Everett-Green Evelyn
A Clerk of Oxford, and His Adventures in the Barons' War
CHAPTER VIII
STORMY SCENES
"Have a care how thou dost answer me, Mistress; I am not one who brooks trifling!"
"I have never trifled with thee, Roger de Horn," answered the maiden addressed, speaking firmly though gently. "Methinks thou dost forget thyself in speaking such words to me to-day."
The dark face of Roger was deeply flushed. He looked as though he had been drinking – as indeed was probably the case; at any rate he was very angry, and his words came hissing from between his teeth in a fashion not pleasant to hear.
"Not trifled with me, quotha? Canst thou look me in the face and say that? – whilst the love-token that thou didst give me lies now upon my heart!"
The face of Linda Balzani flushed deeply, partly with anger, partly with maiden modesty. She drew herself away with a gesture full of simple dignity.
"I have given thee no token," she said. "If thou hast received aught, it must be from the hands of my sister. I know nothing of any token."
"What!" cried the young man, the flush mounting even to his brow, "wilt thou deny the kiss that thou didst bestow upon me out in the greenwood on Midsummer Eve, and the token thou didst give me as proof of thy love?"
Linda drew away yet a little farther, and glanced round the room as though seeking some way of exit. The excitement in Rogers manner was unpleasant, and the claim he was making upon her was revolting. She had always disliked this braggart, even though treating him with civility as her brother's friend. Of late she had come to dislike him more and more, and to shrink from his approach as one shrinks from the proximity of some noisome reptile. She had fancied that her sister had of late been seeking the society of Roger with pleasure; which thing rather perplexed her, because in private Lotta never masked her dislike and contempt for the bully and swaggerer, and of late had been more severe in her strictures than ever.
The very thought of what had taken place under the greenwood trees upon Midsummer Eve brought a flush to Linda's brow and a throb to her heart. Was it not then and there that Hugh le Barbier had breathed into her ears some words so full of music that the echo of them had never left them since? She had scarce dared to think what those words might imply. She was content to dream rather than to think, and she had lived in dreamland almost ever since. To be spoken to thus was unendurable, and the spirit of the maiden was roused.
"Methinks, sir, that thou hast been drinking, and hast overheated thy blood," she said, rising as if to leave the room. "I spoke scarce three words to thee upon that Midsummer Eve. I have done nothing and said nothing to warrant the claim thou dost make. Prithee let me go; I have had enough of this."
But Roger planted himself before the door, his sombre eyes glowing with passion.
"Beshrew me if thou be not a false and fickle jade! But I will brook none such answer from thee. See here – behold the token! Wilt thou dare to look upon it and tell me it was never thine?"
Linda looked, and started slightly. It was indeed a little trinket that had belonged to her for years. As a child she used to carry it as a charm about her neck; but latterly she had ceased to do this. She had not even missed it from the box where she kept it together with a few more little keepsakes and girlish treasures. How it had come into the possession of Roger she could not imagine. He saw her start, and his eyes gleamed.
"So! – thou dost not dare to deny the witness of thine eyes!"
"The heart was once mine," answered Linda quietly, "but I have not seen it for many weeks. I never gave it thee. It must have fallen into the hands of another, and so have come to thine. Let me pass, sir; we have had something too much of this already."
"What!" he cried furiously, "thou dost own to the trinket, but dost deny the gift? Thinkest thou that I will endure to be flouted thus?"
"I flout thee not, sir; I do but speak sooth. I gave thee no trinket – I gave thee no kiss. I have never bestowed upon thee aught save that meed of friendship which my brother's friend has a right to look for."
He grasped her slim wrist in his strong hand. He brought his swarthy face and flashing eyes close to her shrinking face.
"Thou didst give me much more than that till he came amongst us – the upstart, the fine gentleman, the fop with the smooth speech and dainty dress! Thinkest thou I have not seen it all – how that thou dost seek to play us one against the other? But thou shalt never make a tool of me; I will have all or nothing! And I will wring the neck of any man who shall dare come betwixt me and my love!"
The last words were hissed rather than spoken, and so cruel and fierce was the aspect of the speaker that Linda tore herself suddenly away and uttered a shriek of fear.
The next moment the door was quickly opened from without, and Joanna Seaton appeared, with Lotta a little behind her, the latter wearing rather a strange look upon her handsome, haughty face, whilst her gaze glanced rapidly from one to the other of the occupants of the room.
