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Everett-Green Evelyn
A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War

CHAPTER XXVI
PLOTS

At the sound of Alys's cry Amalric and his sister turned quickly round, and the next moment a startled exclamation broke from young De Montfort.

"Leofric! is this truly thyself? or do we see thy ghost?"

Trembling in every limb, scarce able to separate the real from the unreal, Alys turned round to see that Amalric was grasping the hands of some person who had just opened the little door in the alcove, which was opposite the dusky mirror, and it dawned upon her that it was no phantom face she had seen, nor yet the freak of a disordered fancy; but that Leofric Wyvill was at Kenilworth, and standing within a few feet of her.

Yet for the moment he appeared not even aware of her presence. He was speaking with Amalric in low, constrained tones.

"Say only that I am not too late. The Earl, thy father, how is it with him?"

"Why, well," answered Amalric, in amaze; "thou canst see him below thine own self. Something aged and worn he is by the cares which press upon him; but for the rest, well. What do thy words portend, good friend?"

"Have any mummers arrived of late at the Castle – mummers from foreign parts?" asked Leofric, still speaking hastily and urgently. "They were to be heard by New-Year's Eve. Has anything been seen of them?"

"I have heard naught," answered Amalric, "There be comers and goers all day long at such a season, and open house is kept for all who ask it at Christmas. But of foreign mummers I have heard no word. Come, speak to us more plainly. What dost thou mean? and what brings thee here in such breathless haste, looking more like a ghost than a man?"

"In sooth I have travelled something hard," answered Leofric, who was travel-stained and pale with weariness and lack of sleep. "But mine errand brooked no delay. There is a plot on hand to poison the Earl, thy father; and they who are the tools are sent hither in the guise of mummers – for all I know they may be mummers and jugglers by trade. But they come hither with fell intent, and are paid by the Queen for their crime."

"The Queen!" cried the Demoiselle in horror – "our kinswoman whose bread we have eaten! Would she plan such wickedness against my father?"

"That is the news that Gilbert Barbeck brought post-haste to Oxford. His father got wind of it through some of his sailors plying 'twixt here and France. You know, perchance, how the Queen and her son Edmund are trying by every means in their power to collect and land an army in England for the rescue of the King. Contrary winds and other troubles have baffled them hitherto, and now they are wellnigh desperate. It is supposed the idea has been proposed to the Queen that to rid the realm of the great Earl would secure her husband's liberty. Or perhaps it is some other person who has conceived it, and gives out that it is by the wish of the Queen. But however that may be, it is said of a certainty that a party of foreign mummers has started for Kenilworth, and that they are armed with a deadly draught, which is to be administered to the Earl ere they leave."

"And thou hast travelled all this way with the news?"

"It seemed the best thing to do," answered Leofric. "I knew the way. Gilbert was already worn and weary with his ride from the south. And both secrecy and dispatch were needed. My pupils had many of them dispersed for the time being, and I was able to leave. I could not rest till I knew the rights of the matter, and whether in truth the evil deed had been accomplished."

At that very moment the doors of the great hall were flung wide open, and amid the plaudits of the company there rushed in a motley crew of strange-looking creatures, some disguised as gigantic beasts and birds, some in motley, like fools, with jingling bells, all wearing masks, and all capering about with antics and contortions, exciting outrageous laughter from the already hilarious company.

The leading figure was not bedizened like his troop, but wore a sombre black dress, which flowed round him in ample folds. His mask was black, and nothing of his face could be seen save a pair of shining black eyes. He uttered strange cries and calls, which were responded to by his troop, who varied the figures of their strange dance, and made picturesque groups and combinations as they moved about in the only open space in the hall, where the tables had been hastily thrust aside to give them room for their gambols.

Some of these creatures were jugglers, and performed feats of dexterity and sleight of hand which provoked shouts of wonder and admiration. Meantime, prompted evidently by the black-robed director, some of the servants had brought in a small table covered with a black cloth, and when this cloth was removed, the eager eyes of the onlookers fell upon certain strange-looking objects which caused many of them to exclaim, —

"He is an astrologer, and he will tell our horoscopes!"

At the same moment several of the strange-looking dancers whirled out of the hall, and came in again leading with care and reverence a white-robed, white-veiled figure, who came and stood beside the table, but rigid and still, as though hardly endowed with life.

At sight of that figure Alys gave a sudden start, and exclaimed in a low, frightened voice, —

"Pray Heaven that be not Linda! It is just her figure and her carriage! Oh, surely that magician cannot be Tito, and he have gotten possession of Linda for his evil practices!"

Leofric started, and gazed at the speaker with earnest eyes.

