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 FAIR ROSAMOND; 
 
 OR 
 
 THE DAYS OF KING HENRY II. 
 
 AN HISTORICAL ROMANCE 
 
 BY THOMAS MILLER, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "ROYSTOX GOWEK," "BEAUTIES OP THE COUNTRY, 
 "A DAY IN THE WOODS," ETC. 
 
 Let US Sit on the ground, 
 And tell sad stories. 
 
 King Richard II, 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER 
 
 GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 1839.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY STEWART AND MURRAY, 
 
 OLD BAILEY.
 
 M4lf 
 
 ' — j 
 a 
 
 i 
 
 
 re 
 
 V. 
 
 TO 
 
 THOMAS MOORE, ESQ. 
 
 IN ADMIRATION OF HIS GENIU 
 
 THESE VOLUMES 
 
 ARE HUMBLY DEDICATED, 
 
 WITH DEEP RESPECT, 
 
 THE AUTHOR,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In again entering the field as an Historical 
 Romance writer, the author has no excuse to 
 offer. His last novel succeeded to an extent far 
 beyond what he dared to anticipate ; for he was 
 well aware that it contained many faults, and 
 some of them such as only a more mature 
 judgment can hope to amend, having had 
 no one to suggest an alteration or perfect a 
 sentence ; therefore such as the works are, the 
 author only is responsible for them. Many of 
 the faults which were kindly pointed out by
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 some of the reviewers (and which it is the duty 
 of a honest critic to comment upon) he has in 
 the present work endeavoured to avoid, and 
 attempted to give a greater individuaUty to his 
 characters, by making them stand out more pro- 
 minently in the pages, and bringing the inci- 
 dents to bear more closely upon the working 
 out of the story. With all his attention, he is 
 well aware that there will yet be found plenty 
 of errors for those who only hunt out for them, 
 and pass over the best portions ; and to such he 
 only wishes, that they all, and each were com- 
 pelled to write such a work, in the same given 
 space of time : they would find the necessary 
 labour of research for such a task no trifle- 
 Once again, and for the last time, in answer 
 to those who wish to know at what school he 
 learned his grammar, and Latin, he begs to 
 refer them to the Preface prefixed to his " Day 
 in the Woods;" there they will see at what
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 University he studied, and what a stern task- 
 master he was under, while taking up the degrees 
 of M. B. The author has kept nothing secret, 
 has made no vain display, but fearlessly an- 
 nounced his position, and is proud that he has 
 sprung from those ranks, which will ere long 
 make themselves respected — those "corner 
 stones which the builders rejected." 
 
 The author cannot appropriate to himself all 
 the praise that was bestowed upon his last 
 romance, but is inclined to think that his in- 
 dustry in raking together and selecting much 
 ancient, interesting, and almost forgotten mat- 
 ter, had much to do with its success. 
 
 To render an historical romance only merely 
 readable, the author must work hard before 
 he begins it; he must read whole volumes of 
 dry, and often uninteresting matter, must dig 
 out of the dark and dusty mines of antiquity, 
 all that is picturesque and poetical, and be very
 
 Xll PREFACE. 
 
 choice in his selections in searching for the 
 hidden gold in these dusky recesses, lest he 
 should bring forth more dross than pure metal. 
 Nay more, he must have a love for his labour ; 
 for if he once pursues his task with reluctance, 
 all is then over. Neither is this all ; for when 
 the materials are selected, they require a nicety 
 of arrangement, they must be placed care- 
 fully together, or they will resemble the 
 confused threads which we see underneath 
 ancient embroidery rather than the upper part 
 where the beautiful effects are represented. 
 True, a master-hand could toss the material to- 
 gether in a brief space of time, ^^hen it is thus 
 arranged, although he might begrudge the la- 
 bour of preparing it, for the work is then half 
 done to his hands ; but an inferior workman 
 with fair judgment need not to despair, although 
 he cannot give an equal charm to the task 
 when it is completed. No matter how great
 
 PREFACE. XJll 
 
 the genius may be, he must undergo the same 
 labour in digging up the dry bones, before he 
 can even form them into a skeleton ; and al- 
 though he may more readily arrange them with 
 just and anatomical skill, yet an inferior artist 
 may by stern industry give them a shape near 
 enough to the original, and by drawing the 
 skin carefully over, and infusing the life and 
 blood, and passions, and feelings, that flow in 
 the present day, so animate it, as to give to the 
 whole a look of life. History is full of pictures ; 
 its pages teem with poetry ; dramatic incidents 
 almost every Avhere abound ; but all cannot seize 
 upon them alike, for the imagination must be 
 left loose, to bound over the dim and doubtful 
 passages which the historian scarcely dared to 
 venture upon. True, these beautiful bits often 
 lie too far and wide apart to strike the general 
 reader, or have too common a look to call forth 
 the attention bf all ; but let the fancy once
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 have the rein, and a thousand rich colourings 
 will instantly break upon that which before 
 looked dead and dull, and unworthy of notice. 
 Thus the mere plodding reader will wade 
 heavily through the pages, and make himself 
 acquainted with certain events. Not so with 
 the poetical reader ; he will pause, and wonder 
 what effect such an incident had on the behold- 
 ers of it at that period ; think how the actor 
 felt while undergoing what he did; guiess at his 
 looks, — how he stood, in what voice he spoke, 
 what changes his features underwent, what cos- 
 tume he wore, where the scene took place, recal 
 the high vaulted and gothic hall, the open plain 
 or the dark forest, — in a word, make a picture 
 from that which to others would scarcely seem 
 worthy of notice, and set it in a quaint, old 
 oaken frame, where it will carry the look of 
 antiquity about it, yet have mingled withal 
 a life and a freshness. Many say. How dull
 
 PREFACE. Xy 
 
 are the pages of the old chroniclers ! — what dry 
 stufF is Dooms-day book, the writings of Mat- 
 thew Paris, Froissart, Holingshed, Stow, Rapin, 
 &c. — how tedious are the works of Wace, Gower, 
 and Chaucer, — the writings of Occlever, Lidgate 
 and Skelton, So they must be to those who 
 have no love for the past ages ; but once have a 
 passion for them, and where will you discover 
 such rich and unworked mines? Sometimes 
 one thought from these fine old fellows has 
 given the author the key to whole chapters. 
 
 Take but one instance which the author has 
 availed himself of in the present work. Thomas 
 k Becket having defied King Henry and all his 
 nobles, on the day of trial in the hall at Nor- 
 thampton, is compelled to make his escape in 
 disguise. It is a cold night in autumn, the old 
 chroniclers only just mention this simple inci- 
 dent, they scarcely name the privations he 
 underwent. But let the reader of history con-
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 trast it with the splendour of the Primate but 
 a few hours before, when, mounted on horse- 
 back, he rode forth amid the shouts of the 
 assembled populace in all his archiepiscopal 
 splendour, — then it is that this simple and natu- 
 ral incident, stands out in all its picturesque 
 bearings. Let him also throw into the scene 
 the supposed feelings of the high-souled church- 
 man, and then he comes at once to the poetry 
 and painting of history. The author is con- 
 scious that it required a more masterly hand 
 than his own to grapple with such a mighty 
 character as Becket ; and all he can trust to, to 
 making his sketch even readable, is the care 
 which he has bestowed in analyzing the various 
 histories which have treated on the character of 
 this great man. Let it also be remembered 
 that Becket matched himself against no less a 
 person than King Henry the Second, as coura- 
 geous and wise a monarch as any of the Norman
 
 PREFACE. XVU 
 
 line of kings; and that they were like two Titans 
 battling for the supremacy, both equally brave, 
 and each alike ambitious. 
 
