A. D. Crake

“ He has left this boy to comfort my old age: take not away the light of the old man's eyes. See I, who never asked favour of Norman or foreign lord before, bow my knees to thee; let the boy live, or if not, let both die together."
"One life is enough for one deer."
"Nay, then let me die."
"Who slew the deer?"
"I, my lord, and I must die, not my grandfather."
"It was for me, and I must die, as the primal cause of the deed," said the old man.
"By the teeth of St. Peter, I never saw two thralls contending for the honour of a rope before," said Milo. ”

“ But all around the flames of war broke out anew, and universal bloodshed returned. It was a mere gory chaos: no great battles, no decisive blows; only castle against castle, all through the land, as at Wallingford and Crowmarsh. Each baron delved the soil for his dungeons, and raised his stern towers to heaven. All was pillage and plunder; men fought wherever they met; every man's hand was against every man; peaceful villages were burnt daily; lone huts, isolated farms, were no safer; merchants scarcely dared to travel, shops to expose their wares ”

“ How shall we relate the festivities of that night? it seems like telling an old tale: how the tables groaned with the weight of the feast, as in the old ballad of Imogene; how the minstrels and singers followed after, and none recked of the multitude of captives who already crowded the dismal dungeons beneath. Some prisoners taken in fair fight, some with less justice prisoners held to ransom, their sole crime being wealth; others from default of tribute paid to Brian, be it from ill-will or only from want of means. ”

“ Great was the surprise and anger of Brian Fitz-Count that his favourite page should dare to tarry, even to bury his grandfather, much less to fulfil an idle vow, when he had bidden him return at once.
He cared so little for sacred things, whether the true gold of the mint, or the false superstitions of the age, that he could not understand how they should influence other men. ”

“ But men are brethren."
"Brethren are we! Do you think I call the vile canaille my brethren?—not I. The base fluid which circulates in their veins is not like the generous blood which flows in the veins [Pg 247] of the noble and gallant. I have no more sympathy with such folk than the cat with the mouse. Her nature, which God gave, teaches her to torture, much as we torment our captives in Brian's Close or elsewhere; but knights, nobles, gentlemen,—they are my brethren. We slay each other in generous emulation,—in the glorious excitement of battle,—but we torture them not. ”

“ The door opens—Brian enters.
He stands still, and gazes upon Osric for full five minutes ere he speaks.
"Osric, what means this?"
"I have but done my duty. Pardon me, my lord, but the truth must be spoken now."
"Thy duty! to break thy faith?"
"To man but not to God."
"Osric, what causes this change? I trusted thee, I loved thee, as never I loved youth before. Thou hast robbed me of my confidence in man."
"My lord, I will tell thee. At my grandfather's dying bed I learnt a secret I knew not before."
"And that secret?"
"I am the son of Wulfnoth of Compton." ”

“ And the Wallingford men charged the incendiaries as one man. Like a thunderbolt, slaying, hewing, hacking, chopping, cleaving heads and limbs from trunks, with all the more deadly facility as their more numerous antagonists lacked armour, having only come out to slay lepers.
The Baron of Hanwell Castle was a corpse; so was the knight of Cropredy Towers; so was the young lord of Southam; others were writhing in mortal agony, but within a quarter of an hour more, only the dead and dying disputed the field with the Wallingford men. ”

“ Then again came the remembrance of that strange partiality, even amounting to fondness, which Brian had ever shown him, and he could but contrast the coldness and indifference of his own father with the fostering care of the awful Lord of Wallingford.
But blood is thicker than water: he could no longer serve the murderer of his kindred—Heaven itself would denounce such an alliance; yet he did not even now wish to wreak vengeance. He could not turn so suddenly: the old man's solution was the right one—he would fly the country and go to the Crusades. ”

“ But all this was lost on Evroult and Richard. The inherited instincts of fierce generations of proud and ruthless ancestors were in them—as surely as the little tigerling, brought up as a kitten, begins eventually to bite and tear, so did these poor boys long for sword and lance—for the life of the wild huntsman or the wilder robber baron.
Instincts worthy of condemnation, yet not without their redeeming points; such were all our ancestors once, whether Angle, Saxon, Jute, or Northman; and the fusion has made the Englishman what he is. ”