"It cannot be Linda; she was safe in Oxford when I left. But she told me that Lotta had lately disappeared, they knew not whither; only their brother Tito had once been seen lurking near the city, and it was thought he had perhaps come for his books and the instruments by which he wrought his unholy trade. Lotta had had the care of them since his departure, and had grown very strange. It may be that she has cast in her lot with him. But can that in truth be he?"

"He would sell his soul for gold," spoke Amalric between his shut teeth. "But he has put his head into the lion's den at last. If he has designs upon my father's life, we have a gallows on the wall whereon he shall pay the penalty of his sin."

"Methinks these mummers are no part of his real company," said Leofric. "Probably he has joined himself to them, and given them something to win him his entrance hither. But let us watch what he is doing. We must not let any devilry of his go unobserved."

"Nay, we will seek to catch him red-handed in the act!" hissed Amalric; "and methinks I will go below, the better to guard my father from his crafty wiliness."

The wizard, as he now openly declared himself to be, was busy practising the smaller arts of his calling upon the credulous, with results which appeared to them to be marvellous. But not content with that for long, he called upon the great ones of the company to come and hear what the future held for them – to look into the crystal, or into the magic mirror, and to ask of the white-robed vestal such things as they desired to hear.

Each person thus coming forward received from the veiled woman a cup containing water from a sacred well; this cup he drained, placed within it a piece of money, returned it to the vestal with a whispered question, and then, looking in the mirror or crystal, awaited either a reply from her lips or an image forming itself there.

It seemed as though the questioners heard or saw enough to mystify them, if not entirely to satisfy their curiosity, and there was quite a crowd around the recess where the wizard had established himself; whilst from time to time he called aloud on one or another of the company by name to approach and test his magic.

It was thus that the Prince and the Earl presently approached the table, partly from curiosity, partly from a sense of semi-superstitious belief in the power of these so-called magicians to read the future.

"Shall we try our fate?" asked the Prince, and he stretched out his hand for the cup.

It was given into his hands with some whispered words which brought a sudden flush into his face. He drained the cup, spoke a few words, and then came away with a strange expression in his glowing eyes.

"There is a spice of witchcraft about it," he said, with a laugh which was not perhaps quite natural; and he retired to the far end of the hall, grasping tightly in his hand a small fragment of paper which had been slipped into it, he scarce knew how or by whom.

The Earl had followed the example of his illustrious prisoner, his son Amalric keeping close at his side. He, too, took the cup from the hand of the maid; but ere he could lift it to his lips, Amalric cried out, —

"Have a care, sir; that cup is poisoned! Let the magician be seized till this thing has been inquired into!"

In a moment all was confusion and affright. The magician made a bound, as though to flee before hands could be laid upon him; but he was held by a dozen pairs of strong arms. He broke then into frantic pleadings and excuses; but no word was addressed to him until the draught intended for the Earl had been forced down the throat of a dog, which almost immediately was racked with violent convulsions, and died within fifteen minutes.

Sternly and with black brow did the Earl and his attendants look on. It was so easy to see what had been planned. The inquirer would have asked some question as to the future, would have received some terrible prophecy, and when this attack took him, those who stood by would think it an access of fear at what he had heard; and in the confusion the magician and his accomplices would effect an escape, even if suspicion did light upon them.

"How didst thou know this thing?" asked the Earl of his son; and Leofric was brought forward to tell his tale. A cry of rage and execration went up from the crowd as they listened. The terrified mummers, who knew nothing of the plot, slunk away and hid themselves in any dark corners they could find. No one heeded them, all eyes being fixed upon the magician himself; and when his mask was plucked from his face, it revealed the white, scared countenance of Tito Balzani.

In vain he pleaded his innocence, and implored mercy. There was no mercy in the stern faces around him. Even Prince Edward, in whose favour the intended crime was supposed to have been planned, came forward with wrath in his eyes, and desired the death of the miscreant.

"He dares to say that my mother was the instigator of the crime!" he cried. "Let him hang from the highest battlements for that foul lie! Some evil-disposed person, thinking to do us service, may have planned this hideous deed; but my mother – never! Let him die the death of a perjured traitor!"

"But my sister – who will care for my sister? She at least must not suffer for my sin!" wailed the hapless man. "It is Roger de Horn who ought to hang. It was he who showed me the gold, and tempted me to my ruin. But he ever escapes, and leaves me to bear the punishment. Let the woods be scoured for him, and I refuse not to die if he die too. But let him not escape. And, I beseech you, save my sister; for if she knew – the deed was none of hers."

"The maid shall not suffer; her sex shall be her safeguard," answered De Montfort sternly. "And as for that miscreant, whose name I have heard before now, search shall be made for him, and he shall suffer the fate he merits. Assassins and their accomplices find no mercy at Kenilworth. – Guard him well, men, and with the first of the daylight let him die!"