 There is no denying that the Author of 
 Waverley is the great founder of this school 
 of fiction, as Shakspeare is the great god 
 who presides over the drama. But are none 
 to tread in the mighty paths which they 
 have discovered ? Are they to have no humble 
 disciples? Must none attempt to light their 
 torches at the everlasting lamps they hold 
 aloof? If so, there must be no more historical 
 plays or romances, for such beings never visit 
 the earth but once : when they are gone, mortal 
 eye never looks upon their like again. In 
 painting it is held an honour for a man to 
 colour like Titian, to throw in the savage gran- 
 deur of Salvator Rosa, the etherial hues of 
 Claude, the bold beauty of Rubens, the soft 
 breathing of Raphael ; but in literature the same
 
 XVm PREFACE. 
 
 praise is not always bestowed upon those who 
 tread humbly in the footsteps of a great master, 
 because the lowly aspirant is not equally great. 
 That man would indeed be a servile copyist, 
 who undertook to imitate every stroke ; but 
 he who produces a picture that bursts upon the 
 beholder and awakens a sensation akin to that 
 of the works of the great master, would be held 
 as no mean workman. It is the spirit and not 
 the letter, which should be aimed at, and if 
 the work arouses the true feeling, it cannot be 
 altogether despicable. The Author is not so 
 vain, as to suppose that he can for a moment 
 stand a comparison beside the great and popular 
 writers : if in the same walk he has succeeded 
 in making his works interesting and readable 
 it is all he aimed at. 
 
 Let any man sit down to write a work wholly 
 original,— to do what has never before been 
 done, — to record such thoughts as we have never
 
 PREFACE. XIX 
 
 before met with, and how many readers would 
 he find ? Let another, on the other hand, guide 
 such thoughts and feeUngs as spring up of 
 their own accord, through new channels, giving 
 them objects to interest and excite, making 
 their situations and changes fresh and natural ; 
 and few will pause to consider whether or not 
 the thoughts they give utterance to have been 
 recorded before. He who reads much, and 
 ponders well over what he peruses, must uncon- 
 sciously treasure up many thoughts which are 
 not his own ; we all draw more or less from 
 each other. But it is the adaptation of these 
 thoughts that gives the charm, and they seldom 
 bear even a resemblance to the expressions of 
 the Author who first struck them out. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott himself says in the general 
 preface to his novels-^" The volumes, therefore, 
 to which the present pages form a Preface, are 
 entirely the composition of the Author * * * *
 
 XX PREFACE. 
 
 with the exception of avowed quotations, and 
 such unpremeditated and involuntary pla- 
 giarisms as can scarce be guarded against by 
 one who has read and written a great deal." 
 
 But to come to the present work, many no 
 doubt will be disappointed to find that the 
 author has married Fair Rosamond to King 
 Henry. It is no secret connected with the 
 chain of the story, for upon it the whole plot of 
 the tale is chiefly founded, and the reader is made 
 acquainted with it, at almost the opening of 
 the first volume. The Author will not pause to 
 offer any reasons for so doing, for so little is 
 known of the real history of Rosamond Clifford, 
 that it would be useless. It is, however, on record 
 that Henry became acquainted with her while 
 he was only Prince, and long before he 
 married Eleanor, and it is not improbable that 
 as Rosamond's father was a baron of great 
 power, he married her privately, and kept her
 
 PREFACE. XXI 
 
 secreted at Woodstock, to prevent his marriage 
 from being known. An ingenious argument 
 might be brought to bear upon the few facts 
 which the Author has collected, but he has 
 written a romance, and not a history, and if 
 giving to Rosamond two husbands, as well as 
 Henry the same number of wives, would have 
 added an additional interest to the story, the 
 Author would have done it. Beside, he has 
 taken the sting out of his book ; and in case 
 the moral should never be discovered, he 
 would here advise no young gentleman to 
 marry two wives, nor any young lady to take 
 a husband who has another wife living ; for the 
 old adage says, " Two are company, but three 
 none." 
 
 Some may think that the author has been 
 too severe upon the character of Queen Elea- 
 nor ; but if we are to believe the old historians, 
 she was, to use a homely phrase, "no better
 
 XXll PREFACE. 
 
 than she should be." She was divorced by 
 Louis of France for intriguing with a Saracen, 
 and six weeks after her separation from that 
 monarch, married to Henry. As she was about 
 ten years older than the King, we must suppose 
 that the realms of Poictou and Aquitaine, 
 which belonged to her by descent, made more 
 impression on Henry than her charms, although 
 she was considered very beautiful. 
 
 The character of Gamas Gobbo was sug- 
 gested through reading Gilbert White's " His- 
 tory of Selbourne;" all who are acquainted 
 with that beautiful and interesting work, must 
 be familiar with the character of the poor 
 idiot, who spent all his days in summer in 
 chasing bees, and feeding on their honey-bags. 
 Nearly all the incidents connected with Thomas 
 a Becket, are historically correct ; and last spring 
 the Author traversed almost every inch of the 
 ground which the Primate is supposed to have
 
 PREFACE. XXIU 
 
 gone over in his flight from Northampton, that 
 he might the better preserve the features of the 
 scenery, which for many a weary mile is doubt- 
 less nearly the same as it was six hundred 
 years ago. 
 
 The Author, in conclusion, might say that he 
 
 has doubts about several things in the present 
 work which he would have altered, if he could 
 but have afforded the time, and in saying 
 so, speak but the truth. But to say that he 
 felt altogether incapable of his task, would 
 only be abusing his readers, and setting light 
 store by those opinions, which he has won from 
 many eminent literary men and critics of high 
 standing, whose notice in the outset of his 
 career, he scarcely dared to hope to obtain. 
 The few ill-natured rubs he has had, he regards 
 not, for the man who sits down with the firm 
 conviction that he has had more praise than he 
 deserves, must expect to meet with a few draw-
 
 XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 backs. And although his works are open to 
 criticism, yet there are points about them 
 which ought not to call down the whole weight 
 of the lash : to such belong his humble station 
 in life, his short practice in the craft of author- 
 ship, and his lack of education ; let these be 
 dealt mercifully with, and he will be content 
 to submit to all fair chastisement, for he has 
 not forgotten the old couplet, that says — 
 
 ' ' The man who printeth his poetic fits, 
 Into the public's mouth, his head commits." 
 
 T. MILLER. 
 
 Elliott's Row, Southwark, 
 Ap'il 28, 1839.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Another abbey is there by. 
 Forsooth a great nunnery ; 
 Up a river sweet as milk, 
 Where is plenty great of silk ; 
 When the summer-day is hot. 
 The young nuns do take a boat. — 
 When far from the grey abbey, 
 They make them ready for to play. 
 
 Ancient Saxon Poem. 
 
 The scene of our story opens amid the sylvan 
 solitudes of Woodstock Park, which, in former 
 days, nearly extended to the walls of Oxford, 
 and was the most ancient of these princely 
 enclosures in England, having been first 
 secluded for regal pleasure by Henry Beau- 
 clerk. Here too, in a more remote period, the 
 immortal Alfred retired to translate his beloved 
 Boetius, and brood over those mighty plans which 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 ^Z FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 he afterwards put in force to redeem his king- 
 dom from the invaders ; and many a goodly oak 
 was standing at the period of which we write, 
 that had thrown its grey and weather-beaten 
 branches over the head of the Saxon monarch. 
 The venerable Chaucer also dwelt here in a 
 later day, and many a beautiful description of 
 the surrounding scenery may yet be traced in 
 his pages, the general features of which, nature 
 herself preserved, almost up to the present 
 time. 
 
