite her 
 but ill for her courtesy." 
 
 " 111 !" replied Jannequin, " what ill 
 have I done her, by saying she hath 
 remarked me. By St. George, I was 
 well looked at by many a fair dame in 
 the lists at Bourdeaux, when my good 
 lance bore the Lord D'Albret over his 
 horse's croupe."
 
 MALPAS. l%5 
 
 « Thou did'st bear the Lord D'Albret 
 over his horse's croupe !" cried Apri- 
 sidly, incredulously. 
 
 " Aye, by my faith," cried Fierabras ; 
 " the lists were proclaimed for all knights 
 and squires* I ran six courses against 
 D'Albret. The three first we both lost 
 our helmets ; the fourth our lances were 
 shivered to the spear-head ; the fifth I 
 unhelmed my adversary without losing 
 my own casque ; and at the sixth I flung 
 him out of his saddle." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha !" cried Joan, laughing 
 with great glee, " thou hast been dream- 
 ing, Sir Jannequin ! or thou hast learned 
 this tale from Oliver Blondel." 
 
 " St. Denis's curse upon Oliver Blon- 
 del !" cried Fierabras ; but before he 
 could utter another word, he received so 
 smart a box on the ear from the fair hand 
 of his mistress, that he staggered several 
 paces. 
 
 " Ha ! St. George !" cried the Red 
 Squire, " what mean ye by this, fair 
 damsel? wherein did I offend ye ?" 
 
 " Did you not?" replied Joan ; " you 
 are a right courtly squire to be trooping 
 g 3
 
 126 MALPAS. 
 
 forth your curses in the presence of a 
 
 woman." 
 
 " By my troth, fair Joan !" returned 
 Fierabras, " I cry ye mercy ; but I will 
 pass your fisticuff with added weight to 
 the next man that angers me." 
 
 The hosteller heartily enjoyed this 
 scene, and said to the squire, " By our 
 lady ! Sir Constable, she but gave ye 
 her hand, which you have some time 
 sought; and you will now know what 
 it's made of. She is of a weighty fisted 
 family, I promise ye ; and she retains 
 the old strength and spirit of her fore- 
 fathers." 
 
 " Zounds! man, I never doubted it," 
 answered the Red Squire ; " and little wish 
 had I to put her to the trial ; but touch- 
 ing the tilts I can tell ye — " 
 
 " A marvellous lying story," cried 
 Joan, 
 
 <c Nay, but by my own life, fair Joan," 
 continued Fierabras — 
 
 " Which is not worth the swearing 
 by," interrupted the damsel. 
 
 " I did tilt with D'Albret," cried 
 Jannequin,
 
 MALPAS. 127 
 
 " And got woefully beaten," pursued 
 his mistress. 
 
 " By my soul," cried the Red Squire, 
 in a violent rage, " if thou wert a man, 
 damsel ! as thou art a woman, I would 
 cram the lie down thy throat." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha !" exclaimed Joan, 
 nearly bursting with laughter, " what a 
 gallant squire ! Thou art a second Sir 
 Tristram, ha! ha! ha!" 
 
 Miles Aprisidly joined in the laugh 
 against the Red Squire, and said, "is 
 it the custom, Sir Constable, in your 
 country, for men at arms to fly in a pas- 
 sion at the jokes of silly women ? a right 
 valiant custom it is." 
 
 " Nay, Miles 1" cried Jannequin, red- 
 dening with shame, " I meant not to 
 threaten thy fair daughter; — by my faith, 
 I would strike him dead who should do 
 her wrong ; but the very horse, which is 
 now my courser of war, I won for prize 
 in the lists at Bourdeaux, with my best 
 suit of mail ; and that is of Milan steel, 
 finely emblazoned, as becomes a squire 
 of renown in arms." 
 g 4
 
 128 MALPAS. 
 
 " Who has lost his trumpeter," said 
 Joan. 
 
 " Ha! thou mayest rail," cried the 
 Eed Squire, " marry, I care not ; I shall 
 have my revenge when thou becomest 
 my wife, Joan !" 
 
 <c By my truly," cried the maiden, 
 *t if you wait till then, your revenge will 
 be frost-bitten : I have no mind to quit 
 merry England ; and it is said thou art 
 but a bird of passage." 
 
 " What !"answered Fierabras, " would'st 
 thou prefer being the wife of some 
 English yeoman, to being the lady of a 
 French knight, and manorial baron." 
 
 " Thou art not either yet, Sir Con- 
 stable !" cried the damsel. 
 
 " By our lady of Mai pas," answered 
 Jannequin, " I have gold enow to pur- 
 chase a castle and castellary ; and the 
 Baron du Chatelet would make me a 
 knight to-morrow." 
 
 " Would he make thee a baron, Sir 
 Constable ?" cried Joan ; " I would not 
 marry thee to quit this land. — I will 
 die where T have lived, — no grave in
 
 MALPAS. 129 
 
 France shall hold the bones of Joan 
 Aprisidly." 
 
 " And what sayest thou, Friar Lusty 
 Paunch ? " said the constable ; " hast 
 thou no ambition to ennoble thy daugh- 
 ter ?" 
 
 " Ennoble, i' faith !" cried Miles : " Jan- 
 nequin ! I know the trick of your worsted 
 nobility too well to be caught in a trap ; 
 but if the girl has a fancy to thee, let 
 her take thee, in the name of St. Bene- 
 dict, — she shall have my consent." 
 
 " Gallantly said, my old burly cock \" 
 returned the constable; " thou can'st say 
 no fairer ; I answer for her consent ; for 
 she has not the heart to resist : a bro- 
 dered jacket and gilt dagger will bear 
 the palm over a plonket coat and clouted 
 shoes." 
 
 " Faith !" said the maiden, "with me, 
 meek heart and gentle 'haviour would 
 have more weight than a bold braggart 
 in a tawdry garment." 
 
 " I will not bandy words with thee 
 
 now, fair Joan !" cried the Red Squire ; 
 
 but I will press thee hard at a proper 
 
 season. Miles, give these gentlemen 
 
 g 5
 
 130 MALPAS* 
 
 good entertainment, as thou lovest me, 
 and thy lord. Fare thee well, Joan ; I shall 
 see thee again ere nightfall." 
 
 He then left the hostel, and returned 
 to the castle. The men at arms, during 
 their conversation, had been disarmed 
 by their squires ; and were now ready to 
 attack the provision, which the hosteller 
 and his daughter prepared to set before 
 them.
 
 MALPAS. 131 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Havoc, havoc rag'd around, 
 Many a carcase strew'd the ground ; 
 Ravens drank the purple flood, 
 Raven plumes were dy'd in blood. 
 Frighted crowds from place to place, 
 Eager, hurrying, breathless, pale, 
 Spread the news of their disgrace, 
 Trembling as they told the tale. 
 
 Jones's Reliques of the Welsh Bards. 
 
 The day had scarcely broken, when the 
 sound of the trumpet summoned all the 
 men at arms in Malpas to the tilt-yard, 
 preparatory to marching on their ex- 
 pedition. Sir Aubrey Marcel was al- 
 ready armed, and came forth from the 
 monastery, attended by his father and 
 uncle, to mount his courser, which one 
 of the squires held at the porch. The 
 horse, a dapple grey of great strength 
 and beauty, was barbed for war, and 
 bore upon his chamfrein (an iron mask 
 which covered his head, ears, and face), 
 g 6
 
 13 C 2 MALPAS. 
 
 the poursuivant's device, in a star field, 
 with a spike projecting from the centre. 
 Sir Aubrey's shield, which hung upon his 
 breast, bore the device also; and on the 
 crest of his helmet he wore the hood of a 
 lady, decorated with a gold chain. On 
 arriving at the tilt-yard, Sir Aubrey found 
 the retainers of the marcher already drawn 
 up under his banner, together with those 
 of Sir Roger Taillebois under the banner 
 of that baron, and commanded by his 
 constable ; they had been summoned 
 the preceding evening by Sir Bertrand, 
 and had arrived first on the field. The 
 Hainaulters, under the pennon of Sir 
 Aubrey, soon entered the yard, and he 
 placed himself at their head. The entire 
 force consisted of five hundred men at 
 arms, with two thousand cross-bow men, 
 archers and varlets. Sir Bertrand came 
 last, completely armed, and attended by 
 his body-squires. He rode up to Sir 
 Aubrey and saluted him ; the young 
 bachelor returned his compliment, and 
 said, " We have a gallant force, Sir 
 Knight, and must not return without 
 doing some deed worthy our appearance."
 
 MALPAS. 133 
 
 " We will return with honour," re- 
 plied the marcher, "or return no more," 
 
 " I crave a boon, Sir Knight," cried 
 Aubrey : " I pray ye grant to me and 
 my companions, the honour of the 
 v a ward." 
 
 " Ha ! by St. Edward," replied Du 
 Chatelet, " that is more than I can do ; 
 my own men at arms will brook no supe- 
 riors in the path of honour, and my con- 
 stable claims the vaward for his own 
 station." 
 
 The eyes of the poursuivant flashed 
 tire through the bars of his visor at this 
 refusal ; and he cried aloud, " Mate ye 
 me with your vassal, Sir Knight ?" 
 
 The marcher looked calmly at him for 
 a few moments, and then replied, " I 
 intended ye no slight by the refusal, Sir 
 Poursuivant ; but I am on your master's 
 adventure ; and it seems to me somewhat 
 too much that ye should reap all the 
 honour, as well as all the profit." 
 
 " And pray, Sir Knight," cried Au- 
 brey, " whom doth your lack of courtesy 
 term my master ? If it be the prince, 
 whose knight I am, he is your master as
 
 134* MALPAS. 
 
 well as mine; and, by St. George, I hold 
 it a high honour to belong to so noble a 
 patron." 
 
 " I cry ye mercy, Sir Aubrey !" an- 
 swered Du Chatelet: "I thought ye 
 served Lord Mortimer; I was so in- 
 formed." 
 
 " You thought I served !" cried Au- 
 brey. " Do you see the Lord Morti- 
 mer's badge upon my arms? No, Du 
 Chatelet, thou knowest better; and by 
 mine eternal soul, I will find a time to 
 thank thee for thy courtesy." 
 
 The baron hastily closed his visor, and 
 caught a lance from his squire, intending 
 to punish the young poursuivant for his 
 hardihood. Aubrey, who despised his 
 menace, laid his spear in the rest, and 
 stood firm, awaiting his attack ; but Du 
 Chatelet, perceiving the folly and impo- 
 licy of this feud, and that it might prove 
 fatal to his interest, governed his temper, 
 and raised the point of his lance. He then 
 rode away to his own retainers, and ordered 
 the marshal to advance with his banner. 
 
 A postern gate, which opened from 
 the lists without the town, was now
 
 MALPAS. 135 
 
 expanded, and the men at arms of Du 
 Chatelet, filed away in companies of 
 twenty, each company having its con- 
 stable, or captain. To these succeeded 
 the baron himself, attended by his body- 
 squires, four in number, one having his 
 lance, a second for his helmet, a third 
 for his battle-axe, and a fourth for his 
 war-target. 
 
 The Hainaulters next advanced in the 
 same order, and Sir Aubrey, attended 
 by his squires of the body, brought up 
 their rear. They were followed by the 
 bowmen, archers, and varlets, in their 
 respective companies ; and the vassals of 
 Sir Roger Taillebois formed the rear- 
 ward. 
 
 The morning was damp, cold, and 
 foggy; and those in the rear division 
 could not see the banner of the marshal 
 which preceded the vaward. They made 
 a circuit round the walls of the town, in 
 order to gain the road which crossed the 
 border, to the hamlet of Bangor on the 
 Dee. In a short time they entered the 
 march, which was easily distinguished 
 from the country on the other side of
 
 130 MALPAS. 
 
 Malpas, by the ravaged lands, desolated 
 farms, burnt houses, and desert solitudes, 
 they met with in their advance. They 
 passed several villages void of a single 
 Jiving creature, except birds and beasts 
 of game or prey ; and from Malpas to 
 Bangor, a distance of six miles, they saw 
 no human beings but each other. The 
 ruinous war pursued by the chieftains 
 on either side the border, had indeed 
 wrought that solitude, which the Romans 
 called, so emphatically, peace, — the en- 
 tire devastation and depopulation of the 
 country. The sun began to rise when 
 they had advanced within a mile of 
 Bangor ; and the Red Squire, with the 
 baron's assent, rode forward with three 
 score lances, to seize and occupy the 
 bridge over the Dee. The mist soon 
 cleared away before the beams of the 
 sun, and curled up towards the moun- 
 tains of Wales, which were a few miles 
 distant. Objects afar off now became 
 distinctly visible, and the castle of 
 Caergwyneth, standing on a rock a few 
 bow-shots beyond the river, shewed the 
 companions the end of their destination.
 
 MALPAS. 137 
 
 The only pass was by the bridge at 
 Bangor, which was a mile lower down, 
 there being no ford passable by men 
 at arms heavily harnessed. A thick wood 
 of tall and ancient trees, part of the 
 forest of Threap, concealed the hamlet 
 and bridge of Bangor from the road, 
 and served as a curtain or screen to any 
 party in possession of the place. Ten 
 thousand men might have been stationed 
 in and about the hamlet without fear of 
 discovery, so entirely were they engirt 
 by this wood ; the only apertures to 
 which were by roads cut through the 
 midst of the trees. The Baron du 
 Chatelet had arrived at the entrance of 
 the wood, and was slowly pursuing his 
 course, when his ears were assailed by 
 the distant sounds of a combat. An 
 uproar, resembling the trampling of 
 horses, and the charging of men at 
 arms, with the admixture of their battle 
 cries, pealed through the air, and caused 
 a most confused and dreadful din. Sir 
 Bertrand ordered a halt, drew his men 
 back from the wood, and stationed them 
 in ambush at each side of the road skirt*
 
 138 MALPAS. 
 
 ing the defile. Each man tightened his 
 armour, grasped his lance, and prepared 
 for action, as they knew now their ene- 
 mies were abroad. Sir Aubrey Marcel 
 had ridden hitherto sullen and down- 
 cast; but he no sooner " heard the din of 
 battle bray," than he forgot his feud with 
 the marcher, and resolved to maintain 
 his fame as Le Poursuivant d J Amour. 
 They had scarcely made their disposi- 
 tions when the uproar increased, and in 
 a few minutes the remnant of that troop 
 in advance with the Red Squire, returned 
 at full gallop, followed by at least five 
 hundred men at arms, shouting the war- 
 cries of several Welsh chieftains, among 
 which that of Ap Gwyneth was princi- 
 pally audible. When the pursued and 
 the pursuers had passed the defile, and 
 were upon the open plain, Sir Aubrey 
 and his Hainaulters galloped from their 
 ambush, crying « St. George for Mar- 
 cel!" They were followed by the baron 
 and his retainers, who cried out " Malpas 
 for Du Chatelet!" The enemy, observ- 
 ing they were entrapped, and must fight 
 or fly, like good men at arms, chose
 
 MALPAS. 139 
 
 the more honourable alternative. They 
 abandoned the pursuit of Jannequin's 
 company, and wheeling round, prepared 
 to sustain the attack of their new anta- 
 gonists. They had need of preparation, 
 and of courage to boot; for Aubrey and 
 his Hainaulters, and Du Chatelet and 
 his Hauthoners, fell upon them like 
 lions. In the first charge great numbers 
 of the enemy, and a few on the side of 
 the marcher were unhorsed ; and some 
 of the men at arms who could not be 
 aided and remounted by their squires, 
 were trampled to death in the melee, or 
 suffocated in their armour. The fight 
 was renewed with swords, battle-axes 
 and maces, which flew round the heads 
 of the combatants like the flails of hus- 
 bandmen. Sir Bertrand well proved his 
 knighthood ; no man received a blow 
 from his two-handed sword which did 
 not bring him instantly to the ground. 
 
 The young poursuivant also fairly won 
 his spurs, for he that day clove more 
 crests with his battle-axe than any other 
 combatant. The marcher, Du Chatelet, 
 had need of all the strength and courage
 
 140 MALPAS. 
 
 of his retainers, for the enemy were in 
 greater numbers than his party, and 
 fought with a skill and resolution not to 
 be excelled. The bowmen and archers 
 were here useless ; for they could not ex- 
 ercise their arms without doing as much 
 damage to their companions as to the 
 foe ; and were therefore constrained to 
 rest unwilling spectators of a combat 
 which they would gladly have shared. 
 The Welch, too, were elated with their 
 victory over the party of the Red Squire, 
 most of which they had slain or captur- 
 ed ; and though they were taken in an 
 ambush, which put them into some con- 
 fusion, yet, when the first shock w 7 as 
 over, and they perceived their superio- 
 rity in numbers, their confidence re- 
 turned, and they fought without fear or 
 hesitation. 
 
 It was, therefore, by dint of sheer va* 
 lour that the English vanquished their 
 adversaries, for so they did; and the 
 victors did not gain the battle without 
 a hard struggle, and the loss of several 
 of their party. The Welsh chieftain, who 
 commanded the enemy, endeavoured, on
 
 MALPAS. 141 
 
 perceiving all hope of victory lost, to 
 break through his adversaries, and had 
 nigh succeeded, when he encountered 
 Sir Aubrey Marcel* The two knights 
 came within the scope of each other's wea- 
 pons; and the Welchman observing the 
 badge of Aubrey, cried, " Ha! Sir Pour* 
 suivant, thou tightest merrily for thy lady 
 Love." 
 
 " By St. George! Sir Knight," returned 
 Aubrey, " I must do her better service; 
 for I vow by the Holy Virgin, I will never 
 see her face till thou art my captive." 
 
 " Put forth thy prowess!" cried the 
 Welchman, " and take me if thou can'st." 
 
 They spurred their coursers against 
 each other, and renewed the combat with 
 great eagerness and gallantry, whilst the 
 men at arms, attached to each, gathered 
 new life from the courage of their leaders. 
 The Welch knight was armed with a 
 glaire, or long sword, with which he laid 
 on blows so thick and heavy, that the 
 casque of the poursuivant seemed one 
 sheet of flame; and, had it not been of 
 well-tempered metal, the weapon of the 
 Welchman would have soon made an en*
 
 142 MALPAS. 
 
 trance. The hood which Aubrey wore 
 upon his crest, was cut into ribbons, but 
 still kept its place attached by the chain. 
 On the other hand, the poursuivant made 
 his battle-axe ring dreadfully on the hel- 
 met of his antagonist, who frequently 
 bent beneath the weight of the blows ; in 
 a few minutes his crest and visor were cut 
 away, and a continuance of the combat 
 must have been fatal to his life. His 
 squires, faithful to their duty, sacrificed 
 themselves for the preservation of their 
 master. They spurred between the com- 
 batants, and encountered the rage of the 
 young knight, who, as he dealt his blows 
 fiercely around, cried out, " Ha! recre- 
 ant! dost thou fly the combat? Turn back, 
 Sir Knight, or I will proclaim thee cow- 
 ard. By Saint Edward, thou sbalt not 
 thus escape me." 
 
 The Welch knight, „ followed by as 
 many of his men at arms as could with- 
 draw from the fight, galloped back to the 
 defile, pursued by Aubrey Marcel and his 
 Hainaulters. As the Welchmen passed 
 the archers and bowmen, they were sa- 
 luted by a shower of arrows, and a vol-
 
 MALPAS. 145 
 
 ley of bolts from the cross-bows, which 
 brought many men and horses to the 
 ground ; the greater part, notwithstand- 
 ing this discharge, passed the defile, and 
 made for the bridge of Bangor, still fol- 
 lowed by Sir Aubrey and his men at 
 arms. The poursuivant, when he came 
 near the bridge, over which the fugitives 
 had passed, observed a large company of 
 bow r men and archers drawn up on the 
 other side of the river; but these fellows 
 no sooner descried their men at arms 
 routed, flying, and pursued, than they 
 dispersed, without command, and each 
 man fled for the fastest. The young ba- 
 chelor was now obliged to halt, as well 
 to rest his horses, which were much jaded 
 with the hot fight and pursuit, as to await 
 the coming up of Sir Bertrand du Chate- 
 let and the remainder of the troops, with- 
 out whose support it w r ould neither have 
 been safe nor prudent to advance. The 
 men at arms who had escaped, amounted 
 to at least two hundred ; and if those 
 archers and bowmen who had fled w r ere 
 collected, as would doubtless be the case, 
 they would still form a formidable body,
 
 144 MALPAS. 
 
 whilst the poursuivant, unsupported, had 
 only about eighty spears. He therefore, 
 dismounted, and took possession of the 
 bridge, where he remained until the ar- 
 rival of his companions. In a short time, 
 about a dozen Hainault spears, left fat 
 the commencement of the pursuit) to 
 guard the prisoners who had been cap- 
 tured by their company, brought them to 
 the bridge, where each captive was deli- 
 vered to his master or conqueror. They 
 were followed by SirBertrand, the Red 
 Squire, and his companions, who had re- 
 joined their lord, and the rest of the men 
 at arms, bowmen, and varlets, who had 
 also their prisoners under guard, together 
 with the spoils of the field, which had 
 been packed on sumpter horses. Here 
 they made a grand halt ; the men at arms 
 dismounted, and each master ransomed 
 his captive, courteously taking his word 
 for the sum at which the ransom was 
 fixed. This, indeed, was the age of true 
 chivalry, and honour ; for no knight, or 
 squire, who had given his word, harboured 
 any thought or design of breaking it. 
 The parol was sacred, and indissoluble j
 
 MALPAS. 145 
 
 but by the performance of the undertak- 
 ing ; and it happened more than once, 
 about this time, that knights, captured 
 in battle, who had given their words for 
 ransom, refused to be absolved by the 
 Pope from their obligations ; and reso- 
 lutely performed the utmost article of 
 their compacts. This honourable beha- 
 viour, which was general throughout 
 Christendom, begat, and sustained a 
 commensurate spirit of courtesy, to which 
 the civilisation of Europe is, perhaps, 
 greatly indebted. Several Welch knights 
 were among the prisoners, who paid good 
 round sums for their ransoms ; nor did 
 the meanest man at arms escape, with- 
 out satisfying his master for his freedom. 
 The whole of them promised not to bear 
 arms until their ransoms were discharged, 
 and they were then allowed to depart. 
 When this scene was concluded, the En- 
 glish re-girthed their horses, tightened 
 their armour, and remounted. 
 
 They passed the bridge, and proceeded 
 along the bank of the Dee, until they 
 came within the castellary or precinct 
 of Caergwyneth. The castle was finely 
 
 VOL. i. h
 
 146 MALPAS. 
 
 situated, standing on the top of a hill ; 
 which, towards the river, was high, steep, 
 rugged, and inaccessible ; but, on the 
 land-side, was approachable by a gentle 
 ascent of unbroken greensward. It was 
 a fortility of great strength and beauty ; 
 and to sustain and preserve it, as a de- 
 fence to the principality, the country 
 within the border, which was exceed- 
 ingly populous, paid castle-guard, a rent 
 or subsidy for watch and ward. The 
 fortress had four round-towers, con- 
 nected by an embattled wall, with a keep 
 in the midst ; and, like a fortified town, 
 had barriers encircling the gate ; a deep 
 ditch, cut round the castle, formed an 
 inlet for the river, and greatly strength- 
 ened it: altogether, few castles were 
 stronger, or better enabled, by art and 
 nature, to make a handsome and vigor- 
 ous defence. The walls were crowded 
 with men at arms, and other soldiers, 
 as the English approached, many of 
 whom were, doubtless, fugitives from the 
 combat. 
 
 The Baron du Chatelet ordered his 
 men to dismount about two bow-shots
 
 MALPAS. 147 
 
 from the castle ; and they instantly set 
 about forming a camp, regularly to be- 
 siege the place. The varlets were em- 
 ployed to cut sods, and stakes, with 
 which the men at arms and bowmen 
 constructed huts. The tent of the ba- 
 ron, which had been brought on sumpter- 
 horses, was also expanded. It was of 
 red cloth, embroidered with his arms, 
 and before it was erected his banner. 
 His own men at arms, archers, bowmen, 
 and varlets, encamped in huts adjoining 
 his tent. The vassals of "Taillebois oc- 
 cupied the next station, with a small in- 
 terval between ; the banner of Sir Roger 
 being set up before the hut of his con- 
 stable. Sir Aubrey Marcel held the most 
 distant post, (which guarded the postern 
 of the fortress,) denoted by his pennon 
 planted before the door of his hut. These 
 dispositions were made without any in- 
 terruption on the part of the enemy ; 
 and when they were completed, the ba- 
 ron sent his constable to the post of Sir 
 Aubrey, to request he would attend him 
 in his tent. The poursuivant, after some 
 h 2
 
 148 MA LP AS. 
 
 hesitation consented; and advanced to 
 the pavilion of Du Chatelet, who came 
 out to meet him, and made many apolo- 
 gies for the offence which he had given 
 him in the morning. 
 
 " Had I known but half your valour, 
 Sir Aubrey," he cried, " the vaward had 
 been yours without a word. — Forgive 
 me, if I then held ye a raw and untried 
 knight, whose sword was but maiden, 
 and his spurs unbought. I now know 
 your chivalry; and, by my soul, you shall 
 have no further cause to complain. " 
 
 " I am satisfied, Sir Baron," replied 
 Aubrey, " and I cannot much blame 
 you for putting trust in tried men at 
 arms, rather than in a knight bachelor, 
 who has yet his fame to win." 
 
 " You have begun gallantly, Sir Pour- 
 suivant ;" cried Du Chatelet. 
 
 " But, by my faith," continued Au- 
 brey, without noticing the marcher's 
 compliment, " I think we should have 
 done ye service as good as the valiant 
 squire. — He knows how to run, as well 
 as to ride." 
 
 Fierabras, who was present, turned
 
 M ALP AS. 149 
 
 red with passion at this reproach, and 
 internally vowed to be revenged, but 
 made no reply. 
 
 It was resolved, after some time spent 
 in conference between Sir Bertrand and 
 the Poursuivant, to send a summons to 
 Caergwyneth, threatening to storm the 
 castle, and put all within to the sword 
 without accepting ransom, if it were not 
 instantly surrendered. This message was 
 borne by one of the baron's body-squires ; 
 but he soon returned with an answer, 
 saying, the besieged would trust in God 
 and their own courage for their defence, 
 and that they would not surrender whilst 
 they could hold the place. It was then 
 deemed best to send to Malpas for ma- 
 chines of war, (which might be brought 
 to the encampment the following day,) 
 in order to batter down the walls ; and 
 the more to hasten their arrival, the con- 
 stable was despatched, with three score 
 spears, to give them conduct. The be- 
 siegers lay quiet the remainder of the 
 day, the soldiers having plenty of provi- 
 sions, and the horses being turned loose 
 in the fine meadows which adjoined the 
 h 3
 
 150 MALPAS. 
 
 castle. After the knights had dined, 
 which they did together, they passed the 
 evening with wine and minstrelsy. Oli- 
 ver Blondel had attended the expedition 
 of his lord, and charmed the souls of the 
 lierce warriors with the melodious tones 
 of his harp. The constable of Harding, 
 and many of the men at arms, crowded 
 round the tent to listen, and forgot the 
 toils of the day in the harmony of the 
 minstrel. When Oliver had played for 
 an hour, the baron bade him rest, and 
 presented him with some wine in a sil- 
 ver goblet, which he desired him to keep. 
 The minstrels were chronicles of the 
 time ; and no lord, or other noble, who 
 had any regard for his fame, as a gallant 
 knight, and hospitable baron, might pass 
 over the services of his harper unre- 
 warded. They were idolized by the com- 
 mon people, and shared with the clergy 
 that absolute dominion over the public 
 mind, which their rivals claimed to be 
 due alone to themselves. But the min- 
 strels did not, like the religious, abuse 
 that power which they possessed. They 
 were commonly men of a purely poetical
 
 MALPAS. 151 
 
 cast, and devoting their hearts to the 
 beauties of their profession, forgot, in the 
 heaven of fancy, all little and worldly 
 considerations. Far from endeavouring 
 to keep the minds of the people in dark- 
 ness, which the priestcraft of the monks 
 taught as good policy, they endeavoured, 
 by the enchanting power of song, to 
 raise their auditors to every thing gal- 
 lant, noble, and chivalrous; to despise 
 death in pursuit of glory; to sacrifice 
 ambition to Jove or duty ; and to make 
 honour the guiding star of their ador- 
 ation. They encouraged fidelity, disin- 
 terestedness, hospitality, and all the vir- 
 tues ; whilst they lashed vice with an un- 
 sparing hand; and they were as much be- 
 loved by the good, as they were feared, 
 and secretly detested by the inhospitable 
 and bad. 
 
 The Baron du Chatelet was neither 
 good nor generous; but he affected to be 
 both ; and in the hope of reaping great 
 advantages by his shew of munificence, 
 he was willing to make the sacrifice of a 
 few presents to his panegyrist. The 
 minstrel laid his harp upon the table as 
 h 4
 
 152 MALPAS. 
 
 he stood up to receive the baron's gift, 
 and, having drank the healths of the 
 knights, placed the goblet in his bosom. 
 Aubrey took up the harp, and ran his 
 hand over the strings. " What ! Sir 
 Poursuivant," cried Du Chatelet, " I war- 
 rant you are a troubadour, and can sing 
 many a roundelay to your mistresses 
 beauty. " 
 
 Aubrey smiled ; but did not reply. 
 He fixed the harp, and, after a few flou- 
 rishes, began to play a German dance 
 which he had learned in Hainault. The 
 tune was soft, gliding, and melodious ; 
 and, according to the measure of that 
 day's dancing, slow, and revolving. The 
 minstrel himself heard it with delight, 
 whilst the men at arms gazed on the 
 young knight with open mouth, and ears 
 drinking every particle of sound. The 
 baron even forgot his character, and be- 
 came transformed into a human being of 
 virtuous susceptibilities at the intonation 
 of this beautiful air. When Aubrey con- 
 cluded, there was a pause of silence for 
 some moments ; and then murmurs of ad- 
 miration broke from the soldiers, not
 
 M ALP AS. 153 
 
 such as courtiers would bestow on an indif- 
 ferent performer, but such as those 
 rough and warlike adventurers, whose 
 souls knew no polish, who had never be- 
 fore heard minstrelsy so delicately exe- 
 cuted, and who enjoyed every transport 
 with a perfect delight, could express for 
 the person who had given them the 
 highest possible gratification. The Pour- 
 suivant again took the harp, and the tent 
 was instantly silent as the sepulchre of 
 death. He played several lively French 
 dances, and airs of the Gascon trouba- 
 dours, some of which were well known, 
 and were recognized by the men at arms 
 in their more courtly guise, with smiles 
 of deep and greedy enjoyment. The 
 minstrel felt a pang of bitter disappoint- 
 ment shoot athwart his pleasure, on hear- 
 ing himself surpassed on that instrument, 
 the cultivation of which had been his 
 greatest delight. He was at once over- 
 come with transport, and overwhelmed 
 with regret ; joy and sorrow were so 
 mingled and identified in the same feel- 
 ings, that he could not determine which 
 of them predominated. His regret, how- 
 H.5
 
 154 MALPAS. 
 
 ever, was by no means selfish, he rejoiced 
 with true gladness of spirit, that his pro- 
 fessional art had received so high a cul- 
 tivation ; and as he listened, with an eye 
 glistening with tears, to the perfect exe- 
 cution of the young knight, he only re- 
 gretted that he was still unable to elicit 
 those tones which appeared to cost Au- 
 brey so little trouble to develope. When 
 the minstrelsy was concluded, regular 
 watches were set around the encamp- 
 ment, and the soldiers retired to rest. 
 
 On the morrow, soon after sun-rise, 
 several wains arrived in the camp, bear- 
 ing the warlike machines necessary for 
 attacking the castle, escorted by the Red 
 Squire, and the spears under his com,, 
 mand. One of the machines, called a 
 passavant, was a large wooden pent- 
 house, of four stories in height, and 
 capable of sustaining four-score cross- 
 bow men. It was borne from Malpas in 
 several pieces, and put together on arriv- 
 ing before the castle. Another, named 
 malveisin, (ill neighbour,) was a device 
 used to cast stones; there were also others, 
 bearing the different names of mangonel,
 
 MALPAS. 155 
 
 martinet, trebuchet, war-wolf, and don- 
 daine, all of which were artillery, where- 
 by to bombard a town or castle with 
 greater or smaller stones. 
 
 The soldiers were soon in motion ; 
 several parties of men at arms were or- 
 dered by the baron to mount and scour 
 the country for forage; commands which 
 they very willingly obeyed. The bow* 
 men and archers were then drawn out 
 under their centenaries and vintenars ; 
 and, under cover of their pavaises, or 
 shields, which were fastened above their 
 heads, they began a galling fire upon 
 the enemy, who returned it powerfully 
 from their espringalles and bucolles with- 
 in the castle. Sir Bertrand, Sir Aubrey, 
 and the constable of Harding, next mus- 
 tered their men at arms, who, by dint of 
 strength, drew the passavant up the as- 
 cent, and stationed it within a few yards 
 of the gate. It was then filled w r ith cross- 
 bow men, who let fly so many bolts, that, 
 in a short time none of the Welsh dared 
 make their appearance on the battle- 
 ments. The poursuivant, the constable 
 of Harding, and Fierabras, now prepared 
 h 6
 
 156 MALPAS. 
 
 to ascend the walls, and for that purpose 
 advanced to the brink of the ditch, where 
 they fixed their scaling-ladders. Aubrey 
 Marcel, followed closely by his squire 
 holding his pavais over him, first mounted, 
 with his battle-axe in his hand, and had 
 nearly gained the rampart before he was 
 observed. The warder, in the turret of 
 the gate, first descried him, and gave the 
 alarm. The knight, Sir Price ap Gwy- 
 neth, sallied from a barbican, armed with 
 a mace of lead, and his men at arms, 
 following the example of their leader, 
 manned the ramparts in despight of the 
 bolts and arrows of the English. 
 