"Is aught amiss?" asked Joanna quickly; "methought that I heard a call."
Roger turned upon his heel with one sinister glance over his shoulder, and made as if to depart.
"I will finish what I have to say another day," he observed, "when thou art in a better frame for listening, fair Mistress Linda, and when thou hast something refreshed thy memory."
"What does he mean?" asked Joanna, as Roger clanked down the stairs and Linda sank trembling upon a couch.
"He is a bad man – I fear and I hate him!" she cried in panting breaths. – "Lotta, what hast thou done that he should say such things to me? It must have been thy doing! He has the agate heart that once I wore. None can have given him that but thou. And thou must have given him other tender tokens too, for he speaks of things of which I know naught. Sister, thou doest not well to show treachery to thine own flesh and blood!"
Lotta tossed her handsome head, and a flush crept into her dusky cheek. Of late the likeness between the sisters had grown somewhat less. A softness and subtile charm had crept over Linda, whilst Lotta, though handsome as ever, had seemed to grow harder and more defiant in her proud beauty. Mistakes between the pair were of less frequent occurrence, and although it would be easy for Lotta to personate her sister of set purpose, the difference between them was becoming more clearly marked day by day.
"What now, Linda?" quoth the other; "thou art always fancying some new thing. I have scant patience with thy whims. What do I know of thy trinkets, or of thy lovers? Thou art like a skilful bowman, who has a second string to his bow ready to hand. But when thou dost find that such a game has its perils, and that thou art playing with edge tools, prithee do not seek to drag me in to help thee out of the slough. It is a paltry trick, and unworthy of thy name."
"But Lotta – "
"Peace, child! I will hear no more. I am sick to death of thee and thy lovers! Let me alone. Manage thine own affairs as thou wilt, but no word shalt thou have from me. Go, and do as thou dost choose. Play them one against the other, and see what comes of it. I will have nothing to do with the matter; it is no concern of mine."
And Lotta swept out of the room with her whirlwind air of displeasure, whilst Linda looked in perplexity at Joanna, and asked piteously, —
"Why is she so changed to me?"
"I fear me it is jealousy," answered Joanna, who had seen a great deal during the weeks that the twins had been with them. Joanna had been friendly with both from childhood, but had always liked Linda best. Now she began to find that she loved Linda and rather disliked and feared Lotta. There was something wild and untamed in her nature, and her conduct towards her sister often provoked the indignation of the onlooker.
"Jealousy!" repeated Linda, with rising colour.
"Ay, jealousy of what she sees betwixt thee and Hugh le Barbier," answered Joanna. "Hast thou not seen that Lotta has gone nigh to lose her heart to yon courtly youth? I have observed it these many weeks, and once I did think that he might return her regard; but it seems plain now that his fancy has been elsewhere fixed, and poor Lotta has to bear the pain of seeing it too."
Linda's cheeks were scarlet; she faltered as she spoke.
"Methought Lotta was pleased by the notice of Roger. I had thought that her fancy went that way."
"Perchance it did – till Hugh appeared. But there can be no comparison betwixt the two, and Lotta has ambition. She would fain link her lot in life with one who could raise her higher in the world. And Hugh has prospects of becoming, if not a knight at least an esquire to some noble lord, in whose service he may rise high. It may be ambition rather than love; but be it what it may, it is bitter to her to see herself passed by for another. I think perhaps it is the more bitter because that other is her sister, and so like to her in outward show that she cannot understand why she holds not an equal place in his heart."
Linda's face was all aglow. It could not but be sweet to feel that others had read the secret of Hugh's attachment to herself; but, again, it pained her that her sister should regard her as a rival, and still more that she should stoop to subterfuge, and seek to embroil her with so dangerous a man as Roger de Horn.
"What can it profit her to behave thus?" she asked of Joanna, when she had told the whole story; "why should she seek to anger him thus against me? It is cruel to me, and also to him, if indeed a creature so full of ferocity has any room in his heart for the gentle passion of love."
"Love is not always a gentle passion with natures such as his," answered Joanna shrewdly; "and methinks I see what Lotta seeks to accomplish. She knows that thou hast a timid nature as compared with her own; and she thinks, possibly, that Roger will terrify thee into compliance with his wishes, or that doubt and distrust may be awakened in the heart of Hugh by what he hears and sees; in which case, perchance, he might turn to her for comfort. Such are the unworthy wiles of a jealous nature. But it is playing a dangerous game to trifle with a creature so untamed and savage as Roger. There is no knowing to what excesses his anger may lead him."