 It was on a sweet morning towards the latter 
 end of May, and about the close of the reign of 
 Stephen, that a troop of young nuns, and other 
 damsels from the neighbouring nunnery of 
 Godstow, were wandering among the green 
 bowers of Woodstock, a privilege which had 
 been granted to that convent from time imme- 
 morial. Merry were the hearts of those 
 maidens as they rambled from glade to thicket, 
 now runnino- where the sunbeams beat on the 
 dielicate greensward, or lingering a moment in 
 the faint shadows of the newly-robed trees;
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 3 
 
 and well did their loud laughter mingle with the 
 melodious song of the sky-lark, as it winged 
 its way into the clear blue of heaven, and 
 showered down a flood of music. The waters of 
 the Glyme — then a deep but narrow river — also 
 went plashing blythely between its flowery 
 banks, now falling on the ear in pleasant 
 murmurs, then gliding along scarcely audible, 
 just as it was drowned by the boisterous voices 
 of the light-hearted group, or caught up by the 
 fitful sounding of the wind. Here and there a 
 heavy bee went muttering to itself from daisy to 
 king-cup, sometimes swinging on a drooping bell, 
 then winging his way down the sun-lit coppice, 
 until he was lost amid the clustering under- 
 wood. The scene was also enlivened by herds 
 of deer of the choicest breeds, which were 
 scattered up and down in a variety of pic- 
 turesque positions, some basking in the open 
 patches of sunlight, others half hidden in the 
 green gloom, or scarcely to be distinguished, 
 saving by the glancing of their antlers, from the 
 brown boles and mossy stems by which they 
 b2 >^
 
 4 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 stood. But beautiful as the whole landscape 
 appeared, the presence of those lovely maidens 
 seemed to give it an additional charm, and to 
 thrown a life into the scenery, which it could not 
 otherwise have possessed. Here a little knot 
 were busied in gathering the blossoming may, 
 some standing a tip-toe, or jumping up to reach 
 the pink-flushed branches, which filled the very 
 air with fragrance. Further on by a broken 
 and banky eminence, which was overgrown 
 with primroses and violets, was another party 
 dispersed in just such positions as a painter 
 would love to see them placed, to break the 
 foreground of a picture. The low and over- 
 hanging branches of a few dwarf-oaks, were 
 also in quiet keeping with the scene, and 
 harmonized well with the various figures, as 
 they were stooping to gather flowers, or stand- 
 ing to arrange those they had collected. Two 
 or three, who appeared to be the most youthful 
 of the party, had retired to where a swing was 
 suspended from the arms of two sturdy trees, 
 and laughed aloud whenever they tossed their
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. O 
 
 companion high among the thick foUage. A 
 few there were, and they the eldest of the party, 
 who assumed a more staid deportment, and 
 took no share in the merriment of their com- 
 panions, but conversed together in low and 
 serious tones: these grave-looking maidens 
 also wore the sober habit of their order, and 
 from time to time cast a sharp glance on the 
 different groups around them. 
 
 No religious order in England possessed 
 more privileges than the nuns of Godstow, for 
 it was only in extreme cases that any of them 
 took the veil and vow, after the rigid manner 
 with which such things were enforced in other 
 establishments. It is moreover on record, that 
 they had the liberty of attending a fair in the 
 neighbourhood once a year, and that Robert de 
 Witham presented them with a pleasure-house 
 at Medley, whither they used to betake them- 
 selves for days together, freed from all the 
 trammels and ceremonies of the convent. 
 Many of the Norman nobles who lived in the 
 adjacent counties sent their daughters here to
 
 6 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 be educated, without any idea of their ever 
 taking the veil, but only expecting them to 
 learn a little rude embroidery, with just skill 
 enough to decypher a prayer or two from some 
 richly illuminated missal, or with the greatest 
 possible industry to be able to imitate the massy 
 black letters, in which the manuscripts were 
 written. Nor was there another nunnery in the 
 whole shire of Oxford, that could boast of so 
 much tapestry as that of Godstow : one old 
 " St. Luke" was celebrated throughout all the 
 neighbouring countries, copies of him having 
 been made for a score or two of convents, much 
 to the annoyance of the nuns, for he was the 
 very horn-book of embroidery. 
 
 Nor were convents alone dedicated to religion 
 and learning, for many a high-born maiden, 
 during these turbulent times, sought shelter 
 within their walls from the brutal barons, who 
 regarding no law that interfered with their own 
 passions, made light of bearing them away 
 captives, unless they were under the protection 
 of some religious order. A proof of this existed
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 7 
 
 in the case of Matilda, the consort of Henry the 
 First, who, before she was united to that monarch, 
 sought safety in the convent of Rumsey, in 
 Hampshire, and often appeared veiled like a 
 nun. And when the marriage was objected to, 
 and witnesses summoned before a council of 
 bishops, abbots, and monks, in the city of Roch- 
 ester, it was proved that many females in that 
 age retired into the nunneries, " and threw a 
 piece of black stuff over their heads to save 
 themselves from the lust of the Normans." 
 Nor were these places of refuge always held 
 sacred, at the period of which we write, for 
 there are instances on record, when even the 
 nuns themselves were carried away by these 
 brave, but brutal barons. 
 
 But none of these matters engrossed the 
 thoughts of the group now before us; nay, 
 they had even forgotten the advice of the old 
 Abbess Agatha, who, with her sharp vinegar 
 aspect and cold grey eyes fixed upon them as 
 they passed the postern, bid them patter a 
 prayer or two to themselves during their walk,
 
 8 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 and be sure to tell their beads whenever they 
 felt a gaiety coming over their spirits. But 
 once from her presence, they were like a troop 
 of romps released from the thraldom of school, 
 and almost ran riot with delight, regarding not 
 the shrill voices of the graver sisters, who every 
 now and then endeavoured to call them to order. 
 Two of this untamed party had wandered to- 
 gether along the banks of the river, and one of 
 them slipping off her pointed shoes, and crimson 
 hose, threw them carelessly upon the grass, and 
 extending her hand to her companion for safety, 
 ventured to plant one of her white feet in the 
 water. The stream was, however too cold, and 
 she withdrew her foot, while a silvery shivering 
 ran through her frame, and pervaded her deli- 
 cate neck and shoulders, (which were somewhat 
 freely exposed,) not unlike the sudden gust that 
 for a moment stirs the white leaves of the 
 willow, then all becomes again suddenly still. 
 While she stood with her long tunic drawn 
 aside, her white feet and ancles glancing through 
 the green grass, and her beautiful head slightly
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 9 
 
 bent forward, as if listening to the rippling and 
 plashing of the river, she bore no bad resem- 
 blance to Diana, where that goddess is repre- 
 sented as if hesitating whether or not to enter 
 the bath. She was, however, suddenly started 
 from her reverie by the loud bellowing of a stag, 
 which springing angrily from an adjoining 
 covert, canie with bowed head, and flaming eyes, 
 which denoted mischief, in a direct line to where 
 she stood. The damsel who held her hand, on 
 discovering the danger, uttered a loud scream, 
 and loosing her hold, fled along the bank, with- 
 out once deigning to look behind. Not so with 
 the bare-footed beauty; for while she half- 
 averted her lovely head, to discover the cause 
 of so sudden an alarm, she beheld the infuriated 
 animal in the act of rushing upon her, and un- 
 conscious for the moment of the danger that lay 
 before her, she suddenly bounded forward with 
 outstretched arms, and in another moment was 
 struggling with the headlong torrent. The 
 noble stag also shared the same fate, but before 
 he had been borne far by the stream, he breasted 
 B 5
 
 10 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 about and made for the shore. Fortunately at 
 this moment a horseman chanced to issue from 
 an opposite thicket, and throwing up the hawk 
 which was perched upon his wrist, he instantly 
 sprung from his saddle, and without hesitating 
 a moment, at one bound threw himself from the 
 bank into the river. Hitherto the maiden's 
 flowing drapery had kept her afloat, and had 
 just become sufficiently saturated to draw her 
 whole figure under water, as she was caught by 
 the sinewy grasp of the horseman. With one 
 of his long masculine arms he bore the drooping 
 and delicate damsel along, and with the other 
 dashed aside the rapid current, and in less time 
 than we have been occupied in the description, 
 bore her safely ashore, and laid her down 
 gently upon the sloping greensward. Meantime 
 several horsemen, equipped for hawking, had 
 reined in their steeds along the brow of the bank, 
 and stood gazing in astonishment at the object 
 before them. 
 