 The escalade, being attempted in three 
 different places, necessarily weakened the 
 defence made in either ; but Sir Price, 
 who now came hand to hand with Au- 
 brey Marcel, fought with great courage 
 and resolution. His followers threw down 
 upon the assailants hot water, bars of 
 iron, huge stones, and the feu grecquois, 
 the latter of which, composed of sulphur, 
 naphtha, pitch, gum, and bitumen, could 
 only be extinguished by vinegar, mixed- 
 with sand and urine, or by raw hides.
 
 MALPAS. 157 
 
 It burnt the flesh from the bones, and 
 caused inexpressible agony. Many of the 
 assailants were beaten from the ladders, 
 or, mad with the torment of the hot wa- 
 ter, or Greek fire, sprang headlong into 
 the ditch, and were drowned with the 
 weight of their armour. On the other 
 side, the English bowmen and archers 
 kept up an unceasing discharge, which 
 took great effect, and slaughtered the 
 Welch without power of resistance ; 
 the cloth -yard shafts of the Cheshire 
 yeomanry threaded the corselets and 
 brigandines of their foes through and 
 through. The young poursuivant gave 
 direful blows with his war-axe, and more 
 than once cleared the rampart, and forced 
 the Welch knight, Ap Gwyneth, to re- 
 tire without the sweep of his terrible 
 weapon. At length he obtained a foot- 
 ing on the parapet, and with his single 
 arm sustained himself, until he was joined 
 by a body of his companions, who now 
 swarmed up the ladders after their leader. 
 — The Welch knight endeavoured to 
 escape from the press, with the intention 
 of retiring to the keep, or house of re-
 
 158 MALPAS. 
 
 I uge ; but the young poursuivant pur- 
 sued him, and cried, " Stay, Sir Knight, 
 or I will cleave thee to the brain !" 
 
 Ap Gwyneth turned about, and pre- 
 pared once more to defend himself; he 
 raised his mace, and cried aloud, " thou 
 didst swear, Sir Poursuivant, but yester- 
 day, that thou wouldst not see the face 
 of thy mistress till thou hadst me pri- 
 soner ; but thou seest I am not yet 
 thine." 
 
 " By our lady," returned Aubrey, " I 
 have not seen her yet, nor will I till I 
 have fulfilled my vow." 
 
 " The lion is but at bay," cried the 
 Welch chieftain; " beware his fangs." 
 
 With these words, he renewed the 
 combat with his mace, and fought boldly 
 and valiantly ; but the poursuivant 
 speedily brought him on his knees. 
 
 " Yield thee, my prisoner, Sir Knight," 
 cried Aubrey. 
 
 " I yield — I yield to thee, in God*s 
 name !" replied the chieftain, and sur- 
 rendered his mace. 
 
 " Who art thou ?" cried Aubrey ; « I 
 deem thou art noble by thy gallant bear- 
 ing."
 
 MALPAS. 159 
 
 " I am Ap Gwyneth," returned the 
 Knight, "lord of this castle. But, haste 
 thou with me, and let us stop this slaugh- 
 ter. The castle, I confess, is lost. Thou 
 alone hast won it." 
 
 The knights left the rampart, but in a 
 few minutes returned; and Aubrey then 
 cried out to the assailants, " Hold your 
 hands, gallant gentlemen, as ye love me; 
 but maintain your posts." 
 
 " Throw down your weapons," cried 
 the Welch chieftain to his retainers, 
 " and give them entrance. Unbar the 
 portal, and let down the bridge." 
 
 The foemen at first stood in suspense; 
 but, fancying these orders arose from 
 some compact of surrender, they obeyed 
 the mandates of their leaders, and ex- 
 pected, in silence, the issue of the treaty.
 
 160 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
 To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
 Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
 To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery. 
 
 Third Part, Henry VI. 
 
 It will now be necessary to inform our 
 readers of the singular occurrence which 
 had induced Sir Aubrey Marcel to stop 
 short in the career of victory, and put an 
 end to the attack. On quitting the ram- 
 parts with Ap Gwyneth, he had been 
 conducted by that chieftain to the keep 
 in the midst of the fortress, where were 
 placed for security that portion of the 
 tenants of the castle who did not engage 
 in its defence. The door was thrown 
 open ; for it was not the intention of the 
 besieged any longer to defend them- 
 selves ; and, on ascending the stair-case 
 and entering the principal chamber, the 
 first sight which struck the poursuivant 
 was King Edward, attended by the Earl of 
 10
 
 MALPAS. 161 
 
 Gloucester, the Chancellor de Baldock, 
 and some few others of his household. 
 The King stood with his back to the fire, 
 and seemed the least concerned of any 
 man present at the untowardness of his 
 situation ; but, Gloucester, who, before 
 the entrance of Sir Aubrey, had paced 
 the room almost without intermission, 
 sometimes, but rarely, making a halt, and 
 listening with a straining ear and blood- 
 shot eye, if the foe were bursting upon 
 them, now laid his hand upon his dagger, 
 and seemed disposed to sell his life ra- 
 ther than surrender ; but, observing that 
 Aubrey was not followed by his men, and 
 supposing he was their prisoner, he 
 exclaimed, " Ha! traitor! do'st thou for- 
 get thine allegiance? Why bend ye not 
 your knee to your sovereign ?* J 
 
 " Despenser !" returned the poursui- 
 vant, " I know of no traitor here but 
 thee ! and I arrest thee in the name of 
 Prince Edward and Queen Isabel Ap- 
 Gwyneth ! thy head shall answer for his 
 safety." 
 
 The Welch knight, alarmed by this 
 menace, gave the favourite in charge to
 
 162 MALPAS. 
 
 several men at arms, who disarmed him. 
 The poursuivant and Sir Price then re- 
 turned to the ramparts, and issued those 
 orders we have before seen. The Mar- 
 cher du Chatelet immediately took pos- 
 session of the court and battlements with 
 his men at arms ; and Sir Aubrey de- 
 scending, attended by the Welch chief- 
 tain, placed a strong guard at the door 
 of the keep, to prevent the escape of the 
 king and his attendants. 
 
 On approaching Du Chatelet, Sir Au- 
 brey cried out gaily, " News, my Lord 
 Baron! we have ended the war; the King 
 and Despenser are in the keep." 
 
 " Ha! by the Holy Virgin, Sir Knight," 
 cried Bertrand, " dost thou say true ? Are 
 Edward and Glo'ster our prisoners ?" 
 
 " Come and see," returned Aubrey \ 
 " thou knowest them both." 
 
 " If it be true," cried the baron, " I 
 would not barter this day's victory for 
 an earldom. Lead on." 
 
 The knights then proceeded up the 
 stair, followed by the men at arms, and 
 entered the chamber. The king had 
 seated himself, and Robert de Baldock,
 
 MALFAS. 163 
 
 his chancellor, stood on his right hand; the 
 other attendants were on the left. De- 
 spenser stood at a little distance surround- 
 ed by his guard. On the entrance of the 
 armed knights, the chancellor, who was 
 the mouth-piece of the king, now that his 
 favourite was taken from him, addressed 
 them. 
 
 " How is this, my Lord Marcher, that 
 you attack your sovereign in his resi- 
 dence, and raise up against him that 
 hand which he hath pressed at your ho- 
 mage ; that you slaughter his liege sub- 
 jects, and place under guard as felons 
 and malefactors his friends and servants. 
 How are ye advised to answer for these 
 offences? for, by my faith, they appear 
 to me no whit short of treason." 
 
 " Good Master Baldock," cried the 
 marcher, scornfully, " hold thy speech, if 
 thou would'st keep thy life. Thou art 
 not now in thy place of office, nor is the 
 king upon his throne. Prince Edward 
 and the queen are marching against you 
 with the whole country at their heels." 
 
 " We fear not, our son," said the king, 
 mournfully ; " it is our wife, Isabel, that 
 we are most in dread of."
 
 164 MALPAS. 
 
 " As God is my judge!" cried Aubrey, 
 " it is such flattering villains as Despen- 
 ser and thyself, De Baldock, who have 
 brought King Edward to this sorry pass." 
 
 " Thou do'st well," cried Gloucester, 
 proudly, " who art but a bastard, and the 
 page of Mortimer, to rate thus men of 
 noble lineage. Were I free, Marcel, thou 
 wouldst not dare to blur mine honour." 
 
 " Thou art a liar and a traitor, both!" 
 cried the young knight, " and this I will 
 prove against thee body to body. Thou 
 art my prisoner, and 1 will but hold thee 
 safe until thou art ready to do battle on 
 this challenge." 
 
 He drew off his mailed glove and 
 threw it down ; but the chancellor whis* 
 pered the king, who forbade the earl to 
 take it up. Baldock then proceeded. 
 
 " It can serve no end but that of evil, 
 to aggravate this quarrel. The king is 
 in distress, and must be indebted to some 
 feal subjects for his restitution to that 
 power and those rights which an unhap- 
 py fate hath deprived him of. To such 
 valiant liegemen doubt not but he will be 
 grateful. He hath no fears for the duty
 
 MALPAS. 165 
 
 of his son, who hath been seduced by 
 the queen and her foul paramour, Lord 
 Mortimer;" 
 
 " Ha! Baldock," cried the poursuivant, 
 " proceed further at thy peril. Thou art 
 but a churchman, or I would defy thee 
 to the death upon the innocence of Queen 
 Isabel. She is but suspected in hearts 
 black and spotted as thine own. 
 
 " We fear, Sir Knight," said the king, 
 " our chancellor says no more than 
 truth." 
 
 " By the Holy Virgin, my liege," re- 
 turned the poursuivant," he is a foul and 
 calumnious liar. Would to God thou 
 had'st never listened to him and that 
 traitor, Despenser! thou wouldst now 
 have been steadily seated on the throne 
 of thy fathers." 
 
 The king shook his head. He was so 
 wedded to his favourites, that impending 
 ruin had not power to open his eyes to 
 the folly of their conduct, which had 
 caused his ill fortune. Edward, a man of 
 a weak head and narrow capacity, was 
 entirely governed by those to whom he 
 was attached j the slave of their caprices,
 
 166 MALPAS. 
 
 and the tool of their ambition, he was 
 more a puppet than a king; and, though 
 he bore the ensigns of royalty, was wholly 
 without authority or consideration. He 
 was of a good presence, and at this time 
 only forty-three years old; but the life of 
 chagrin and disappointment which he 
 had led from the commencement of his 
 reign, had cast a cloud of sorrow over his 
 features ; and, though he had not suffi- 
 cient penetration to discover the whole of 
 his danger, (having no fears for his life, 
 which his creatures assured him was too 
 sacred to be assaulted by any rebels, 
 however desperate,) he was yet melan- 
 choly at the depression and helplessness 
 of his situation. He was clad, plainly, in 
 black velvet, and his only ornament was 
 achaplet of pearls set around his hood, so 
 that he seemed to have adopted that dress 
 which was most consonant to his fortune 
 and to the dreadful fate which afterwards 
 befel him. After remaining silent a con- 
 siderable time, he said, % And what is it, 
 sirs, you would have us do? We are 
 willing to follow any counsel that may 
 redeem us from this ebb fortune."
 
 MALPAS. 167 
 
 u Suffer me to speak one word in pri- 
 vate to the king," cried Gloucester. 
 
 " No, by St. Becketi" cried Aubrey, 
 " thou shalt not, Despenser; the king hath 
 given ear too long to thy pernicious coun- 
 sel. Let him yield thee and thy herd of 
 flatterers to the just indignation of the 
 people, and throw himself into the arms 
 of his son." 
 
 " Would to God," replied the favour- 
 ite, " my death could restore him his 
 crown ; I would be the first to seek my 
 own doom." 
 
 " Believe it not, Hugh Despenser," 
 said the king; " thou should'st not suf- 
 fer, though we lost our kingdom and our 
 life." 
 
 " Gramercy, Sir King," cried Du Cha- 
 telet, " I fear when Glo'ster shall be in 
 the hands of the queen, your consent will 
 be dispensed with." 
 
 « Ha! St. Edward!" cried the King, 
 bending his brow to the Plantagenet 
 frown, which made him resemble his fa- 
 ther; " who shall betray us to the queen? 
 He shall abide our fortune, and be as 
 harmless as ourselves."
 
 168 MALPAS. 
 
 " He is my prisoner, Sir King," cried 
 the poursuivant, " and shall die the death. 
 I would not ransom him for a queen's 
 dowry !" 
 
 " Who art thou," returned Edward, 
 passionately, " that dare contend with the 
 power of a king? By the corse of my fa« 
 ther,thou art but a traitor, and we will have 
 thy head. Ap Gwyneth! seize him." 
 
 " You forget, my liege," said the chan- 
 cellor, " that we are prisoners, and sub- 
 ject to the will of this baron and knight." 
 
 " Subject 1" cried the king, enraged at 
 the word, " Subject! What! are we not 
 within our own realm ? Is there a greater 
 man than ourselves in this company? 
 I think thy name is Du Chatelet, and if it 
 be, thou art our liegeman and vassal, 
 and hast come a score times with thy 
 hood in thy hand to bow thy knee before 
 us. Whence comes it, then, thy knee is 
 so stubborn now? We well remember 
 thou holdest thy lands and title by the 
 service of defending thy sovereign against 
 his enemies, and of bearing his lance in 
 war, Where be thy vassals now to beat 
 back the queen and Mortimer? and where
 
 MALPAS. 169 
 
 thy lance to bear as our body-servant? 
 By our lady ! I think thou comest trea- 
 sonably to make war upon us, in place of 
 rendering thy proper service," 
 
 " I am in doubt," replied the marcher, 
 " whether thou be'st king, indeed ; for, 
 when a king can no longer afford protec- 
 tion to his subjects, he forfeits their al~ 
 legiance. ,, 
 
 " By St. Paul !" cried Baldock, " this 
 is new doctrine, Sir Baron ; then what 
 head hath the kingdom, if he is no longer 
 sovereign ?" 
 
 " I know not," answered Du Chatelet ; 
 " and I care as little. I am the head of my 
 own vassals, and can uphold my power. 
 Set a king on the throne of England, 
 who can do the like, and I will speedily 
 acknowledge him." 
 
 " By the cross of St. Edward! Du Cha- 
 telet," exclaimed Gloucester, " thine in- 
 terest is sorted with the king's. Set up 
 thy banner for thy lawful sovereign, and 
 he will now gird thee with the sword, and 
 create thee Earl of March, a title aimed 
 at by the rebel Mortimer." 
 
 The blood flushed in the face of the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 MALPAS. 
 
 marcher; but he either doubted the since- 
 rity of the proposal, or the king's ability to 
 make the grant, or there were too many 
 witnesses in the presence; for he made no 
 reply. The favourite, supposing the offer 
 did not reach the height of his ambition, 
 and eager, by any means, to attain his 
 liberty, continued, " Du Chatelet ! name 
 thine own terms ; if an earldom will not 
 content thee, choose what title may please 
 thee, and the whole Welch border on 
 the back of it, and the king shall grant 
 both, so thou but remain staunch to our 
 party.' * 
 
 " Hear ye this traitor!" exclaimed 
 Aubrey, " who, if he had the power, 
 would lavish away the whole kingdom to 
 support his ruined faction. Despenser ! 
 is the border thine to give ? or hast thou 
 the three estates in thy single brain to 
 do and undo after the fashion thou hast 
 devised?" 
 
 " Marcel !" returned Gloucester, " thy 
 fortune shall not be forgotten; thou art 
 but a bachelor now ; but thou shalt be- 
 come one of the wealthiest barons of our 
 isle by joining thy lawful sovereign." .
 
 MALPAS. 171 
 
 " What V' cried the poursuivant, 
 " would I become a caitiff of thy party, 
 thou would'st dispossess some honest man 
 of his land to enrich me withal? No, De- 
 spenser, I swear by the Holy Virgin! by the 
 sun of Heaven ! and by the beauty I wor- 
 ship, that were thy party that of honour 
 and truth, I would fight for thee without 
 a pin's fee ; but, since I know thou art a 
 false traitor, to fight under whose banner 
 were lasting infamy, I tell thee plainly, 
 whatever thou couldst offer, and thy so- 
 vereign perform, should not bribe me to 
 link with thee. Thou art my prisoner ; 
 and, so help me in fight, St. George ! as I 
 deliver thee into the hands of the prince/* 
 
 " And thou, Du Chatelet !" said the 
 favourite. 
 
 The marcher did not answer ; but, turn- 
 ing to the king, said, " As we have won 
 this fortress, it is time to depart. Come, 
 Sir King, it is fit you accompany us," 
 
 li Whither?" replied Edward, whose 
 spirit seemed now quite broken. 
 
 " To my good Castle of Malpas !" re- 
 turned the baron 5 " thou wilt be there in 
 safety." 
 
 1 2
 
 172 MALPAS. 
 
 " Shall we ?" cried the king ; " do'st 
 thou, then, give us this assurance ?" 
 
 " Thou shalt, indeed, be safe, Sir King," 
 replied Du Chatelet; " I pledge ye my 
 knightly word." 
 
 " And our chamberlain, and our chan- 
 cellor, and all our attendants?" continued 
 the monarch. 
 
 " My Lord of Glo'ster," returned the 
 marcher, " is the captive of Sir Aubrey 
 Marcel; for he was found armed and ready 
 for resistance. I have no power over him, 
 and no inclination to interfere between 
 him and his master." 
 
 " But we ride together?" said the 
 king. 
 
 " Ay, my lord," answered Du Chate- 
 let, " if it so please ye." 
 
 " It doth please us, Sir baron," cried 
 Edward, " if it do not give offence to 
 yourself or friends. Beshrew me, but we 
 thank ye for your courtesy." 
 
 The baron then ordered the retainers of 
 Ap Gwyneth to be collected in the court- 
 yard, where the men at arms and others 
 of the garrison were ransomed and dis- 
 charged. He appointed a garrison of his
 
 MALPAS. 173 
 
 own vassals, (six score spears, and three 
 hundred bowmen and archers) and set 
 over them as constable, or castellan, the 
 man at arms, Guisebert Hay. These ap- 
 pointments being concluded, the whole 
 company prepared to depart. The king 
 and his attendants were mounted on the 
 palfreys of the Welsh chieftain, which 
 were found within the castle, and with 
 Sir Price, who rode his own courser of 
 war, were stationed in the midst of three 
 hundred men at arms, but particularly 
 environed by Du Chatelet, Sir Aubrey 
 Marcel, and Fierabras. This division 
 went foremost, and was followed by the 
 rest of the array. They advanced slowly 
 across the river and the border, and it 
 was nightfall before they began to ascend 
 the hill upon which Malpas stood. When 
 they arrived within a few bow-shots of 
 the town, the constable rode forward, and 
 the gate was thrown open, that their 
 march might not be impeded. The king 
 sighed heavily as he passed the portal, 
 and cast a longing look upon the waste 
 which they had passed. The cavalcade 
 proceeded through the town and over 
 1 3
 
 17^ MALPAS. 
 
 the draw-bridge of the castle, which was 
 down for their reception, into the court 
 yard. The baron and Sir Aubrey then 
 dismounted, and, assisting the king to 
 alight, conducted him with his attendants 
 and the Welsh knight into the fortress. 
 
 " I bid ye welcome, Sir King," cried 
 Du Chatelet, " to my poor hall ; this is 
 the first visit that royalty ever paid it." 
 
 " May it be the last," replied the 
 king, solemnly, " if the visit be not paid 
 out of better will than that wherewith 
 we came hither ; but conduct us to our 
 chamber, Sir Marcher, we would rest, 
 for the ride hath tired us ; by our lady! 
 we have known the time, when we could 
 have galloped the whole day in Beaulieu 
 Forest to hunt the stag, without being 
 wearied as much as with this short 
 ride." 
 
 " The sadness of the heart, my liege," 
 said the chancellor, " doth enfeeble the 
 body, and bring upon us an early senes- 
 cence." 
 
 " Ah ! Baldock," cried Edward, in a 
 voice tremulous and feeble with emotion, 
 * c sorrow hath set her seal so long upon
 
 MALFAS. 175 
 
 us, that we have nigh forgotten the taste 
 of happiness. A quiet old age, nay, death 
 itselfi is better than the green spring of 
 youth when buckled to a mountain of 
 troubles." 
 
 At this moment the king's eye caught 
 the forms of Gloucester, Ap Gwyneth, 
 and some others of his friends who were 
 quitting the castle, to be put under a 
 guard of Hainaulters, as the poursuivant's 
 proper prisoners ; Edward raised his hand, 
 and cried, " Ha! where go ye, Despenser ! 
 Ap Gwyneth ! hold, sirs! ye will not quit 
 us who need your services ?" 
 
 " They are my prisoners, my lord," 
 replied Aubrey ; " and they go to mine 
 own quarters." 
 
 " They go ! what ! and we would have 
 it otherwise ?" cried the king, " we are 
 your sovereign, Sirs, and command ye to 
 stay." 
 
 The light of the torches, held by the 
 domestics, fell upon the king's face, and 
 shewed him strongly agitated with con- 
 tending passion -, rage, grief, and terror, 
 were strangely mingled in his counte- 
 nance, and seemed, in some degree, to 
 1 4
 
 176 MALPAS. 
 
 unsettle his understanding. He leaned 
 upon the arm of a chair, and gasped for 
 breath, continuing in a low tone, and by 
 starts, " Thou art our chamberlain, Hugh 
 Despenser, and we shall need thine as- 
 sistance to unrobe ; Ap Gwyneth will 
 hold our basin and ewer , thou, Baldock, 
 the napkin ; come, Sirs, pray ye let us 
 retire. " 
 
 " They must leave ye, Sir King," cried 
 Du Chatelet ; " they are not my captives, 
 and cannot remain in my fortress." 
 
 " Cannot remain in thy fortress, vil- 
 lain !" exclaimed the king, " by the rood 
 of God ye are false knaves and traitors 
 to your sovereign ! — Cannot remain ! ha ! 
 where is my father's power, that used to 
 crush his enemies like the thunderbolt of 
 heaven! Who durst have said to him, Thy 
 friends cannot remain with thee ? Holy 
 Virgin ! Mother of our Redeemer ! have 
 mercy on a persecuted king." He threw 
 himself into the seat, and, covering his 
 face with his hands, burst into tears and 
 cried aloud. The marcher smiled in 
 scorn ; but the young poursuivant, dif- 
 ferently affected, brought his prisoners
 
 MALPAS. 177 
 
 back to the king, and consented to suffer 
 their attendance upon him. He did 
 more; for he ransomed Sir Price ap 
 Gwyneth on the spot, taking his word 
 for payment, and that he would not bear 
 arms until he was discharged. 
 
 The haughty Earl of Gloucester was 
 softened by his generosity, and said, " Sir 
 Aubrey, though thou art my fast foe, I 
 shall ever hold thee a noble and true 
 knight for thy present service." 
 
 " Despenser !" returned the poursui- 
 vanr, " defile not me with thy praise ; 
 thy commendation is an infectious le- 
 prosy, and doth brand the victim with 
 worse than death — with loss of honour, 
 what I do, be sure on't, I do freely for 
 the king, and not out of love to thee." 
 
 " I care not for thy motive," replied 
 the favourite, " since it hath a loyal 
 issue ; and God speed me, if I live, as I 
 requite thy courtesy." 
 
 " Were I on the brink of death," cried 
 
 Aubrey, and thy hand might save me, I 
 
 swear, by Holy Mary, I would not brook 
 
 thy favour. Thou art mistaken, Despenser, 
 
 1 5
 
 1?S MALPAS. 
 
 if thou thinkest I am to be bought by 
 fair words." 
 
 " I never dreamt thou couldst, Sir 
 Knight," replied Gloucester, scornfully, 
 " for, despite thy shew and thy badge of 
 love, I see thou art but a churl-bred 
 sworder." 
 
 " Gramercy for thy gentility," replied 
 Aubrey," it will soon be shorter, by the 
 head." 
 
 " Tout vient de Dieu," cried Glouces- 
 ter, using the legend of a near kinsman. 
 " I fear ye not, if I have fair play." 
 
 " As God may assoile my soul in his 
 hallidome," replied the poursuivant, " I 
 would free thee if I doubted thy having a 
 fair trial. Thou art worthy the death ; but 
 I would have thee honestly dealt withal." 
 
 " Grace Dieu!" cried the king, " can 
 he be tried fairly but by his peers ? and 
 can any, save ourselves, give orders for 
 his execution ? 
 
 " Yea, so I have heard," replied 
 Aubrey ; "for when a king hath not the 
 faculty to govern, a regent may be put in 
 hisplace, whohath likepowers as himself."
 
 MALPAS. 179 
 
 At this reply, Edward started from his 
 seat, and, casting a look of horror upon 
 the poursuivant, hastily quitted the hall, 
 and was followed by his attendants. 
 
 The young bachelor then withdrew, 
 attended by his Hainaulters,and returned 
 to the monastery. 
 
 Our readers have yet to learn how 
 the king and his attendants, who were 
 supposed by the poursuivant and his 
 friends to have been, by this time, in 
 Ireland, were found at Caergwyneth, 
 Sir Aubrey was as greatly astonished at 
 this chance of fortune as could be well 
 imagined, and studiously avoided any 
 action in which he might be said per- 
 sonally to have committed violence on 
 his sovereign. The nicety of his feelings, 
 in this respect, made him the more wil- 
 lingly concede his leading in the ex- 
 pedition to the marcher, who was beset 
 by no such scruples, and content himself 
 with the mere acquisition of those pri- 
 soners whom he had won with his sword 
 in fight. He even confessed, that upon 
 reflection, he would rather have been 
 1 6
 
 180 MALPAS. 
 
 without Despenser, to whom he bore a 
 mortal hatred, than have been an instru- 
 ment whereby the king was made pri- 
 soner. But ■ these floating clouds of 
 regret soon vanished; the young bachelor 
 being entirely ignorant of those murder- 
 ous schemes which had been devised by 
 the Queen and Mortimer, and which 
 were not developed until the unfortu- 
 nate monarch was put into their hands. 
 Aubrey had ridden from Caergwyneth to 
 Malpas by the side of Sir Price, with 
 whom he held converse during their 
 march. From him he learned, that a 
 fortnight ago, he had received a message 
 from his sovereign by a special harbinger, 
 stating that he was then at the Abbey 
 of Neith, in Glamorganshire, where he 
 had been forced in his voyage to Ireland, 
 to seek refuge from a storm which had 
 befallen him at sea, and desiring that he 
 would instantly summon his retainers, 
 and give him conduct to his castle, which 
 was conveniently seated for communica- 
 tion with those of his party in the north 
 of England. He the rather confided his 
 person to the keeping of his Welsh sub- 
 7
 
 MALPAS. 181 
 
 jects, because, being born at Caernarvon, 
 he was, by the inhabitants of the princi- 
 pality, well beloved as their proper and 
 native prince. Sir Price continued, that, 
 upon the receipt of the summons, he had, 
 as in duty he held himself bound, col- 
 lected men at arms from all quarters ; 
 and, according to the king's instructions, 
 advanced with a large force to the place 
 of his retreat, whence he had conducted 
 Edward, Gloucester, De Baldock, and a 
 few others of his attendants to Caergwy- 
 neth, the king chusing to abandon the 
 rest of his suite, to provide for their own 
 safety. Edward expected that the whole 
 principality would flock to him as he 
 marched along, and that he should soon 
 be in force sufficient to meet his wife and 
 her foreign mercenaries. But this ex- 
 pectation had no foundation in reality. 
 The Welsh cried " God save King Ed- 
 ward !" but suffered him to march on 
 without offering any assistance. It was 
 not until he had arrived at Caergwyneth, 
 that he received any reinforcements, and 
 then he was joined only by those needy 
 men at arms, who, accustomed to make
 
 182 MALPAS. 
 
 war on the border, and having nothing 
 but their personal liberty to lose, were in 
 hopes of enriching themselves by a civil 
 war carried on in the rich counties of 
 England. The ill success of his dearest, 
 and, indeed, only trust, dispelled the little 
 courage which the king had gathered on 
 his landing in Wales, and he gave way, 
 notwithstanding the consolatory advice 
 of his servants, to a bitter griefi and 
 melancholy. He was incapable of re- 
 gretting his past weakness ; for he be- 
 lieved himself, and those attached to his 
 fortunes, the only injured persons in the 
 realm ; and threw all the blame of his 
 miscarriage upon his wife and her para- 
 mour, when in fact his ill fortune was in 
 a great measure caused by his own im- 
 becility, and the extravagance of his 
 favourites. Edward, in the gratification 
 of the Despensers, had no measure of 
 prudence. Instead of dispensing, with 
 an impartial hand, those advantages 
 which, as sovereign, he had the disposi- 
 tion of, among his nobility according to 
 their several merits and services, he 
 drained himself of his demesnes and
 
 MALPAS. 183 
 
 treasures to lavish them upon two or 
 three of his courtiers, who, when the 
 storm arose, had no power to shield him 
 against the indignation of his turbulent 
 barons. It is testified by a record in 
 the Tower, that the elder Despenser was 
 possessed of fifty-nine manors, many 
 thousand cattle of various descriptions ; 
 and in armour, plate, jewels, and hard 
 cash, upwards of ten thousand pounds 
 sterling, a sum for those days surprisingly 
 great ; and his whole wealth almost in- 
 credible for the possession of a subject. 
 It is little wonder, then, that this ill- 
 placed munificence should beget jea- 
 lousies and murmurings among those who 
 were aliens to his bounty ; but many 
 stratagems were tried to apprise him of 
 their discontent at his partiality, before 
 they broke out into open rebellion. 
 Stowe, in his survey of London and 
 Westminster, says that, <c in the year 1316, 
 Edward solemnized the feast of Pente- 
 cost in the great hall at Westminster, 
 where, sitting royally at table with his 
 peers about him, there entered a woman 
 adorned like a minstrel, sitting on a great
 
 184 MALPAS. 
 
 horse, trapped as minstrels then used, 
 who rode round about the tables, shewing 
 pastime, and at length came up to the 
 king's table, and laid before him a letter, 
 and forthwith turning her horse, saluted 
 every one and departed." The letter, 
 being opened, had these contents. 
 
 " Our Sovereign Lord the King hath 
 nothing courteously respected his knights, 
 that in his father's time and also in his 
 own, have put forth their persons to divers 
 perils, and have utterly lost, or greatly 
 diminished their substance, for honour of 
 the said king ; and he hath enriched 
 abundantly such as have not borne the 
 weight, as yet, of the business," &c. 
 
 Many other appliances (as our old 
 authors relate), were used without effect. 
 The king continued in his infatuation ; 
 and his favourites were too greedy of their 
 present gains, and too confident in their 
 present favour, to think of securing what 
 they had already obtained by a prudent 
 and circumspect conduct, or to appre- 
 hend any change of system by which their 
 power or fortunes could be overturned. 
 The example which the barons had given
 
 MALPAS. 185 
 
 them in the death of Piers Gaveston, 
 seemed to be obliterated from their 
 memories, or rather, it appeared, by their 
 daring and contemptuous behaviour to 
 those who opposed their faction, as if 
 that example had never existed. But 
 their disappointment, on the breaking 
 out of this rebellion, was as bitter as their 
 pride had been insufferable. The blow 
 seemed at once to stun and terrify them. 
 It rendered those who were once the 
 dread and detestation of the whole land, 
 naked, defenceless, and at the mercy of 
 their insulting and contemptuous con- 
 querors. Their fortunes fell more rapidly 
 than they had risen ; and they who had 
 imagined their foundations dug out of 
 the eternal rock, found they had built 
 their houses on the sand, which soon 
 gave way, and buried them in the ruin.
 
 186 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 A sompnour was ther with us in that place, 
 That hadde a fire-red cherubinne's face, 
 For sause fieme he was, with even narwe. 
 As hote he was and likerous as a sparwe, 
 With scalled browes, blake and pilled berd : 
 Of his visage children were sore aferd. 
 
 Chaucer. 
 
 1 he Red Squire having, at the command 
 of his lord, stationed a strong guard at 
 the door of the king's chamber, and pro- 
 vided for its necessary relief, left the 
 castle, and went to Aprisidly's, for the 
 purpose of visiting his mistress. As he 
 entered the house he heard the voices of 
 several men in high debate ; and by the 
 frequent occurrence of Latin invocations, 
 and what might be very properly termed 
 ecclesiastical slang, he judged one of them 
 to be a member of some religious order. 
 The mendicant friars of all times, 
 since the foundation of their several so- 
 cieties, have, by their loose and unprin- 
 cipled conduct, given a handle for com- 
 plaint and reprobation. At this period,
 
 MALPAS. 187 
 
 they are characterized by several authors 
 as idle, drunken, lascivious, and disho- 
 nest ; ready to undertake any office, no 
 matter how vile or unseemly, if by its 
 execution they might gratify the inordi- 
 nate sensuality of their appetites and 
 desires. No hosterie, ale-house, or even 
 brothel, was without its "lusty freer," 
 who commonly enacted the part of jocu- 
 lator, or merryman, for the diversion of 
 the company - y and according to the bril- 
 liancy of his exploits, and the quaint- 
 ness, perhaps indelicacy, of his anticks, 
 obtained a larger or smaller modicum of 
 pecuniary or bibulous remuneration. 
 