Thus upon the morn of the new year, Tito Balzani met his death upon the battlements of Kenilworth Castle; but though the woods were scoured and the Castle hunted from end to end, no trace of the veiled maiden nor of Roger de Horn could be found. It seemed as if in the confusion the girl had slipped away, perhaps to give warning to their comrade without. None had seen her from the moment when Amalric had denounced the wizard in the hearing of the whole assembly. She must have taken instant alarm, and have made good a clever escape, leaving her hapless brother to his well-earned fate.

The mummers, who soon explained their innocence and ignorance, were permitted to depart unhurt; but from that day when he knew that his life had been attempted, a darker cloud rested upon the stern, worn face of De Montfort, and sometimes he would break into passionate speech when alone with his wife or his sons.

"If the realm has done with me and wants me no more, by the arm of St. James let them say so, and I will be content to return to France, and live a peaceful life there, away from all this stress and strife. Yet if I do, all will cry shame upon me for deserting the cause to which I am pledged; whilst if I stay, I am reviled alike by friend and foe, called tyrant and usurper, and charged with all manner of crimes, of which not one can be proven against me!"

In truth, the Earl's position at this time was a very trying one. The Earl of Gloucester openly charged him with self-seeking and striving after personal aggrandizement, in order to cover his own defection from the cause of the Barons. De Montfort's sons fomented the dissensions by their haughty and overbearing conduct, so that all manner of charges were raised against them by their foes. True, the conditions imposed upon the captive King and Prince by the Parliament which met at Westminster early in the year placed almost regal powers in the hands of De Montfort; yet he himself knew that his tenure of power was most precarious. In that very Parliament the Barons' party had been most meagrely represented, so many nobles having declined to appear. Jealousy and party strife were doing their disintegrating work amongst the victors of Lewes, and the nation was beginning to murmur at the detention of King and Prince.

Plots of all sorts were being hatched for the deliverance of the latter (the King himself being personally useless to head any national movement), and the Earl, his uncle, was compelled by policy, as well as by his own sense of right and justice, to make his captivity as light and easy as possible.

So his friends were permitted access to him at Kenilworth – even such pronounced loyalists as Mortimer, Clifford, and Leiburn, who had declined to lay down their arms at the close of the campaign, but had retired into Wales in sullen displeasure, there to await the turning of the tide. A safe-conduct was granted to these and to other friends of the Prince to visit him in his captivity, albeit the Earl could not but be aware that in all probability the end of the matter would be that the Prince would escape from his prison, and immediately appear in arms against the foes of his father.

De Montfort was not, however, at Kenilworth in person now. He was in Westminster, directing the deliberations of Parliament; and Henry was left as the companion of the Prince, together with Thomas de Clare, brother of the Earl of Gloucester, and other knights congenial to the royal captive. The breach between Gloucester and Leicester had not yet been openly proclaimed, and no actual rupture had occurred between the members of the two houses.

Amalric had, together with Leofric and the De Kynastons, returned to Oxford. No formal betrothal had taken place between him and Alys. The affairs of the Earl had taken up so much time and thought, that there had scarce been space for the consideration of other matters. Moreover the father had once said to Amalric, —

"Press not the matter home too soon, my son. It may be that we are a falling, not a rising house. Link not the fate of an innocent maid with thine till we see whether this rising cloud will disperse again, or whether it will gather into a tempest that will overthrow us."

Nevertheless it was well understood by the two fathers, ere the Constable took his departure, that the betrothal of Amalric and Alys would, if all went well, take place very shortly. Both Earl and Countess bestowed upon her many rich gifts, and Amalric begged her acceptance of a costly ring, which she could not refuse, the eyes of her elders being upon her, although her heart misgave her that this would be regarded as a pledge when the time came for the settlement of the question of her marriage.

"It may be thou wilt learn to love him yet," whispered the Demoiselle, who took a keen interest in the matter, greatly desiring to have Alys for a sister, and earnestly desiring her brother's happiness, yet feeling a keen sympathy with the unconfessed romance which she guessed at, and regarding Leofric as, after her own brother, a very proper mate for her friend. "Amalric is more like our father than any of them, and I trow he would be a gallant lover and a loyal husband. But thou shalt never be forced to do a thing at which thy heart rebels. I will myself tell him all sooner than thou shalt be made unhappy, sweet Alys."

But at that Alys shrank as though touched upon a wound, and made almost hasty answer, —

"Speak not so, dearest Eleanora; thou dost not know what thou sayest. I shall seek in all things to do right; I only wish that my poor heart were worth the winning of so gallant a gentleman as thy brother. I am sore ashamed oftentimes to think what a paltry thing he seeks after."