 The scene had now become animated and 
 picturesque to the highest degree, for several of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 11 
 
 the horsemen had dismounted, and stood in 
 bent and musing attitudes, over the beautiful 
 and senseless form, that lay outstretched on 
 the sloping bank. The dogs, too, poked their 
 sharp bright noses through wherever there 
 was an opening, as if they also were interested 
 in what was going forward ; and every now and 
 then, some noble steed suddenly jerked up his 
 graceful head, and scattered his white foam 
 upon the greensward, while the bells that orna- 
 mented the bridle, which was thrown carelessly 
 over the rider's arm, jingled again with the 
 motion. On the opposite bank stood the nuns 
 and their companions, all crowded together like 
 a herd of deer suddenly alarmed : some of them 
 were wringing their hands, and shrieking, while 
 others shouted across the water, and put so 
 many interrogations in a breath, that their 
 mingled voices produced such a variety of con- 
 fused sounds, as reminded the hearer of the 
 babbling of Babel. 
 
 But all these sounds were lost to the ear 
 of the noble stranger, who had so bravely
 
 12 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 rescued the unfortunate damsel; and he knelt 
 beside her, utterly unconscious of those around 
 him; and never bestowing a thought on him- 
 self, although he was wet to the very skin. 
 Sometimes he lifted up her head gently, and 
 while a painful anxiety (mingled with such a 
 look of tenderness as a mother casts upon her 
 dying child) overspread bis fine features, he 
 earnestly watched for the first sign of returning 
 animation. And when the first feeble breath- 
 ing came, so faint as only just to move one 
 of the silken tresses which had fallen over her 
 lips, a sudden joy broke over his face, and 
 lighted up his large blue eyes with a tenderness 
 that looked not unlike the first kindling of love. 
 There she lay, unconscious of those charms 
 which drew forth many a sigh from the breasts 
 of the group which had gathered around her: 
 even the waves, as they went plashing by, 
 seemed as if they made a struggle to bathe her 
 white and beautiful feet, or were envious at the 
 earth bearing so lovely a burden. The sun also 
 had burst forth, and shed a golden lustre through
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 13 
 
 the long green grass that fell around her head ; 
 givmg a brightness to the upper part of her face, 
 not unlike the glory surrounding a saint. Her 
 sweet lips were now slightly apart, and the 
 returning breath came over her white and pearly 
 teeth, like the gentle air stealing through a row 
 of lilies. Here and there, too, the white foam 
 bells of the river had broken over, and encrusted 
 her silken tresses; as if even they could not 
 forbear kissing such lovely locks. Her fine 
 arms also fell carelessly by her side, and as they 
 rested upon the folds of her unbound and upper 
 tunic, it required but a slight effort of fancy to 
 conjure them into the resemblance of wings, 
 and the whole figure into that of an angel, 
 sleeping. Her thin delicate eye-lids were closed 
 over those bright orbs, and showed their purple 
 and veiny lines, freaked and figured like the 
 irregular tracery of flowers. Above them spanned 
 her nobly arched and finely marked brows, just 
 varying as much from the colour of her hair 
 as a skilful painter would mark the faintest 
 shadow, without perceptibly altering the tone.
 
 14 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 The horseman, who still knelt beside her with 
 clasped hands, and watched charm after charm 
 return, seemed struck with astonishment when 
 her blue eyes unsealed their lids, as if he 
 doubted whether such a vision of beauty could 
 be mortal. 
 
 Meantime, the assembled horsemen, perceiv- 
 ing that the danger was in some measure past, 
 began to exchange looks and whispers with each 
 other. " By the mass, our leader hath pounced 
 upon a prime quarry this sweet spring morning," 
 said one in an under-tone, touching the person 
 addressed with his elbow as he spoke, " and if 
 I err not, it will need some gOodly hawk-craft 
 to win him again to his lure." Then heaving a 
 sigh, as he looked at the beautiful and recumbent 
 figure before him, he added, " Marry, he is no 
 gos-hawk to fly at any common game, but hath 
 as dainty a choice as a Barbary falcon : 'twill 
 be long before either you or I light upon so 
 pretty a piece of prey." 
 
 "Thou sayest sooth," replied the other, with 
 a smile, ''but such mallards wet not their wings
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 15 
 
 every day, as are worth a few stoopings and 
 a crossing or two. But I dare be sworn, that 
 we may all put on our hoods, and return to the 
 perch, unless,'* he added, glancing at the group 
 of females on the opposite bank, *'we have a 
 cast at yonder covey, which, by the mass, I think 
 were well worth springing." 
 
 " Such a quarry might have been safely struck, 
 if stiff Stephen sat asleep with the sceptre in his 
 hand," answered the first speaker; "but I trow it 
 would be rather a dangerous flight to take now, 
 there are so many around us. Seest thou not 
 that there are a few mass-mumblers amongst the 
 number, and that if we should chance to stumble 
 upon any of these sedge- wearing sisters, we 
 should raise as great a hubbub about our ears, 
 as if we had captured a queen bee. Aye, and 
 by the holy rood, we should have the whole 
 hive about our ears, — from old Theobald of Can- 
 terbury, — to Agatha of God stow, not a drowsy 
 monk but would spring up and bay aloud against 
 such an invasion of their sacred privileges." 
 
 "And yet thou seest," replied the other.
 
 16 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 pointing to the beautiful object before them, 
 *'that one hath been selected from their num- 
 ber, and if I read aright, it will need a stronger 
 
 power than ours to . But see," continued 
 
 he, " she revives, and — ." Here the conversa- 
 tion was carried on in a whisper. 
 
 By this time, the maiden had so far recovered 
 as to open her eyes, and from the slight shiver- 
 ing which was visible in her arms, she seemed 
 suffering from the cold. No sooner did her pre- 
 server perceive this, than he sprung up, exclaim- 
 ing, " Fool that I am, to think that so tender 
 a frame as this can bear the brunt of wind and 
 water like myself." Then springing into the 
 saddle without the aid of the stirrup, he bade 
 the nearest horseman to lift up the damsel and 
 place her before him, — adding, in an authorita- 
 tive tone, " Touch her as gently as you would a 
 young hawk, that hath not been manned ; for, 
 by the blessed saints, I will break the bones of 
 him who handleth her more roughly than he 
 would a holy rehc;" — and resting her head 
 gently ori his arm, while her long fair hair.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 17 
 
 which was unbound, fell down in clusters, and 
 mingled with the mane of the steed, he turned 
 to an attendant, and said, " Hugh, do thou ride 
 round by the bridge, and give our kind greetings 
 to the Abbess of Godstow: tell her that her 
 charge shall be placed in safety at the lodge of 
 Vincent, the verdurer's, nor will we permit 
 her to return to the nunnery, until she hath 
 recovered." And leading the way at a gentle 
 pace, he again struck into the thicket, and was 
 followed by the horsemen. 
 
 The gallant rider, who had so generously 
 rescued the lovely damsel, was a young man, 
 over whose head not more than twenty summers 
 had passed; his countenance was noble, and so 
 ruddy with health, as almost to appear dark. 
 His head was large and round, with a broad 
 brow, denoting great intellectual powers, while 
 his light round blue eyes, as they sometimes 
 slumbered in apparent softness, or sparkled 
 with a fierceness that was almost startling, 
 showed at once that his passion could be as 
 soon kindled, as his pity awakened. His
 
 18 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 arms were long and powerful for so young a 
 man, and his chest broad and square, giving 
 undoubted signs of great strength, both to act 
 and endure fatigue; his hair was of a reddish 
 brown, and closely cut behind, while a long lock 
 or two fell down in front from under his phyrgian- 
 shaped bonnet. While he took oflP his hawk- 
 ing gl ^',es to wring the moisture from his 
 light surcoat, his hands when exposed, ap- 
 peared unusually large and coarse, as if they 
 were accustomed to grasp weapons, and were 
 oftener bared to the sun and air than covered. 
 There was also something very peculiar in the 
 form of his legs and feet, the latter appearing 
 arched, and the limbs shghtly deformed; the 
 consequence of passing so many hours in the 
 saddle. His was a figure, which once seen 
 could never be forgotten ; and there was some- 
 thing in his fine noble countenance, which re- 
 sembled the maj estic features of a lion at repose. 
 Although not beyond the middle size, yet there 
 was so much natural dignity and unrestrained 
 freedom in his motion, that his figure seemed to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 19 
 
 draw the eye from off those who surrounded 
 him, and to command attention unawares, as if 
 the spirit by which he was actuated had far 
 out-grown his years. 
 