 . We might here enter into a disqui- 
 sition upon the causes of this profligacy; 
 and certainly, a question might be raised, 
 whether it was not the effect of their 
 rules, which went far beyond those of 
 Saint Benedict in strictness and severity. 
 They were not only bound by the triple 
 vow of poverty, chastity, and canonical 
 obedience, but by other ties still more 
 confined ; as, for instance, the Carthu- 
 sians ate no flesh, and on Fridavs but 
 bread and water j they took their diet
 
 188 MALPAS. 
 
 apart from the community, each friar in 
 his own cell, and were served by a lay 
 brother, who kept the key of each spe- 
 leum. Speech was nigh a stranger among 
 the order, the use of it being forbidden 
 but on the most necessary occasions. 
 The Grey Friars, or Friars Minors, the 
 Carmelites, and the Black or Domini- 
 can Friars, had rules equally mortifying 
 and preposterous. The fact seems to be, 
 therefore, that their several founders, 
 Bruno, Saint Francis, and Saint Domi- 
 nick, appear to have possessed more 
 piety than prudence, in attempting to 
 establish an ascetic discipline in the midst 
 of luxury and temptation. Had all the 
 regularly religious preserved their cog- 
 nomen of Unales, by remaining in the 
 wilderness, instead of exchanging it for 
 that of Ordo Ccenobitarum, which they 
 acquired on the formation of monaste- 
 ries, some few eremitse, whose unsocial 
 dispositions forbade an intercourse with 
 mankind, might have passed an inno- 
 cent, if useless, life in the desert ; but to 
 imagine that they could transplant their 
 misanthropy into the regions of com-
 
 MALPAS. 189 
 
 fortable enjoyment, was to expect a mi- 
 racle greater than any recorded by their 
 latitudinarian historians. The friars were 
 but men, notwithstanding their fastings 
 and vigils, their stripes, hair-cloth shirts, 
 and penitential mortifications; and it 
 was very soon perceptible that the ex- 
 tremity of discipline had no other effect 
 than that of disgusting its votaries, and 
 rendering them eager for those gratifica- 
 tions which their regulations told them 
 were illicit, pernicious, and damning to 
 the soul. Besides, most of the friars 
 were too ignorant of all kinds of learning 
 to make any effectual inquiry into the 
 reasonableness and utility of their insti- 
 tutions ; they took every thing on credit, 
 which bore the adoptional decrees of 
 their founders, and having once broken 
 through the pale of their duty, they be- 
 lieved they had attained the ne plus 
 ultra of crime, and could deserve no 
 further punishment by entering into the 
 licentiousness and depravity of the lay- 
 men. They soon surpassed their peni- 
 tents in all kinds of vice, and became 
 eventually a sea-mark or beacon, held up
 
 190 MALPAS. 
 
 to the observation and avoidance of the 
 different nations where they resided ; and 
 at the time of their dissolution in Eng- 
 land, (for which their profligacy was the 
 apology,) we may see by the accounts, 
 however highly charged, and maliciously 
 exaggerated, that they were void of all 
 temperance, sobriety, and chastity, and 
 were given up to every species of vice 
 contained in the catalogue of human 
 wickedness. The Benedictines, and those 
 who adhered to their rules, which were 
 less austere, preserved a much better 
 character. They were neither so profli- 
 gate nor so ignorant as the friars \ and 
 if they fall under our censure in any re- 
 spect, it will be for their ambition, and 
 the means they made use of to support 
 their temporal power, and not for those 
 low and base propensities which dis- 
 graced the mendicants, and dishonoured 
 all ecclesiastical discipline. Moreover, 
 " charity, which covers a multitude of 
 sins," was the characteristic of the Black 
 Monks. Thousands of paupers were 
 fed daily, and clothed annually, at the 
 porches of the greater monasteries, the
 
 MALPAS. 191 
 
 chief of which were of the order of St. 
 Benedict; and although charitable do- 
 nations were enjoined the friars by their 
 regulations, they were much more com- 
 monly observed in the theory than in the 
 practice. In short, that which is a sure 
 test of the merits of the different orders, 
 is observable, that on the dissolution of 
 the smaller houses, consisting in a great 
 measure of the friars, there was heard no 
 murmur of dissatisfaction among the 
 poorer kind of people; but on the abo- 
 lition of the greater monasteries^ the 
 kingdom, from one end to the other, re- 
 echoed with cries of distress and indig- 
 nation; and it is to be believed that no 
 monarch, save the despotic Henry, could 
 have carried a point so fraught with dan- 
 ger to the safety of the state. Having 
 premised thus much on the general order 
 of mendicant friars, we shall return to 
 Fierabras, and introduce our readers with 
 him to a worthy member of the brother- 
 hood. 
 
 The house of Aprisidly, like all other 
 houses which did not belong to the gen- 
 try or nobility, was built of wood and
 
 192 MALPAS. 
 
 plaster, that is to say, a frame-work of 
 wood, resembling the skeleton of a ship, 
 or rather the bone of a herring, was first 
 erected, the interstices whereof were in- 
 terwoven with slight lath, and covered 
 with white or yellow plaster; the wood- 
 work, which was left uncovered, was 
 painted black, and, contrasted with the 
 white mortar of the other parts, had a 
 pleasing effect: the top of the house, 
 which was thatched with straw, had in it 
 an opening or chimney, around which 
 the ingenious hosteller had set up a sort 
 of wooden funnel, with a small mouth, 
 answerable to the brick and mortar 
 chimneys of modern days. Indeed, the 
 houses of the nobility and gentry had 
 chimneys then, and we are, perhaps, 
 doing Miles Aprisidly too much honour, 
 by according to him the invention of this 
 temporary convenience. 
 
 The fire-place within doors was in the 
 midst of the house, and resembled the 
 outline of a Roman camp. The fire 
 itself, occupying a large hole or cockpit 
 in the floor, answered the body of the 
 camp tolerably well, and the black pot
 
 MALPAS. 193 
 
 which frequently hung over it, suspended 
 by a chain from the roof, would have 
 done for the preetorium ; the upper part 
 of the hole represented the interior val- 
 lum, and a space between the fire and 
 the seats of the guests, had no bad simi- 
 litude to the fosse or ditch, more espe- 
 cially when it was flooded with ale or 
 metheglin; the settles or benches which 
 surrounded the fire, (except at two in- 
 tervals forming the portce,) composed 
 the outer vallum, and here you have the 
 camp complete. The intervals, or portae, 
 call them which you please, were used 
 for the egress and regress of the Hus- 
 carles belonging to Aprisidly, in their 
 culinary avocations. As it was dark 
 night when Fierabras entered the house, 
 the fire had newly been replenished 
 with thick logs of seasoned wood, which 
 blazed and crackled away, to the great 
 comfort and enjoyment of the assembled 
 guests. The principal personage among 
 them was the friar; he was of that order 
 termed Freres Pies, from the magpie di- 
 versity of their garments, which were 
 black and white; but, in addition to his 
 vol. 1. K
 
 194 MALPAS. 
 
 woollen coat, hempen girdle, and unshod 
 feet, he had the escalloped hat, staff 1 
 and scrip of a pilgrim, with a great quan- 
 tity of ugly and mis-shapen crosses of white 
 cloth sewed upon his garment. His age 
 was about forty; and although he was not, 
 like his host, tun-bellied and rosy, yet 
 his countenance shewed good living, a 
 light heart, and careless disposition ; his 
 eye, bright and wandering, followed Joan 
 at every step, and the ardency of his 
 gaze well confessed he had long since 
 dismissed his vow of chastity. The next 
 person with whom we wish to bring our 
 readers acquainted, was Alan Waldeyffi 
 granger or farm-keeper to the abbey of 
 Malpas. He was a tall and stout yeoman 
 of thirty, clad in a jerkin and hose of 
 blue russet, with a long pavade or dagger 
 in his belt, and two keys, crosswise, em- 
 broidered on his collar, as a badge of his 
 being the church's retainer. He was 
 shrewd and bold ; and was well es- 
 teemed by his masters, the monks, for 
 his honesty and fidelity. The third per- 
 son in importance was the minstrel, Oli- 
 ver Blondel, who, instead of riding with
 
 MALPAS. 195 
 
 the throng to the castle, had proceeded 
 alone to Aprisidly's, and so arrived before 
 the constable. There were several other 
 guests, who being chiefly rustics, or 
 Hainault men at arms quartered on the 
 hosterie, were not of sufficient import- 
 ance to merit peculiar enumeration in 
 these pages; but we must not omit to 
 inform our readers, that Aprisidly him- 
 self, as well as his daughter, were pre- 
 sent. The subject of their conversation 
 was the capture of the king and Despen- 
 ser; news of which event had been brought 
 to the inn by some of the horsemen who 
 had ridden forward with the Red Squire; 
 but their information was doubted until 
 the arrival of Blondel, who confirmed it. 
 This intelligence, as it was likely, pro- 
 duced a strong ferment in their minds, 
 and they were anxiously discussing the 
 probable intentions of the captors in re- 
 lation to their royal prisoner, when the 
 entrance of the Red Squire caused them 
 to put an end to their investigation. 
 Jannequin bowed to the friar as he en- 
 tered, (who returned his courtesy with 
 a hypocritical " Deus vobiscum I") and 
 k 2
 
 196 MALPAS. 
 
 passed on to Joan, who sat behind the 
 settles talking to Blondei and her father. 
 
 " What!" cried Fierabras, when he 
 saw the minstrel, " art thou here before 
 me? Think not I am a laggard, fair 
 Joan — a silken tunic is lighter to carry 
 than iron harness." 
 
 " I* faith," returned Joan, "you made 
 light enow of your harness yester morn, 
 or you are belied, Sir Constable." 
 
 The Red Squire looked sternly at the 
 minstrel, and then, assuming a smile, said 
 to Joan, — " Who told ye this, fair mis- 
 tress ? By my soul ! I feel how much I 
 am his debtor; and I would, for pay- 
 ment, he were in strait as dangerous. 
 With my own lance bare I down fifteen 
 horsemen ; but what could the courage of 
 Sir Roland 'vantage him against a host?" 
 
 This sally of the Gascon's produced 
 such an effect upon all present, that they 
 entertained themselves heartily at his 
 expense; especially Blondei, who. tickled 
 more than usual at the effrontery of Fier- 
 abras, laughed with such zest as mightily 
 enraged his rival. 
 
 " Is there any man here," bellowed
 
 MALPAS. 197 
 
 the Red Squire, " who dare affirm the 
 contrary ? If there be, I say he is a 
 liar, and there is my glove." 
 
 He threw down his gauntlet, but this 
 action only increased the mirth of the 
 company, and Blondel was obliged to 
 throw himself on a seat and hold his 
 sides. The friar then advanced, and 
 taking up the glove, offered it to the 
 constable, saying, " En le nom de la 
 Virgine Marie, take thy glove, son ; for 
 thou seest no one is disposed to accept 
 thy challenge ; and if there might be 
 found a wight so hardy, this is not the 
 time nor the place for battle. Thou 
 wilt affright this precious damsel, and if 
 we should lose her company through thy 
 squabbling, I would myself crack thy 
 costard for the disappointment." 
 
 "God a' mercy, Sir Friar!" replied 
 Jannequin, " I should wish no better 
 sport. I care not that," snapping his 
 fingers, " for thy cuffs or thy prayers ; 
 and if thou wilt have a bout, I will give 
 thee as good as thou dost bring." 
 
 " Sir Constable," said the minstrel, 
 K 3
 
 198 MALPAS. 
 
 laughing, " there is an old rhythm, 
 which says, 
 
 He that challenges the town, 
 
 May sometimes catch a bloody crown." 
 
 " A pize on thee, and thy rhythms to 
 boot," cried the Gascon fiercely. " Be- 
 shrew my heart ! but I think thou art a 
 double-dealing knave, that showest fair 
 weather to my face, and foul to my back. 
 What ! it was thou who didst me the 
 service of telling that cursed mishap on 
 Bangor bridge to the whole country; 
 and dost now give me caution as a scoff 
 and jeer? Thou that knowest so well to 
 give advice, look to it thyself." 
 
 "What!— Dost thou threaten?" re- 
 turned the minstrel ; " I know of nought 
 which should bind me to seek thy good 
 will, or care for thine anger. 'Tis true 
 I did tell Miles thou wast repulsed on 
 Bangor March." 
 
 " Thou didst!" cried Jannequin, his 
 eyes flashing fire. <c Thou didst pro- 
 claim me beaten! — This, Sir Herald, is 
 for thy reward." —
 
 MALPAS. 199 
 
 He drew his basillard, and rushed 
 upon the minstrel; Joan shrieked, and 
 flew towards them; her father called 
 aloud ; but the harper would have fallen 
 beneath the Gascon's dagger, had not 
 his arm been arrested by the stalwart 
 grasp of Alan Waldeyff. The constable 
 strove in vain to free himself; his 
 strength was no match for that of the 
 yeoman, who clutch'd him as a falcon 
 does his smaller prey. 
 
 " Hold off, Waldeyff!" cried the Red 
 Squire j " hold off, or by Saint Denis, I 
 will make thy heart's blood purple my 
 dagger-blade." 
 
 " Thou shalt make nobody's blood 
 purple thy dagger-blade, false French- 
 man!" returned the granger ; "I have 
 thee fast, and I will keep thee so, unless 
 thou wilt swear peace on thy dagger- 
 cross." 
 
 " Hold !" cried the friar, fumbling in 
 his scrip, " I have here quaedam pars 
 de cruce, in qua — in qua — that is to say, 
 a piece of the holy cross, whereon our 
 Redeemer was crucified. Let him swear 
 on this relic, and if he should break his 
 k 4
 
 200 MALPAS. 
 
 oath, he will be condemned in purgatory 
 usque in diemjudicii cruciandus." 
 
 He produced a piece of wood, which, 
 so far from being in any way distinctive, 
 or capable of identification, was without 
 the general marks of antiquity. In lieu 
 of having that worm-eaten and moulder- 
 ing appearance, which one would have 
 supposed the revolution of twelve centu- 
 ries must have given it, had the relic 
 been veritable, it seemed of wood newly 
 cut, and splintered in some few places 
 for the purpose of aiding the deception. 
 The friar, however, was not singular in 
 his antiquarianism : many of the monas- 
 teries assured their votaries that they 
 held such and such relics, the actual 
 possession of which was warmly disputed 
 by at least some dozens of other religious 
 houses. Thus the leg of St. John the 
 Baptist, the milk of the Blessed Virgin, 
 the beard of Saint Anthony, and many 
 other relics equally precious and authen- 
 ticated, were shown in at least twenty 
 houses in England, and in five hundred 
 throughout Christendom. But to return 
 to our friar. He held forth the pretended
 
 MALPAS. 201 
 
 relic, upon which Waldeyff insisted the 
 constable should swear before he would 
 set him at liberty ; but Fierabras utterly 
 rejected the oath. " To the devil with 
 your mummery !" cried he ; " that is as 
 much the wood of the true cross, as I 
 am Saint Peter, or his Holiness the 
 Pope/' 
 
 " Bah !" ejaculated the friar; " it had 
 better be counterfeit, than that thou 
 shouldst blaspheme." 
 
 " I will make thee a hundred such !" 
 cried Jannequin, laughing, " out of the 
 next stave I splinter ; but come, Alan ! 
 hold off thy hand — there is no need I 
 should use the friar's relic, for in cool 
 blood I will drink the minstrel's health." 
 
 " Ay, pax inter omnes," cried the 
 friar ! by Saint Barnaby and Saint Francis 
 son, thou hast some wit, tho' it be hid 
 in a bushel." 
 
 Aprisidly produced some wine, the 
 granger released the constable, and har- 
 mony was restored. Fierabras pledged 
 Blondel in a full cup, and the minstrel 
 returned his compliment. The friar was 
 K 5
 
 202 MALPAS. 
 
 not backward, but poured a libation to 
 the goddess of concord, not, according 
 to the ancient custom, on the ground, 
 but down his own throat. In short they 
 were set in (as the phrase is) for a regular 
 debauch. A clumsy three-legged table 
 was stationed before the settle, upon 
 which the hosteller placed a flagon of 
 Gascony wine, and several horn cups. 
 Jannequin filled his, and cried " Health 
 to thee, Joan ! and next, to my noble 
 lord,Bertrand du Chatelet;" after empty- 
 ing his cup he continued, " By Saint 
 Denis, a fair wind should have carried 
 me back to France, but I trow there is 
 now better work in hand. The days of 
 spoil, of pelfry, and ransom are beginning, 
 my jolly boys ; and I shall hold him no 
 good man at arms that does not gather 
 a sack full of gold, my bonny Joan ! I 
 promise thee a score yards of Rennes stuff 
 for thy shirting, or I will buy thee a 
 taffeta kirtle, and a velvet aulmoner 
 pranked out with silver, for thy holiday 
 
 girdle. 1 
 
 " Thou mayest spare thy coin, Sir 
 Constable," replied Joan : " gold so won
 
 MALPAS. c 203 
 
 doth never better the winner, and I will 
 none on't." 
 
 " Marry, Sir Constable !" cried the 
 friar, "the church is not touched with 
 such nicety of conscience : — thou wilt do 
 well to buy the intercession of Saint 
 Francis by the application of some of thy 
 treasure to the wants of his votaries." 
 
 "Buy!" ejaculated the granger; "is 
 Saint Francis one of your pardoners, Sir 
 Friar, hawking his good offices the whole 
 country round ? By our Lady ! were it 
 not that I owe duty to the good brethren 
 of Malpas, I would say, No offering no 
 priest ; — ye are sellers all." 
 
 " Good knight of the blue jerkin," 
 cried the friar, " let not thy tongue 
 wag rudely against thy betters; thou 
 knowest not the fastings, the prayings, 
 and the mortifications which we of the 
 priesthood do undergo." 
 
 " No ; by my faith," cried Aprisidly, 
 " he were a wise man, Sir Friar, that 
 did. If good eating, fine wines, and no 
 labour may make out the list of your 
 penances, then are ye the most mortified 
 bodies in life." 
 
 k 6
 
 204 MALPAS. 
 
 " Miles Aprisidly," said the men- 
 dicant, with an affected calmness, " if 
 that be thv name, doest thou think the 
 hard life of a mendicant friar so enviable ? 
 Thou hast but given us the picture of the 
 fat and lazy Benedictines of thine own 
 abbey; far different is the life of a Fran- 
 ciscan, who is really that poor and humble 
 being but known to the monks by pro- 
 fession ; seest thou this coat of coarsest 
 wool, this girdle of common hemp, these 
 bare feet, cut by the rugged stones, and 
 this scrip void of aught — " 
 
 " Save the dram flask, which is peep- 
 ing out to give ye the lie,*' interrupted 
 the granger. 
 
 " The flask is empty, and did contain 
 but pure water from the fountain i" re- 
 turned the friar. " I say, brethren, do ye 
 note these badges of misery, and yet 
 esteem our order an enviable profession ? 
 I speak not of the breaches in our rest 
 for laudes and prime, of our open scourg- 
 ings, our secret penances, our labour, 
 study, and pilgrimages." 
 
 « Ha ! ha ! ha !" cried Waldeyff; 
 " labour, study, and pilgrimages !'•
 
 MALPAS. 205 
 
 " By the rood of Malpas," cried the 
 friar, " I wend homeward now from a 
 pilgrimage to Saint John of Beverley in 
 Yorkshire. " 
 
 " Thou didst know of some fair wench 
 by the way then, Sir Friar," cried the 
 Red Squire; " and so thou didst visit thy 
 two saints at once, two birds with a stone, 
 eh, Sir Mendicant ! I marked thine eyes 
 hawking after Joan ; but see thou seek 
 not to confess her, or I will shave the 
 remnant of thy crown with my basillard." 
 
 " Thou migh test find thyself matched," 
 replied the friar ; " for though I wear a 
 woollen gown, and a hazel rosary, I can 
 handle this staff of mine as well as thou 
 canst do lance and sword." 
 
 " Well said, friar !" cried Waldeyft; 
 " thou art a true English blood, I'll be 
 sworn." 
 
 The granger, who was somewhat fud- 
 dled, accompanied his commendation 
 with a hearty clap on the shoulder, which 
 piece of familiarity did by no means 
 gratify the mendicant, who replied, 
 
 " And I'll he sworn thou art an un- 
 courteous companion ; thy masters,
 
 206 MALPAS. 
 
 granger, might have taught thee better 
 manners than thus to handle a holy 
 friar." 
 
 " Gramercy, Sir Priest !" returned 
 Alan, " I meant thee no wrong, — the 
 blow might be somewhat heavy, for the 
 hand of an English yeoman is none of the 
 lightest; but thou knowest it is our 
 fashion to draw a good bow, and play at 
 sword and buckler, rather than prison 
 our breath and limbs in your mincing 
 daintihood." 
 
 " By Saint Francis ! I would they were 
 imprisoned in the pillory or stocks," cried 
 the mendicant, " an' thou dost not know 
 the way to use them." 
 
 " Try me, thou gossiping priest !" 
 replied Waldeyff, " by our Lady ! I have 
 carried a jack-ass on my shoulders before 
 now j and if thou wilt, I will do so 
 again." 
 
 " Thou art a saucy churl," cried the 
 friar, lending him a blow across the 
 shoulders with his pilgrim staff; the 
 yeoman started up, on feeling the thwack 
 of the mendicant, and, grasping him in 
 his arms, threatened to throw him on the
 
 MALPAS. 207 
 
 fire ; but, at length, by the intercession 
 of the minstrel, for whom Alan had a 
 particular respect, he allowed the friar his 
 liberty, who, so soon as he had his foot 
 on the ground, fixed his staff as a centre, 
 and began to dance around it, resembling 
 in appearance the figure of a bear and 
 ragged staff, the Warwick cognizance. 
 The granger joined him, whilst some of 
 the rustics, who were present, beat time 
 on the settle with their oaken cudgels. 
 Aprisidly endeavoured, in vain, to put 
 an end to their foolery, but Waldeyff 
 hustling him on one side, cried out, 
 " now minstrel, strike up — give us a 
 tittera-lara, my lad of wax. Come Joan, 
 wilt thou not shake thy petticoats, wench, 
 and shew thy brodered stockings ? 
 
 " Ay, that shall she," cried the 
 friar, running up to the damsel, and 
 seizing her by the hand. " By our Lady, 
 sweet wench, I would fain foot it with 
 thee." 
 
 " By our Lady," cried the Red Squire, 
 risingfrom his seat and pushingthe mendi- 
 cant back, " thou shaltnotfoot it with her, 
 Sir Friar, — she can shew off her kirtle
 
 208 MALPAS. 
 
 and hose without thy assistance, or the 
 devil's in it." 
 
 " And what right hast thou to say me 
 nay," replied the friar, " when the 
 maiden doth not refuse ? By my faith ! 
 'stead of calling thyself the Red Squire, 
 thou shouldest be called the green, or 
 the yellow, for thou art a jealous-pated 
 booby." 
 
 " It is not seemly the girl should 
 dance !" said her father : " this is no 
 May-game nor morris-day." 
 
 " I will abide the judgment of the 
 minstrel," cried the arch damsel : " he is 
 the soberest of your company. — What 
 sayest thou, Oliver Blondel ; should I 
 dance or no ?" 
 
 " I answer no," replied Blondel; "thy 
 father has given reasons good enough." 
 
 The constable shook him by the hand 
 for this decision in his favour; and as 
 the friar could not obtain the partner he 
 wished for, he not only gave up dancing, 
 but sullenly quitted the hall. Shortly 
 after the company broke up, and each 
 man retired to his lodgings.
 
 MALPAS. 209 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Oh ! 'twould have done thy heart good, to behold 
 The gorgeous trappings and magnificence, 
 The blazon'd banners, sky-kissing pennons, 
 And rich banderoles that flaunted in the air ! 
 Knights, with their lances raised aloft to heaven, 
 Like a thick wood of stately mountain-pines, 
 Moved in slow order at the trumpet's sound ; 
 Whilst yeomen, and the throng of gay spectators, 
 Gave life and motion to the dazzling scene. 
 
 Joan of Arc. 
 
 Early on the morning following the ar- 
 rival of the king at Malpas, a herald ap- 
 peared at the gate and demanded instant 
 conduct to the Baron du Chatelet. He 
 bore upon his tabard the arms of the Earl 
 of Lancaster, the king's cousin ; and as 
 he seemed by his look of bustle and 
 hurry to be on some errand of import- 
 ance, he was admitted without delay. 
 When brought into the presence of Sir 
 Bertrand, who was still a-bed, he in- 
 formed him that the Earl, journeying 
 southward to meet the queen, had stop-
 
 210 MALPAS. 
 
 ped to rest at the abbey of Combermere, 
 (distant some half-dozen miles from 
 Malpas,) where he had first been made 
 acquainted with the capture of Edward, 
 and his attendants; that it was his wish 
 to see the king, and, if not disagreeable 
 to the baron, he would advance to the 
 castle on his (the herald's) return. Du 
 Chatelet accorded his consent, condi- 
 tioned only that the earl's attendants 
 should not exceed a score of armed men ; 
 and with this answer the herald quitted 
 him. He proceeded to the abbey and 
 requested admission to the lord abbot, to 
 whom he delivered his master's compli- 
 ments, and craved a lodging for himself 
 and twenty knights. Sir Aubrey, who 
 was present at his reception, instantly 
 armed himself and fifty of his lances, 
 with whom he set out for Combermere 
 attended by the herald. The earl had, 
 during his residence abroad with the 
 queen and prince, much befriended the 
 bachelor, who looked up to him as a kind 
 of patron, and intended to place his 
 prisoner Gloucester, at his disposal. 
 Henry of Lancaster, son of that earl
 
 MALPAS. 211 
 
 condemned and executed through the 
 inveterate hatred of the Despensers, and 
 the weakness of the king, was a noble- 
 man not only of great and honourable 
 estate, but of high personal character. 
 He was brave, generous, prudent, and 
 humane, a man of honour in the true 
 sense of the word, and inimical to all 
 those who preferred their own private 
 and selfish ambition to the good weal 
 and glory of their country. He was 
 upon principle, as well as duty to the 
 manes of his father, the avowed enemy 
 of the Despensers, and was more than 
 any other by them dreaded and detested. 
 His probity was so universally established, 
 that the queen and her gallant Mortimer 
 thought it unadvisable to trust him 
 with their schemes, deep as were the 
 injuries his family had suffered from the 
 king ; and a reference to the ancient and 
 more particular historians will demon- 
 strate that he was held aloof from their 
 cabals, and was considered as the friend 
 of the young prince, rather than the co- 
 adjutor of his infamous mother. Nay, 
 when the king himself had been deposed
 
 212 MALPAS. 
 
 by the concurrent resolutions of all the 
 estates, and was placed in the earl's 
 hands as in sure keeping ; though he of 
 all men had cause to remember the 
 king's bad government, yet, acting upon 
 the true feelings of a Christian, lie forgot 
 his injuries in the misfortunes of the mo- 
 narch, and treated him with an honour- 
 able attention, a tenderness, and hum- 
 nity, as admirable in himself, as it was 
 mortifying and undesirable to Isabel and 
 Mortimer. They, as our readers are 
 well acquainted, removed Edward to 
 Berkeley Castle, where he met that horrid 
 fate which has had no parallel in the 
 annals of murder. 
 
 When Du Chatelet arose, which he did 
 on the departure of the herald, he gave 
 orders to his constable to have the gar- 
 rison completely armed and drawn out. 
 On all occasions of ceremony, armour 
 was the state, if not court dress, and Sir 
 Bertrand wished to do honour to so great 
 a man as the Earl of Lancaster. The 
 ramparts of the castle and the parapet 
 and barbicans of the town were manned 
 with archers and crossbow-men, whilst
 
 MALPAS. 213 
 
 one-half of the men at arms formed a 
 guard of honour on horseback, the re- 
 maining moiety being stationed on foot 
 within the hall of the castle and the court- 
 yard. The baron himself, who was alone 
 unarmed, wore a rich tunic and hose of 
 tawney-coloured velvet, gaily embroi- 
 dered with gold, Spanish boots of buff 
 leather, and a state-mantle of crimson 
 damask, furred witli large squares of 
 vair, and purfled with honobles or rows 
 of minuevair on the cape: the rest of his 
 equipments were befitting his rank. He 
 had scarcely descended from his cham- 
 ber, when the abbot and Sir Paschal 
 made their appearance in the hall, robed 
 and attended as befitted them when at- 
 tending the court of a king. To do the 
 abbot justice, it must be confessed, that 
 it was his wish, by shewing the fallen 
 monarch all honour and countenance, to 
 alleviate the sense of his misfortunes ; 
 and he, therefore, appeared before him 
 in equal state as if he had still been at 
 liberty, and in the government of his 
 kingdom. Our readers will, we trust, 
 pardon us for being particular in our
 
 214 M ALP AS. 
 
 description of the several habits and 
 equipages of our personages. We shall 
 do our endeavour to set before them the 
 true glass and fashion of the time; and 
 hope to draw upon ourselves no scorn 
 from the antiquary ; and yet give some 
 amusement to those, who, though unac- 
 quainted with the foppery of their ances- 
 tors, are fond of observing the mutations 
 of dandyism in all its exuberances. More- 
 over, the dresses of the inferior clergy, 
 of the yoemen and perdings, (or men of 
 no substance, as they are termed, legi- 
 bus H. I. cap. 29.) and which cannot be 
 brought within the charge of fantastical 
 dressing, do yet deserve some particular 
 notice, insomuch as they illustrate the 
 fashions of our plebeian forefathers, to 
 those who have not the time or the incli- 
 nation to seek them in original authors. 
 We make this apology once for all, and 
 we expect that it will not be carped at 
 but by those who are masters of all anti- 
 quarian learning. 
 
 The abbot was clothed in an upper 
 garment of rich purple velvet, called a 
 dalmatick, having beneath it a white
 
 MALPAS. 215 
 
 silken tunic, the sleeves of which were 
 close to the arm and fastened by jewelled 
 buttons at the wrists ; his shoes were of 
 the same velvet as his dalmatick ; and on 
 his head he wore his costly mitre ; his 
 hands were graced with the ring and 
 gloves ; and his silver crosier, richly 
 adorned with jewels, was borne by an ec- 
 clesiastical officer especially appointed 
 for that service. He was also attended 
 by two other monks, one bearing his 
 cross, the rood of which was pure gold; 
 and the other the banner of the abbey, 
 (gules, with two keys en sautoir, the de- 
 vice of St. Peter.) His whole state was 
 magnificent beyond description, and 
 must have been witnessed, to produce an 
 adequate admiration. His brother, Sir 
 Paschal Marcel, who was a civil (or Nor- 
 man) lawyer of great renown in his pro- 
 fession, wore, (like a sergeant of com- 
 mon law) a party-coloured robe of diaper, 
 with a girdle of samytte adorned with 
 bars or stripes of gold, and a coif of 
 white silk which covered the tonsure of 
 his head. He was also attended by his 
 retainer, clad in a burnet-coloured livery,
 
 216 MALPAS. 
 
 with his master's badge or cognizance, 
 embroidered on the breast and back of 
 his tunic. 
 
 It was near mid-day when the prepara- 
 tions for receiving the earl were com- 
 pleted. The king and his attendants 
 still kept their chamber, being there sup- 
 plied with refreshments by the baron's 
 domestics. The coming of the Earl of 
 Lancaster to visit the king, was soon 
 noised through the town, and the inha- 
 bitants and rustics of the adjoining coun- 
 try appeared at the tilt-yard dressed in 
 their holiday equipments long before the 
 arrival of the cavalcade. Joan Aprisidly, 
 as usual, had the best place of observ- 
 ation on the castle parapet, much to the 
 envy and dissatisfaction of her less fair 
 compeers. She was attended by the 
 minstrel, the pied friar, and her father ; 
 and was shortly joined by the granger 
 Waldeyff. The guard of honour, com- 
 posed of half of Aubrey's company of 
 Hainaulters, and one hundred and fifty 
 English lances, rode without intermission, 
 between the great gate of the town and 
 the tilt-yard. All was bustle and ani-
 
 MALPAS; 217 
 
 iftation. Here a troop of lances, with 
 tabards of the baron's arms worn over 
 their complete mail, moved at a foot- 
 pace from one end of the lists to the 
 other ; there a body of Hainault spears, 
 with armour of bright plate, resembling 
 the scales on a dragon's back, rode at a 
 sharp trot, or curveted from side to side 
 displaying their horsemanship. In one 
 place a company of English yoemen, clad . 
 in their polished brigandines, with hose 
 and sleeves of mail, each man holding a 
 mighty bow, stood in a circle discussing 
 their favourite exercise, archery ; whilst 
 a crowd of crossbow-men, guarding the 
 postern, were equally engaged upon the 
 superiority of their weapon over that of 
 the long-bow. The Red Squire, the con- 
 stables of the men at arms, the centena- 
 ries and vintenars of the infantry were 
 seen hurrying about in various directions 
 giving orders or countermanding them. 
 Trumpets and horns astounded the wel- 
 kin ; drums beat, (laugh not, ye critics, 
 drums were used long before this era,) 
 and every thing bore an appearance as 
 vol. r. L
 
 21 g WALFASr 
 
 fascinating to the eye of the females and 
 young soldiers of that age, as does, at 
 this day, a review of a regiment of hus- 
 sars or lancers, before the sovereign on 
 Hounslow Heath, to crowds of elegant 
 and admiring spectators. " Look at 
 those men at arm's-,*? said the minstrel;, 
 " saw ye ever a sight so gallant ? How 
 erect they bear their tall lances, like a 
 grove of young cedars ! How stately 
 each man bestrides his steed, and their 
 coursers, how they paw the ground and 
 snuff the air, as though they disdained 
 the earth they tread on." 
 