"It is not paltry to him, so it be all his own," answered Eleanora; but at that word Alys winced again.

However, the party for Oxford rode off from Kenilworth in due course, in good spirits – Amalric willing to wait for his betrothal till his father's affairs should be more fully arranged, yet full of confidence that the day would come when he could call Alys his own.

Meantime Prince Edward remained behind, the playmate of his little cousin Eleanora at Kenilworth, a pleasant guest and kinsman, never showing the least spark of resentment at his prolonged captivity, yet bearing himself with a princely air to those about him, as though he would have them remember that, if a prisoner, he was a King's son and the heir of the realm. He received his friends with pleasure, and held various consultations with them at different times. Henry de Montfort looked with some suspicion upon these meetings, and wrote once to his father cautioning him to put a stop to them. But the Earl would not do this. He felt keenly the difficulties attending holding in captivity his monarch and that monarch's son, and he was resolved to give as small reason as possible for complaint.

The talk of arbitration was still going on, but few believed in any important results, save perhaps the release of King and Prince. Meantime weeks and months slipped by in quick succession, and the affairs of the state so engrossed De Montfort that he knew little of what went on within the walls of his home, save what was reported by his wife and son.

With the approach of summer, outdoor exercise and amusements were taken up with zest. The Demoiselle was a fearless rider, and loved to fly a falcon, or to gallop side by side with her cousin over the green meadows and golden moors. The Prince delighted in every sort of manly exercise, and though always attended by a sufficient escort, was permitted to indulge himself in these pleasures round and about the Castle of Kenilworth.

Presents were from time to time sent to him by his friends, and one day there arrived at the Castle a fine horse, which had come from the Earl of Gloucester. The Demoiselle was greatly pleased with the creature, and eager for her cousin to try it.

Upon the next morning, therefore, the party rode forth to a green meadow about two miles distant, bounded on one side by a wood; and here Prince Edward laughingly challenged his escort to a series of contests of fleetness and strength. All entered with zest into the spirit of the thing. The horses were drawn up, and the Demoiselle was called upon to give judgment.

"Six times round shall be the course," cried the Prince, "and whosoever comes in first shall be victor."

"Agreed!" cried the other young men, all well mounted, as was needful when they had so great a prize as the King's son in their custody; and forthwith the race began.

Six times round that great expanse of turf, six times round at the reckless speed which young knights strove to attain when engrossed in feats of skill and daring, was no small strain upon a horse's powers, and would be an excellent test for the stranger.

Breathlessly did Eleanora watch the gallant creatures sweeping round and round the course, sometimes one forging ahead, then another making a gallant dash and passing his comrade, but all the field keeping near together; for it was a point of honour with his escort not to let the Prince get far out of reach, and perhaps it occurred to Henry de Montfort that this might be a ruse on Edward's part to make some desperate effort at escape.

His year of parole had now expired. He was no longer bound by his plighted word. Perhaps that detail had escaped the memory of the Earl; at any rate no request or command had reached the captive for a renewal of the promise, or for any stricter rule of captivity.

Eleanora, however, thought of nothing but the excitement of the race; and when upon the sixth round the field came sweeping up towards the spot where she had placed herself, just within the friendly shade of the adjacent forest, her face was flushed with excitement, and she cried gaily, —

"Edward wins – the Prince wins!" just as he brought his panting and foam-stained horse to a halt beside her.

Edward leaped from the saddle, and made his cousin a graceful bow. There was a slight rustle in the thicket close behind.

"Farewell, sweet cousin," he cried; "we shall meet again ere long, I trow!" and before any of those about him had taken in the sense of these words, the Prince had vaulted upon the back of a strong young horse, led forth that moment by an unseen hand.

With a shout and an oath Henry de Montfort sprang forward, but was forcibly held back by young De Clare. The next minute the Prince was galloping off at a pace which rendered it impossible for any of the jaded horses to strive to emulate.

"Farewell, gentlemen," cried Edward, waving his hand; "I thank you for your courtesy and good company these many days. And tell my royal father that I shall soon see him out of ward! A merry meeting to us all another day!"

The last words were inaudible. Already the receding figure was disappearing from their view.

De Clare burst into a loud laugh, and turning fiercely upon Henry de Montfort he cried, —

"Ride after him and welcome if thou wilt, young fool! He is by this time with Roger Mortimer and a goodly following, who will hack thee in pieces with a right good will! I go to join them and my noble brother. Neither Gloucester nor England will long be content to be ruled by King Simon the usurper!"

Note. – The escape of Prince Edward really took place from Hereford, though in the same fashion as that described above.