 Such was the appearance of the bold charac- 
 ter, before whom the drawbridge of the palace 
 of Woodstock fell, when he had resigned his 
 lovely burden; for during the long v s which 
 had been carried on through the reigns of Henry 
 the First and Stephen, the latter of whom had 
 but just arranged matters amicably among the 
 partizans of Matilda, it became necessary to 
 convert even the royal residences into fortresses. 
 Battlement and barbican thus sprung up at 
 Woodstock, and what had before been but the 
 hunting lodge of the different kings, was at the 
 period of which we write, a strong fortification, 
 surrounded by a moat, which was watered by 
 the river Glyme. Here Stephen had lodged the 
 principal guests who came over with Henry of 
 Anjou to settle his claims to the throne of 
 England, for it required considerable political 
 skill, and more than an ordinary degree of cau-
 
 20 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 tion, to keep peace among so many turbulent 
 spirits who had only met each other as enemies 
 through a long series of years, and in many 
 a well-fought field. But peace now reigned 
 throughout the land ; for when King Stephen lost 
 his son Eustace, he seemed to have nothing left 
 worth drawing his sword for. Prince William 
 was docile and unambitious ; and the king him- 
 self, worn down with disappointment and the 
 fatigues of a fearful war, did not long survive 
 after signing the treaty of Winchester. But with 
 these matters our story hath little to do: — 
 it is among the bustling incidents of a future 
 day that we must now carry our reader.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 O thou day o' the world, 
 
 Chain my armed neck ; leap thou, attire and all. 
 Through proof of armour to my heart, and there 
 Ride on the pants triumphing. 
 
 Antony and Cleopatra. 
 
 A LONG time must be supposed to have elapsed 
 since the incident in our first chapter took place; 
 for the beautiful maiden who so narrowly 
 escaped death, had become the bride of her 
 gallant deliverer. Happy in the possession of 
 his love, she murmured not at the intervals of 
 long absence which he was compelled to steal 
 from her, as they only served to sweeten their 
 meetings; nor did she demur at the secluded 
 manner in which her life was passed, well know- 
 ing that she possessed the heart of her young 
 and affectionate husband, and that if there were 
 secrets and periods of absence to which she
 
 22 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 must submit, the knowledge of their cause 
 would render her no happier. 
 
 Great changes had, however, taken place 
 since their union ; the stormy reign of Stephen 
 was over, and the land seemed to sleep after his 
 death, as if war itself was wearied, and had laid 
 down to slumber when its great mover cast off 
 his steel vestments for a shroud, and gave up 
 the tumult of battle for the quiet of the tomb. 
 
 Henry the Second was expected daily in 
 England, and so well had he arranged matters 
 before Stephen's death, that no attempts were 
 made to prevent his access to the throne. 
 Rumour spoke loudly of his entry, for he had 
 recently wedded Eleanor the divorced wife of 
 Louis the Seventh of France, and daughter and 
 heiress of William the Ninth, Earl of Poictou 
 and Duke of Aquitaine, and through this mar- 
 riage he had become the heir of her extensive 
 possessions, which, united to his own, stretched 
 far along the sea-coast from Pi card y to the 
 Pyrenees, and made him at once master of the 
 greater part of France. Never had any English
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 23 
 
 king possessed so much continental territory; 
 and well did the few know (who were in heart 
 opposed to his accession to the throne of 
 England,) that all their forces would be in- 
 adequate to oppose the power of such a 
 monarch, who by his own right could com- 
 mand the whole forces of Normandy, the wide 
 domains of Anjou and Maine, and place himself 
 at the head of those vast provinces which 
 extended from the Loire to the very feet of the 
 mountainous barriers of France. 
 
 All England rung again with the rumour 
 of his vast possessions. Even the disaf- 
 fected and oppressed Saxons looked up to 
 his coming with hope, for they believed that 
 he would sway the sceptre with justice, 
 and as he himself had descended on his 
 mother's side from the Saxons, trusted that 
 the animosities which had so long existed 
 between the two races, would speedily termi- 
 nate. The heart of the young bride also beat 
 high with hope, for she had received tidings 
 that her brave husband would come over in
 
 24 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Henry's train, nor had he ever before been so 
 long absent. So stood matters at the time we 
 may suppose our story commences, for the first 
 chapter was but a necessary introduction. 
 
 It was on a gusty evening in December, 
 when the snow lay deep on the ground, that the 
 young bride sat by her bower window in the 
 turret, awaiting the return of her husband, for 
 on that day he had promised to be with her, 
 should the winds prove favourable. She had 
 set off her beautiful figure to the best advantage, 
 which needed not the art of dress to enhance 
 her loveliness. Sometimes the colour fled her 
 cheeks as she listened to the loud roaring of 
 the wind, or watched the huge gnarled and 
 naked oaks, clash their iron arms together, or 
 grate against the j agged angles of the old castle. 
 Then she would uplift her blue and beautiful 
 eyes to the heavens, and watch the pale round 
 moon, struggling through the billowy clouds, 
 like a solitary ship on a wide and tempestuous 
 sea. Her ready fancy would also compare the 
 orb of night and the stormy sky, to the ship in
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 25 
 
 which her lord rode, and the billows by which 
 he was bufFetted, and ever and anon as the moon 
 was buried beneath some dark cloud, or shone 
 a moment between the lines of light, that divided 
 the black rays, her lips would move as if they 
 breathed a prayer for his safety. 
 
 In the back-ground sat her attendant, a good 
 looking merry-faced maiden, who had but just 
 passed her twentieth year ; but she also seemed 
 to have caught a portion of that sadness which 
 had settled upon the spirit of her beautiful 
 mistress. Nor could she avoid turning her 
 head occasionally in the direction where the 
 lady sat, and giving a few ejaculations, or deep 
 " hems" as if she had a mighty wish to say 
 something, yet was at a loss how to begin. 
 
 At last she fairly gave up the embroidery 
 with which she had so long busied herself, 
 trimmed the little silver lamp which stood be- 
 side her, and which the wind seemed ready to 
 extinguish at every gust, then rose and took her 
 station behind the massy chair in which her mis- 
 tress was seated. 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " He cometh not yet," she said in a low voice 
 which half startled the hearer. 
 
 A deep sigh from the, lady was her only 
 answer; then there was a long pause, and 
 neither spoke for some time, until the attendant 
 again ventured to give utterance to her thoughts, 
 and said, 
 
 " I scarce slept a wink last night until past 
 the first cock-crow, for the wind so rattled about 
 this old castle, and the trees made such a clat- 
 tering, that I fancied I heard the tramp of 
 horsemen, and twice rose to peep throngh the 
 loop-holes on the turret stair." 
 
 " I slept not at all,'* replied the lady, heaving 
 another deep sigh, *' until the cold grey morning 
 fell on the frostwork of my casement, and the 
 robin had begun his twittering song, I could not 
 sleep until the wind went down, when I thought 
 of him, who all night was tossing on the stormy 
 sea." 
 
 '* Marry, and they talk so much of the sea," 
 replied the maiden, glad that she had untied 
 her lady's tongue, " I have been on the Wye in
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 27 
 
 winter, when the winds have been blowing aloud, 
 and crossed the wide Thames on a dark and 
 stormy night; and if the sea is broader, assuredly 
 the river stretches as far length-wise, and I 
 never was afeard of the white waves that rose 
 around us." 
 