 " Men at arms, quotha !" cried Wal- 
 deyff, " dost see those bold yeomen, with 
 their elke bows, and arrows of a good 
 cloth-yard ? those are the lads for ser- 
 vice. — What say'st thou Miles ? thou 
 should'st know somewhat of the matter. 
 — What made the Scots run at Falkirk, 
 my old cock ? Was it not the yeomen's 
 bows ? answer me that." 
 
 " By St. Hubert," replied Aprisidly, 
 
 who had been an archer himself, " thou 
 
 hast hit the mark, Alan. — It was the 
 
 English yeomanry won that day ; for the 
 
 *1
 
 MALPAS. 21$ 
 
 chivalry struck never a stroke till the 
 field was gained." 
 
 " Ha, St. Francis !" cried the friar, 
 " bad I wis are both lance and bow ; but 
 worse weapon a thousand times is the 
 murderous cross-bow/' 
 
 " Pish!" returned the granger, draw- 
 ing up his nose scornfully, " a child's 
 weapon — fit only to shoot crows, or at a 
 mark." 
 
 " It is worth naught in a challenged 
 field," continued Aprisidly, " but may 
 be useful in assaulting a town." 
 
 " By our Lady," cried the friar, " it 
 was prohibited by an ecclesiastical coun- 
 cil, as a most damnable weapon, invented 
 by the devil in his enmity to mankind ; 
 but was revived by Cceur de Lion in his 
 crusade against the Saracens." 
 
 " 1 tell thee, Sir Friar," cried the 
 granger, " that the English bow, both 
 at Cyprus and Ascalon, did more execu- 
 tion than the whole of the chivalry* I 
 have heard it from the sons of those who 
 were present ; but when heard ye aught 
 of the cross-bow?" 
 
 " When heard I ?" returned the men- 
 
 L 2
 
 MO MALFAS, 
 
 dicant, " cans't thou suppose the w&d» 
 pon would have been condemned by a 
 public council, had not the fathers found 
 it more deadly and murderous than any 
 other in use ?" 
 
 " The fathers were fools," cried Wal~ 
 deyff unceremoniously. 
 
 " And do not those who use it," cried 
 the friar, " shoot not only darts and 
 arrows, but also leaden bolts and quarrels 
 of iron, big enough to cleave a man in 
 twain ?" 
 
 " A man 1" cried Waldeyff, " ay, such 
 a man as thou art — a goose's feather 
 would do it — but I would thou had'st 
 an ashen shaft quivering in thy liver, — 
 thou would'st then learn the difference, 
 old burly head." 
 
 The minstrel perceiving this dispute, 
 if allowed to continue, would produce 
 ill consequences, interrupted the contro- 
 versialists, by remarking how well the 
 Red Squire managed his horse, and how 
 gracefully he bore his lance. 
 
 "Which is he? -Which is he?" cried 
 the friar. 
 
 " Seest thou not yon horseman," re-
 
 SfALPAS. 221 
 
 plied Aprisidly, " with a crimson tabard 
 over his mail ? The arms of the baron are 
 worked on the breast in gold, and he 
 rides a bright bay courser, barbed with a 
 demi-chamfrein — there, now he rides at 
 speed — see, he gallops towards the town 
 — he waves his arm— hark! (after a 
 short pause,) he cries the Earl is at the 
 gate." 
 
 A loud murmur ran through the crowd 
 of rustics who surrounded the barriers 
 of the tilt-yard. The constables of the 
 men at arms formed them in two lines, 
 one on each side of the lists; whilst the 
 infantry were also drawn up in two bat- 
 tles or squadrons at the upper and lower 
 ends of the ground. The sound of the 
 trumpet announced the advance of the 
 earl and his party; and, in a few minutes, 
 they entered the tilt-yard in the follow- 
 ing order : first came the pennon-bearers 
 of Sir Aubrey Marcel, followed by twen- 
 ty-five Hainault spears ; next the earl's 
 marshal, bearing his banner of red sarce- 
 net, with his arms emblazoned thereon ; 
 and he was followed by ten knights clad 
 m complete mail, belonging to the earl's 
 
 L 3
 
 222 MALPAS. 
 
 household. The earl himself rode next, 
 accompanied by Sir Aubrey Marcel and 
 another knight. As a prince of the 
 blood, Lancaster was habited in a surcoat 
 or supertunic of purple velvet, lined with 
 ermine, and enriched with leopards of 
 gold; his hosen were of the same stuff; 
 and on his head he wore a round cap, 
 called a pileus, or cap of state, being 
 made of velvet, as his habit, with a jew- 
 elled button in front, and a gold tassel 
 depending from the crown. He was at 
 this time a young man ; but there was in 
 his air and carriage so much majesty and 
 command, that he inspired the boldest 
 with awe and the proudest with respect. 
 Our readers are acquainted with the 
 bearing and equipage of Sir Aubrey Mar- 
 cel; we shall therefore pass to the de- 
 scription of the other knight who attended 
 the earl. 
 
 He was apparently about five-and-tvven- 
 ty or thirty years of age, with a counte- 
 nance which would have been remark- 
 ably handsome, had it not been preju- 
 diced by a cast of effeminate foppery, 
 which pervaded the whole person. He
 
 MALPAS. 2 U 2$ 
 
 ■was clad in plate, or jointed armour, 
 which began about this time to be worn 
 In France, of which country he was a 
 native : it consisted of a cuirass of bright 
 steel or iron, which defended his body, as 
 <lid the gorget or hallercet his neck, and 
 the pouldrons, brassarts, and gauntlets, 
 all of plate, his shoulders, arms, and hands ^ 
 he had also a garde de reins, together 
 with cuissarts for his thighs, and greaves 
 or steel boots, for his legs and feet ; on 
 his heels he wore the gilt spurs of knight- 
 hood, which, instead of having only one 
 .point, as hitherto used, (and whence the 
 spur was called a pryck) had an enor- 
 mous rouelie or radiated wheel, six inches 
 in diameter. His horse, a milk-white 
 courser, was barbed in the same fashion, 
 having a chamfrein of bright steel upon 
 his head, with another covering for his 
 neck, called a criniere, composed of a 
 number of small plates, connected toge- 
 ther and hooked to the chamfrein ; he 
 had also a poitrinal for his breast, with a 
 croupiere and flancois for his hind quar- 
 ters and flanks. His body-armour, (or at 
 least so much of it as could be seen beneath 
 l 4
 
 '^£4' MALFAS, 
 
 his quartelois, which was of scarlet da- 
 mask, starred with gold, and embroidered 
 with his arms) was richly decorated with 
 chasing, gilding, bosses and rivets of gold ; 
 and the several pieces composing the barb 
 of his horse were gaily adorned with fo- 
 liage and other ornaments. He had two 
 squires of the body in attendance upon 
 him, one of whom bore his burgonet vi- 
 sored, beavered, and crested with a rich 
 plume of white feathers; the other squire 
 carried his lance, which was fluted, and 
 guarded like a tilting-spear, with a vam- 
 plate of iron, to preserve his hand against 
 the shock in time of action ; the lance was 
 painted with stripes of divers colours 
 along the flutes, and ornamented with a 
 silken pensil or banderole attached to 
 the head of the shaft. The only weapons 
 he wore on his person were a rencontre 
 sword, or sword of arms, on his left 
 side, and a small dagger, called the 
 misericorde, or dagger of mercy, on his 
 right. At his saddle bow hung a mace 
 of damascene work, with the shaft or 
 handle plated with silver. His squires 
 were clad as the other men at arms, ex-
 
 MALPAS. %%5 
 
 cept that they wore burgonets, instead of 
 the bacinets and cylindrical helmets used 
 by the English and Hainaulters. To this 
 armeret and his squires, succeeded ten 
 other knights of the earl's household ; 
 and the rear was brought up by the re- 
 maining division of Hainaulters. As they 
 rode slowlv, it was some time before the 
 entire cavalcade had entered the tilt-yard, 
 and the populace had full leisure and op- 
 portunity to scrutinize their appearance. 
 So much splendour could not fail to raise 
 their curiosity and admiration, and they 
 testified their delight by loud shouts of 
 applause and busy murmurs of appro- 
 bation. Above all, the female part of 
 the spectators appeared to be greatly 
 taken with the novel and elegant appear- 
 ance of the French knight, who, indeed, 
 ingrossed more of the public attention 
 than did the earl himself. Lancaster was 
 engaged in a conversation with Sir Au- 
 brey Marcel, which, from his paying lit- 
 tle attention to the surrounding scene, 
 was, doubtless, of considerable interest ; 
 whilst the Frenchman, who appeared to 
 fancy nothing interesting but what re- 
 I 5
 
 £26 MALPAS, 
 
 lated to his own figure, sat silent on his 
 courser, intent upon keeping a handsome 
 seat, and shewing off to the greatest ad- 
 vantage. The eager gaze of the, people, 
 and of the women particularly, seemed to 
 give him much pleasure, though he was 
 doubtless a gallant of too high nurture to 
 manifest any exterior marks of gratifica- 
 tion more than those of giving himself 
 an air of superior state, and applying 
 the rouelles of his spurs to the flank of 
 his courser, causing him to curvet and 
 amble. 
 
 " Eh, sirs," cried Joan, " look at that 
 gay knight ; there's a bird of feather for 
 
 ye!" 
 
 " Ay, Joan," returned the granger, 
 c * by my troth, he seems to have meikle 
 more feather than pluck." 
 
 " My stars!" continued the damsel, 
 " what a fine Talbot! how pranked and 
 beglozied with gold ! and his cap, black 
 velvet, as I live! and posied with jewels ! 
 See how his plume flaunts it in the air ! 
 as who should say, saw ye ever the like ?" 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha!" cried Aprisidl}% "what 
 the devil has he got on his heels? They
 
 MALPAS. 227 
 
 are like the round ends of our fire and- 
 irons, save that the one are iron and the 
 other gold, I trow." 
 
 " They are the new-fashioned spurs !" 
 replied Oliver Blondel ! " but this gal- 
 lant is extravagant in his fashion. I 
 fancy he is some foreigner of high breed- 
 ing; for this is the first suit of jointed ar- 
 mour I have yet seen, though I have 
 heard it spoken of by travelled men. He 
 is, in sooth, a handsome man." 
 
 " Ay," cried Waldeyff; " but he is no 
 peer to the young bachelor, Aubrey 
 Marcel. His face is spoiled by his fop- 
 pery; whilst Marcel is just as God made 
 him. The Frenchman, for I trow he is 
 one, is armed like a dainty minion ; but 
 the poursuivant, as he calls himself, is 
 both handsome, gaily harnessed, and a 
 bold venturer, to the boot." 
 
 " Ay, ay," returned Joan ; " but mark 
 ye his beautiful hair? In how many croks 
 it curls around his forehead beneath his 
 cap." 
 
 " 'Slife!" cried her father, "thou dost 
 praise this knight, Joan, for his very fop- 
 pery. He durst not wear his helmet, lest, 
 l6
 
 228 MALPAS. 
 
 forsooth, it should spoil his braided locks* 
 But look at Sir Aubrey ; he has his ba- 
 cinet on his head, and has no need to 
 give a thank-ye to his squire for bearing 
 it ; and, look at the Frenchman's lance, 
 painted with as many colours as a may- 
 ing pole. By our Lady of Malpas, he 
 would make a proper jester, or lord of 
 of misrule." 
 
 " Fie on ye," cried his daughter, " to 
 give such silly names to a worshipful 
 knight, and a handsome. He may be 
 both stout and wise, for aught ye know 
 to his disfavour." 
 
 " Stout he may be," said the friar, 
 " though there seems more of shew than 
 substance under that gay bliaut ; but 
 wise he is not, since he doth contravene 
 the ordinances and anathemas of holy 
 church in wearing those vile and harlotry 
 croks upon his head. Hair after that 
 fashion is fit only for such pretty wenches 
 as thou art, fair Joan ; and I would have 
 all men set in the carcan, or tumbrel, 
 who dare possess themselves of womanly 
 ornaments and appendages. What say est 
 thou, Sir Minstrel?"
 
 MA LP AS. 2f9 
 
 " I will only say," replied Blonde), 
 •* that the Lord Henry of Lancaster is 
 the pink of nobility and of knighthood. 
 Observe his dress, how magnificent, and 
 yet how plain ! No plume of feathers to 
 his cap — no croks around his head — no 
 honobles of fur to puff out his shoulders, 
 and give them a false breadth; his Spa- 
 nish boots, ye see, are not snouted and 
 chained ; and he wears the old Saxon 
 spur, after the fashion of his forefathers. 
 Give me such a knight before a hundred 
 thousand such minions as his companion ; 
 but, stop, they halt; and, see, the baron 
 appears to receive them." 
 
 " By our Lady!" cried the friar, " the 
 baron is somewhat dainty in his own 
 person." 
 
 " Keep thy clapper still, friar," cried 
 Aprisidly; " if thou canst say no good of 
 our lord, I am his homager, and must 
 hear nought ill of him." 
 
 " Eheu, Domine!" cried the friar, " the 
 priesthood is privileged to speak freely." 
 
 " So may ye in your cells," returned 
 the hosteller, " and no one may scathe
 
 230 MALPAS. 
 
 ye ; but priest nor layman shall blur him 
 I serve whilst I have power to forbid it." 
 
 " Now they alight," said the minstrel ; 
 " with what state the baron bids them 
 welcome!" 
 
 " And see," cried Joan, " how grace- 
 fully the young knight doffs his cap! 
 What a fine shape and figure is he! With 
 what an air he bows to the baron? and 
 now, how carelessly he claps his cap on the 
 crown of his head! Ha! by my truly, he 
 looks this way." 
 
 The damsel blushed to her finger ends; 
 whilst Blondel, who was somewhat alarm- 
 ed at the excess of her admiration, re- 
 garded her with a look of serious morti- 
 fication. Her father, also, was much 
 chagrined at the liveliness of her dispo- 
 sition, which seemed to prefer dress and 
 splendid extravagance to worth and ho- 
 nour divested of those adventitious orna- 
 ments. The minstrel did not speak, 
 though it appeared, from the agitation of 
 his countenance, that he was much mov- 
 ed ; but her father rated her soundly for 
 her ill-timed coquetry.
 
 MALPAS. Qol 
 
 "Joan !" cried he, "thou foolish nyesse, 
 thou moon-brained, sop-liver' d baggage! 
 hast thou a mind to make me throw thee 
 over this parapet into the castle moat? 
 What is the knight to thee or thou to 
 him, that thou must needs betray thyself 
 into folly at the bare sight of him?" 
 
 " A-well-a-day !" replied Joan, " is it a 
 crime so great to say what one thinks of 
 a stranger ? Indeed, sirs, I meant no 
 harm." 
 
 "That excuse shall not serve," returned 
 her father; " thou shalt now go home with 
 me as a penance for thy folly; and, for the 
 time coming, I shall know how to trust 
 thee at a sight like this." 
 
 The damsel made a very sorrowful face 
 at this injunction, and began to expostu- 
 late with the hosteller on the barbarity of 
 his resolution ; but he was deaf to her in- 
 treaties. 
 
 " No, no," cried he, " thou hast suf- 
 fered enough by attending the shews and 
 tilts; I will trust thee no longer. Well, 
 now, do I remind me of thy dying mother's 
 request, that I would tie thee up from 
 gadding to fairs and dedications, shews,
 
 £32 MALPAS. 
 
 and gambollings. I would to St. Ed- 
 ward, I had counted more on her advice, 
 and kept thee under a tighter rein. Come 
 along with thee, thou nimble-tongued 
 jade, come along ; I will make thee wish 
 to change places with a cloistered nun, 1 
 will. Come along." 
 
 "What would'st be at?" cried the 
 granger; 'Met the wench stay. Marry, 
 it's no such great sin, I trow, after all's 
 said and done, to tell truth. Cheer thee, 
 Joan, for thou shalt stay, wench, and en- 
 joy thyself. Hollo, friar ! wilt thou not 
 give her pardon for her sin?" 
 
 u Ay, that I will," answered the men- 
 dicant, " if it were a thousand times as 
 great; but I see no sin she hath wrought; 
 a little womanish folly or so may well pass 
 without correction ; and so, good hos- 
 teller, let her rest. Hark ! the trumpet 
 sounds; the knights are entering the cas- 
 tle. Let her see the pageant ended, it is 
 now nigh past." 
 
 " I tell ye," cried her father, obsti- 
 nately, " if her staying here might pur- 
 chase all the pardons in the pope's almary, 
 I would not let her bide."
 
 MALPAS. 233 
 
 "" Holy St. Peter!" exclaimed the friar, 
 raising his hands and eyes, " all the par- 
 dons in the pope's almary ! Why, thou 
 unthankful heretic, they would value at 
 this present fifty thousand gold franks, 
 setting aside the inexhaustible fund pos- 
 sessed by the apostle's successor. ,, 
 
 " I will give thee, Miles," said Alan 
 Waldeyff, " what thou likest better than 
 pardons or pardoners — a flaggon of thine 
 own Gascony wine. Thou shalt drink 
 reformation to thy daughter in it, man." 
 
 " Ye tempt me in vain," replied Apri- 
 sidly ; " I have said it, and go she must." 
 
 " And I have said she shall stay," re- 
 turned the granger; " and thou knowest 
 that a yeoman never breaks his word till 
 he has broken his neck ; and so, by way of 
 keeping mine, I shall even hold thee fast 
 till the knights are in the castle." 
 
 Waldeyff then wrapped his arms around 
 Aprisidly, and pinioned his to his sides. 
 The hosteller struggled to free himself, 
 but unsuccessfully, being overmatched 
 by the great strength of the Herculean 
 granger.
 
 234 M ALP AS. 
 
 " Hold off, Alan !" cried he, " Alan 
 Waldeyff! if thou regardest thy shins, 
 which are of flesh and bone, and not of 
 brass or iron, thou hadst better quit thy 
 grasp. By our Lady, I will maul thee, 
 arch-devil." 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha!" ejaculated the sturdy 
 granger, " I have thee as fast as an ass 
 in a pound. Kick away, master ass, 
 and see if it will get thee loose." 
 
 " I will bruise thy flesh into batter," 
 continued the hosteller, " and make it of 
 as many colours as marbred worsted." 
 
 " I will tent thee, my old gill-hooter," 
 replied Waldeyff; " there are two words 
 to that bargain. I would I had thee in the 
 tumbrel Father Magpie was whilom talk- 
 ing of; I would give thee a ducking to 
 cool thine anger." 
 
 " Father Magpie ! thou irreverent co- 
 terel !" cried the friar, " thou hast no 
 more breeding than a wild boar." 
 
 " By my faith," returned Alan, " there 
 is as much breeding under my russet jer- 
 kin as there is holiness beneath thy frock 
 and cowl."
 
 MALPAS. 235 
 
 *'Thou art a malapert jack," cried the 
 mendicant, " and do'st deserve to die 
 without having a holy hand to give thee 
 the rood to kiss." 
 
 " If the hand be no holier than thine, 
 Friar Piebald," returned the yeoman, " 1 
 shall never mourn the want of it." 
 
 " Thou art a pretty varlet," said the 
 mendicant, " to be granger of an abbey; 
 but there is the old rhythm for thine 
 apology : — 
 
 " Saith Friar Tuck, < Our holy kirk, 
 To Heaven's the nighcst road:' 
 Bold Robin Hood replied, ' I wis, 
 Tis far away from God.'" 
 
 " Ha! ha! ha! Right, friar! Robin was 
 right," cried Waldeyff, " and thou art a 
 devilish good sample of that saying." 
 
 " Me, thou churl!" exclaimed the men- 
 dicant, " who can say that I am irregular 
 in aught?" 
 
 " No one, my old spar-hawk," replied 
 the granger. " St. Francis himself liked 
 a pretty girl, could toss off half a flaggon 
 of wine, and play at single-sword with 
 the best friar that ever wore hair-cloth 
 shirt, and round-toed boots. Bravo, my 
 king of cups, ha! ha! ha!"
 
 230 M A LP AS. 
 
 This sally put an end to the friar's ar- 
 gument, who hung his head, and seemed 
 quite discomfited. The Earl of Lancas- 
 ter, attended by the French knight, Sir 
 Aubrey Marcel, and the knights of his 
 household, had by this time quitted the 
 tilt-yard, and, passing the draw-bridge of 
 the castle, entered the hall, whither we 
 shall now follow them, leaving those who 
 prefer it to remain with Aprisidly and his 
 friends in the court,
 
 MALPAS. 2-3" 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Oh! 'tis an awful and heart sinking scene? 
 To see fall'n majesty in its affliction. 
 Earthquakes may rend the world, and storms the air; 
 Tempests may heave the ocean to the skies ; 
 But the great soul of him, who, born for empire, 
 Hath by unlucky fortune been cast down, 
 Swells into chaos, and wild desolation. 
 
 Joan of Arc. 
 
 We must take the liberty of preceding, 
 for a few moments, the entrance of the 
 guests into the hall of the castle, which 
 was furnished with a chair of state fixed 
 upon the dais, and surmounted by a 
 canopy for the use of the king ; and with 
 benches covered with tapestry, placed 
 in a semicircle, extending on each side 
 of the temporary throne, for the occu- 
 pation of the attendant nobles. The 
 walls were hung with tapestry also ; and 
 the whole hall had a similitude as nigh to
 
 £38 MALPAS, 
 
 that of the Tin el le roy* as its contracted 
 limits, and the short time allowed for 
 preparation would admit. A guard of 
 men at arms, in complete mail, each 
 bearing a tabard of the baron's arms, was 
 placed at the outer door, who lined the 
 ascent from the court yard to the folding 
 doors of the halL As our readers have 
 before seen, the Lord Abbot Tngulphus, 
 and his brother Sir Paschal Marcel, with 
 their several followers, were already in at- 
 tendance y and, before the arrival of the 
 Earl of Lancaster, had been joined by the 
 Welsh knight, Sir Price Ap Gwyneth, 
 who, upon his parol, was free to go 
 whithersoever he would. 
 
 The earl now entered the hall, con- 
 ducted by Sir Bertrand du Chatelet him- 
 self, and attended by Sir Aubrey Marcel, 
 the French knight, and the retainers of 
 his household. With the abbot and his 
 brother, Lancaster was well acquainted, 
 and met them with the familiarity of old 
 friendship, at the same time introducing 
 his foreign companion under the name of 
 
 * Tinel le roy was the king's dining hall ; but it 
 frequently was used for his hall of audience.
 
 MALPAS. 289 
 
 Sir Raimonnet de la Folic The knight 
 did his devoirs with great etiquette and 
 decorum, and then entered into a con- 
 versation with the poursuivant, with 
 whom he appeared to have an intimate 
 acquaintance. An animated conference 
 was, at the same time, held between the 
 Earl of Lancaster, the abbot, Sir Ber- 
 trand, and the civilian j which became 
 general by the baron requesting to know 
 from Sir Aubrey Marcel, what intentions 
 he had with regard to his prisoner the 
 Earl of Gloucester ? 
 
 " My Lords," said the civilian ; " I 
 am commissioned by my nephew to in- 
 form you, that he doth quit his title in 
 the prisoner to the Earl of Lancaster. 
 He, as the near kinsman of our young 
 prince Edward, and one who has a stake 
 in the kingdom's weal, will see justice 
 done to the favourite, and to the country* 
 He asks no ransom for Despenser." 
 
 " I seek none," cried Aubrey. " He 
 is the deadly foe of my young patron ; 
 and I would not shew him courtesy for a 
 kingdom's worth."
 
 2*0 M ALP AS. 
 
 " He will have a fair trial according: 
 to the law ?" said the Welsh knight. 
 
 <• Doubt it not, Sir Knight," replied 
 the earl ; " whilst my power and my 
 counsel hold good for aught in England, 
 he shall encounter no trial but that I 
 would accord my dearest kinsman. By 
 mine honour, I believe, he has deserved 
 death ; for to the score of his ambition 
 and intemperate folly, we may place all 
 the evil which hath of late years befallen 
 this divided country." 
 
 " Was he not," cried the civilian, 
 " the accursed cause of the death of the 
 Earl of Hereford, and of the foul murther 
 of Thomas Earl of Lancaster, my good 
 lord's father ? God assoile their souls." 
 
 " And hath he not," said the abbot, 
 taking up the accusation, " possessed 
 himself, like a vile usurper, of the goods 
 and moveables of the Templars, of their 
 metropolitan house, with the lands ap- 
 purtenant, to the great damage of all 
 Christian hospitality ?" 
 
 <c Ay, and more," cried Sir Paschal 
 in continuation; <c for there has been no
 
 MALPAS. 241 
 
 forfeiture or attainder of late days, by 
 which this false favourite and his faction 
 have not been gratified and enriched : 
 wherefore they have sought occasion to 
 drive men into treason, so that they 
 might share among them the spoils of his 
 inheritance. His father is richer than 
 the palatine of Chester; hath more 
 lands, fairer castles, a greater retinue, 
 better moveables, and as much money in 
 hard cash as all the nobles of England 
 together." 
 
 " He had — he had," cried the earl ; 
 " but he has now nothing — no ; not so 
 much as a grave to cover his festering 
 corse." 
 
 64 Is Winchester then dead ?" cried 
 all at once. 
 
 " He met his fate at Bristol," replied 
 the earl, " and died, as I am told, with a 
 fortitude and gallantry becoming a better 
 cause, and a nobler man." 
 
 " God rest his spirit," ejaculated the 
 Welsh knight : " these will be heavy 
 tidings to his son and master. Died he 
 in battle, my lord, for he had sworn to 
 defend Bristol with his life ?" 
 
 vol. ir M
 
 242 MALPAS, 
 
 " He died on the gibbet," replied 
 Lancaster, with a sigh, as if he depre- 
 cated the fate of the old earl. 
 
 " On a gibbet !" cried Ap Gwyneth 
 in amazement. " Then the city was 
 taken by the queen." 
 
 *' It was delivered to her with Winches- 
 ter, by the townsmen." returned the earl. 
 
 " Traitorous villains 1" cried Sir Price. 
 " But of what crime was the venerable 
 peer accused? Is it treason, my lords, 
 to support the king whilst he yet sways 
 the sceptre ? if so, my own life, I fear, 
 is in jeopardy. 
 
 " Fear not," answered the earl. " The 
 accusation of the barons against Win- 
 chester was any thing but his fidelity to 
 the king. It is bootless to run over 
 the many high charges, which, proven, 
 reached his life. The manner of his exe- 
 cution, though perhaps excusable in these 
 times of commotion, I should, had I been 
 present, have steadily opposed ; but the 
 thing is done — he sleeps with his fathers 
 — and I say with you, Sir Knight, God 
 pardon him his sins, and give rest to his 
 spirit."
 
 M ALP AS. 243 
 
 " The next object for our counsel and 
 consideration," said the abbot, " is the 
 disposal of the king ; for I trust it will 
 not be thought prudent to allow his un- 
 restrained departure." 
 
 " By our Lady, no," cried the civi- 
 lian : " I hold it best that he be placed in 
 some sure hand, until the kingdom be 
 quieted and reformation made." 
 
 " He cannot be in hands more sure and 
 honourable," said the earl, " than with 
 his captor, the noble Baron du Chatelet. 
 I am advised that the queen will speedily 
 hold a parliament, wherein the settlement 
 of the government will be equitably 
 determined : until such settlement be 
 made, no place can be fitter for the 
 king's residence than Malpas, aloof as it 
 is from the agitations and the designs of 
 all parties in the state." 
 
 " I will hold him fast, my lords," cried 
 Du Chatelet, " or lose my head. I have 
 force sufficient to defy all his friends, 
 English and Welsh." 
 
 He threw a significant sneer upon Sir 
 Price Ap Gwyneth, who reddened at his 
 irony, and replied, " Hark ye, Sir Baron! 
 m 2
 
 244 MALPAS. 
 
 you have once been successful, thanks to 
 this young knight who made me his pri- 
 soner, and won the rampart of my fortress, 
 when the only part you played was that 
 of an idle spectator; but the fortune of 
 war may next bring victory to my banner, 
 and clip the wings of your exultation." 
 
 " We are not met here," said Lancas- 
 ter gravely, " to dispute the superiority 
 of arms between our host and this knight. 
 Had we not best send a message to the 
 king, requesting his appearance in this 
 circle ?" 
 
 " I will myself summon him," said Du 
 Chatelet : " he has long risen, but pre- 
 ferred the privacy of his own chamber." 
 
 The baron withdrew, and proceeded 
 without ceremony to the king's apart- 
 ment, where he found Edward seated in 
 a melancholy mood upon his bed-foot, 
 attended by Gloucester, Baldock, and 
 his other servants, who stood around him 
 in mournful silence. When he saw Du 
 Chatelet he raised his head, which before 
 hung drooping on his breast, and with a 
 passionate air enquired of him wherefore 
 he appeared in his presence uncalled for?
 
 MALPAS. 24<5 
 
 *' Have we no place on earth that we may 
 call our own ?" He continued, " Have ye 
 driven us from our throne into this narrow 
 chamber, and yet ye are not content, 
 but would deprive us of it also? Where 
 would ye hound us ? Is it to the grave ?" 
 
 The marcher made no reply to this 
 speech, (which was evidently the effect 
 of mental irritation, and not caused by 
 any personal dislike which Edward had 
 conceived against his host,) but made 
 haste to inform the king of the arrival of 
 the Earl of Lancaster, and of his desire 
 to see him. 
 
 " Thomas of Lancaster !" cried the 
 king, thunderstruck. 
 
 « " Lancaster!" — echoed Gloucester, — 
 " then my time is come." 
 
 " What does the rebel here ?" cried the 
 king, with that forgetfulness which, in 
 his moments of passion, seemed to en- 
 velope his whole faculties. " Despenser ! 
 was he not banished on the treason of his 
 lather ? How durst he set foot on Eng- 
 lish ground till we had released him from 
 his exile ?" 
 
 m 3
 
 246 MALPAS. 
 
 " Will it please ye descend to the hall, 
 my lord ?" cried Du Chatelet. 
 
 " No, it will not please us, thou irreve- 
 rent caitiff," exclaimed the monarch. — 
 " Back with ye to your knot of traitors, 
 and say Edward Plantagenet, though reft 
 of his throne, will still maintain his 
 kingly dignity.'* 
 
 The marcher looked upon the agitated 
 form of the fallen sovereign with mingled 
 scorn and pity ; the latter was a feeling 
 he had seldom exercised ; but the sight 
 of him who had once been a powerful 
 monarch, at the head of a gallant king- 
 dom, and enjoying all earthly content, 
 now reduced to the weak, helpless, and 
 wretched being before him, produced in 
 the breast of the baron, if not actual com- 
 miseration, at least a melancholy feeling; 
 which was perhaps the deeper felt, as it 
 reminded him of the instability and transi- 
 toriness of fortune. It operated so power- 
 fully upon Du Chatelet, that he ceased 
 to insult his royal captive ; and even 
 offered to conduct his friends to the 
 king's chamber, if he preferred such an 
 arrangement to that of descending to the
 
 MALPAS. 247 
 
 hall. The chancellor Baldock, however, 
 assisted by Despenser, persuaded the king 
 to submit to the earl's request; and he at 
 length rose from his seat, and being as- 
 sisted with his hood and mantle by his 
 attendants, followed the marcher. 
 
 He was supported on his entrance by 
 Gloucester on one side, and the chan- 
 cellor on the other ; and thus ascended 
 the canopied seat or throne, without no- 
 ticing the lords around, who instantly 
 uncovered. 
 
 There were still in the countenance of 
 Edward the remains of that beauty and 
 dignity, for which, in his earlier and more 
 happy years, he had been highly cele- 
 brated. Our readers are well aware that the 
 greatest majesty of feature, and the most 
 penetrating expression of countenance, 
 are compatible with the most perfect va- 
 cuity of intellect, and the most unac- 
 countable want of the corresponding en- 
 dowments of natural understanding. If 
 Lavater had been living at this period, 
 and had judged Edward by his system of 
 physiognomy, he would have thought 
 him wise to a degree of perfection, brave 
 m 4
 
 248 MALPAS. 
 
 unto rashness, dignified unto majesty, 
 courteous unto ceremony, and generous 
 to a fault; whereas, of all these virtues, 
 he possessed only the last, and perhaps 
 the worst, when not guided by the reins of 
 prudence and discretion. His liberality, 
 or rather his love of squandering, as it 
 could only be confined to a few, begat 
 disgust among the many, and ranged all 
 those who were without the orbit of his 
 extravagance on the side of his enemies. 
 The earl was touched with the misery 
 and despair which the king's countenance 
 exhibited, and at once turned the edge 
 of his revenge from the unfortunate Ed- 
 ward upon his unprincipled favourite, 
 the Earl of Gloucester. 
 