“ Osric bowed in joyful assent. And that night he dined at the monastic table of Lollingdune Grange. The humble fare was the most sumptuous he had ever known; for at Wallingford Castle they paid small attention to the culinary art—quantity, not quality, was their motto; they ate of meat half raw, thinking it increased their ferocity; and "drank the red wine through the helmet barred."
But it was not so here; the weakness of the monastic orders, if it was a weakness, was good cooking.
"Why should we waste or spoil the good things God has given us?" they asked. ”

“ Alone control the nation's fate;
Let fell discord the chorus swell,
Let every hold become a hell——
Let——"
"Nay, nay, mother, enough! Thou ravest. Every hold a hell! not at least Wallingford Castle!"
"That worst of all, Brian Fitz-Count. There are possibilities of evil in thee, which might make Satan laugh! Thy sword shall make women childless, thy torch light up——"
"Nay, nay, no more, I must away. My men will go mad when they see these fires. I must home, to control, advise, direct." ”

“ The evening was spent at home, for there was no Vesper service at the little chapel—amidst the declining shadows of the trees, the solemn silence of the forest, the sweet murmuring of the brook. The old man slept in the shade, seated upon a mossy bank. Osric slept too, with his head pillowed upon his grandfather's lap; while in wakeful moments the aged hands played with his graceful locks. Old Judith span in the doorway and watched the lad.
"He is as bonny as he is brave, and as brave as he is bonny, the dear lad," she said. ”

“ The Empress—our rightful Queen—has landed in Sussex, and this very day I go to meet her, and to aid in expelling the fell usurper Stephen. Who will follow in my train?"
Every hand was upraised, amidst a clamour of voices and cheers, for they sniffed the battle afar, like the war-horse in Job, and delighted like the vulture in the scent of blood.
"It is well. I would sooner have ten free-hearted volunteers than a hundred lagging retainers, grudgingly fulfilling their feudal obligations. Let every man see to his horse, armour, sword, shield, and lance, and at noontide we will depart." ”

“ And Alain appeared.
"My gallant squire, how hast thou fared? I feared for thee."
"They keep bad watch. A rope lowered me to the stream: I crossed, and seeking covered ways, gat me to Iffley, and in like fashion returned. I bear good news, lady! Thy gallant brother of Gloucester, and the Prince, thy son, have landed in England, and will meet thee at Wallingford."
"Thank God!" said Maude. "My Henry, my royal boy, I shall see thee again. With such hope to cheer a mother's heart, I can dare anything. ”

“ They were on the castle green. Upon the sward some ants had raised a little hill.
"Look at these ants," said Brian; "I believe they have a sort of kingdom amongst themselves—some are priests, some masters, some slaves, one is king, and the like: to themselves they seem very important. Now I will place my foot upon the hill, and ruin their republic. Just so are the gods to us, if there be gods. They care as little about men as I about the ants; our joys, our griefs, our good deeds, our bad deeds, are alike to them. ”

“ But now the natural obstacles retard their flight, and the stag gains the downs first, and speeds over the upper plains. A mile after him, the hunt emerges just above the tangled maze of Blewbery. Now all is open ground, and the stag heads for Cwichelm's Hlawe.
Swiftly they sweep along; the footmen are left far behind. The wind is blowing hard, and the shadows of fleecy clouds are cast upon the downs, but the riders outstrip them, and leave the dark outlines behind them. The leaves blow from many a fading tree, but faster rush the wild huntsmen, and Brian Fitz-Count rides first. ”

“ He is quite the young warrior now. The sweet simplicity, begotten of youth and seclusion, is no longer there, yet there is nought to awaken distrust. He is not yet a knight, but he is the favourite squire of Brian Fitz-Count—that terrible lord, and has been the favourite ever since Alain passed over to the immediate service of the Empress Queen. ”

“ But a canine friend was there—his poor wolf hound—mangled by the teeth of his foe, but yet alive and likely to live. And now he came up to the prostrate body of his master and licked his face, while from time to time he raised his nose in the air, and uttered a plaintive howl, which floated adown the wind an appeal for help.
Was it a prayer for the living or the dead?
Surely there were the signs of life, the hues of that bloodless cheek are not yet those of death; see, he stirs! only just a stir, but it tells of life, and where there is life there is hope. ”