 *'Thou hast never been on the sea, my dear 
 Maud," answered the lady, '* and knowest 
 nothing of that dread loneliness which settles 
 upon the spirit, when the last headlands have 
 disappeared, and one wide waste of tumultuous 
 waters are heaving around, bounded only by 
 the dull and lowering sky. Thou hast not felt 
 that mighty dread, which overwhelms the timid 
 wayfarer on the ocean, who watches the little 
 ship stagger from wave to wave, or heard 
 the shrill wind singing through her cordage, 
 until the masts bend again like a reed in the 
 storm. Thou hast not looked around upon the 
 pathless waters, where nothing moved but the 
 black hull on which we stood, and the rolling 
 mountains of waves, the smallest of which 
 might close over the barque for ever, and leave
 
 28 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 not a vestige to tell that ought living ever glided 
 above those depths. But more; thou never 
 hadst one whom thou didst love dearer than 
 thine own life, journeying over those perilous 
 paths, and thou far away, dreaming of the death 
 to which he is exposed, or pining to be a par- 
 taker of his dangers." 
 
 " Mayhap I have not," replied Maud some- 
 what tartly ; " but when thou wentest to 
 Normandy with thy father, I threw oil on the 
 waters of the Wye when the waves were rough, 
 and sent up feathers into the air on which I had 
 signed the cross, that thy voyage might be 
 smooth, and thy return quick; nor did I ever 
 sleep without uttering three aves for thee.'* 
 
 *'Thou art a kind-hearted maiden," answered 
 her mistress with a faint smile, placing her hand 
 familiarly on her attendant's arm, *' and lovest 
 me like thy very self. But hark ! — assuredly 
 I heard the tramp of a steed sounding as if its 
 footsteps were muffled by the snow ?'* 
 
 The ears of love are light, and what to Maud 
 seemed but as the sighing of the wind, or the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 29 
 
 clashing of the branches, had to her mistress's 
 ear different music, nor was it long before she 
 heard the warder summoned to the barbican by 
 the blast of a bugle — the chains of the draw- 
 bridge rattle, and the heavy portcullis up- 
 heaved. 
 
 Like a young fawn springing forward to the 
 hind, which it first perceives, after having 
 searched through glade and thicket; so did that 
 lovely lady bound down the turret stair — swing 
 open the ponderous and iron-studded doors 
 which, at any other time, she could scarcely 
 have found strength to have opened, — and reach 
 the vaulted and gloomy postern, just as the 
 horseman, encumbered with heavy armour, 
 alighted from his foam-flecked and panting steed. 
 The fastenings of his helmet seemed to fly loose 
 as if by magic, and in an instant her arms were 
 around his mailed neck, and after a long and 
 fervent embrace, the knight lifted up his eyes 
 to heaven, and seemed breathing forth a silent 
 prayer. He had not come alone, for two 
 attendants, well mounted and armed, though
 
 30 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 not SO heavily as himself, stood without the 
 barbican, not so far distant, however, but that 
 they might behold the meeting between the 
 knight and his lady. 
 
 The countenance of the noble warrior seemed 
 to have undergone a great change, since the day 
 that he rescued his lovely lady from death. It 
 was not an alteration of features, but some 
 indescribable dignity seemed to sit upon him. 
 He looked as if the weight of a nation sat upon 
 his brow^, and seemed worthy to bear so over- 
 whelming a load. But that look vanished 
 when he entered the castle, and had long and 
 fixedly scanned the angelic countenance of his 
 bride, and there seemed to steal over him a kind 
 of cloudiness, as if the moody spirit warred 
 against it, and was still shining serenely on, 
 unconscious that a cloud rested between itself 
 and the beholder. Her presence seemed to fill 
 him with pleasure, yet while he gazed upon her, 
 it was too visible that there^were other thoughts 
 mingled with his happiness, and that these cast 
 a shadow over his present joys. But this again 
 by degrees vanished, and he gave way to the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 31 
 
 full flow of his feelings in many a silent em- 
 brace, and in those deep brief ejaculations that 
 spring only from the heart. 
 
 "Thou seemest wearied, my love/' said she, 
 with a look that would have cheered up the 
 worst of foot-beaten pilgrims that ever wearied 
 himself in the fulfilment of a penance. He 
 would have replied, but her own sweet lips 
 checked his utterance; for she hung upon him 
 like a bee, revelling in the bell of some favourite 
 flower. " I knew thou wouldst come at last," 
 continued she; looking so lovingly at him, that 
 his very heart shook with its own weight of love. 
 " I shall hang around thy neck now instead of 
 thy shield," added she; leaning her whole weight 
 upon him, which seemed no more than the 
 blossom to the tree. " Thou wilt not go forth 
 without me again, amid danger, and leave my 
 poor heart forlorn and aching; and take away 
 that which I ought to guard. Thou wilt not 
 leave me again to grieve so long for thine ab- 
 sence: I know thou wilt not." He only replied 
 by pressing her closer to his mailed bosom ; and 
 she returned the caress with an earnestness that
 
 32 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 echoed from heart to heart, as they vibrated in 
 unison with each other. " Take off thine ar- 
 mour," said she; attempting with her long white 
 fingers to remove the hauberk : " Why didst 
 thou place this cold mail between thy heart and 
 mine after such a long absence?" 
 
 The warrior replied not, for his heart seemed 
 too full to speak ; but linking his fingers to- 
 gether behind her waist, while she leant back, 
 gazed upon her for a moment or two in silence : 
 then again pressed her lips, and bowing his head 
 upon her shoulder, hugged her closely to his 
 bosom. He murmured a few low words upon 
 her ear, but their purport was inaudible; neither 
 could they express half so much as that long, 
 silent, and fervent pressure, — the dumb but 
 thrilling eloquence of Love. And while her long 
 silken locks fell over the linked mail in which 
 his arms were sheathed, and her own white naked 
 arms were firmly locked around his gorget 
 and habergeon, and her own beautiful face look- 
 ing unutterable love into his manly and replying 
 countenance, she seemed like the figure of Peace
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 33 
 
 newly alighted upon the earth, imploring the 
 God of Battle to throw aside his armour, and 
 fly with her to some tranquil solitude, where the 
 voice of war never sounded. 
 
 " Take off thine armour, my love," continued^ 
 she, in a voice so low and sweet, that it thrilled 
 like plaintive music through his heart, and he 
 seemed spell-bound under its utterancee " Un- 
 loose these envious buckles, and rough rivets, 
 and rest thine head upon me. Thou seemest 
 weary; come and stretch thyself upon yonder 
 couch, and I will gaze my fill at thee while thou 
 sleepest." 
 
 "Mine eyes would never close, my sweet 
 one," replied he, in a voice soft and tremulous 
 with emotion, *' while thine were bending over 
 me; but keep up a jealous watch, lest thine 
 should steal their light, for if they once closed 
 upon thine image, they would never open again 
 for fear it should escape them." 
 
 " An' thou wilt take my image to thy heart, 
 as I have thine, 'twill never want to stray," 
 rephed she, unbuckHng his coat of mail, 
 c 5
 
 34 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 "Thou seemest anxious to disburthen me of 
 mine armour," said he, assisting her to unloose 
 the fastenings: '* Thou little dreamest^hat this 
 hauberk hath borne the brunt of many a blow; 
 and repelled many a shaft, that might have 
 found lodgment elsewhere." 
 
 " Then will I have it hung up to look upon 
 when thou art away," said she, smiling, "and 
 thy face will obey the summons of my fancy and 
 
 readily fill the helmit, and I shall But 
 
 no," — continued she, in an altered tone of voice, 
 piling the armour on the floor, then chaining his 
 neck with her arms, and hanging upon him, 
 (a load with which a god would willingly have 
 been encumbered) — " thou wilt not leave me 
 again?" 
 
 " Never for so long a space," answered he, 
 " unless the call is most urgent." 
 