 After sitting some moments silent, as 
 if to gather courage for opening the in- 
 terview, Edward raised his head, and said 
 in an ironical tone, " So, cousin Lancas- 
 ter, we are honoured beyond our expec- 
 tation with thy presence at our court." 
 
 " No doubt, my lord," replied the 
 earl, it is also beyond your desire ; but I 
 will yet take upon myself to say, I am the 
 best friend you have in your presence."
 
 M ALP AS. 249 
 
 " Is that other friend of ours," cried 
 the king, " our wife, and her friend Ro- 
 ger Mortimer, — are they in presence too ? 
 or are they fearful of meeting the looks 
 of a wronged husband and injured sove- 
 reign ?" 
 
 " I have not seen Queen Isabel, my 
 lord," answered Lancaster, <c since my 
 return from France ; but I hear she is at 
 Bristol." 
 
 " At Bristol !" cried the king; "where 
 is thy father, Despenser? Did he not 
 swear to keep that city with his life?" 
 
 " Heaven guard both, my liege !" re- 
 plied the favourite: " doubt not but he is 
 faithful to his duty." 
 
 " Despenser!" said the earl solemnly ; 
 " thou didst rejoice when the head of my 
 father was stricken off at Pomfret ; nay, 
 thou wert thyself the arch-juggler who 
 did betray him to his death. Guess what 
 I then felt, and the desire of revenge with 
 which I was consumed. Despenser ! I 
 now forgive thee ; for the chance is thine 
 own, bide it as thou mayest." 
 
 " Ha ! Lancaster," cried the favourite, 
 with breathless emotion, " say not, I be- 
 M 5
 
 £50 MALPAS. 
 
 seech thee, by the love of thy chaste mo- 
 ther, by the bones of thy father, and thy 
 soul's expectation of eternal life, that 
 Winchester is dead. Tell me not of that 
 horrible consummation, though it be true. 
 True ! — impossible — his age — his grey 
 hairs — " 
 
 The earl shook his head, and Glouces- 
 ter roared aloud, " What ! dead ! oh ! 
 no -, he is perhaps your prisoner — ye have 
 doomed his aged head to the block; but 
 spare him as ye are men who either have 
 or have had fathers." 
 
 " Thou didst not think of mine, De- 
 spenser," answered the earl. 
 
 " Thine ! what was thy father to me ?" 
 cried the favourite, forgetting in the 
 agony of his passion, the similitude of 
 their cases. " If ye will spare him, I 
 will give up all — reduce both him and 
 myself to beggary — fly the kingdom — 
 sacrifice my own life — aught that ye can 
 name, invent, or devise, shall be done 
 for his rescue." 
 
 " It is too late !" cried Du Chatelet. 
 " Thy father was hanged at Bristol but 
 three days back."
 
 MALPAS. 251 
 
 " Hang , d! ,, shrieked out the favourite, 
 and in hysterical convulsions fell for- 
 ward on his face. 
 
 The whole circle was agitated at this 
 scene. The king descended from the 
 throne, and raising Gloucester in his 
 arms, bedewed him with his tears. The 
 Earl of Lancaster, to whom the favour- 
 ite's despair did perhaps recall the image 
 of his own grief, wept also ; and the de- 
 testation in which he had been held 
 before this violent expression of his filial 
 devotion, was by it much softened and 
 diminished. At length he came to him- 
 self, and the first use he made of the re- 
 enjoyment of his faculties, was to curse 
 the authors of his misfortune, and the 
 bearers of the sad intelligence. 
 
 " Oh ! cursed of all men," cried he in 
 frantic rage, " be those who could do 
 their despite on that hoary head ; and 
 cursed be the croaking raven who hath 
 rung this death-knell in mine ear; cursed 
 be the very sun and the day which did 
 witness this foul and most horrible tra- 
 gedy ; and cursed be my own coward 
 heart and craftless head that could leave 
 m 6
 
 >252 MALrAS. 
 
 him to the treachery of his remorseless 
 foes." 
 
 " Hugh, Hugh," said the king, "dost 
 thou regret having followed thy prince ?" 
 
 " My prince 1" answered the favourite 
 abruptly ; " and is my prince as near to 
 me, and as dear to me, as the father who 
 begat me? Away, away — By heaven I 
 regret all things for my parent's sake." 
 
 He threw himself upon one of the 
 benches, and supporting his head with 
 his hands, gave free vent to his agoniz- 
 ing grief. The king, and Baldock the 
 chancellor, endeavoured to console and 
 encourage him, but to no purpose : he 
 started up from his seat, and advancing 
 to the middle of the knights, cried/ 
 " Lords ! behold me ready for death ; 
 ye have vilely and murtherously slain an 
 innocent old man ; ye need have no scru- 
 ples to put a finish to your bloody work. 
 My father did nought but what was ar- 
 ranged by myselfj and commanded by 
 the king. I alone am guilty, if guilt 
 there be, and should singly have borne 
 the punishment ; but since ye have con- 
 ferred martyrdom on an innocent, in
 
 M ALP AS. c 253 
 
 God's name do not spare him who ought 
 to have been your victim. " 
 
 " If thou diest, Hugh Despenser," 
 said Sir Paschal, " it must be by the law; 
 we are not, as thou sayest, murderers." 
 
 " Ha ! by Saint Paul, ye are worse !" 
 cried the favourite ; " for ye but prolong 
 my torments whilst ye meditate my death ; 
 and after lingering hours, days, weeks, 
 perhaps months of anguish, I shall finish 
 with my arms reversed upon the gallows- 
 tree." 
 
 " Thou didst but wish for fair play," 
 said Aubrey Marcel, " and thou wilt 
 have it." 
 
 " Fair play doth mean a fair trial, Sir 
 Knight," said the chancellor De Bal- 
 dock, " at least in an honourable vocabu- 
 lary. Sir Hugh must be tried by his 
 peers, and who shall summon and hold 
 the court as the king's high marshal ?" 
 
 " Thou dost remind us, De Baldock," 
 cried the marcher with an ironical scowl, 
 * of the summary method by which the 
 noble Earl of Lancaster met his doom. 
 It befits ye to talk of fair play." 
 
 " God wot I had no hand in the earl's
 
 254 MALPAS. 
 
 death," answered the chancellor : " I 
 would take the corsned * on my inno- 
 cence." 
 
 " God wot thou liest, meddling priest," 
 cried Lancaster. " If thou hadst no part 
 in his execution, itwas thy reaching hand, 
 with those of thy compeers, that did stab 
 him home." 
 
 " He was a rebel to his liege sovereign," 
 exclaimed Gloucester, as if regardless of 
 his life, or rather with the intention of 
 provoking his enemies to shorten his suf- 
 ferings, by putting a present end to his 
 existence ; " a rebel and a traitor, and 
 deserved the fate he met with." 
 
 " Ha! Hugh Despenser," cried tjhe 
 earl, " thou art a false villain ; and but 
 I should defraud the headsman of hi& 
 fee, thy life should instant answer for thy 
 lie." 
 
 " I do defy ye all to the death," an- 
 swered the favourite. "Thee, Lancaster, 
 
 * Corsned (Sax. copr, curse, nebbe, forced,) 
 was a superstitious trial used by our ancestors, 
 wherein a piece of bread, first execrated by the 
 priest, was delivered to the suspected person, who 
 swallowed it by way of purgation.
 
 MALPAS. 0,55 
 
 who dost wear a mask of honour to coat 
 thy ill-disguised ambition ; thee Du Cha- 
 telet, who carest no whit for thy country 
 but what thou canst pluck out of her dis- 
 tempered bowels ; and ye factious priest 
 and lawyer j who seek in my downfal and 
 the dethronement of your king your 
 own enriching and aggrandizement. I 
 will say nought of thee, Aubrey Marcel, 
 for thou hast shown thyself open to some 
 touch of compunction : it is thy sword 
 which has brought me to the block ; but 
 I forgive thee my death for thy compas- 
 sion to my sovereign." 
 
 " Hugh Despenser," cried the king in 
 a voice hardly audible, "who durst harm 
 thee when we with our royal breast shaU 
 buckler thy person ?" 
 
 " Ah ! my good Lord," answered 
 Gloucester, " I pray God and the Holy 
 Virgin thou mayest be able to travel 
 safely through the evil day. My blood, 
 that of my father, and those of all our 
 kindred and alliance, will be well spilt if 
 the sacrifice do preserve thy crown and 
 life." 
 
 " If either be in danger, Despenser,"
 
 %56 MALPAS. 
 
 said the abbot, " the blame and the shame 
 be on thy head : thy robbery, extortion, 
 usurpation, and arrogance, have pulled 
 ruin upon thy sovereign : the measure of 
 thy crimes is complete, and justice is about 
 to overtake thee. Well mayest thou cry 
 out with the Psalmist, Domine ! Domine ! 
 inclina aurem tuam ad preces nostras. 
 Deus ! in adjutorium meum intende. Thy 
 cry is not heard ; thou hast outraged thy 
 Saviour as well as thy sovereign ; thou 
 hast no hope, for I tell thee, thou sacrile- 
 gious miscreant, that purgatory itself 
 hath no room for thee ; the door, which 
 to most sinners is open after an expiatory- 
 punishment, upon thee is closed for ever ; 
 thy sins are too great, too monstrous, too 
 deadly to allow a hope that thou wilt ever 
 be cleansed in the blood of the Redeemer. 
 Tremble then, thou lost one ; for Christ, 
 who suffered the pains of death and hell 
 for the benefit of mankind, was never 
 born, did never suffer, has never risen for 
 thy salvation." 
 
 The anathema of the abbot, delivered 
 in a warm and energetic manner, pro- 
 duced a sensation of awe and dread upon
 
 MALPAS. "257 
 
 all present, except upon him against 
 whom it was levelled. The king especi- 
 ally, who, being of a feeble intellect, was 
 the more liable to superstitious impres- 
 sions, shrunk with terror as Ingulphus, 
 at the conclusion of his speech, snatched 
 from the cross-bearer his holy rood, and 
 held it aloft as a spectacle to his auditors, 
 and a corporal testimony of his doctrine. 
 No one, in those days of error, durst ques- 
 tion the truth of those denunciations, 
 issued forth with such circumstances of 
 imposing sanctity by the clergy. To 
 doubt was to incur the odium of infide- 
 lity, and perhaps its penalties ; whilst 
 those who were hardy enough to dispute 
 the anathematizing and pardoning power 
 of the priesthood were held connected 
 with the powers of darkness, and deli- 
 vered over to eternal perdition. To main- 
 tain the sanctity of the clerical character 
 was indeed a matter of more importance 
 with the church of Rome than to pre- 
 serve the principles of morality, or the 
 Christian doctrine ; and the several dis- 
 putes in which the kings of England and 
 the Popes were engaged, from the Nor*
 
 4 258 MALPAS. 
 
 man conquest to the Reformation, were 
 always occasioned by the ambition and 
 vanity, or by the avarice of the clergy, 
 and never by their solicitude for the ad- 
 vancement or honour of Christianity. The 
 abbot Ingulphus, a man of a noble and 
 commanding presence, and who enforced 
 his oratory by an action at once graceful 
 and dignified, did well support the dig- 
 nity of his high station, and seemed en- 
 titled, both by his office and ability, to 
 the attention and respect of the assem- 
 bled knights. Gloucester alone, who ap- 
 peared reckless of his temporal or eternal 
 fate, showed no sign or fear, or, even de- 
 spondence, at his prophetic denunciation ; 
 but replied to him with a staid and firm 
 countenance. " Thou sayest, Lord Ab- 
 bot, I am a robber, usurper, and extor- 
 tioner. What man have I robbed ? Whose 
 lands have I usurped ? In what dealing 
 have I committed extortion? Unless 
 thou canst prove thine accusation, I fear 
 me, thou art but the wind which fans the 
 flame of uncharitableness, and not the 
 holy water which should extinguish strife 
 and discord."
 
 MALPAS. 259 
 
 " Need I, my lords," cried the abbot, 
 turning to his friends, " trouble ye with 
 a formal and particular charge, when 
 these crimes and more are as notorious in 
 thee, Despenser, as the golden sun in his 
 mid-day course ? If thou be'st not an 
 usurper, where be thy title and thy muni- 
 ments to the temple ?" 
 
 " We did present him with that gift," 
 cried the king. 
 
 " My lord, my lord," returned Ingul- 
 phus, " you could not present him with 
 that which was not yours to give. — If, 
 upon the dissolution of the most noble 
 and injured order of the Templars, their 
 spoils did escheat to any, surely it was to 
 his Holiness, our spiritual father, and he, 
 the world knows, hath granted their 
 temporalities to the knights of St. John." 
 
 " The king doth disclaim the Pope's 
 power in this award," cried De Baldock. 
 " Rex habet potestatem etjurisdictionem 
 super omnes qui sunt in regno suo ; et ea 
 quae sunt jurisdictionis ejus ad nullum 
 pertinent nisi ad regiam dignitatem." 
 
 " Jurisdictio, doth here mean guber- 
 natio," interrupted Sir Paschal ; " and
 
 260 MALPAS. 
 
 we do readily grant that ea quae ad suum 
 gubernationem pertinent, he hath the ad- 
 ministration of without a rival ; but as 
 the temporalities attached to spiritual 
 offices are foreign to his government — " 
 
 " How foreign?" interrupted the chan- 
 cellor. " Is it not a common practice for 
 the temporalities of each bishopric to be 
 seized into the king's hands during the 
 abeyance ?" 
 
 " Seized ! De Baldock," cried the civi- 
 lian, smiling at the word ; " thou sayest 
 true. Such hath been the most injurious 
 and illegal practice. But 1 will ask thee, 
 in my turn, if, in the different charters of 
 right which our kings have granted to us, 
 this seizure, as thou dost term it, hath 
 not been acknowledged untenable and 
 improper? Robert, thou art a good law- 
 yer, though a bad man. Thou knowest 
 thatDespenser's title, if hehaveany, to the 
 temple, is as fragile as that thin smoke in 
 the chimney. But our argument, though 
 conclusive, is idle and unprofitable. Thy 
 client, Baldock, and thyself also, must 
 answer for your crimes before a proper 
 tribunal. If there thy sophistry and elo-
 
 „ MALPAS. 261 
 
 quence may help thee aught, so be it; and 
 God send thee a good deliverance !" 
 
 " I am ready to answer now," said 
 Despenser, " here, or wheresoever else it 
 shall please ye to order my trial. I am 
 ready to die without trial, if ye will have 
 it so." 
 
 " Thou shalt be fairly dealt withal," 
 said the Earl of Lancaster: " though thou 
 art my house's foe, I would not do thee 
 wrong." 
 
 " My lord," cried the favourite, with a 
 scornful gaiety, " take my counsel for 
 once. Have out a block in the court, 
 and bring thither your headsman. I am 
 prepared for death, and 'tis like I may 
 never be in such humour with him again. 
 Ye will, besides, do me a courtesy, for I 
 shall here suffer as becomes a nobleman ; 
 by a public condemnation, perhaps, as a 
 felon." 
 
 His brow knit, and his countenance fell 
 as he concluded his speech, whilst the 
 king said, impatiently, " Hugh Despen- 
 ser, why dost thou anticipate thy death? 
 We have yet friends in England, and 
 thev shall be tried to the uttermost.
 
 262 MALPAS. 
 
 What can we do for thee, Lancaster? 
 Speak, man ; name thy reward, and be- 
 come our liege man. And thou, Du 
 Chatelet, will not the earldom of March 
 tempt thee? And, if thou likest not the 
 border land, we will give thee King's 
 Vale Royal, our barony in this county. 
 Thou, Lord Abbot, shalt have a bishop- 
 rick; and our old friend, Sir Paschal, a 
 justiceship in eyre. What say ye, gen- 
 tlemen, may we count upon your assist- 
 ance ?" 
 
 His auditors only smiled scornfully at 
 this barefaced and impolitic address. — 
 Had Du Chatelet, Ingulphus, or the civi- 
 lian, been disposed to accept his terms, 
 they would have been deterred by the 
 presence of the earl, whose inflexible vir- 
 tue was notorious; but each of them had 
 his own private and particular reasons for 
 rejecting all compromise. The abbot 
 and his brother too well knew the power 
 of the queen and prince, to think it might 
 be opposed with any chance of success ; 
 and as Aubrey, the son of one and the ne- 
 phew of the other, was at this time a fa- 
 vourite with the young Edward, they would
 
 MALFAS. 263 
 
 not have hazarded his fortune, even had 
 the chances been doubtful. We shall 
 defer the reasons of the marcher for his 
 neglect of the king's preferred bounty, 
 until a future opportunity. 
 
 The earl looked round upon his friends 
 for a moment, and replied to the king, 
 in a tone at once mild and resolute, " My 
 lord, you forget that, instead of having 
 earldoms, and baronies, and bishoprics, 
 and justiceships, to give away, you have 
 not a shelter wherein to hide yourself 
 from the storm which these men's folly 
 hath awakened ; nor can I believe, were 
 you in the height of power, and the pos- 
 session of uncountable riches, that there 
 is one man here who, for gain's sake, would 
 desert the cause of his suffering country. 
 This young knight hath placed Despen- 
 ser in my hands, and the use I make of 
 this charge is, to set him at the bar of his 
 country; if he doth deserve death, he 
 must perish." 
 
 The king's face grew red with indig- 
 nation, and he frowned that steady and 
 relentless frown which was peculiar to his 
 race, and which made him appear the
 
 ^64 MALPAS. 
 
 image of stern and fiery resolution. He 
 rose from his seat, and dragging his hood 
 over his face, enveloped his figure in his 
 mantle. He then descended slowly from 
 the throne, and stood a moment in the 
 midst of the knights, saying, " Fare ye 
 well, sirs; we will not, then, be beholden 
 to your loyalty or your valour for assist- 
 ance; but we tell ye, proud men, despite 
 your treason, and that of our adulterous 
 queen, we will yet hold our kingdom and 
 secure our friends. God is for us, if the 
 the whole world shall abandon us ; and 
 fortune, which, like a rebel, hath left our 
 standard, will soon, with her natural 
 fickleness, desert our enemies. Fare- 
 well." 
 
 " My Lords," cried Gloucester, as he 
 withdrew, " I know my fate must be 
 better or worse; but I entreat ye, as ye 
 are true knights, let the decision be 
 speedy. To me doubt is worse than 
 death." 
 
 The king and his attendants then re- 
 turned to his chamber, leaving those be- 
 hind to consult on the adoption of a 
 plan for conveying Despenser, Baldock,
 
 MALPAS. %65 
 
 and the other attendants, to Queen Isa- 
 bel. Their resolutions were soon formed ; 
 and the earl, attended by the abbot, the 
 civilian, Sir Aubrey Marcel, and Sir Rai- 
 monnet de la Folie, withdrew to the ab- 
 bey. The men at arms and soldiers of 
 the garrison were then dismounted and 
 disarmed, and the spectators retired to 
 their hodiernal occupations. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 S66 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 And you that love the commons, follow me. — 
 Now show yourselves men — 'tis for liberty! 
 We will not leave one lord, one gentleman : 
 Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon, 
 For they are thrifty honest men, and such 
 As would (but that they dare not) take our parts. 
 Second Part Henry VI, 
 
 The departure of Gloucester, Baldock, 
 and the other attendants upon King Ed- 
 ward, had been determined before the 
 separation of Lancaster and his friends ; 
 and Sir Aubrey Marcel, at the earl'searnest 
 intreaty, had undertaken the charge of 
 escorting them to the queen whitherso- 
 ever she might have gone from Bristol, 
 should she have quitted that city before 
 his arrival. He could the more readily 
 undertake this business, as the purpose 
 for which he had come so far north, that 
 of aiding the partisans of the queen to 
 preserve public tranquillity, seemed now 
 perfectly answered by the captivation of
 
 MALPAS. 267 
 
 those who could alone beget public dis- 
 turbance. The cause of the king, more- 
 over, was at this time so unpopular, that 
 there were few who would even speak in 
 his favour, and none who would hazard 
 life or limb in upholding his quarrel.— 
 The very officers of his army and of his 
 household, as if bit by the mania of de- 
 sertion, absconded from their duties, and 
 joined the queen's army. Gentle and 
 simple, earl, baron, knight, squire, fri- 
 lazin, and villain, alike condemned their 
 unfortunate sovereign; whilst his spouse 
 was as much the object of their regard 
 and admiration. There is, and ever has 
 been, in the English character, a spirit of 
 tenderness and charity towards the fe- 
 male sex, as honourable to its humanity 
 as it is to its justice and to its courtesy. 
 Until the ages of chivalry, women (we 
 have it upon record) were without dig- 
 nity or consideration. It was not until 
 the wild hordes of Scandinavian warriors 
 had conquered southern Europe, and had 
 polished away some portion of their ori- 
 ginal barbarity in the more polite inter- 
 course of its luxurious inhabitants, that 
 n2
 
 268 MALPAS. 
 
 the ladies were held up as "the grace, life, 
 and ornament of society" — as the dispen- 
 sers of reward to the valiant champion, 
 whose greatest guerdon was the beauty 
 of his adoration. This chivalrous enthu- 
 siasm was never carried to an extrava- 
 gant height in this country, where the 
 people have more real respect for female 
 character than any other nation. The 
 French have always arrogated to them- 
 selves the palm of precedence in cour- 
 tesy, in a superior knowledge of etiquette, 
 and especially in that estimation of the 
 female sex, which is, perhaps, the highest 
 mark of a country's civilization. But if 
 we allow them the merit consequent on 
 their knowledge and appretiation of fe- 
 male character, we can by no means ad- 
 mit that they have exhibited proofs of 
 real regard for it in any way competing 
 with the examples of our own country- 
 men. The ladies in France may have 
 made a more brilliant figure at the tour- 
 nament, in the revel, perhaps, in all pub- 
 lic observances, where the devotion and 
 respect of the male sex could be shown 
 off with the greatest splendour and eclat;
 
 MALPAS. 269 
 
 but it is in the domestic circle, under 
 privation, or in misfortune, that the wo- 
 men of England have been cherished, 
 honoured, and defended. And, if we be 
 reproached with our modern practice of 
 discarding the ladies from our convivial 
 entertainments, whence our rivals have 
 argued a remaining tincture of barbarity, 
 we may reply, that such a practice is bet- 
 ter, and more consonant to the duties of 
 moral civilization, than their custom of 
 discussing all subjects, however outre and 
 indelicate, in the presence of their wo- 
 men. In short, it is our maxim rather to 
 be guilty of ill manners, than bring a blush 
 upon the cheek of modesty; whilst it is 
 that of our neighbours to discard all mo- 
 desty for the sake of the savoir vivre. 
 If proofs were needed, that the gallantry 
 of the French displays itself rather in an 
 ostentatious parade, than in real respect 
 and devotion, we might adduce many 
 from their own writers; but we shall only 
 remind our readers of one, which, how- 
 ever, is sufficient for our purpose ; we 
 mean the exclusion of females from the 
 royal succession by the salique law. This 
 n3
 
 270 MALPAS. 
 
 arbitrary and impolitic custom, as it is 
 founded on the resolution that no wo- 
 man is worthy to wield the sceptre of 
 France, does at once destroy the fabric of 
 their courtesy, and reduce to thin air 
 their empty and unsubstantial boasting. 
 On the other hand, we request our read- 
 ers to note the conduct of our English 
 ancestors to Maud, the daughter of Henry 
 the First, when the throne, which be- 
 longed of right to her son, was usurped 
 by the warlike and powerful Stephen. 
 She came here helpless, friendless, with- 
 out troops, arms, or money; and yet, so 
 great was the detestation of the Eng- 
 lish against him who oppressed a female, 
 that they instantly deserted the usurper, 
 and eventually restored to her son the en- 
 joyment of his birthright, and the crown 
 of his ancestors. This is not a solitary 
 instance of public virtue. There are 
 many such in our history ; but we think 
 we have said enough to prove our propo- 
 sition, and we shall now return to the 
 subject we were treating of before this 
 digression.
 
 MALPAS. 27I 
 
 The morning succeeding the interview 
 between the king and the lords was fixed 
 for the march of Sir Aubrey and his pri- 
 soners ; and the latter were apprized of 
 this arrangement, on the evening previ- 
 ous, in order that they might make the 
 preparations necessary for their journey. 
 We shall but briefly attempt to pourtray 
 the rage and grief of the king at this 
 separation, which overwhelmed him with 
 a despair and despondency from which 
 he never recovered. He demanded to 
 see the rebels, as he called them, who 
 thus tore from him his household; but 
 they were too resolved in their purpose, 
 and too well aware of the inutility of 
 such a meeting, to comply with his re- 
 quest. Gloucester and De Baldock did, 
 indeed, use all their influence over the 
 unhappy monarch to sooth his grief, and 
 allay the fire of his resentment : they 
 flattered him with hopes of their acquit- 
 tal, and of better days being in store for 
 all ; they taught him the absurdity and 
 impolicy of questioning the authority of 
 their powerful enemies, who, having the 
 n 4
 
 272 MALPAS. 
 
 law in their own hands, could turn its 
 fiery edge upon whomsoever they thought 
 fit; they conjured him to bend for a little 
 while to the blast, like the osier sapling, 
 which, when the storm is gone by, doth 
 recover its former erect position, and not 
 resist, like the sturdy oak, which, rather 
 than bow its mighty head, will be blown 
 headlong from its foundation. They as- 
 sured him that their safety, perhaps his 
 own, depended upon a quiet and unresist- 
 ing acquiescence in the will of their cap- 
 tors, whose opposition might be softened, 
 if their favour might not be acquired, by 
 a sensible and judicious obedience. All 
 these arguments and many more, urged 
 by his attendants, produced no effect on 
 the frantic monarch, who fancied he fore- 
 saw in the removal of his friends a pre- 
 lude to his own fate. He paced his 
 chamber the livelong night with hasty 
 steps, sometimes remaining silent and 
 thoughtful for an hour together, and then 
 bursting out into expressions of rage, and 
 execrations as fearful as they were impo- 
 tent, upon the authors of his ruin. He 
 now threatened revenge, then begged for
 
 MALPAS. 273 
 
 mercy ; at one time called upon Heaven 
 for its lightning to blast his fierce ene- 
 mies, and at another prayed God to for- 
 give them their disloyalty. In short, he 
 acted fifty parts during the night, and 
 day-break found him in the same state of 
 rage, sorrow, and trepidation. His at- 
 tendants were, at last, obliged to make 
 use of stratagem to avoid the misery of a 
 parting scene. By an arrangement with 
 the Baron Du Chatelet, which Gloucester 
 had negotiated on leaving the room for 
 some private purpose, they were publicly 
 informed by the constable, that their 
 march was for that day postponed. Upon 
 this information, which in some measure 
 quieted the king, he was persuaded to 
 retire to rest ; and his faculties were so 
 overcome by the violence of his grief and 
 his loss of repose, that he speedily fell 
 into a sound and unbroken sleep. De- 
 spenser then knelt by his bedside, and, 
 with tears of burning regret, kissed the 
 hand of his master : he rose hastily, nigh 
 stifled with grief, and, casting a last look 
 upon his sovereign, quitted the chamber. 
 The other attendants severally kissed the 
 n 5
 
 2J4* MALPAS. 
 
 king's hand, and followed the favourite. 
 Some few, of little consequence either by 
 birth or station, were remanded by the 
 lords, and allowed to remain with Ed- 
 ward, to whose chamber they gladly and 
 instantly returned. Gloucester, Baldock, 
 and the others, who were to set forward, 
 were escorted by Du Chatelet himself 
 and a guard of his retainers, to the abbey, 
 where all the servants of the monastery 
 were in a general bustle, preparing for the 
 departure of Sir Aubrey, and attending 
 the abbot and his guests, who were at 
 breakfast in the refectory. Thither Sir Ber- 
 trand repaired, and found the poursuivant 
 armed and ready for mounting. He was 
 in earnest conference with the Earl of 
 Lancaster, from whom he was the bearer 
 of letters to the queen and prince. These 
 epistles contained information of the 
 king's capture, and requested, above all 
 things, that the favourite might have a 
 fair and impartial trial, according to the 
 law of the land, for which his (the earl's) 
 word was pledged. To these missives 
 Lancaster added several verbal charges, 
 which he desired the poursuivant to com-
 
 MA LP A Si- 275 
 
 municate personally to his royal friends. 
 Their conversation was interrupted by 
 Du Chatelet, who, advancing, said, " Sir 
 Aubrey, for the greater security of your 
 charge, I have augmented your force 
 with fifty of mine own spears. Fierabras, 
 who leads them, will obey your orders." 
 
 " There is no need, my Lord Baron, " 
 replied Aubrey, " that you should put 
 yourself to trouble and expense. My 
 Hainaulters are strong enough to defeat 
 any attempt at a rescue." 
 
 " By St. Edward, I doubt it," cried 
 Du Chatelet, " and so will you when you 
 learn that Ap Gwyneth rode hence at 
 day-break. That Welshman is a stirring 
 borderer, and might mar our plans." 
 
 " Sir Bertrand is right," said the earl ; 
 " and I thank him for his courtesy. My 
 retainers have already set onward for 
 London, or they might have spared his 
 men at arms." 
 
 " Mind it not, Sir Earl," returned the 
 
 baron ; " should any broil arise, we have 
 
 force enough without their help, and at 
 
 need we have Taillebois to our succour." 
 
 n 6
 
 276 MALPAS. 
 
 " It is time, then," cried Aubrey, " we 
 should be upon our march. Fare ye well, 
 sirs ; the times will be better or worse 
 when we meet again : but ye shall soon 
 hear from me." 
 
 The abbot, Sir Paschal, and Sir Rai- 
 monnet de la Folie, who had, during the 
 conversation we have recited, been en- 
 gaged in discussing their matin meal, to 
 wit, venison pasty and Gascony wine, 
 now arose from table and joined their 
 friends. The Frenchman shook the hand 
 of Aubrey, and said, " On my faith, Sir 
 Poursuivant, were not my Lord of Lan- 
 caster detained in this barbarous spot by 
 his patriotic self-devotion, I should hold 
 it high honour to have thy company to 
 London. Commend me to thy mistress, 
 and assure her I wore her colours in the 
 last tilt at Paris. But hast thou yet learnt 
 her name?" 
 
 " No," answered Aubrey ; " I but 
 know her yet under the feigned one of 
 Morgana." 
 
 " Morgan la faye! ha! ha! ha!" ejacu- 
 lated the Frenchman, " thou art a ro- 
 mantic knight that hast been errant a
 
 MALPAS. 277 
 
 whole year, encountering those uncivil 
 chevaliers who denied to thy mistress the 
 palm of beauty, and yet art thyself a 
 stranger to her name and family." 
 
 " Is this so, indeed?" said the Earl of 
 Lancaster; " and, prithee, Aubrey, who 
 is this blazing star that has fired thy 
 youug imagination ?" 
 
 " Faith, my lord," replied the poursui- 
 vant, " all I know of her is, that she is 
 some relation to one of the queen's ladies; 
 but they kept her name and rank so close 
 between them, that I could never gain 
 clue to the mystery." 
 
 " By St. Agnes, the most beautiful of 
 saints," cried Sir Raimonnet; " she is a 
 paragon of charms, a heaven of delight, 
 a mere minion of all that is exquisite to 
 the eye and fancy of an adept. Well 
 might she captivate thee, Aubrey, young 
 as thou art, and raw to the charms of fine 
 women. I would she were in her proper 
 sphere, the Parisian court ; by the light 
 of my life, she would prove a loadstone 
 to all the gallantry and chivalry of my 
 country."
 
 278 MALPAS. 
 
 " What, Sir Knight!" exclaimed Du 
 Chatelet, " do you then confess there is 
 no lady in France that may equal this 
 English beauty ?" 
 
 " To answer you on mine honour, as a 
 knight," replied the Frenchman, " I must 
 avow I never saw one. To say there is 
 not her peer in France, is too much j for 
 I have heard it said our beauties are to 
 be found rather in the cottage than at 
 court ; from extreme youth, I have fre- 
 quented the courts of princes, and, by St. 
 Denis, in none of them have I met her 
 equal." 
 
 " She hath no peer on earth," cried 
 Aubrey. 
 
 " And yet," said Du Chatelet, " I 
 would stake my barony against a yard of 
 land, that I show thee one fair maid, so 
 far excelling her, that ye shall yourselves 
 confess her charms are paramount." 
 
 " Thou do'st presume, Du Chatelet," 
 cried Aubrey. " Thou knowest neither 
 her figure, nor her features. A blind 
 man might as w T ell judge of colours as 
 thou of my mistress's beauty."
 
 MALPAS. 279 
 
 " Thou wearest her portrait on thy 
 quarterlois," cried the baron, attempting 
 to seize it. 
 
 " Hold off thy hand," cried the pour- 
 suivant, starting back and grasping his 
 dagger 5 "no one, save he that con- 
 quers me in battle, shall ever look upon 
 that face and live. I have now business 
 in hand, Du Chatelet ; but when it is 
 done, I will hold thee a course or two for 
 our ladies honour." 
 