Linda shuddered slightly at the memory of the past scene.
"Pray Heaven he hurt not Hugh!" she murmured. "He said he would wring the neck of any man that dared to come betwixt him and his purpose!"
"That is bad," said Joanna, looking grave. "I will speak to my brother and also to Gilbert Barbeck, and tell them to give an eye to Hugh should any riot arise in the city, as is like."
"Why is it like?" asked Linda anxiously.
"Marry, because of all the excitements in the city during the sitting of this 'Mad Parliament,' as the King's friends have dubbed it. It has been hard work to keep down rioting all these weeks; and men say they are certain there will be some great collision ere long – we are never safe from such in this place, as thou dost know. The marvel is that none such took place whilst the Parliament was sitting. Had it not been for the presence within the walls of so many armed men under discipline, I verily believe it would have done so."
There was much truth in the words of this citizen maiden. Great had been the excitement ruling in Oxford during the days of the sitting of the Great Council or Parliament, and great was the joy and triumph of the supporters of De Montfort and the Barons at the result thereof.
This is not the place in which to give a history of those Provisions of Oxford of which so much was heard during the following years of Henry's reign. Suffice it to say that by those provisions the Barons obtained for themselves all that they desired, and for the time being the King was little more than a puppet in their hands. They had no desire to make new laws – that had never been a part of their purpose; what they aimed at was to rid themselves of illegal exaction, of feudal service, to obtain justice for themselves and others, and to rid the country of the multitudes of foreign favourites who were eating up the substance of the land, whilst its own sons had perforce to stand by empty-handed. "England for the English" was in effect their cry; and their position having been granted, steps were immediately taken to ensure the carrying out of the measure agreed upon.
Those who desire information will find in every history book how this was done, and will read about the twenty-four nobles and men of high estate chosen in equal numbers by King and Barons – the Council of Fifteen, the Twelve Commissioners of Parliament, and the Twenty-four Commissioners of the Aid.
All this belongs to the region of history rather than to that of fiction; but the result of this Parliament was that the King's power and that of his foreign favourites was, for the time being, broken, and a wave of enthusiasm and delight swept over the land, causing an outbreak of excitement and triumph which was quite enough to give anxiety to the authorities in such a turbulent city as that of Oxford.
The great Earl of Leicester was for the moment the idol of the University. Whenever he appeared abroad he was hailed with shouts and cheers. His strong personality and the fascination of his manner won upon the clerks and scholars, till they would have been ready to lay down their lives in his service. He received the adulation of the crowd with a kindly dignity that won all hearts, and when it was found that he was about to leave one of his sons behind him to study the Arts in Oxford, public delight knew no bounds, and Amalric was almost as much lauded and praised as his great father.
But, of course, there was never unanimity in this turbulent body of undisciplined youths. The very fact that the presence of De Montfort aroused in the breasts of many such unbounded enthusiasm, tended, as if from pure contrariety, to inflame others against him – to throw them into the arms of the party who sided with the King, and called De Montfort and his friends sacrilegious usurpers of the power and authority which had been vested by God in His anointed servant.
The monks were for the most part ardent supporters of the monarchy, whilst the friars unhesitatingly declared that the kingly power could be abused, and that, when this was the case, God Himself raised up men of right and might to turn the King's heart from his errors, and to be champions of truth and freedom. Scripture precedents could, of course, be quoted on both sides, and controversy often raged fiercely. In an age and in a place where disputation and argument was as the elixir of life, and where a man's fitness for promotion in the University depended much on his oratorical powers and his ability to hold his own in some wordy warfare, it was likely enough that such burning questions as these should be discussed by high and low alike, with every weapon from the armoury of logic and rhetoric.
Although by this time the Parliament had broken up, the Barons had taken themselves away, whilst the King had retired for a short time to Woodstock, and had then left that part of the country, controversy and excitement still ran high. It seemed as if some sort of explosion must take place ere the atmosphere was cleared, and the authorities were very watchful to try to put down with a strong hand anything like street rioting or disturbance.
But the spirit of the time was too strong for them. The students themselves seemed weary of good behaviour. How it originated none exactly knew, but soon there was no hiding the fact that a great jousting was to take place shortly in the meadow of Beaumont, where the various nationalities should try their prowess in feats of skill and strength, and hold high revelling there such as was due to them upon the feast of Holy Trinity; only that the presence of the King and Barons in Oxford at that date had caused an adjournment of the holiday.