 " But why wilt thou leave me at all?" said 
 she, seating herself beside him on the large oaken 
 settle, and leaning on him familiarly. "Oh! 
 thou but little knowest, what I have fancied in 
 thy absence ; sometimes dreaming of thee all
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 35 
 
 night long; — seeing thee fall in the battle, or 
 wrecked on the ocean ; — watched beside thee 
 wound e^ or dying; — now trembling with af- 
 fright, then flying to save thee. Oh ! say thou 
 wilt not leave me again, to become subject to 
 these fears. Assuredly King Henry hath knights 
 enow among his followers to attend him, who 
 have no aching heart to leave behind. But 
 say, shall I not accompany thee when thou 
 goest into Normandy again, for thou knowest 
 that Queen Eleanor will need a few ladies for 
 companions; and perad venture through the love 
 thou sayest the King holds for thee, I may be 
 enabled to accompany thee to Normandy." 
 
 *' We will speak of these matters anon, sweet 
 lady/' said the knight, somewhat troubled ; 
 " but tell me now," added he, running his fingers 
 through her hair, " hast thou not a wish to see 
 Henry's court, the gold and glitter of his knights, 
 and show thine own figure among the ladies of 
 the land, as much as to be with me?" 
 
 " Nay, my valiant lord," replied she, ** I have 
 no wish to see these things; for well do I wot
 
 36 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 that Henry hath not a nobler knight in his train 
 than thyself; and as for his court, I would 
 keep far from it, if I may but have thine image 
 before me." 
 
 *' Nor hath Eleanor so lovely a lady in her 
 train as thou art," muttered the knight half to 
 himself. '* But it pleaseth me to find that thy 
 inclinations lead thee not to mingle with these 
 empty pageants. What would st thou have me 
 to do, could I follow thy wishes?" 
 
 ''Nothing until thou hadst fulfilled thine 
 own," replied she. 
 
 " But, what if I had none of my own," in- 
 quired he, "but gave myself up to thy guid- 
 ance?" 
 
 "That would be too great a bliss," replied 
 she. " Thou lovest hunting; sometimes I would 
 ride by thy side, to witness thy manly feats in 
 the field, or I would finger behind, to see that 
 thy meals were in readiness when thou didst 
 return. I would lean on the6, and lead thee forth 
 into the pleasant meadows in the sweet summer 
 time; or seated on some flowery bank, hear
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 37 
 
 thee tell of dangers thou hast undergone, — weep 
 for pity at the perils thou hast encountered, and 
 at night pray to the Virgin for having protected 
 thee. I would sit and watch thy wishes, and 
 only think how I could make thee happy. Thou 
 shouldst be my king, and I would be thy only 
 subject, — and all my servitude should be love." 
 "And a happy monarch I should reign!" 
 answered the knight, pressing his hand to his 
 brow. "Alas," continued he, in a deep mourn- 
 ful voice, " I am unworthy of a love like thine ; 
 ambition hath cast its bitter spell around me; 
 I have bartered my peace at its shrine : I have 
 lifted the intoxicating cup to ray lips, and, 
 though bitter the draught to the palate, it must 
 be my constant potion through life. I know thou 
 lovest me; — but oh ! ill can I requite thy faithful 
 love. Thou must be my land-mark, the anchor 
 of all my hopes ; the resting-place that I must 
 fly to from all my care, — my only comfort. 
 While to thee I am but a deep and — " He 
 folded her again to his bosom, and heaving a 
 deep sigh, remained silent.
 
 38 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 "Oh! speak not thus sadly," said she, re- 
 turning the deep caress ; " I will be all thou 
 wishest me, and crave in return thy love, a 
 costly equivalent for so poor a guerdon. I will 
 lend thee for the service of the King ; thou shalt 
 move in thy high destination, and I will not 
 murmur : but thou shalt pay homage for my 
 love; own that thou boldest thyself from me, 
 and lose no day on which thou canst escape to 
 pay fealty. Holy Mary shield me!" exclaimed 
 she, suddenly bursting into tears, and burying 
 her face in his bosom, " why do I talk thus, 
 when my heart is nearly broken through fear ! 
 Oh! tell me what thou meanest?" 
 
 " It is over now/' said he, arising and gently 
 unloosing her arms. " I knew not what I said, 
 so deep is my grief at the thought of parting 
 with thee again, to-morrow." 
 
 " To-morrow !" echoed she, springing up in 
 alarm : " Oh! say thou didst but jest with me; 
 to-morrow will still be to-morrow, and so on 
 throughout all space. Thou wilt stay with me 
 many to-morrows, wilt thou not?"
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 39 
 
 " I would never leave thee, dearest," answered 
 he, ''did not my country demand my presence; 
 believe me I could live happy in the lowliest 
 grange, if I had but thee to share it. But I 
 must away on the morrow, it may be but for a 
 brief space." 
 
 " There is some secret which thou fearest to 
 tell me," said she, looking fondly on his noble 
 countenance. " Oh ! that thou didst but know 
 the strength of my love ; thou wouldst not linger 
 long ere thou didst name it." 
 
 " I doubt thee not/' replied he in a mournful 
 voice ; " and I may put thy affections to the 
 trial too soon." 
 
 '* Mayest thou find some cause of import 
 enough to put it to the very rack," said she ; 
 " I would that were the worst that might 
 befall thee. And yet I could not love thee 
 enough." 
 
 *' An I were to tell thee," said he recovering 
 his spirits, after having taken a hearty draught 
 from the wine-cup ; " That I must leave thee 
 for two years, wouldst thou not forget me after
 
 40 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 SO long a period, and take to thyself a new 
 lord/' 
 
 " I should need a new heart first," replied 
 she, leaning on his shoulder, *' and a forgetful- 
 ness of all that hath been. No, this could never 
 come to pass, were I to live to grow grey." 
 
 " What then if I were dead ?" continued he, 
 " thinkest thou that thou couldst stand a siege 
 that would outdo that of the famous Penelope?" 
 
 " An thou wert to die,'* replied she, in a sweet 
 mournful voice ; " I should survive none of 
 these trials : hope of thy return once fled, I 
 should follow thee to the grave." 
 
 "Well, then, were my heart to become es- 
 tranged from thee," continued he, with an 
 affected lightness, in which nevertheless there 
 was a deep emotion ; " wouldst thou not then 
 turn thy thoughts to some other object more 
 worthy of thy love?" 
 
 " I have given thee my heart, all my affection," 
 replied she, with a sigh. ^"It is no gift that 
 I can ever recall. I might pine and droop 
 in sorrow at thy neglect—but no," added she,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 41 
 
 clinging yet closer to him, *' thou wilt never for- 
 get me." 
 
 " But were I to take another in thy stead," 
 argued he, proceeding like a man who ventures 
 upon ice, expecting that the very next stride 
 will immerse him in the water, *' would not that 
 cause thee to despise rae for ever ?" 
 
 *' It would break my heart," answered she, 
 " and I should die ; but I should die as I have 
 lived, loving thee alone ;" and she burst into 
 tears, and buried her beautiful face in his 
 bosom. 
 
 "Nay ! nay !" continued he, ''ill betide my 
 tongue, that could thus wantonly give thee a 
 moment's pain. Trust me, I did but try thy 
 sweet temper, to see how much it would brook. 
 And now I would brave the anger of a whole 
 world for thee, unworthy although I am of thy 
 love." 
 
 '• Nay, speak not thus," replied she, com- 
 forted by his words. "The life I possess was 
 of thy giving, and it cannot be too much that I 
 devote it to loving thee, when thou hast given
 
 42 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 me thyself. But thou speakest of trials : ah ! 
 thou knowest not how much a woman dare ven- 
 ture, when her love is the prize to be struggled 
 for, and he on whom all her happiness hangs, is 
 hard bestead, and needeth her aid." 
 
 " I will gage body and soul on thy love," said 
 he, sinking down upon the couch, ''and may 
 the malison of Heaven alight upon me if all that 
 I have drawn down upon my head, cause me 
 to relinquish so costly a pearl." 
 