 " Thou wilt find me ready," replied 
 the baron ; " but to-morrow Sir Raimon- 
 net shall see Blanche Taillebois ; and if 
 he does not confess she outshines thy 
 mistress, I will give him leave to call me 
 knave, and the idol of my soul a swart 
 Ethiop." 
 
 " My love," cried Aubrey, " is as 
 fair as light." 
 
 " And mine," said the baron, " has 
 a skin whiter than ivory." 
 
 11 My mistress," continued the pour- 
 suivant, " has eyes more dark and 
 piercing than diamonds in their native 
 
 cavern." 
 
 And the glances of my beauty,"
 
 280 MALPAS. 
 
 cried Sir Bertrand, " do resemble the 
 short flashes of lightning in the mirkiness 
 of a thunderstorm." 
 
 " If my angel smiles," said the 
 bachelor, " it is like those beams which 
 escape from paradise when the porter of 
 heaven does unclose the gate." 
 
 " And the smile of my bride," con- 
 tinued the marcher, " is like the revival 
 of nature in the spring time, bringing life 
 and resurrection to that which was dead 
 and withered." 
 
 " The shape of Morgana," ejaculated 
 Aubrey, " is something more than mor- 
 tal ; — it combines the sylphid beauty 
 with the activity of woman." 
 
 " That of Blanche," cried Sir Ber- 
 trand, " is more delicate than the figure 
 of the young fawn, and more active than 
 its mother." 
 
 " My queen," said the poursuivant, 
 " has a ravishing wit, yet a gentle spirit. 
 She is full of courage, purity, and love." 
 
 " And mine," said the baron, " is 
 playful and yet virtuous, mild and yet 
 spirited, warm and yet pure." 
 
 " You say nothing of her love !" in-
 
 MALPAS. 281 
 
 terrupted Sir Raimonnet. A black cloud 
 came instantly over the marcher's brow, 
 which was observed by the Earl of Lan- 
 caster, who cried, — 
 
 " A truce, sirs, to your responses. 
 If ye are to be believed, and I doubt ye 
 not, your ladies do as nigh resemble each 
 other as one star doth another ; but come, 
 Aubrey, to horse, to horse. If the queen 
 be in London, thou mayest the sooner 
 see thy mistress." 
 
 The whole company went forth to the 
 abbey porch, where they found the 
 Hainaulters drawn up and ready for 
 march : the constable and his company 
 were there also, fully armed ; and, in the 
 midst, were the prisoners, Gloucester, 
 De Baldock, and the others, mounted on 
 the hacknies they had ridden from 
 Caergwyneth. One of Aubrey's body 
 squires led his barbed war horse, whilst 
 he mounted a handsome pal fry more 
 lightly trapped. The poursuivant's pen- 
 non was then unfolded, and they pro- 
 ceeded slowly towards the great gate of 
 the town, still attended by the earl and 
 his friends, who held the bachelor in
 
 282 MALPAS. 
 
 conversation. The portal was thrown 
 open, and the headmost horsemen ad- 
 vanced across the barriers under the 
 command of the Red Squire. Aubrey 
 lingered for a moment to receive his last 
 charge from the earl ; but before he had 
 put spur to his palfrey, Fierabras ordered 
 a halt, and cried out that a great crowd 
 of armed men were hastening to the 
 barriers. 
 
 " On horseback or a-foot," cried Du 
 Chatelet, pressing forward. 
 
 " A-foot, a-foot ;" replied the con- 
 stable, " they are cocksetts and villains, 
 the scum of the country, armed with 
 scythes and hay-forks." 
 
 Aubrey advanced to the gate of the 
 barriers, and was followed by his father, 
 the earl, his uncle, and the French 
 knight. 
 
 The mob consisted of several hundred 
 rustics, some armed with bills, bows, and 
 rusty swords ; some with pikes ; but the 
 generality with no other weapons than 
 hay forks or scythes ; a few of them wore 
 the wambais, or quilted doublet, directed 
 by royal ordinance to be kept, among
 
 MALPAS. 283 
 
 other articles of defensive and offensive 
 armour, by persons of a certain compe- 
 tency , but the greater number were 
 entirely destitute of that defence. They 
 marched without any sort of order, 
 shouting, and hallowing to each other 
 with great obstreperousness ; flourishing 
 their weapons, and dancing with fierce 
 and antick gesticulation. In short, they 
 resembled a band of madmen or savages, 
 and seemed bent on some mischievous 
 and desperate design. Undaunted at the 
 appearance of the men at arms, they 
 continued their march, and speedily 
 arrived at the barriers which separated 
 them from the poursuivant and his com- 
 pany. The baron Du Chatelet, who w r as 
 near the gate, called to them, demanding 
 the occasion of their assembling thus in 
 arms, to which they replied, with loud 
 shouts, " We will have Despenser — 
 give us Despenser — he shall die the 
 death — Queen Isabel for ever!" — And 
 some few voices cried, " A Mortimer — 
 a Mortimer — the Queen and Mortimer!" 
 Being thus assured they did not dif- 
 fer in party, the marcher waved his hanc*
 
 284 MALPAS. 
 
 for silence, at which signal the mob 
 was in some measure hushed, he then 
 continued, — 
 
 " Men of Cheshire ! the favourite 
 Despenser is in the hands of these our 
 men at arms, who are conducting him to 
 the queen. He will meet the reward of 
 his misdeeds ; and so ye may depart to 
 your homes with this assurance/' 
 
 The mob answered with cries of " The 
 marcher — the marcher !" But one of 
 them, who appeared to have some autho- 
 rity over the rest, and whose consequence 
 was denoted by his mantle of red birreau, 
 and his hufken or iron scull cap, waved 
 his brown bill for silence, and then 
 said, — 
 
 " Masters ! hear me ; for if ye will 
 not hear me, who am your brother and 
 a man of the same degree, who will ye 
 listen to that will tell ye God's truth ? 
 These nobles, that dress so fine and 
 scorn us who are their slaves, do hold 
 one to another, and, for aught we know, 
 the marcher may march off with Des- 
 penser and chouse us of our revenge." 
 
 At this speech, the mob made the
 
 MALPAS. 285 
 
 welkin ring with cries of, ' Hal Furrier! 
 Hal Furrier !" which appeared to be the 
 denomination of the spokesman. 
 
 The baron was highly enraged at their 
 presumption, and cried aloud, " Base 
 hinds! do ye give more credit to that 
 rillain's word than ye do to my honour?" 
 
 " Ay, we do ;" replied the rustics. 
 " Hal Furrier for ever !" 
 
 " Retire good people," cried the 
 abbot, advancing to the barrier; " ye 
 ought to be content with my lord's as- 
 surance. Despenser is now on his road 
 to the queen." 
 
 " Ay marry," replied the furrier, 
 " ye say so; but I say he is not. He 
 is on his way truly, but how on his way ? 
 that's the point, my masters. Ye say he 
 is on his way to the queen ; but I say 
 he should be on his way to the gallows ; 
 and we will have it so, will we not 
 brothers ?" 
 
 " Ay, ay !" shouted the mob ; " we 
 will have Despenser, dead or alive." 
 
 " Ye know not what he utter," cried 
 Ingulphus ; " would ye interfere between 
 justice and the prisoner?"
 
 286 IVIALPAS. 
 
 " Yea ; we would have his head," 
 returned the spokesman, " and his head 
 we will have." 
 
 " Know ye not, vile grooms," cried 
 Bertrand, " that I have force enough to 
 destroy ye ? How then dare ye seek to 
 cross our purposes ?" 
 
 " Marry," answered the furrier, 
 " because we dare. It is not thy angry 
 looks, nor the lances of thy pillaging 
 companions, that can affear the English 
 yeomanry. There be some among us 
 who can draw a good bow and wield a 
 brown bill with the best of ye ;" and he 
 made his weapon whistle around his 
 head. 
 
 " Good honest brutes," said Sir 
 Raimonnet de la Folie, who stood beside 
 the abbot, " get ye home to your 
 cabins. Heaven hath made a stuffed 
 pourpoint no match for a Bourdeaux 
 spear ; and ye are like to feel its edge 
 if ye are not wise enough to travel." 
 
 " Travel !" exclaimed one of the 
 rustics, " thou art the travelled monkey 
 I wis — look at his tail." 
 
 The mob roared with laughter at this
 
 MALPAS. 287 
 
 satire upon the long gown of the French- 
 man, which trailed in the dust. 
 
 " He has more cloth on his back," 
 cried the furrier, " than would cover 
 ten horses." 
 
 " Ay, and more gold on his cloak," 
 said another, " than would buy house 
 and land." 
 
 " He, a louse !" cried a third, " it is 
 no man. See ye not the braided hair 
 and the jewels on her hood and girdle ? 
 It is some harlotry queen in a knight's 
 mantle.' ' 
 
 16 Mort dieu !" exclaimed the French- 
 man in a rage, " ye filthy dregs ; I would 
 I were armed, to prove my manhood on 
 your scurvy bodies. By Saint Denis, 
 Marcel, you must do me justice on these 
 ragged knaves." 
 
 " Marry, we will do justice on thee, 
 thou French 'mafrodite," cried the fur- 
 rier : " thou art of Despenser's faction. 
 I know thee by thy court foppery. Thou 
 shalt be hanged in thy finery, like a 
 hawk-haggard, with his hood and bells. 
 But come, lords, what answer make ye
 
 288 MALPAS. 
 
 to our demand ? shall we have Despenser, 
 yea or nay ?" 
 
 " I tell ye nay, ye thrice audacious 
 knaves," cried Du Chatelet ; " away, 
 and give free passage to the horsemen." 
 
 " By Saint Dunstan of Chad, that we 
 will not," answered the spokesman, " ye 
 shall not so easily pass. If ye will ride 
 ye shall fly, for we will lend ye the goose's 
 wing." 
 
 " Rebellious dogs !" ejaculated the 
 marcher ; " I shall find a way to tame 
 your insolence. Ho! warder! sound thy 
 horn." 
 
 " Ay, sound thy horn, warder," re- 
 peated the furrier, "and thou may est 
 sound often enough before thou wilt puff 
 us away." 
 
 The signal was given, more for the 
 purpose of affrighting the rustics than 
 with the intention of summoning the 
 garrison for any warlike purpose, the 
 force under Sir Aubrey Marcel being 
 more than sufficient to have slain the 
 whole mob. However, they were too 
 bold, hardy, and confident to be alarmed
 
 MALPAS. 289 
 
 even by the appearance of the whole 
 garrison, who now flocked to the barriers, 
 men at arms, bowmen, and archers, to- 
 gether with the inhabitants of the town. 
 Among the latter, the abbot Ingulphus, 
 espied the granger, Alan Waldeyflj who, 
 by his order, addressed himself to the 
 mob in the hope of inducing them to 
 retreat. We shall favour our readers 
 with a specimen of his eloquence. 
 
 " Hal Furrier !" cried he to the leader 
 of the rustics ; " thou burly-boned churl, 
 what fool's errand art thou leading these 
 knaves upon ? Dost think to do battle 
 against men at arms in a sarsil jack 
 or leather wambais ? Go to, rogue ; 
 thou art training thy fools to the gal- 
 lows." 
 
 " Alan WaldeyfT!" replied the furrier, 
 " thou art a saucy jack-in-office, and hast 
 more black in thine eye than white in 
 thy holy day hose." 
 
 " And thou," returned the granger, 
 " dost keep more of the lambskins thou 
 hast to dress than thou dost give back to 
 thy customers. Dick Miller there knows 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 290 MALFAS. 
 
 thou didst palm a mould-warp upon his 
 wife for minever; and art not thou a 
 high waster to set up for a leader of 
 honest men ?" 
 
 The mob, ever vascillating, turned tail 
 at this accusation ; and, leaving the fur- 
 rier, roared out "The granger ! the 
 granger !" 
 
 " Good Masters/' continued Wal- 
 deyff; " I pledge ye my word, as an 
 honest yeoman like yourselves, that 
 these great lords are as fierce enemies of 
 the favourite as any among ye. What ! 
 if he were given up to ye, he would but 
 die under your honourable weapons — 
 too good a death for a vile foot-knave like 
 him. No, fellows ; let him pass on to the 
 queen. She will twisle his fine jacket, 
 I promise ye. He will die by the tor- 
 ture, as he should do, and all such 
 cogging, flattering, cozening withers- 
 akes." 
 
 " Ay, ay," cried the inconstant knaves; 
 (i let them pass — let them pass, in God's 
 name." 
 
 « c But Alan," said one of the rustics ;
 
 MA LP AS. 291 
 
 " mark now thou art leal in this 
 business." 
 
 " As leal," replied the granger, " and 
 as true as thine own slaughter axe, 
 which has no need of more strokes than 
 one." 
 
 " The queen, thou say'st," cried 
 another ; " will plaster his jacket." 
 
 " Ay, by Saint Dunstan," rejoined 
 Waldeyff, "with a coat of green mould; 
 he'll never lack another." 
 
 " Then he will be well covered in," 
 cried a tiler. 
 
 " As well, Robin," answered Alan. 
 " as if thou hadst done it thyself, and 
 with thine own tiles." 
 
 " Would I had the coping of his 
 grave !" shouted a stone-mason ; c< I 
 would ask no fee." 
 
 " Thou shalt acknowledge before 
 Yule," returned the granger, " that thy 
 hand is well free of the labour." 
 
 The barriers were now thrown open, 
 and the poursuivant, followed by the 
 men at arms, encircling the prisoners, 
 moved slowly forth. In spite of the 
 treble row of hauthoners which sur- 
 o 2
 
 292 MALPAS. 
 
 rounded Gloucester and his companions 
 in misfortune, the mob got sight of them, 
 and set up a most deafening cry of ex- 
 ultation and execration, which rang in 
 their ears for many a mile after they had 
 quitted the town.
 
 MALPAS. 293 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 1 saw a friar i' the market-place, 
 
 Some hermit Peter : so well he look'd austerity, 
 
 And was so gifted with soul-catching words, 
 
 So artful was he 'neath a cloak of candour, 
 
 That lies, which, in the open day, would meet 
 
 Loud reprobation and indignant scorn, 
 
 From him were taken as a voice from Heaven. 
 
 Joan of Arc. 
 
 As the prisoners and their escort with- 
 drew from sight, the abbot and his guests 
 left the gate, and returned to the monas- 
 tery. The Baron Du Chatelet, after 
 giving some directions to the warder, 
 (wherein he charged him narrowly to 
 observe the mob, which did not appear 
 disposed to disperse ; and in case of the 
 renovation of disorder, to communicate 
 instant notice to himself,) retired also to 
 the castle. The rustics were gathered 
 into several rings or parties of ten, twen- 
 ty, or thirty, each ; and in every company 
 some spokesman, more forward than his 
 oS
 
 294 MALPAS. 
 
 fellows, took the labouring oar, and ex- 
 patiated aloud on the several crimes and 
 misdemeanors of Despenser, and on their 
 consequent punishment. It cannot be 
 supposed that the former were well de- 
 fined ; and indeed the clumsiness of the 
 accusations brought against the favourite, 
 and which were much more easily al- 
 leged than substantiated, did frequently 
 awaken an opposition of argument even 
 in the minds of those unlettered and ill- 
 judging clowns. They were all agreed 
 that in the gross his crimes deserved ex- 
 emplary pains; but in the examination of 
 them separately, they could find none for 
 which he was worthy of capital condem- 
 nation. It seemed as if they had forgot- 
 ten the precise purpose for which they 
 assembled ; since no one among them 
 could explain the ground on which it 
 behoved them to put Gloucester to death, 
 had he fallen into their hands ; unless it 
 was, as some of them said, because he was 
 a lord, and therefore, of necessity, the 
 foe of the lower orders. This proved a 
 very unhappy and mischievous argument; 
 for it was immediately said that it ap-
 
 MALPAS. %95 
 
 plied as well to the queen's friends as her 
 enemies, that it bore as hard upon the 
 marcher and those who accompanied him, 
 as upon the fallen favourite ; and some 
 spoke of attacking the fortress, and put- 
 ting ail the inhabitants to the sword. We 
 will not presume to say what mischief 
 might have been caused by their deliber- 
 ations, had they been carried into effect ; 
 but they were happily broken off by the 
 intervention of our old friend, the mendi- 
 cant friar. He had followed Waldeyff 
 out of the town ; and after the departure 
 of Sir Aubrey Marcel and his companions, 
 mingled with the mob, and listened to their 
 arguments. Our readers may have re- 
 marked that in some of his speeches, the 
 mendicant spoke in no friendly phrase of 
 the Benedictine monks ; and we might 
 have expected that, ut verba, he would 
 have rejoiced at the destruction of the 
 abbey and its inmates. But, to do justice 
 to our friar, we must confess he was not 
 quite so bloody in his hatred, nor quite 
 so desperate in his policy : he could talk 
 with great emphasis and bitterness of the 
 fat and lazy monks ; but his vein for their 
 o 4
 
 £96 MALPAS. 
 
 disturbance extended no further than 
 slander and vituperation ; and it was 
 with the greatest horror he heard of the 
 schemes of this villanous rout, for the 
 capture and sack of the town. We must 
 also consider that the monks and friars, 
 though differing in species, as naturalists 
 observe, were still of the same genus : 
 they were priests and regulars ; and 
 although the friars, from the strictness of 
 their rules, could not obtain that store of 
 temporal riches, and consequently that 
 plenitude of temporal power of which the 
 Benedictines, unrestrained by any prohi- 
 bition, were in possession, and therefore 
 might well have been suspected of casting 
 an evil eye upon their more ambitious 
 brethren ; yet they were not willing to 
 give an handle to the laity for despising 
 and oppressing the whole priesthood, by 
 any action of deliberate annoyance, arising 
 out of an uncharitable and unchristian- 
 like spirit. Besides, our mendicant, al- 
 though a wild, drunken, and idle beggar, 
 was by no means an ill-natured man : he 
 was rather of a contrary disposition ; and 
 he himself affirmed, that it was his bene-
 
 MALPAS. 297 
 
 volent temper which led him into such 
 gross and unchurchmanlike excesses. 
 However this may be, it is certain that 
 at this time he exerted himself for the 
 service of his rivals, and commenced his 
 labours by requesting the rustics would 
 lay aside their discussions, and give him 
 an attentive hearing in the name of God. 
 This solemn invocation, combined with 
 the sanctity of his character as a friar, 
 and also as a pilgrim, the badges of which 
 profession our readers are already apprized 
 he wore, gave him an authority with the 
 mob as wonderful as it was unbounded. 
 In fact, with the superstitious and un- 
 cultured churls, his escalloped hat and 
 croissed coat acquired him more rever- 
 ence than the mitre and crosier of the 
 abbot did their possessor ; and at the re- 
 quest of the friar, they, without hesita- 
 tion, abandoned their several orators, 
 and in silent expectation surrounded the 
 place where he stood. 
 
 " Beloved sons," cried the friar, rais- 
 ing himself as high as possible in order 
 to be the more conspicuous, " beloved 
 
 sons — " 
 
 o5
 
 298 MALPAS. 
 
 " Mount the barrier, holy father," cried 
 a voice from the crowd ; "we shall hear 
 ye the better." 
 
 The friar, with the assistance of Wal- 
 deyff, ascended the barrier, upon which 
 he sat astride as upon horseback. 
 
 The granger whispered in his ear, as 
 he gave him his assistance, " Now, friar, 
 hatch up some lie, to clear us o' these mad 
 cocksetts ; say aught, as ye know how, 
 to gull their consciences, and I will stand 
 ye in a flaggon of Bonrdeaux." 
 
 The mendicant gave him a significant 
 wink ; but instantly resuming a staid and 
 sanctitied demeanour, proceeded to ad- 
 dress the people in the following strain. 
 
 " Beloved sons, or not beloved sons 
 ye are either, as ye do hearken and obey, 
 or are deaf and unheeding to my warning- 
 voice. A vision did whilom appear to 
 me as I lay in my cell, meditating the 
 devout life of Saint Dunstan, cujus no- 
 men sit benedictus — a heavy sleep did 
 oppress my faculties, and I felt as though 
 the hand of death, rex ipse terrorum, 
 was upon me ; earth seemed flitting away 
 like an ill-remembered dream, and the
 
 MALPAS. 299 
 
 chaunt of the seraphim, thrilling me with 
 heavenly harmony, enveloped all my 
 senses. This paradise of delight held me 
 not long : I heard a voice, crying, * Adri- 
 an, Adrian;' and I answered, 'Here am I.' 
 The figure of the venerable Dunstan was 
 instantly before me; he cried, 'Up, arise, 
 gird on thy cloak and walk ; rest not 
 until thou hast paid thy vows at Beverley ; 
 for thereon hangs the safety of England, 
 and thine own salvation/ Beloved bre- 
 thren, I tarried not for day ; but seiz- 
 ing my hat and staff, and providing my- 
 self with this scanty scrip, I left our 
 house and journeyed northward. Many a 
 long mile, and many a foul road did I 
 encounter in my pilgrimage — Deus sit 
 laudatus, qui in periculis est meum adju- 
 torium — without shoes on myfeet or shirt 
 on my back, hungry and athirst, parched 
 in the drought, and drenched in the 
 storm, I pressed onward to the shrine of 
 Saint John, and sped my vows." 
 
 The rustics were heart-stricken at the 
 
 picture of misery and self-devotion drawn 
 
 by the friar, and condoled with him in 
 
 groans of sorrow, and murmurs of com- 
 
 o 6
 
 '300 M A LP AS- 
 
 rniseration. So far from doubting the 
 veracity of his narration, they imagined 
 he concealed the heavier portion of his 
 sufferings, and gave him credit for ten 
 times more than he had the impudence to 
 impose upon them. Numbers pressed 
 forward, and made him small offerings of 
 money, which he very thankfully ac- 
 cepted, and deposited in his scrip. Alan 
 Waldeyff again whispered him, " Well 
 done, friar, thou hast the very devil 
 aneath thy tongue.' ' The friar answered 
 him with an hypocritical grimace 5 and 
 then turning to his auditors, continued 
 his homily. 
 
 " Worthy and beloved sons, I had a 
 second vision at the shrine of Saint John. 
 Saint Dunstan did again visit me ; and 
 as a reward for my obedience to his man- 
 date, did present to me this relic. ,, He 
 drew forth the piece of wood upon which 
 he would have taken the oath of Fierabras, 
 and held it up for the inspection of the 
 crowd. 
 
 " Marry, what is't ?" cried one fellow, 
 placing his hand above his eyes to shield 
 *hem from the sun; which, though in the
 
 MALPAS. 301 
 
 beginning of October, was somewhat 
 powerful. " Is't a thwittle shaft ?" 
 
 " Ay, or it may be the half of a 
 shuttle," said another ; " dost note, it ta- 
 pers to the end, and is biggest i' the 
 middle? I warrant Saint Dunstan was a 
 clothier, and made many an eli of stout 
 broella." 
 
 " 'Tis more like he was a butcher," 
 cried one of that fraternity, " if ye go by 
 likes ; for 'tis the very model of a thwittle 
 shaft, and white ash to boot." 
 
 " Hush ! the friar's about to speak," 
 exclaimed a third. 
 
 " Beloved sons," said the friar, resum- 
 ing his discourse, " I behold wonder and 
 curiosity depeinten on your faces at the 
 mere sight of this holy relic, of which 
 ye know not the nature or properties; 
 but how much will your wonder be in- 
 creased, how infinitely will your curiosity 
 be augmented, when I tell ye that this 
 piece of wood, simple as it looks, did 
 form part of that cross which bore our 
 Redeemer at his sacrifice ? Yes, beloved, 
 this precious fragment is stained with the 
 blood of the incarnate Godhead : this
 
 302 MALPAS. 
 
 hallowed cantle sustained him in his 
 bloody agony who died for the salvation 
 of ye all. Ah! now I see ye are touched, 
 and well may ye be ; for ye do stand, as 
 it were, in his very presence ; and he 
 beholds ye with eyes of love, shedding 
 the precious drops of pity upon his suf- 
 ferings. Beloved, since I have attained 
 the blessed chance of possessing this glo- 
 rious relic, I hold my life as dust, my 
 race as run, my time as of the world to 
 come, and not as of this world ; would 
 that I could this moment depart in the 
 midst of ye!" 
 
 Murmurs of pity, wonder and admir- 
 ation, followed this extraordinary nar- 
 ration. The crowd pressed more closely 
 around the friar, and some of them who 
 were nearest to him kissed the hem of his 
 cloak. Those of more warlike character, 
 the yeomen and military vassals, bran- 
 dished their weapons with looks of indig- 
 nation, and, like Clovis of France, swore 
 had they been living at the time of their 
 Saviour's crucifixion, they would have re- 
 venged him on his enemies. We will 
 not say that this expression of feeling by
 
 MALPAS. 303 
 
 a mob of yeomen, butchers, clothiers, 
 fullers, fletchers, masons, and carpen- 
 ters, had an air quite so romantic as that 
 of the monarch at the head of his warlike 
 Franks; but we will say that this mob 
 was as capable of appreciating the suffer- 
 ings of their Redeemer, as the fierce and 
 uncultivated, and, but lately, heathen 
 sovereign. The mendicant bore their 
 adulation with as great sobriety and hy- 
 pocrisy as his prototype, Saint Dunstan, 
 could have done •, and to their blessings 
 and cheers replied only by a new infusion 
 of mortification into his sallow counte- 
 nance. The granger, to whom the part 
 acted by father Adrian gave infinite plea- 
 sure, pinched his legs as the only means 
 of testifying covertly the excess of his ad- 
 miration ; but the friar, as might be seen 
 by the contortions of his visage, could 
 well have dispensed with this proof of his 
 gratification. To put an end, therefore, 
 to WaldeyfFs compliments, the mendi- 
 cant again addressed himself to the 
 people. 
 
 " Brethren, " he proceeded, " I have 
 yet to deliver to ye the charge wherewith
 
 304 MALPAS. 
 
 this relic was accompanied. The holy 
 Saint Dunstan, on placing it in my hands, 
 said, 'Arise, Adrian, and go forth ; return 
 to thy monastery ; thou wilt find work by 
 the way — tua peregrinatio est ad opus 
 Domini — and do thou maintain his glory 
 in thy handiwork. Thou shalt be a 
 peace-maker among men,' he continued j 
 'out of thy mouth shall flow persuasion, as 
 it were the mouth of an angel ; and this 
 relic of the holy cross shall be unto thee 
 as a sign of authenticity. They who 
 see shall believe ; and like unto those 
 who in my day of terrestrial penance did 
 hang upon my words 3 shall thy auditors 
 listen unto thee, and give credit to thy 
 counsel.' The canonized spirit did then 
 flit away, leaving me to wend homeward, 
 after the performance of my vows." 
 
 The friar paused again, and the rus- 
 tics entered into short snatches of con- 
 versation. One of them said he was as 
 good a man as Saint Dunstan himself. 
 
 " Ay, marry," cried another, " and 
 better; for ye see Saint Dunstan's spirit 
 cannot rest, nor his bones lie still in the 
 grave ; which is proof of his having 
 been no better than he should be."
 
 MALPAS. 305 
 
 " By our Lady," returned he who 
 spoke first, " 'tis well an he were as good; 
 and, as thou didst say, 'twere like he was 
 a butcher ; I tell thee it seems to me he 
 did use bloodier weapons than a Sheffield 
 thwittle." 
 
 " Marry, thou hast hit it," replied his 
 companion ; " as sure as my name's 
 Bogie Brown, Saint Dunstan was a mur- 
 therer. Ay, by our Lady, he cut the 
 throttles of men 'stead of pigs and calves, 
 and is now sweating for't in purgatory." 
 
 " Marry, ye are two asses," cried a 
 man who had overheard their sage de- 
 monstrations ; " Saint Dunstan was a 
 holy monk, and did vanquish the devil 
 in single fight." 
 
 " Then must he have been the devil's 
 peer," returned the first speaker; " and 
 that proves my story." 
 
 " As how ?" cried the intruder. 
 
 " Why, marry, either the devil or 
 St. Dunstan must have been the prover ; 
 and the saint would not have fought had 
 the devil been worse than himself." 
 
 " Then he must have found a cham- 
 pion," rejoined the controversialist ;
 
 306 MALPAS. 
 
 u and who is there for hire would en- 
 counter the devil ?" 
 
 " Well, I say," cried the other, 
 " good day for him was it when the 
 devil fell under his staff." 
 
 " Staff!" said his antagonist; "the 
 saint fought with a pair of red-hot 
 pincers, and grasped the devil by the 
 nose." 
 
 The other two stared with wonder at 
 this probable account; and one of them 
 replied to the vindicator of the saint, 
 " Marry, thou art a cozening knave ; and 
 we are two asses to put any trust in thy 
 lies : I warn thee to beware, or the devil 
 will gripe thee by the nose, despite thy 
 pains to please him." 
 
 " Thou art an uncivil cullion," re- 
 turned his adversary; " and but I should 
 anger the holy friar, I would bloody 
 thy coxcomb with my quarter staff." 
 
 " Hold thy hand, bonny Ralph !" cried 
 the other, grasping his brown bill ; " thou 
 knowest here it never rains but it pours : 
 I can make shaft and steel fly as well as 
 thy father's son." 
 
 " Why spar ye at this rate ?" said the
 
 MALPAS. 307 
 
 third, endeavouring to mediate between 
 them ; " what matters it to either of ye 
 whether Saint Dunstan or Saint Devil 
 was victor ? Be friends — be friends, and 
 let not the holy father see your folly." 
 
 At this admonition Ralph was pacified, 
 and held out his hand; which his adver- 
 sary accepted, and shook by way of 
 ratification of their treaty of peace. 
 
 The friar concluded his oration in the 
 following words. " Beloved sons ! ye 
 now know my authority — ye have been 
 witnesses of my passport to your con- 
 sciences ; and if there be any man who 
 has witnessed and does yet disbelieve, it 
 shall be worse for him hereafter than if 
 he had been an heretic or an usurer. 
 The words which come out of my mouth 
 are not mine own; they are Christ's — 
 via sine devio, vita sine termino, est mihi 
 Christus. Believe, then, as ye would if 
 ye were now to see the heavens opened, 
 and to hear a voice of thunder issue out 
 of the clouds. The day, beloved, is an 
 evil day — a day of sin and sorrow, of suf- 
 fering and tribulation of spirit. The 
 wrath of God is on the land : the king
 
 308 MALPAS. 
 
 and his minions have fallen beneath the 
 rod; which, like that of Moses, is pre- 
 pared to swallow them up. But do not 
 ye lift up your hands against the anointed 
 — do not ye pluck upon yourselves the 
 indignation of the Most High ; leave 
 their chastisement to whom it belongs — 
 the Lord of mercy and of justice. And 
 oh, dearly beloved brethren ! above all 
 things, I charge ye from mine innermost 
 soul, by Mary, sancta spousa Dei ; by all 
 the saints of heaven, and your hopes of 
 paradise ; by your living fame and your 
 dying agony ; by your Redeemer him- 
 self, and aught else that can have power 
 and persuasion with your consciences; — 
 dare not to assail the habitations of the 
 clergy. They are men whose good deeds 
 ye cannot know, but by the estimation 
 of their loss ; they are fathers who seek 
 no earthly enjoyment but for the good 
 of all : their power is a blessing, as those 
 of ye may know who live under such 
 mild and benevolent lords ; and their 
 ruin, in place of adding aught to the good 
 and well-being of the public, would sink 
 ye into the last extremity of want,
 
 MALPAS. 309 
 
 wretchedness, and woe. Leave, then, 
 I beseech ye, all things to those whom 
 God hath appointed his instruments of 
 judgment; suffer the king, if king he 
 be, to remain here or journey whitherso- 
 ever the lords, his keepers, shall ordain. 
 Let his favourites, wicked as they are, 
 enjoy the benefit of trial; and, if innocent, 
 in the name of heaven, let them escape 
 punishment. Be advised in all things 
 by your spiritual superiors of this holy 
 abbey ; and treat the fathers, as becomes 
 ye, with all honour and reverence. These 
 things done, the blessing of heaven will 
 cleave unto ye now and for ever. 
 Brethren ! I must bid ye farewell ; but 
 in the silence of my cell, and in the 
 hour of my death, I shall remember ye. 
 My prayers shall ever be for ye, and for 
 your children, to the remotest gener- 
 ation. Brethren ! once more farewell ; 
 I entreat ye instantly to separate, and 
 each man to betake himself peaceably 
 to his home." 
 