“ When a man ceases to believe in God, he generally comes to believe in the Devil. Men must have a belief of some sort; so in our day, men who find Christianity too difficult, take to table turning, and like phenomena, and practise necromancy of a mild description.
So it was then. Ceasing to believe in God, Brian Fitz-Count believed in witches.
The intense hatred of witchcraft, begotten of dread, which kindled the blazing funeral pyres of myriads of people, both guilty—at least in intention—and innocent of the black art, had not yet attained its height. ”

“ He walked to and fro in the woods, and thought sometimes of all he was leaving. Sometimes of the terrible fate of her who had borne him. At another moment he felt half inclined to conceal all, and go back to Wallingford, as if nothing had happened; the next he felt he could never again grasp the hand of the destroyer of his kindred.
The hour came for the funeral. The corpse was brought forth on the bier from the hut which had so long sheltered it in life. They used no coffins in those days—it was simply wrapped in the "winding-sheet." ”

“ The Abbot was astonished; as well he might be.
"Go, my Osric, to the hospitium; let me speak to my lord Abbot alone."
And Brian told his story, not without strong emotion.
"What wilt thou do now, my Lord of Wallingford?"
"He shall fulfil his vow, for himself and for me. But, my lord, my sins have come home to me. What shall I do? Would I could go with him! but my duties, my plighted faith to my Queen, restrain me. Even to-morrow the leaders of our cause meet at Wallingford Castle."
"Into politics we enter not here. But thy sin, if thou hast sinned, God hath left the means of forgiveness. ”

“ Father and son met face to face in the battle; the parricidal spear of Robert pierced the hand of his father, an arrow at the same moment struck the horse on which he rode, and the Conqueror lay for a moment on the earth expecting death at the hands of his own son. A loyal Englishman sped to the rescue—Tokig, the son of Wigod of Wallingford, sprang down and offered his horse to the fallen king—at that moment the shot of a crossbow gave the gallant thane of Berkshire a mortal wound, and Tokig gave up his life for his sovereign.—Freeman. ”

“ Think of this happy land—happy once—now the sport of robbers and thieves! Think of the hideous dungeons where true Englishmen rot! Think of the multitudes of innocent folk burnt, racked, tortured, starved, driven to herd with the beasts! Think of the horrors of famine! Think of the unburied dead—slain foully, and breeding a pestilence, which oft destroys their murderers! Think, in short, of Wallingford Castle and its lord——"
A deep murmur of assent from the recumbent outlaws stretched on the turf around.
Osric's features twitched; he felt the force of the appeal. ”

“ And the Baron departed, accompanied still by Osric.
"Osric," said he, "thou hast often asked to visit the lower dungeons: thou mayst have thy wish, and see how we house our guests there; and also in a different capacity renew thine acquaintance with the torture-chambers: thou shalt be the notary."
"My lord, thou dost recall cruel memories."
"Nay, it was for love of thee. I have no son, and my bowels yearned for one; it was gentle violence for thine own good. I know not how it was, but I could not even then have done more than frighten thee. Thou wilt see I can hurt others without wincing. ”

“ So Osric, encouraged, continued his tale; and those fair ladies—and fair they were—laughed merrily at his narration of the burning of Watlington, and would have him spare no details.
"Thou hast done well, my Osric. Come, thou wilt be a knight; thou dost not now pine for the forest?"
"Not now; I have grown to love adventures."
"And it is so exciting to ride by night, as thou didst last winter with the Empress Queen." ”

“ The laws have lost their force; the Crown its authority; this great and noble nation has been delivered over as a prey to the basest of foreigners,—the abominable scum of Flanders, Brabant, and Brittany,—robbers rather than soldiers, restrained by no laws, Divine or human,—instruments of all tyranny, cruelty, and violence. At the same time our cruel neighbours the Welsh and the Scotch, taking advantage of our distress, have ravaged our borders. And for what good? When Maude was Queen, she alienated all hearts by her pride and violence, and made them regret Stephen. ”

“ Even if the selfishness were of a high order, man was not sent into the world simply to save, each one, his own soul. The life of the Chaplain at Byfield lazar-house showed how men could abjure self far more truly than in a hermitage.
Sometimes thoughts of this kind passed through the mind of our hermit and drove him distracted, until his cry became,
"Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?"
And while he thus sought to know God's Will, the two poor fugitives, Evroult and Richard, came into his way. ”