At that time the holidays of the Church were nearly all that students could claim. There was no regular break in the lectures as now, and men remained for years at Oxford without thinking of visiting their homes. But they regarded these Church holidays somewhat jealously, and they, together with the Fair of St. Frideswyde, formed the chief interludes in the monotony of University life.
"Tito," said Roger de Horn, taking his friend by the arm and leading him down a dark alley where none might see or hear them, "I have discovered all too much. Both your sisters love yon upstart Hugh, and Linda will have none of my wooing. I knew how it would be directly he crossed my path. He has been mine enemy from first to last. He will undo us if we undo not him."
Tito's eyes gleamed fiercely in the darkness.
"Methought thou hadst some token from Linda, and that all was well," he said.
"So had I; but now she flouts me, and denies it. She says that Lotta must have given it me. I could have sworn it was Linda; yet in the darkness it is no easy matter to tell one from the other."
"I would not wed Lotta were I in thy place," said Tito, with a short laugh. "She would run a stiletto through thy heart if thou didst anger her, as soon as kiss thee if thou didst please her. She is a veritable shrew when she is angered. Linda is a different sort. A man may lead her anywhere through her affections, or terrify her into submission. It matters little which, so we may win her to our purpose. I had thought that all was going well."
"And so did I, till I spoke with her a week since, and found her as adamant. I thought she was mine own till then; now I know that another has her heart."
Tito gave a short laugh that was somewhat like a snarl.
"We must rid ourselves of that other then."
"So said I," returned Roger promptly. "So told I my pretty fond love – "
"Then thou wert a fool for thy pains," interrupted Tito roughly. "If the man be warned, we shall have trouble with him."
"If the maid be frightened, she may come to her senses," retorted Roger.
Tito shook his head slightly.
"Thou dost not know what our southern women are made of," he answered. "They love with a different love from your cold northerners, and yet the northern blood from their mother has given to both a prudence which may be dangerous to our plan."
Roger muttered something that sounded like a curse.
"We will be a match yet for their prudence and their caution. Men have vanished from Oxford ere now, or have been found dead in the streets, and none have been the wiser for it. The Chancellor shakes his head; the other clerks clamour against the townsfolk, and perhaps a citizen is slain in reprisal; and then the matter is forgotten. What has been before can be again. Her lover dead, and pretty Linda will soon forget her fancy; or, mourning for him, she will be the more easily persuaded – and once we are sure of her, we can commence our plan, and wealth and renown will flow in upon us. We have all in readiness save the high priestess of the mysteries!"
"Hist, hist! have a care what thou dost say!" whispered Tito, in some alarm. "There is peril as well as profit in our plan. The black art finds scant favour in the eyes of the Church. Men have perished at the stake ere now for dabbling even as deeply as we have done. Have a care what thou dost speak in the open streets."
"Tush! none can hear," quoth Roger, with some contempt; "but as to the other matter, we must watch our chance and use it well. Men talk of the joustings which will soon take place if this horrid rain will but cease, which is rotting the corn in the fields, and bringing famine to our doors. When man meets man in full tilt in the jousting-field, it cannot be a very hard matter to run a lance into his eye, or even to pierce his heart. Moreover there be other chances, if eyes are kept open. Leave yon upstart to me, and I will soon find a way of wiping off my score against him. I have played that game before now. I shall play it the more skilfully for the practice I have had."
"Well, well, do as thou wilt; only be cautious, for we want none of the Chancellor's prison, and he watches over the lives and liberties of the clerks with jealous eye. Well enow should I like to see him cleared out of the path. I have no love for him, and he stands in the way of our cherished plan."
"He shall not stand so long," muttered Roger between his teeth; and then the two men moved away along the dark and unsavoury lane, whilst a head, which had been thrust out awhile ago from an upper window, was now drawn in, and Linda Balzani pressed her two hands to her throbbing brow.
"What devils men can be!" she whispered. "What devilry is this that they are desiring to practise, and in which I am to be their tool? Heaven send me strength and courage to thwart their evil schemes! O Hugh, my love, my love! they shall not hurt thee if I can save thee. Twice warned is thrice armed. I will save thee from their cruel malice, or I will die with thee!"