 The crowd of rustics hailed the con- 
 clusion of the mendicant's address with 
 loud shouts of applause ; and, as a proof
 
 310 MALPAS. 
 
 that they had not heard him without 
 receiving benefit from his exhortations, 
 they began gradually to disperse. Those, 
 indeed, who had composed the outer- 
 most circle which surrounded him, and 
 who, therefore, had not been sufficiently 
 near to catch a perfect view of his per- 
 son, which they doubtless thought ex- 
 traordinary, occupied the places, adjoin- 
 ing his station, of those who had with- 
 drawn ; and for some moments remained 
 motionless, gazing with devout and 
 intent looks upon his figure and phy- 
 siognomy. Their curiosity satisfied, 
 these also retired from the barriers, leav- 
 ing the friar, attended by Waldeyffand 
 some few of the townsmen. They had 
 not, however, retreated three hundred 
 yards from the gate, when a novel sight 
 again collected them, and brought them 
 back to the barrier. This was no other 
 than the appearance of Sir Roger Tail- 
 lebois and his daughter on horseback, 
 attended by the young lady's women and 
 an escort of fifty men at arms. The old 
 baron, judging from the firm and erect 
 seat he kept on his palfrey, was little
 
 MALPAS. 311 
 
 troubled by his wound, though, (as he 
 wore a huge mantle of red cloth, called a 
 chape a pluie, from its being used in 
 stormy weather, and which was lined 
 with greys or fur de gris,) it was proba- 
 ble he was under the obligation of avoid- 
 ing cold. The figure of Blanche, who 
 rode at her father's side, was entirely 
 enveloped in her hood and mantle ; 
 whilst her face, which the hood left ex- 
 posed, was much screened by the close 
 adjustment of her silken wimple : her 
 eyes, which had usually a brilliant and 
 expressive animation, were now as op- 
 posite to their accustomed splendour as 
 the whiting's eyes, which Estifania ac- 
 cuses the copper captain of having 
 palmed on her for pearls, must have been 
 to the jewels they were intended to re- 
 present. She turned them neither to the 
 right nor to the left, and held her bridle 
 rein so carelessly, that her palfrey had his 
 own free pleasure to go at what rate 
 might best please him. She did, indeed, 
 seem so indifferent to what was passing 
 around her, so heedless of those gazes 
 which were fixed upon her, and so
 
 S12 MALPAS. 
 
 abstracted from all exterior impressions, 
 that when her horse halted at the bar- 
 riers, she started with such violence as 
 nearly to throw herself out of the saddle ; 
 but, after a hasty and fearful glance at 
 the gate, she relapsed into a solemn and 
 immoveable apathy. The cavalcade, 
 constrained to await the communication 
 of the baron's arrival to the marcher, 
 drew up in front of the gate, and was 
 instantly environed by the multitude. 
 The rustics, eager to gratify their im- 
 pertinent curiosity, and emboldened by 
 their numbers, pressed onward to the 
 verv heads of the horses ; and circulated 
 their jokes upon the retainers of the baron, 
 and even upon Taillebois himself, without 
 any fear or regard of evil consequences. 
 Nay, some of the more confident of the 
 ruffians passed their coarse satire upon 
 Blanche, whose insensibility happily pre- 
 vented her from noticing their malevo- 
 lence. 
 
 " Hey, Bogie !" cried one of them, 
 who throughout the whole day had made 
 himself conspicuous by his noise and im- 
 pudence ; " dost see the wench ? Marry, 
 5
 
 MA LP AS. 313 
 
 for the little ye may spy of her white- 
 washed face, she might have seen the 
 graunt*, or some ill sight, I trow." 
 
 " Is not this she/' replied Bogie, 
 " that they say is to marry the marcher? 
 and did not her father, that sits so stately 
 here on his ambling nag, wash his hands 
 in the blood of the verderor?" 
 
 Taillebois, who caught somewhat of 
 the fellow's speech, cast upon him a 
 glance of hasty but fierce resentment. 
 Not in the least daunted by this expres- 
 sion of the knight's displeasure, Bogie, to 
 whom the association of his fellows gave 
 courage and confidence, proceeded, 
 " Ay, ay ; other folk can shake their 
 noddles I wis, Sir Baron ; and were I 
 Alan Waldeyff, and the kinsman of 
 Hubert de Hautbois, I would soon see 
 whether that cloth cloak were proof 
 against a witch hazel shaft." 
 
 The truth of the matter is, that Alan 
 Waldeyff, who needed no spur to avenge 
 his kinsman, had been lectured as to his 
 intention by the Abbot Ingulphus, who, 
 
 * The graunt, as mentioned by Gervase of 
 Tilbury, was a spectre, devil, or apparition, 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 314 MALPAS. 
 
 upon consideration of the circumstances, 
 finding the prosecution of the granger's 
 feud might endanger the good under- 
 standing now subsisting between the 
 marcher and himself, which, at this time, 
 it was necessary to preserve, abandoned 
 his former approbation of Waldeyff's 
 resentment, and charged him, as he 
 valued his life and station, to waive his 
 resolution, and forego his revenge. To 
 the commandment of his superior the 
 granger reluctantly acceded ; and having 
 once given his word that he would not 
 attempt the life of Taillebois, he virtually 
 laid aside all thoughts of further evil 
 towards him. The good fortune of the 
 rustic so chanced it, that his speech did 
 not gain the ear of the baron, who, at 
 the moment, was engaged with the return 
 of the warder. The threat of what he 
 would have done in Alan's situation, had 
 it reached Sir Roger, would perchance 
 have given cause to one of his own kins- 
 men to hold the baron in like feud ; for 
 the Red Knight of Harding, as we have 
 before noted, was seldom hesitating in a 
 fiery mood j and would have thought as
 
 MALPAS. 315 
 
 little of steeping his basillard to the hilt 
 in the blood of a churl, as in that of a 
 wild boar, or stag at bay. 
 
 The portal was now thrown open, and, 
 as a guard against the intrusion of the 
 malcontents, several score archers and 
 dismounted men at arms were ranged from 
 the gate to the barriers, ready to fall on 
 in case of any disturbance. By good 
 fortune, or the eloquence of the Mendi- 
 cant, the mobility were disposed to 
 remain peaceable, and the cavalcade 
 passed the gate, followed by the garrison 
 soldiers, without interruption, though 
 not without being pursued by hoots and 
 hisses. The injunction of the friar was, 
 however, soon forgot ; for they again 
 formed into companies after the portal 
 was closed, and, with loud shouts, dared 
 one another to deeds of insolence upon 
 the fortress. The younger and more 
 daring leaders of the mob leapt the 
 barriers, and, advancing to the portal, 
 struck fiercely and heavily upon the 
 gate with their brown bills and pole-axes : 
 others, who were not quite so bold, stood 
 without the barriers, and discharged a 
 p 2
 
 316 MALPAS. 
 
 flight of arrows over the town-wall, 
 which, though happily innocuous, occa- 
 sioned no slight alarm to the inhabitants. 
 Notice of these bravadoes was instantly 
 sent by the warder to the castle; and the 
 baron ordered two companies of men at 
 arms, each consisting of one hundred 
 spears, to mount and issue from the 
 postern, and, each taking a different 
 course, to meet and surround the rustics 
 in front of the gate. This scheme was 
 executed in a few minutes, and the mob 
 found itself not only beset on each side, 
 but also from the portal, which being 
 thrown open, poured forth several 
 hundred archers and cross-bow men 
 harnessed for battle. The surprise 
 bereft them of all courage. The men at 
 arms advanced at full gallop with their 
 lances couched, and among this badly 
 armed and naked multitude would have 
 committed terrible havoc. The archers 
 stood with their arrows notched, and the 
 cross-bow men had their bows ready 
 bent \ every thing warned them of ap- 
 proaching destruction. The stoutest 
 hearts among them quaked with terror ;
 
 malpas. 317 
 
 and when the hauthoners were within a 
 few spears' length of their outermost 
 ranks, the whole body threw themselves 
 on their knees, and bellowed out for 
 mercy. Bonnelance, one of the body- 
 squires of Sir Bertrand du Chatelet, who 
 had the command of this adventure, made 
 a sign to his companions to halt, and 
 from the mob selected half-a-dozen of the 
 ringleaders, upon whom he said the 
 baron would inflict summary justice. 
 These men he sent under a guard to the 
 castle; allowing the remainder to dis- 
 perse, who, very willingly, and very 
 speedily, made good use of his clemency 
 
 p S
 
 318 
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 CHAR XIIL 
 
 Your cruel treatment of my passion — 
 But I'll not talk. — This, madam ; only this — 
 Think not the cause, the cursed cause of all, 
 Shall laugh secure, and triumph in my pangs : 
 No ; by the torments of an heart on fire, 
 She gluts my vengeance, who defrauds my love ! 
 
 The Brothers. 
 
 We shall now attend upon the old Ba- 
 ron of Harding and his lovely daughter, 
 who had by this time dismounted from 
 their horses, and entered the hall. Du 
 Chatelet w 7 as in attendance, and welcomed 
 them with as hearty a reception as the 
 robber gives to the feeble and wealthy 
 traveller who requests admission to his 
 den. His eye sparkled with delight as he 
 gazed upon the figure of Blanche, who, 
 to avoid encountering his glances, had 
 drawn her wimple still closer over her 
 face, so that her nose and eyes were alone 
 visible. He did not remark the enve-
 
 MALPAS. 319 
 
 lopement of her figure, nor that her 
 charms were veiled, so much was he taken 
 up with the pleasure arising from her 
 appearance ; and shook the hand of her 
 father with a wildness and extravagance 
 of spirit which had never before been re- 
 marked as pertaining to his character. 
 Taillebois, in whose bosom the extremes 
 of good and bad were alike predominant, 
 did not pay any particular attention to a 
 conduct which so nearly resembled his 
 own ; but returned his greeting with a 
 shake equally warm and equally free from 
 ceremony. 
 
 " By our Lady, Taillebois," cried Sir 
 Bertrand, " I am glad to see thee, both 
 for thine own sake, and because thou 
 bringest with thee the saint of my ado- 
 ration. She is well, I trust, and thou 
 also? Thou did'st get my message?" 
 
 " Ay, Bonnelance did thine errand 
 trustily," answered Sir Roger. " But, 
 where is the king? And Lancaster! is he 
 here?" 
 
 " Lancaster and his attendants," re- 
 turned the marcher, " are at the abbey, 
 and well it is so; but Edward is here with 
 p 4
 
 320 MALPAS. 
 
 me. The favourite left Malpas some 
 hours ago under an escort; and, hark ye," 
 he continued, drawing Taillebois on one 
 side, " Fierabras doth accompany Aubrey 
 Marcel, who leads the division, bearing 
 my letters to the queen and Mortimer. 
 What thinkest thou they will give for the 
 king's head?" 
 
 He smiled triumphantly on communi- 
 cating this political scheme to the Knight 
 of Harding, who replied, " They will 
 give royally, Du Chatelet; but, dost thou 
 not think the King and Despenser would 
 have paid thee better? They were in thine 
 hands, and the fear of being delivered to 
 the queen — " 
 
 The marcher shook his head, and said, 
 " No, Taillebois. They did, in sooth, bid 
 fairly for my alliance; and, could I have 
 found a way for restoring the king his 
 crown, by Saint Edward I would have 
 joined his faction ; but the queen's force 
 is one hundred thousand men at arms, 
 and what peer in England may resist it? 
 To have joined Edward, even as second 
 in the realm, would have been madness. 
 I knew too well the strength of each
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 321 
 
 party, to cast my weight into the losing 
 scale ; but, as I still am master of the 
 king's fate, and can either send him 
 guarded to London, or convey him to a 
 place of safety where he might give 
 trouble to the amorous queen and her 
 gallant, they shall pay my price or be 
 losers of the ware." 
 
 " But what says Lancaster ?" cried 
 Taillebois : " he is Edward's kinsman, 
 though his house hath felt his tyranny." 
 
 " The earl does not suspect my 
 policy," answered the marcher; u nor 
 would I have him. If the bargain take 
 effect, I have stipulated for secrecy. 
 Though I fear no man living, and can 
 guard my right with the strong hand, 
 yet a feud with Lancaster is not need- 
 lessly to be sought. His valour and 
 chivalrous spirit render him as popular 
 with the multitude, as do his birth and 
 courtesy with the nobles of England." 
 
 " But he must know, and so must the 
 world," cried the knight, " of your deal- 
 ing with the queen, when you publicly 
 place him in her hands." 
 
 The marcher smiled, and replied, " For 
 p 5
 
 32°2 MALPAS. 
 
 that, too, have I provided. I will reap 
 the profit, Taillebois, while the blame 
 and the shame do fall upon Lancaster ; 
 for I have so fashioned my agreement, 
 unknown to all, either the meddling 
 priest Ingulphus, or his knavish brother, 
 that when the king doth quit my castle, 
 he shall have the wise earl for his pro- 
 tector. Seest thou now my drift, Sir 
 Baron ? and what thinkest thou of my 
 plan ?" 
 
 " By Saint Austin," replied Taille- 
 bois, " thou dost amaze me with thy 
 cunning. Our late king, Edward Long- 
 shanks, renowned through the world for 
 his wisdom and policy, would have been 
 no match for thee at scheming. But, 
 after all, Du Chatelet, I like not this 
 delving in the dark, this yielding of bold 
 and manly force to a crafty and courtier- 
 like dissimulation. By my soul, I hold 
 one blow stricken i' the field worthier 
 than a thousand traps manufactured in 
 the closet." 
 
 The brow of the marcher grew black 
 as night ; but in a moment cleared again. 
 He looked steadily at the knight, and
 
 MALPAS. 323 
 
 said, " Taillebois ! thou dost know that 
 I am no skulker in the field : thou dost 
 know that, among the English chivalry, 
 there is no knight that with better will 
 doth lay lance to his saddle-bow in the 
 fierce roar of battle than Bertrand du 
 Chatelet. To me the love of thy daugh* 
 ter, returned with an ardour equalling 
 mine own passion, would be ungrateful, 
 nay, hateful, if it withheld me from that 
 martial strife which gives joy and ani- 
 mation to my soul. But that I should 
 bootlessly incur popular hatred, and 
 make myself a mark for kingsmen to 
 shoot at, when my own interest may be 
 served by a politic reservation, and that 
 without danger or suspicion, would argue 
 me a witless fool, and not the bold knight 
 your counsel points at." 
 
 ** Use thy discretion, son," said Sir 
 Roger ; " but what think'st thou will be 
 King Edward's fate?" 
 
 " Death !" answered the marcher 
 bluntly: " Isabel and her minion have 
 gone too far to stop now at aught. If 
 she will keep her power, and Mortimer 
 his life, they must not be sparing of 
 p 6
 
 324? M ALP AS. 
 
 Edward's blood. The fate of Glo'ster, 
 who is marked for the slaughter, may 
 restore the king to popular favour, and 
 what then becomes of them ?" 
 
 " But is Isabel so foul," cried the 
 Baron of Harding, " that she does not 
 hold sacred her husband's life ?" 
 
 " Sacred !" replied Du Chatelet, mock- 
 ing the word to the very echo ; " hast 
 thou seen the wolf-bitch, or the moun- 
 tain-bear ? To them their common prey 
 is as sacred as her husband's blood to 
 this false French woman ; — but let us 
 quit this subject, and tell me, Taillebois, 
 when may I expect thy daughter's hand ? 
 I swear to ye by the Virgin, I burn until 
 I possess her." 
 
 " Thou must quench the fires of thy 
 love," answered Sir Roger, " with the 
 waters of thy wisdom ; for she has won 
 me over to grant her a month's deferment 
 of your union." 
 
 " A month !" cried Du Chatelet ; 
 " say an age ; a million of years. — By 
 my soul, Sir Baron, this is not friendly ; 
 if she is to be mine, why not to-day as 
 well as a month or a year hence ?"
 
 MALPAS. 325 
 
 u I am her father,'' answered the 
 knight, " and it wounds my very heart's 
 core to put force on her inclinations. 
 Thou canst not know my feelings, Sir 
 Baron; if thou didst, thou would'st easily 
 excuse an old man for granting a small 
 favour to the daughter of his love, which 
 was prayed for as if she begged her life 
 at my hands." 
 
 The old baron was so overcome by 
 the poignancy of his paternal affections, 
 that the tears rolled down his face, and 
 he was constrained to seat himself on a 
 tressel until the storm was over. Blanche, 
 who had hitherto reclined on a broad 
 settle surrounded by her women, ob- 
 serving by their whispers and looks of 
 curiosity, that somewhat extraordinary 
 had happened, rose up, and perceiving 
 her father in tears, broke from her at- 
 tendants, and flew towards him. Sir Roger 
 clasped her in his arms, whilst Blanche, 
 though unacquainted with the source of 
 her father's grief, mingled her tears and 
 affliction with his. The marcher stood 
 gloomily silent, nor attempted, by any 
 offers of condolence, to chase their de-
 
 326 MALPAS. 
 
 jection ; but Sir Roger, to whom his 
 daughter's tears were more precious than 
 orient pearl, dried up his own, and at- 
 tempted to comfort her. 
 
 " Fie on thee, Blanche," he said, sob- 
 bing at each word ; " fie on thee, wench ; 
 what dost thou cry for ? eh ! Du Cha- 
 telet has most reason to cry, for having 
 lost thee a month longer. He would 
 have thee to shorten this term, Blanche ; 
 what sayest thou ?" 
 
 She did not raise her head, which was 
 hid in her father's bosom, but violently 
 waved her hand as if in protest against 
 any such alteration. The Baron of 
 Harding, who seemed very well to un- 
 derstand the meaning of her sign, re- 
 plied, " Well, well, be it thine own way, 
 then ; the marcher must wait thy time, 
 for I have said thou should'st have it ; 
 but trust me, Blanche ! thou art unwise 
 in this matter, and if thou would'st 
 hearken to counsel — " 
 
 She made a more passionate wafture 
 than at first, and her father continued, 
 " Well, Blanche, I have done : thou shalt 
 hear no more on't, but — "
 
 MALPAS. 327 
 
 " The Lady Blanche," said Du Cha- 
 telet, interrupting Sir Roger, " will make 
 this term, I trust, the furthest period of her 
 delay : she knows not the anguish of hope 
 deferred to a lover whose breast is like 
 the crater of some burning mount, which, 
 unless it have way, will burst forth in 
 fire and devastation !" 
 
 " Though the flame were to devour 
 my wretched body," cried the damsel, 
 raising herself upright, and speaking in 
 a solemn and measured strain, " and to 
 reduce it to vile dust and ashes, I swear, 
 by our Lady Mother, but for my father's 
 command, I would brave its terrors. 
 Thou may'st threaten, Sir Baron, but 
 no one of our house did ever tremble at 
 the word or the frown of mortal man." 
 
 *f Beauteous Blanche !" exclaimed the 
 Baron : " I meant not to threaten ye, 
 however angry my words might sound. 
 But, for the love of heaven, dismiss thy 
 disdain, and cast a look more gentle 
 upon him who but lives on the bounty of 
 thy smiles. For thy love hath this arm 
 laid many a valiant man on the bloody 
 field, and hath of late won me a prisoner
 
 328 MALPAS. 
 
 whose ransom will plant a coronet on 
 that frowning brow." 
 
 " A coronet !" cried Blanche with 
 superlative contempt ; " and dost thou 
 think, Sir Knight, that the glitter of a 
 crown could smooth away the frown 
 from the brow of misery, or pluck the 
 scorpion of despair from the broken 
 heart ? Will a coronet stand ye in place 
 of content, and happiness, and love ? Ah, 
 no ; the garlanded queen, unblessed by 
 these sweeteners of life, is but the masker 
 Death, without all gold and tinsel, within 
 a heap of rotten bones. — Away, away 
 — let me hear no more." 
 
 " Tut, tut, wench," cried her father ; 
 " thou art an absolute fool thus to des- 
 pise the honours of this world, which all 
 that are wise unceasingly aim at. But 
 thou wilt anon know better. Ha, what 
 knights are these, son, entering the 
 hall?" 
 
 " The Earl of Lancaster and his 
 friends," replied the marcher, advanc- 
 ing to meet them. The Earl, attended 
 by the abbot, Sir Paschal, and Sir 
 Ttaimonnet de la Folie, came forward \
 
 MALPAS. 329 
 
 and the former said, that, having heard 
 of the arrival of Sir Roger and his daugh- 
 ter, they had taken the liberty of paying 
 their respects to the young lady, which 
 he very courteously did. The marcher 
 seized Sir Raimonnet by the arm, and, 
 taking him on one side, said " Now, Sir 
 Raimonnet, be thou judge between the 
 poursuivant and me. Behold Blanche 
 Taillebois, and declare from thy soul if 
 she be not fairer than the Lady Morgana: 
 approach her, man, and look at her nar- 
 rowly ; she will not shame thy scrutiny." 
 The mantle and hood of Blanche hav- 
 ing been removed by her women, she 
 appeared in a robe of cherry- coloured 
 diaper, lined and edged with minever: 
 her face, as she now stood rather in- 
 clined to one side, was concealed from 
 Du Chatelet and the Frenchman, by the 
 fringed ends of her silken wimple or 
 couvre chef which hung down from her 
 head like those of a Mohammedan turban. 
 She received the Earl of Lancaster with 
 great frankness and courtesy ; but to the 
 abbot and Sir Paschal Marcel, whom she 
 considered as bearing a part in that con-
 
 330 MALPAS. 
 
 spiracy which had robbed her of liberty, 
 she was cold, distant, and haughty. A 
 frown of sober and settled dislike ga- 
 thered over her countenance, and to 
 their civilities she replied in brief and 
 unceremonious monosyllables. The Earl 
 gazed upon her with admiration, and 
 whispered to himself that the Lady 
 Blanche did well deserve those praises 
 bestowed on her by Du Chatelet. 
 
 The Frenchman now advanced rendre 
 ses devoirs. He drew off' his hood and 
 held it, not under his arm, gentle reader, 
 as a gallant of this day would his chapeau 
 bras, but dangling in his hand, like the 
 reticules which are suspended from the 
 fingers of our fair contemporaries. The 
 pacific dress of Sir Raimontiet was as 
 singular and as gaudy as his war capa- 
 rison. He wore a short tunic of cloth of 
 baudekyn *, a kind of silk or brocade, 
 the ground of which was blue, but so 
 entirely overlaid with flowers and figures 
 
 * Baudekyn, Pannus auro rigidus plumato-que 
 opere intertextus. Cloth of silk, gold brocade. 
 Spelman's Glossary.
 
 MA LP AS. 331 
 
 of gold that little, if any, of the colour 
 was perceptible. His waist was com- 
 pressed almost to a shadow by means of 
 his girdle, which was one mass of gold- 
 smith's work, studded with pearls and 
 precious stones ; attached to which was 
 his basillard in a scabbard of blue velvet, 
 gaily embroidered. His tunic was open 
 from the waist downwards ; so that, at 
 every step, you could not only perceive 
 his hose, but also the bracci or drawers to 
 which they were attached, and which 
 resembled, in point of shape, the short 
 trews of a Highland Scotsman. His hose 
 and drawers were of two colours, as was 
 at this time the fashion among the young 
 and gay nobility both of England and 
 France; which piece of ridiculous foppery 
 drew upon them the satire of many con- 
 temporary authors. The hose of Sir Rai- 
 monnet's right leg was of the same stuff 
 as his tunic, and the drawers of sangroyne 
 or blood red, whilst the hose of the 
 left was of the red colour, and the drawers 
 of blue baudekyn. This fashion might, 
 perchance, be borrowed from the jesters 
 with whom it was a common habit. The
 
 232 
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 Frenchman's boots, to use the words of" 
 an author treating on the fancies of these 
 ages, " were snouted and piked more 
 than a finger long, crooking upwards, 
 which they call crackowes, like devil's 
 claws, and fastened to the knees with 
 chains of gold." Over all, Sir Iiaimonnet 
 wore a long mantle of crimson cloth, 
 enriched with stars of gold, and lined 
 with sables, attached round his neck 
 by a double cordon of gold twist. His 
 whole habiliments were indeed so costly, 
 that it might be said, without much ex- 
 aggeration, he bore the price of manors 
 on his back. 
 
 Du Chatelet watched, with an eager 
 gaze, the countenance of the Frenchman, 
 who, as he advanced towards Blanche, 
 bowed very low without looking her in 
 the face ; but when he had reached the 
 distance proper for the commencement 
 of his compliment, he raised himself 
 upright, and, casting one glance upon 
 her features, cried aloud, " The Lady 
 Morgana, by heaven and earth !" 
 t " Ha! Dela Folie" ejaculated Blanche, 
 " thou here !" 
 
 7
 
 MALPAS. 333 
 
 u Morgana I" cried Du Chatelet in a 
 voice of thunder. " Speak — speak, Sir 
 Knight! Is this the Morgana of that 
 minion Marcel ? But why seek 1 to 
 learn that damning fact? It is she — 
 there is no other. — Ha! Lady Blanche, 
 this does well explain thy heart's dis- 
 like. The marcher Du Chatelet, ignorant 
 of court flattery and milk-sop courtesy, 
 was not to thy taste. Thou must have 
 some poursuivant, who can spin ye verses 
 by the score, and after sing them to 
 his mistress's beauty ; millions of curses 
 on him and his arts." 
 
 " Hold, Sir Marcher," cried the abbot, 
 who seemed by his restrained breathing, 
 and enkindled eye, to wax warm and 
 passionate ; "hold thine impious tongue. 
 Curse not him who is better than thy- 
 self, and who is not here to answer 
 thee." 
 
 " Ha ! by my head, I would he were," 
 replied Du Chatelet, " on this hall floor, 
 armed at all points. On his knees would 
 I make him yield his presumptuous love, 
 and beg for mercy of the man he 
 thwarts."
 
 334* MALPAS. 
 
 " By the Holy Virgin, Sir Baron," 
 cried Ingulphus, "were he here, and thou 
 durst chafe him, he would answer thee 
 to thine own confusion, to thy shame 
 and dishonour." 
 
 The marcher, without replying, except 
 by a smile full of agony and indignation, 
 strode hastily to and fro in the hall j whilst 
 Blanche, whose secret was now disco- 
 vered, leaned breathless on the arms of 
 her women. The Earl of Lancaster 
 gazed on her with an eye of compassion- 
 ate regard, whilst Ingulphus and Sir 
 Paschal took an active interest in her 
 distress. Sir Raimonnet, who had been 
 the innocent cause of this unfortunate 
 elucidation, endeavoured to whisper com- 
 fort in her ear, but she was deaf to his 
 attempts at consolation, and he was 
 obliged to remain a silent witness of the 
 misery which his involuntary exclamation 
 had produced. The old Baron Taillebois, 
 whose faculties of discernment were never 
 of the strongest, was now so bewildered 
 by the intricacy and obscurity of the 
 different charges alleged in the accusa- 
 tion of the marcher, to which he wanted
 
 MALPAS. 335 
 
 the clue, that, for some time, he could 
 make out nothing but that Du Chatelet 
 was in a passion, his daughter in a par- 
 oxysm of grief, and the other persons 
 were in a state between concern and ad- 
 miration. He had heard the exclamation 
 of Sir Raimonnet de la Folie, and had 
 perceived that it was the lever which 
 gave motion to this entangled machinery; 
 but as he knew nothing of Sir Aubrey 
 Marcel, or the poursuivant, as the mar- 
 cher called him, it was several minutes 
 before he could gather that there was 
 some person known to his intended son- 
 in-law, and also to the Frenchman and 
 Abbot Ingulphus, of whom Sir Bertrand 
 was jealous. At length, after much 
 study, he exclaimed, c< Hark ye, son, 
 what is the meaning of this ? Why do ye 
 thus mount into a passion ? and where- 
 fore is my daughter in tears ? Who is the 
 man ye speak of that dare presume to 
 love her without my consent ?" 
 
 " Who is he ?" replied Du Chatelet, 
 casting a bitter look upon Ingulphus; 
 «* the bastard son of this false priest; a 
 wily courtier ; a flattering villain ; who,
 
 336 MALPAS. 
 
 by his wheedling tongue and specious 
 character, hath wiled your daughter of 
 her heart." 
 
 "I tell thee, Baron," cried Ingulphus, 
 " that the fame of Aubrey Marcel is as 
 much clearer than thine own, as his soul and 
 body are more free from stain. Beshrew 
 my heart, but thou dost rouse in me that 
 courage of which I had long dismissed 
 the need ; and I do here tell thee, not 
 as a priest, but as a good knight and true, 
 that I defy thee for a liar and shameless 
 slanderer. My boy is not here to guard 
 his honour; but whilst I have life and 
 strength he shall suffer no wrong which I 
 can shield him from. Here is my gage," 
 he continued, throwing down one of his 
 gloves, " and though it be but a frail 
 pledge, I swear by St. George I will re- 
 deem it." 
 
 " I combat not with priests," replied 
 Du Chatelet scornfully, " nor yet with 
 ancient men. Let thy son answer for 
 thy challenge, and I will do battle 
 against him with my whole soul." 
 
 " My Lord Abbot," said the Earl of 
 Lancaster, " and you, Sir Baron, I be-
 
 MALPAS. 337 
 
 seech ye for a moment grant me your 
 leave. It does not appear to me that 
 the young poursuivant, Sir Aubrey Mar- 
 cel, was ever acquainted with the baron's 
 pretensions to the Lady Blanche ; he is, 
 therefore, not to blame in the part he has 
 acted. I have known him long ; and, to 
 his praise I say it, no knight of greater 
 valour, modesty, and honour, ever rode 
 courser in the field of war. I will, there- 
 fore, answer for him on my life, that he 
 is incapable of behaving improperly in 
 any case." 
 
 "Ay, but the lady, Sir Earl," cried 
 Du Chatelet ; " the lady." 
 
 " We have no knowledge," replied 
 Lancaster, " from what Aubrey uttered 
 in our presence, that the Lady Blanche 
 did ever countenance his love. It ap- 
 pears rather that she held him distantly ; 
 for he never knew her but under the 
 name of Morgana." 
 
 " The portrait! the portrait !" cried 
 Du Chatelet, impatiently. 
 
 " He would not show it," answered 
 the earl; " and perchance it resembled 
 another lady." 
 
 vol. 1. Q,
 
 338 MALPAS. 
 
 " Sir Earl, Sir Earl I" returned the 
 marcher, " you would screen the pour- 
 suivant. If that you say have truth in 
 it, let the Lady Blanche here instantly 
 renounce him, and place her hand in 
 mine. On no other condition will I 
 forego my suspicion." 
 
 The maiden, who had, during this dis- 
 course, reclined upon the shoulder of one 
 of her women dissolved in tears, now 
 raised herself from her recumbent pos- 
 ture, and hastily dried them in the folds 
 of her wimple. 
 
 " Sir Bertram! Du Chatelet," she 
 cried, in a voice struggling betwixt grief 
 and offended pride, " the will of my fa- 
 ther has constrained me to become thine ; 
 another month, if death do not release 
 me the sooner, will place me at thy dis- 
 posal ; were it otherwise, and I dare 
 speak freely, thou should'st hear more of 
 casting thy suspicion on a helpless maid. 
 To you, my Lord of Lancaster, I am 
 grateful, both for your good opinion, and 
 the knightly manner in which you have 
 embraced my defence ; may God reward 
 you for it! But I profess not to deny my
 
 MALPAS. 339 
 
 knowledge of Sir Aubrey Marcel; nor 
 that I have ever held him in the highest 
 esteem. He was, as Sir Raimonnet De 
 la Folie doth well know, the delight and 
 pride of the court : it was not possible to 
 live there and not know Sir Aubrey; 
 and, knowing him, it was not possible to 
 refuse a proper tribute to his merit. My 
 father's sister, the Lady Annabel Beau- 
 champ, was attached to the queen's cham- 
 ber; and at her request I was permitted 
 to spend a period in London. At court, 
 and at the different shows and entertain- 
 ments, I met Sir Aubrey; who, in several 
 tournaments, craved leave to wear my 
 badge and colours. This permission, with 
 my aunt's consent, I readily granted ; 
 but took her advice to conceal my proper 
 name under that of Morgana. By my 
 sacred honour, and as I hope for the 
 Virgin's protection, the young knight, 
 in place of being bold, forward, and im- 
 portunate, was ever, in my company, 
 gentle and modest; more careful to please 
 others, than vain of showing his own qua- 
 lities or his own importance ; which, in the 
 sphere he moved, was not little." 
 q 2
 
 340 MALPAS. 
 
 If any of our readers should feel dis- 
 posed to think some parts of the foregoing 
 speech savoured of a masculine frank- 
 ness and audacity, they will do well to 
 remember that the manners of the ladies, 
 at the commencement of the fourteenth 
 century, cannot justly be weighed in the 
 balance with the more feminine character 
 of those of the nineteenth. But if the 
 women of the former period were not 
 gifted with that nice sensibility of feel- 
 ing, that exquisite softness of soul, that 
 excessive, and we might say romantic, 
 tenderness of nerve, which distinguish 
 modern fair ones ; we must also recollect 
 that those of our day cannot boast of 
 sending forth such women as the Coun- 
 tesses of Brittany and Blois, who were 
 found, at need, capable of commanding 
 armies, of fighting battles, and of per- 
 forming all the duties of wise statesmen, 
 good princes, and consummate warriors. 
 The masculine spirit which these, and 
 undoubtedly most women of that age, 
 possessed, was probably acquired by their 
 habit of presiding over the tournaments ; 
 whereat they so constantly surveyed deeds
 
 MALPAS. 34 L 
 
 of heroic chivalry, that their own bosoms 
 caught the flame, and they became en- 
 dued with that martial ardour which 
 seemed properly to belong to the men 
 alone. Thus, it is probable, their whole 
 character was masculinized ; and their 
 gait, garb, and speech, became more free 
 and unconstrained. We may give, as an 
 example of our hypothesis, a common 
 practice of the women of high rank, in 
 this and the succeeding age ; viz. that of 
 leading their knights into the lists at the 
 tournaments, when they commonly rode 
 on coursers of war ; the very idea of 
 mounting which, would throw the ladies 
 of modern days into hysterics. But we 
 must conjure our readers not for a mo- 
 ment to imagine, that because the ladies 
 of this era were not quite so feminial in 
 character as our modern dames and dam- 
 sels, that therefore they were divested 
 of true modesty and virtue. No such 
 thing ; the real virtues, honour, fidelity, 
 obedience ad maritum, piety, charity, ge- 
 nerosity, &c. never, since the world be- 
 gan, to the moment we are writing, flou- 
 rished with greater purity and exuberance. 
 Q 3
 
 342 MALPAS. 
 
 They flourished indeed, and were prac- 
 tised without ostentation ; because they 
 were esteemed the indispensable requi- 
 sites of a lady of fashion, and a passport 
 to the esteem and admiration of the chi- 
 valry. Thus the virtues being inlisted 
 into the service of the graces, each com- 
 municated to the other a portion of lustre 
 which was not intrinsically its own ; like 
 the effulgent moon, which, shedding its 
 splendour on the bosom of the sea, re- 
 ceives in return a softened and reflected 
 radiance. 
 
 But to return to Blanche. Her 
 spirited defence had in a great degree 
 calmed the anxiety of her father, which 
 was her principal aim ; and as Du Cha- 
 telet, however inclined, could allege 
 nothing in diminution of her assertions, 
 he also was constrained to abandon fur- 
 ther enquiry. 
 
 " Fair Blanche," he replied, with an ar- 
 tificial calmness, " I take Heaven to wit- 
 ness, it was but the vain boasting of Sir 
 Aubrey which did make me suspect thee 
 of disobedienee to thy parent. Thine ex- 
 planation is sufficient to cure me of all
 
 MALPAS. 34<3 
 
 jealousy; and, by Saint Edward, I heartily 
 crave pardon, both from thee and the 
 Lord Abbot, for those hasty words which 
 escaped me in anger. Have I thy par- 
 don, Blanche?" 
 
 " If thou doest deserve it, " replied 
 she, with a brow still overcast, " thou 
 hast it, and God amend thee." 
 
 " Amen !" said the marcher ; " and 
 thine, Lord Abbot ?" Ingulphus hesitated. 
 
 "Nay, abbot," continued the mar- 
 cher, " fear me not. If thy son can for- 
 get what he has lost, I can easily what he 
 has aimed at. The young eagle wilt bend 
 his eye upon the sun ; but if a fierce ray 
 should scathe him, he must bide it if he 
 cannot better." 
 
 Blanche poured forth a long sigh, 
 which did not escape the marcher ; but 
 he proceeded without noticing it. 
 
 " Lord Abbot, I swear by our Lady of 
 Malpas, I will hold the poursuivant at no 
 feud for this unlucky chance ; and I hold 
 it no stain on mine honour to recall those 
 expressions vented by my resentment. 
 I do recall them, and crave his pardon 
 Q 4
 
 344 MALPAS. 
 
 and thine for what is passed. Art thou 
 now content ?" 
 
 " If thou meanest sooth, Sir Baron," 
 answered Ingulphus, "I am; and give 
 thee my hand with a free will. I own, 
 with regret, the stain on Aubrey's birth 
 (for which God pardon me) doth now 
 unfit him to aspire in marriage to so noble 
 a lady ; but he is young, brave, and ad- 
 venturous, and will, I trust, carve out 
 his fortune with his good sword." 
 
 The understanding between the several 
 parties being restored in statu quo, the 
 abbot and his guests took their leave of 
 the Lady Blanche, her father, and the 
 marcher, and retired to the monastery.
 
 MALPAS. 34:5 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 Forthwith the hubbub multiplies ; the gale 
 Labours with wilder shrieks, and rifer din 
 Of hot pursuit ; the broken cry of deer, 
 Mangled by throttling dogs ; the shouts of men, 
 And hoofs thick beating on the hollow hill. 
 
 Albania. 
 
 As in these days of simplicity points of 
 etiquette were not so elaborately studied 
 as they have been since, the residence of 
 Blanche Taillebois, under the protection 
 of her father, at the castle of her proposed 
 husband, was not esteemed by the magis- 
 tri admissionum of that day to encroach 
 a hair's breadth upon the then discovered 
 world of fashionable formality. Inten- 
 tion was then held the criterion whereby 
 to applaud or condemn, and not those in- 
 numerable and indefinable ramifications 
 of bienseance, which a sickly and inju- 
 dicious taste has fostered in modern 
 Q 5
 
 346 MALPAS. 
 
 times. The maxim of Horace was the 
 universal standard, — 
 
 " Hie mums aeneus esto 
 Nil conscire sibi, nulla pallescere culpa :" 
 
 and those who were unconscious of ill, 
 whose cheeks did not blench with the 
 throe of guilt, might with safety despise 
 those forms which hypocrisy has invented 
 to cloak its turpitude. The oratory of 
 the castle and a chamber adjoining were 
 prepared for the peculiar occupancy of 
 Blanche and her attendants \ where, ex- 
 cept at the times of refreshment, she 
 could remain undisturbed. Here, after 
 the hour of dinner, she passed the re- 
 mainder of the day in deep and sorrowful 
 cogitation. She thought of her future 
 life, like the mariner, who, when his bark 
 is sinking, looks out upon the waters for 
 help, and can descry nothing but the 
 louring sky and boiling waves. Hope 
 itself, which seldom abandons the most 
 wretched, had not one bright hue in his 
 rainbow for her. She might indeed avoid 
 a marriage with the marcher, but the con- 
 sequence of her resolution would be the 
 death of her father; of that father, who, 
 however violent and uncouth in the man-
 
 MALFAS. 347 
 
 ner of his affection, had ever loved her 
 with the most extreme tenderness. To 
 cause his death — and the rash and savage 
 action which he had already perpetrated, 
 showed him capable of going through 
 with his oath — would, in her opinion, be 
 akin to parricide ; and to have the blood 
 of her parent on her head were worse 
 than the certainty of actual misery. She 
 shuddered at the possibility of so dreadful 
 a consummation, and resolved to sacri- 
 fice herself at the shrine of filial duty. 
 Blanche also thought of her lover, (for 
 though she had declared the truth pub- 
 licly respecting her knowledge of Sir 
 Aubrey Marcel, she had not declared the 
 extent of that dominion over her affec- 
 tions which he absolutely enjoyed,) and, 
 as she ran over the many qualities and 
 accomplishments with which he was en- 
 dued, — of his noble andgenerous charac- 
 ter, and of the love and devotion which 
 he had manifested in many chivalrous en- 
 counters undertaken for her sake, — and 
 when she compared the young, and hand- 
 some, and ingenuous poursuivant, with 
 the dark, violent, and menacing Du Cha- 
 q6
 
 348 MALPAS. 
 
 telet, her heart grew sick, and her eyes 
 swam in tears. Her women pressed round 
 her with affectionate officiousness, striv- 
 ing to give comfort to their afflicted 
 mistress ; but she would listen to no 
 consolation. 
 
 " Comfort me not," cried Blanche ; 
 " but rather pray to the Virgin that ye 
 may find me on the morrow a lifeless corse 
 in my bed. Oh ! holy Mary ! all wretches 
 have some hope, some golden dream 
 whereby to cling in the hour of mourn- 
 ing; but I — I have nought but woe and 
 peril on every side; no hope, no flatter- 
 ing, though deceitful vision, to cheat me 
 into happiness. All — all is dark with ruin, 
 or coloured with despair. Whither, oh ! 
 whither, then, shall a helpless maiden turn 
 for succour ? Where shall I seek refuge 
 from that fate which is worse than death ? 
 Than death ! The grisly monster, so hide- 
 ous to others, for me has lost all his 
 terrors: he were now indeed dearly 
 welcome." 
 
 These exclamations were heard by her 
 women with infinite grief. One of them, 
 named Florence Merrick, her principal 
 10
 
 MA LP AS. 349 
 
 attendant, and devotedly attached to her, 
 used all the arguments which love and 
 duty could suggest to alleviate her sor- 
 row. She concluded with beseeching her 
 mistress to inform her if it was the fate 
 of Sir Aubrey Marcel which she desired 
 particularly to learn ; " because, dear 
 lady," continued she, "my brother Guy, 
 who attends the baron, can soon learn 
 news of him from some of the men-at- 
 arms.' ' 
 
 " Bless thee, wench, for the thought," 
 exclaimed Blanche. " Bid him make en- 
 quiry, and use caution that his errand be 
 not traced to thee. But wherefore do I 
 wish to learn tidings of Aubrey Marcel? 
 Are we not eternally severed ? Is not 
 the bride-mantle of Du Chatelet's wife a 
 pall of death enwrapping me in icy cere- 
 ments? But no matter, — hie thee, girl. 
 I know not why I should wish to hear of 
 thep oursuivant; but it will, perchance, 
 sooth my grief if he be well and in 
 safety." 
 
 The damsel left the apartment, but 
 soon returned with a despairing counte- 
 nance. 
 
 « c How now, good wench !" said her
 
 350 MALPAS. 
 
 mistress ; " what brings thee back so 
 soon ? and why dost thou wear that dis- 
 mal aspect ? Is Marcel dead ?" 
 
 " No, dear lady," replied Florence ; 
 " at least I know not ; but our men at 
 arms have returned to Harding." 
 
 " We must rest content," said Blanche; 
 "it is the will of Heaven. Prepare my 
 chamber, Florence ; I will retire to rest. 
 The oblivion of sleep is now my only re- 
 fuge." 
 
 In the morning Blanche was awoke by 
 the loud and resonant sound of the horn; 
 and so soon as she was up and dressed, 
 her father entered the oratory, and bade 
 her be stirring with her breakfast, for 
 that the Baron Du Chatelet and himself 
 awaited her company, to set forth for 
 hawking and hunting. " The braconier, 
 and the veltrarers," cried Taiilebois, 
 (i and the falconers and ostringers, are 
 ready for the field. Bassingbourne holds 
 thy palfrey, and will attend thee, wench ; 
 so Florence and her mates may rest at 
 home." 
 
 " Forgive me, my lord," answered 
 Blanche ; " but I would tarry myself. 
 The ride of yesterday hath wearied me."
 
 M ALP AS. 351 
 
 " The ride of yesterday !" growled her 
 lather. "What, four miles! by our Lady 
 thou art easily tired. But wearied or no 
 thou must ride, Blanche. The French 
 knight, Sir Rai — Raimon — what do ye 
 call him ? has sent his squire to say he 
 will be of our party. Come, bustle, 
 bustle/' 
 
 The last information, as it gave her a 
 hope of learning somewhat of Sir Aubrey, 
 and of the means by which her acquain- 
 tance with him had been discovered, 
 could she engage the Frenchman in a 
 private conversation, produced an instant 
 change in her resolution ; and she con- 
 sented to accompany the hunters without 
 further objection. She was soon habited 
 in her riding-dress ; and after having 
 eaten a slight breakfast, descended with 
 her women to the hall. The Baron du 
 Chatelet, Sir Raimonnet de la Folie, and 
 Sir Roger Taillebois, with a crowd of 
 attendants, foresters, and yeomen, were 
 assembled in the edSH-yard. Bassing- 
 bournC, Blanche's page, held her pal- 
 frey; which, with the assistance of Sir
 
 352 MALPAS. 
 
 Raimonnet de la Folie, she mounted ; 
 and the Frenchman, as he assisted her 
 into the saddle, said softly, " Lady 
 Blanche, ride gently. I have somewhat 
 to say that may import ye highly." 
 
 She bowed her head in token of re- 
 cognition, and rode on. Du Chatelet 
 now gave directions to pass the postern, 
 and proceed toward the wood of Threap 
 in the march. The postern was soon ex- 
 panded ; and the hunters and foresters, 
 who were mounted, poured forth with 
 break-neck eagerness. The veltrarers, 
 or dog-leaders, followed with their hounds 
 in leash ; then the falconers ; and lastly, 
 the gentry, surrounded by a company of 
 yeomen on horseback, wearing the colour 
 and badges of Sir Bertrand, and armed 
 with swords and long bows. The morn- 
 ing was such an one as the old Flemish 
 painters delighted to pourtray, viz, where 
 the sun shines brilliantly on a frosted 
 country, thawing the white perriwigs of 
 the trees, and crying them to sparkle 
 with myriads of scintillations. The sky 
 was unclouded, and the birds began to 
 chant forth their matins, as if it had
 
 MALPAS. 358 
 
 been the end of Spring instead of the 
 middle of Autumn. The ground was 
 pretty soft ; and Sir Roger Taillebois, 
 who was the keenest sportsman of the 
 country, pushed forward with great vi- 
 gour to the wood, where he employed 
 the foresters in driving the windlass or 
 wanlass ; that is, according to the ancient 
 terms of hunting, chasing the deer with 
 horn and hound to a stand, where the 
 gentry might shoot. The old baron 
 brought down the first buck with his 
 own bow j indeed, no one presumed to 
 shoot before him, and he might there- 
 fore claim the prize of his precedence 
 without any very extraordinary merit. 
 The Baron du Chatelet amused himself 
 with his hawks, and challenged de la 
 Folie upon several casts. They had both, 
 as gallant knights, remained near Blanche; 
 but the marcher's favourite falcon having 
 taken a long flight which hid him behind 
 the wood, he put spurs to his horse, and 
 galloped forward, saying he would rejoin 
 them instantly. 
 
 " Now, Sir Raimonnet," cried Blanche 
 hastily, " what have ye to say ? Be speedy,
 
 354 MALPAS. 
 
 for the love of God, lest the tyrant should 
 return. Ho ! Bassingbourne !" The page 
 galloped up to his mistress; who, turning 
 her head towards the attendant yeomen, 
 continued, " Keep those knaves at dis- 
 tance. I have business with Sir Raimon- 
 net which their master must not hear of; 
 thou dost understand me." 
 
 The page bowed, returned to the yeo- 
 manry, and engaged them behind in the 
 praise of hawking and shooting with the 
 long bow ; so as to ward off their atten- 
 tion from the lady and the knight. 
 
 "First, fair Morgana," replied Sir 
 Raimonnet to the enquiry of the damsel, 
 " or fair Blanche, if that be indeed your 
 name, I have to crave pardon for that 
 luckless, but involuntary error, into which 
 I was betrayed by my transport on be- 
 holding you. By my dear soul, and 
 dearer honour, I would beg mercy at 
 thy feet, were we suitably accommodated 
 in time and station." 
 
 « Be brief, Sir Knight," cried Blanche; 
 " there is no time to waste on idle com- 
 pliments. I have nothing to pardon, for 
 you have done me no wrong ; but if you
 
 MALPAS. 355 
 
 had, the pardon were yours: proceed, I 
 beseech ye." 
 
 " Beauteous Blanche !" returned the 
 ceremonious Frank, " it is the fountain 
 of thy goodness which doth wash out the 
 crimes of offenders, and I, a deep one, 
 am most beholden to thy bounty. Would 
 it have served thee, the moment I had 
 wrought that sin unrivalled, my own 
 misericorde should have been pitiless to 
 its master." 
 
 " Sir Raimonnet !" cried Blanche im- 
 patiently, " no more of this. I am sa- 
 tisfied that however cruel the blow was 
 to me, it was never intended by the hand 
 that struck it. Have ye ought else to 
 say ? If yea, say it quickly." 
 
 " Ought else ! sweet flower of beauty," 
 returned de la Folie; "I have more to say 
 to thee, had we opportunity, than would 
 swallow up the whole day. Have I not 
 to tell ye of the gay tournament, in which 
 I wore your badge before the court of 
 France ; of the ladies — the knights — " 
 
 " Heaven's grace upon me !" cried 
 Blanche, with somewhat of her father's 
 irascibility 5 " what has a tournament to
 
 356 
 
 MALPAS. 
 
 do with my case, Sir Raimonnet ? is this 
 a season for bord and jest ?" 
 
 " Jest !" replied the astonished knight ; 
 " it is all true, by my soul. I am in no 
 humour for jesting. I was about to 
 tell ye — " 
 
 " Of that which I care not to hear," 
 cried the damsel. " If you have aught 
 to say which touches the scene you were 
 yesterday a partner in, or relating to Sir 
 Aubrey — " 
 
 She could not utter the bachelor's 
 surname, though to a perfect coxcomb ; 
 but turned away, and blushed deeply. 
 The Frenchman, happily, did not notice 
 her embarrassment ; but replied, " Sir 
 Aubrey ! gadso, I had nigh forgotten 
 the poursuivant. The truth is, most 
 excellent Morgana — Blanche, I crave 
 pardon — that when the splendour and 
 magnificence of our tournaments, our 
 masques, and the divers other entertain- 
 ments, which, from our routine of life, 
 do get uppermost in my head, they ex- 
 clude all other matters not equally in- 
 teresting. But allow me to ask, my fair 
 queen! if it was unknown to ye, that Sir
 
 MALPAS. 357 
 
 Aubrey left Malpas but the day pre- 
 ceding yesterday?" 
 
 " Holy Virgin ! yes," replied Blanche, 
 in a whirlwind of surprise. 
 
 " Knew ye not, then," continued Sir 
 Raimonnet, " that the Abbot Ingulphus 
 was his father?" 
 
 u I declare to ye, no," replied the 
 damsel. 
 
 " Nor that Sir Paschal Marcel was his 
 uncle ?" 
 
 " Not a word. How should I? The 
 park of Harding is the utmost limit of 
 my range in the country ; and, at court, 
 my confinement, except on days of en- 
 tertainment, w r as strictly to my aunt's 
 mansion." 
 
 " But Sir Paschal was well known at 
 court, fair Blanche." 
 
 " He might — he might — and I still 
 ignorant of his affinity to Marcel. But 
 whither is Aubrey gone ?" 
 
 " To join Queen Isabel. He com- 
 mands the escort of the fallen favourite, 
 Despenser." 
 
 ** And how, De la Folie, I beseech ye 
 tell me, how came the marcher and
 
 358 MALPAS. 
 
 his friends to know my masquing title, 
 Morgana ?" 
 
 " Fairest Blanche," answered the 
 Frenchman, with a look more thoughtful 
 than he usually wore, " I also am to 
 blame in this occurrence ; for coming 
 hither with the Earl of Lancaster, whose 
 guest I have been, and meeting Sir 
 Aubrey Marcel, our conversation natur- 
 ally turned upon you. Forgive me, if 
 I made bold with your peerless charms. 
 I am, thou knowest, the slave of beauty ; 
 and it is my office, go where I may, to 
 be its herald. The marcher, who did 
 little misdoubt under the name of Mor- 
 gana, the person of the Lady Blanche, 
 took fire at our praises, and would have 
 wagered with Sir Aubrey that he could 
 produce a maid whose beauty, even in 
 our eyes, should surpass the boasted 
 Morgana's. Aubrey refused the wager; 
 but engaged himself to hold a tilt with 
 Du Chatelet for the honour of Morgana 
 and of Blanche Taillebois." 
 
 " Merciful Jesu !" exclaimed the 
 damsel; " I can guess the marcher's 
 amazement at hearing ye term me Mor- 
 gana."
 
 MALPAS. 359 
 
 " But you cannot guess my sorrow, 
 divine Blanche, when I found myself an 
 unconscious aggressor upon your hap- 
 piness ; when I found that that name 
 which, uttered in the circle of gallantry, 
 lent fire and courage to all hearts, did 
 here, as a spell-word, work rage, and 
 terror, and dismay." 
 
 Their conversation was here inter- 
 rupted by the approach of the foresters, 
 with Sir Roger Taillebois, who followed 
 a herd of deer at full speed. The quest, 
 which lay on a return, brought them 
 close to Blanche and her attendants ; the 
 latter of whom shot a flight of arrows as 
 the deer sped by, and joined in the shouts 
 of the hunters. The old knight did not 
 stop even to cast a glance upon his 
 daughter, so entirely was he taken up 
 in the ardour of the chase ; but, pushing 
 his horse to the fastest, called out to the 
 yeomanry and foresters — 
 
 " Blow, villains, blow for your lives ; 
 ride, knaves, ride/' 
 
 The braconier, who was excellently 
 mounted, succeeded at length, by the 
 help of his moota canum, or pack of dogs,
 
 360 MALPAS. 
 
 in gaining head of the deer ; which, as is 
 their custom in a hot quest, ran in a 
 closely wedged body. Finding their 
 retreat in that direction cut off, they 
 wheeled round ; and broke away with 
 wonderful speed towards the Dee, which 
 bounded the forest in a westerly direc- 
 tion. Their velocity was so great, that 
 although the yeomanry gave them a 
 second salute as they passed, the shafts 
 whizzed in the air fifty yards behind the 
 last quarry, and fell among the under- 
 wood. Sir Roger Taillebois and his 
 companions again pressed their horses 
 with the spur, and vanished over the 
 velvet greensward, leaving Blanche and 
 Sir Raimonnet de la Folie to resume 
 their conversation. During this time, 
 the Baron du Chatelet did not make his 
 appearance ; but his hawks were fre- 
 quently seen soaring above the wood, and, 
 at intervals, his voice might be heard 
 ringing out the changes in the mystery of 
 falconry. 
 
 The knight resumed the conversation 
 by enquiring, if there was any thing 
 which he could do for Blanche's service ;
 
 MALPAS. 361 
 
 " for, by heaven, fair Morgana," he 
 continued, " I am so eager to retrieve 
 the mischief which my unhappy tongue 
 lias wrought upon ye, that there is no 
 task, however hard and adventurous, I 
 will refuse, so it may do ye good." 
 
 " Alas ! alas i" cried Blanche, " I 
 thank ye, Sir Raimonnet, for your 
 courtesy ; but it may not advantage me ; 
 you can do nothing capable of avoiding 
 my hated marriage with the marcher." 
 
 " Can I not?" replied the French- 
 man ; " do I live to hear the fair Mor- 
 gana utter a thought so trenchant on my 
 knighthood, which, by our Lady's grace, 
 I only hold for the service of the beautiful 
 and distressed. Hast thou not seen me, 
 fair Blanche, do somewhat in the lists 
 for the mere fashion of chivalry, aud 
 thinkest thou I will avoid a perilous 
 encounter when I may combat for the 
 queen of beauty?" 
 
 " What mean ye, Sir Knight ?" 
 
 " To defy this baron to a mortal 
 combat. His death will release thee 
 from all perplexity." 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 362 MALPAS. 
 
 " Ha ! gallant chevalier !" cried 
 Blanche, with streaming eyes, " thou art 
 indeed the mirror of knighthood. I can 
 but be grateful for your courtesy, without 
 daring to avail myself of your valour." 
 
 " 1 see — I guess — Sir Aubrey — he 
 might deem me officious in this display 
 of my friendship j but I will satisfy 
 biei," 
 
 " Impossible, Sir Raimonnet — you 
 cannot know." 
 
 " Pardon me, lovely Morgana, J do 
 know that, in this combat, the arm of Sir 
 Aubrey, who is unmatched as a tilter, 
 either with the coronelled lance* or 
 mortal weapon, would secure your liberty 
 and his own triumph ; whilst I, who am 
 but a young squire in arms, must peril a 
 doubtful issue," 
 
 " This is not what I would say." 
 
 " I grant ye," continued de la Folie, 
 not noticing Blanche's interruption ; 
 " that du Chatelet is brave and power- 
 
 * The heads of tilting lances were blunt, or 
 fitted with a contrivance to prevent penetration, 
 called a cornel, or cronel, from its resemblance to 
 a crown. — Grose,
 
 MALPAS. 363 
 
 ful ; but he is more used to the throng 
 of war, than the display of skill in 
 singular rencontre." 
 
 " Sir Raimonnet, you know not the 
 marcher. He is as crafty, subtle, and 
 politic, as he is doughty and enterprising \ 
 your challenge would sooner gain you 
 admission to his strongest dungeon, than 
 it would set you face to face with him in 
 the lists." 
 
 " Dungeon !" cried de la Folie, " he 
 durst not imprison a knight who is a-kin 
 to the blood royal of France." 
 
 " Durst not, Sir Raimonnet! There 
 is nothing daring, bold, or savage, which 
 this man has not executed ; but, if 
 he were willing to respond to your 
 challenge, what plea or occasion could 
 you al ledge for your quarrel ? Surely not 
 that, as my champion, you defy the man 
 forced upon me by my father ?' 
 
 " The true reason might be esconced 
 behind some plausible pretext, as a desire 
 to try his skill in arms, and so forth." 
 
 " Impossible !" cried Blanche, shaking 
 her head; " Bertrand du Chatelet would 
 not meet you on ground so idle. Besides, 
 r 2
 
 364 MALPAS. 
 
 Sir Raimormet, such a pretext would be 
 no apology for a mortal challenge. The 
 true reason would be brought to light, 
 and then, Sir Knight, judge ye what 
 would be thought of me." 
 
 The Frenchman's countenance fell, 
 and he sat for some moments silent ; 
 but, at length, his Gallic vivacity getting 
 the better of his dejection, he raised his 
 head and said, " But, fairest Blanche, if 
 the desire I have to serve ye> may not be 
 gratified in this way, how else can I be of 
 use to ye ? Spare me not in body or 
 estate. I am your slave unto death." 
 
 " I see, Sir Raimonnet," replied 
 Blanche, " that you have yet to learn the 
 cruel and bloody tie by which I was 
 bound unto the marcher ; my father, 
 Heaven and our Lady bless him, has 
 anchored his heart upon this match, and 
 though one were to arise from the dead 
 and bid him pause upon his design, he 
 would hold forward without fear or a jot of 
 respect. The character which Du Cha- 
 telet bore, and with which, from our 
 neighbourhood, I was acquainted, would 
 alone have given me a mortal hatred to
 
 MALPAS. 365 
 
 this union ; but when — " she paused 
 and again coloured ; but observing 
 that Sir Raimormet listened with a 
 serious and attentive ear, she continued, 
 " I did, indeed, refuse the match, and 
 would myself have endured all the pains 
 which the human body can suffer, sooner 
 than have placed a willing hand in that 
 of the marcher's ; but — " 
 
 " Your father," said the knight, " by 
 an act of oppressive cruelty, forced ye 
 to his will. This sad tale was recounted 
 both to Sir Aubrey and myself by the 
 Abbot Ingulphus ; and though we 
 deemed the sufferer unknown to us, she 
 did gain the full measure of our pity and 
 regard." 
 
 " What says the Lord Abbot and the 
 lawyer, Sir Paschal ?" 
 
 " They feel and speak like loving 
 kinsmen. The abbot has already written 
 to his son, informing him of yesterday's 
 mishap, and forbidding his return to 
 Malpas. They fear treachery on the 
 part of Sir Bertrand." 
 
 " And well they may ; for his fierce 
 R 3
 
 366 MALPAS. 
 
 soul is steeled against all rules of pity, 
 mercy, and honour. He hath no virtue 
 but courage, and that, instead of being 
 tempered bythe courtesy of a true knight, 
 doth more resemble the dire ferocity of 
 a savage beast. He talks of love in a 
 strain which must make women shudder, 
 and offers his vows like the druids of old, 
 with the accompaniment of a bloody 
 sacrifice. His master-passion is ambi- 
 tion, which, as a vast whirlpool, cloth 
 engulf all his other faculties ; and renders 
 him torpid to the common duties and 
 feelings of humanity/ 9 
 
 " And can you, fair Blanche, wed this 
 ruffian ? I speak not of Sir Aubrey, who 
 is as noble as the baron is villanous ; 
 as courteous as the marcher is brutal ; 
 as richly bedight with all good qualities 
 and knightly accomplishments as Du 
 Chatelet is desperate, barbarous, and 
 savage." 
 
 " Break off; Sir Raimonnet, he comes 
 — but if thou dost hear aught — " 
 
 " Of Sir Aubrey," cried the French- 
 man, piecing out the sentence, " I
 
 MA LP AS. 3 07 
 
 will find means to communicate it to 
 thee." 
 
 " Bassingbourne yon may trust, Sir 
 Knight — he is feal and trusty." 
 
 The marcher came galloping towards 
 them with his falcon on his fist, followed 
 by the falconers and ostringers with their 
 hawks recovered. The deer and birds 
 which had been shot and taken were 
 gathered and laid on sumpter horses 
 brought for the purpose ; and they now 
 only awaited the return of the baron of 
 Harding and his party to retrace their 
 march. Du Chatelet was in high spirits. 
 
 " Lady Blanche," cried he, " thou 
 shouldest have been in the wood to see 
 the pitch my falcon made. He soared 
 so high that to my sight his appearance 
 was no greater than a humming bee." 
 
 " The wonder is lie should be in sight 
 at all," cried the Frenchman. 
 
 " Ay, what wonder is it ?" replied the 
 marcher. 
 
 " Because I've heard, Sir Bertrand," 
 continued de la Folie, " it is your habit 
 to outstrip all vision. So well are ye 
 taught that the kingly eagle bends
 
 368 MALPAS. 
 
 beneath your swoop, — your hawks sure 
 follow your example." 
 
 The marcher, who never dealt in 
 compliment, was puzzled to find out 
 whether Sir Raimonnet spoke in earnest 
 or ironically. His tone was even, and 
 marked with sobriety ; but bis allusion 
 to the sovereign, Du Chateletwas by no 
 means pleased with ; it seemed to argue 
 an acquaintance with his plans regarding 
 the unfortunate monarch, and as the 
 recess of his treachery appeared to be 
 invaded, he grew dark and sullen, and 
 shot glances of rage upon the knight. 
 Unwilling, however, to betray himself by 
 openly resenting the Frenchman's insi- 
 nuation, the marcher replied, " Thy 
 French wit, Sir Knight, is over keen for 
 an English ear. I profess not to under- 
 stand thy casuistry, which doth relish 
 too much of the school for a Knight 
 Marcher." 
 
 " I will not push thy learning further," 
 answered Sir Raimonnet, " and so cavil 
 not at my simile. But we saw thy hawks, 
 and, like good vassals, they did fly their 
 master's pitch."
 
 MALPAS. 369 
 
 " Ha! by the rood," cried the mar- 
 cher, with a black frown darkening his 
 brow, " thou banter'st me." 
 
 " Not I," replied the Frenchman, 
 contemptuously, " as thou art a courte- 
 ous knight." 
 
 " Perdition seize my soul ! " shouted 
 the marcher, laying his hand on a braque- 
 mart, or short sword, which hung by his 
 side, " but thou art dead if thou durst 
 utter another word in my despite ; here, 
 upon this greensw r ard, where this good 
 arm hath laid a hundred men of renown 
 with their faces to the sky, will I stab 
 the breath out of thine antic body, and 
 give thy carcase to the red hawk and 
 forest raven." 
 
 The frantic violence with which the 
 baron vented his wrath, his desperate and 
 determined action, and the notorious 
 promptitude of his character, begat in 
 Sir Raimonnet de la Folie some fears for 
 his safety. The French knight, a young 
 nobleman of high birth, and who, per- 
 chance, in the whole course of his pre- 
 vious life, had never met with opposition 
 in word or deed, (except it were in the
 
 3?0 MALPAS. 
 
 tourney,) had no idea of that coarse and 
 brutal ferocity which usually marks those 
 men habituated to a long and bloody 
 warfare. Ignorant, therefore, as he was, 
 of this uncourteous and uncompromising 
 spirit, it will not be surprising that he 
 should be unacquainted with the only 
 means of repelling it, brute force ; nor 
 will it excite our wonder that his soul 
 should quail under the marcher's threat. 
 To have met Du Chatelet in the lists, 
 where he could not have been taken by 
 surprise, and where skill and courage 
 have an equal chance against ferocious 
 strength, would have been different ; but 
 here he was naked and defenceless, his 
 weapon being a basillard or long dagger, 
 which would have been entirely ineffi- 
 cient against the marcher's sword. He 
 was, therefore, obliged to content him- 
 self with saying he should seek an op- 
 portunity of requiting his adversary's 
 incivility. 
 
 " That as shall please thee, Sir Knight," 
 replied the marcher, who was now some- 
 what more cool, " the time is yet to come 
 when I shall turn my face from a foe."
 
 MALPAS. 371 
 
 The Baron Taillebois and the party of 
 huntsmen and foresters attending him, 
 were now seen advancing at a gentle 
 pace over the heath. In a few minutes 
 the whole party joined, and Sir Roger, 
 with great glee and animation, recounted 
 the sport which he had enjoyed. 
 
 " By Saint Hubert and Saint Nimrod," 
 cried he, ludicrously giving the honours 
 of canonization to the royal sportsman, 
 " I have not had such a day in seven 
 years. What, sirs, we have killed a 
 matter of ten deer by the chase, besides 
 those shot at stand, in driving the wanlass. 
 Why came not the Lord Abbot with 
 ye ? He loves the sport right keenly. 
 And the Earl of Lancaster too — he is no 
 skulker, I have heard, when the jnerry 
 bugle blows in the green wood." 
 
 " They had business," answered Du 
 Chatelet, seriously ; " the earl and his 
 host visit the king this morning." 
 
 The marcher gave his hawk to one of 
 the falconers, and the party, then, at a 
 slow rate, returned to Malpas. Blanche 
 and Sir Raimonnet de la Folie conversed 
 by the way in broken and obscure Ian-
 
 37~ MALPAS. 
 
 guage, whilst Sir Bertrand sat sullen on 
 his palfrey, and perfectly silent. The 
 old knight was the only person among 
 the gentry who retained his good 
 humour ; and he laughed and talked to 
 the foresters and hunters without inter- 
 mission, until their arrival at the Castle. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 London . 
 
 Printed by A. & R. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New-Street-Square.
 
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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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