 Wearied with the long journey which he had 
 that day undergone, he was soon asleep, while 
 his fair wife bent over him like a guardian 
 spirit, sent down to watch his slumbers. His 
 was not, however, the unbroken repose of sleep, 
 for his spirit seemed restless, and his thoughts 
 ill at ease, while his lips breathed half-audible 
 words : sometimes they uttered the war-cry of 
 England, then issued brief and bold commands: 
 then they spoke the soft expressions of love, 
 and in sleep his fancy held converse with the 
 beautiful watcher who bent over him. So he 
 came and returned again, and weeks passed
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 43 
 
 away in which nothing occurred that comes with- 
 in the compass of our story. But there were, 
 at times, a cloud ' upon his brow, and a weight 
 hanging around his heart, which came upon him 
 unawares ; and many a time that fair lady re- 
 tired to weep apart, when her husband had 
 gone.
 
 44 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Up goeth the heme into the sunnie skie, 
 
 Up goes the hawke, and upward manie an eye ; 
 
 To watche the stoop and mount, and see them flie. 
 
 The quarry tries to soar above his peer, 
 
 The falconer whoops, his speckled hawke to cheer, — 
 
 No bush or brake above to shelter there. 
 
 Jokling's Gay Ger-falcon. 
 
 A SWEET spring morning with its primrose- 
 coloured sky broke softly over the massy 
 turrets of the old castle, and though its 
 principal inmates still slept, the drowsy warders 
 dragged their weary forms along the high-piled 
 battlements, and by many a gape, and stretching 
 of the arms, told how welcome would bea relieve- 
 guard, sunrise, and sleep. A thousand birds in 
 the adjacent coverts had burst forth into song 
 at the first glimmering of day, and the dusky 
 rooks went sailing and cawing over the half- 
 lighted fields in quest of food, awaking by their
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 45 
 
 loud uproar, the recumbent sheep that dotted 
 the various pastures. As the daylight spread, 
 the figures of a serf or two might be dis- 
 tinguished issuing from the rude huts at the foot 
 of the castle, and wending away to their various 
 occupations over field and woodland. At length 
 the sun arose and " firing the proud tops of the 
 eastern pines,'* glanced ''goldenly" upon the 
 arms and armour of the soldiers as they moved 
 wearily along battlement and turret: hill and 
 tree and stream caught the bursting lustre of his 
 beams, and stood out before his glory, as if they 
 had become instinct with life, and were suddenly 
 awakened by his presence. 
 
 Before the outer barrier of the castle, three 
 men were already in waiting, and from the anxious 
 glances which they cast from time to time on 
 the opposite towers, it was evident that they 
 waited the pleasure of some of the inmates, to 
 jom in the royal and gallant sport of hawking. 
 A groom held two beautiful horses ready 
 caparisoned for the noble sport ; one, a light 
 graceful jennet, was decorated with a splendid
 
 46 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 foot-cloth, the usual appendage when a lady 
 took the saddle. Two or three dogs, such as 
 were trained to that particular sport, were chas- 
 ing each other along the greensward, while the 
 falconer stood with his hawks around him, all 
 hooded and perched on a light frame, and ready 
 to be unloosed at a moment's notice. Among 
 them might be distinguished, the falcon-gentle, 
 and the ger-falcon, at that time so celebrated for 
 flying at the game by rivers ; the saker, the 
 lanner, the tercel and the musket, stood also 
 each upon his separate perch, ready to fly at 
 whatever quarry they might chance to start ; for 
 in those days they were not so particular as to 
 striking only at such game as might be in sea- 
 son. It was curious to watch the actions of the 
 various hawks, as they stood perched around 
 the falconer : some preening themselves, or 
 shaking open their beautiful brown wings, as 
 they felt the warm sunshine, while one or two of 
 a nobler cast pricked up their hooded heads, or 
 held them aside, as if listening to the barking 
 of the dogs, or endeavouring to catch up any
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 47 
 
 other sound which gave hopes of the approach- 
 ing sport. 
 
 '* What springlad is this, worthy falconer," 
 said the groom, ** that we are summoned hither 
 to attend at this early hour 1 wottest thou any- 
 thing of his quality?" 
 
 "Not a jot I," replied the jolly falconer, a 
 brave Saxon, whose face was ruddy with health, 
 and the model of good humour: "nevertheless I 
 hold him a hawk good at the mount, and no 
 mean bird at the stoop, while we are to await 
 him by the king's orders, and for my part, 
 whether he be falcon-gentle, merlin, hobby, or 
 gos-hawk, I care not. I mean to man him 
 gently, and keep him from dropping asleep this 
 sweet spring morning, and make him acquainted 
 with the gentle and loving countenance of Rufus 
 Rantin, falconer to King Stephen, a king who 
 loved fighting better than hawking, and whom 
 it hath please death to call to the lure. Ha ! 
 ha! ha!" 
 
 " Why thou great gos-herd, what hast thou 
 found to laugh at saving thine own folly?" said
 
 48 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the groom, screwing up his thin miserable 
 features into such a sneer, that his high cheek- 
 bones seemed to project forth as far as his 
 sharp hooked nose, — " making a long homily 
 about thy hawkship, thou poor paltry bird- 
 feeder, — and dragging as many of thy out- 
 landish falconry phrases into thy speech, as 
 if thou thoughtest that all mankind were 
 hawks, or understood all thy gibberish." 
 
 *' Peace, thou man of bots and spavins," said 
 the good-humoured falconer, laughing at his 
 irritable companion; "thou dost not assui'edly 
 think of naming thy paltry profession beside 
 mine, or mentioning thy mangy broken-kneed 
 palfreys on the same day with my bonny brown 
 hawks?" 
 
 ." And why not, master Rantin Rufus ?" said 
 the groom, speaking as if ready to bite him. 
 
 "Why not?" echoed Rufus, with well af- 
 fected astonishment. " Why not ? — a murrain 
 on thine ignorance, to put forth so foolish a 
 question. Marry, and whenever, didst thou see 
 a sweet lady, take up one of thy botchy and
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 49 
 
 mangy four-legged monsters, and place it upon 
 her own fair wrist, lure it with her sweet 
 voice, look lovingly into its round dark eyes, 
 and stroke and play with it, as if it was a very 
 child." 
 
 '' And did never fair lady love a good palfrey?" 
 inquired the gruff groom, ** nor speak loving to it? 
 Who would run after thy lousy kites, without a 
 good jennet, or hold them upon the wrist, if 
 they had once seen them bad of the nares, me- 
 grims, or fillanders, — answer me Rantin Rufus? 
 and cast thy gorge, like a foul kite as thou 
 art." 
 
 '*Ah ! thou wouldst make but a sorry falconer, 
 with that crusty humour of thine," continued 
 Rufus, his good temper unruffled : '* devil a bird 
 wouldst thou ever get to come to either the 
 lure or voice. As to making them bold and 
 familiar with thy looks, marry, thou wouldst 
 scare them as bad as a musket-hawk doth the 
 bird in the bush over which it stoops." 
 
 "Thou hast never a hawk in thy mews," 
 answered the groom, that will so readily answer 
 
 VOL, I. D
 
 60 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 to either thy call or lure, as the meanest capul 
 in my care. Look thee, bragging Rantin -/' so 
 saying, he spoke to the beautiful jennet, which 
 was already caparisoned for a lady, and the 
 noble animal replied by a variety of actions, 
 such as rubbing its graceful head against the 
 groom's breast, moving its tail, and many other 
 similar signs, which these sagacious crea- 
 tures adopt to show that kindness is not lost 
 upon them. "There, thou seest that a good 
 horse knoweth his friend as well as e'er an 
 hawk on thy perch," said the groom, with a 
 grin which was his best apology for a smile. 
 
 '^ Turn him loose like this," replied the fal- 
 coner, throwing up a beautiful hawk, " and see 
 if he will settle on thy wrist at a whistle, or 
 obey thy call ;" saying which, he gave so shrill 
 a whistle by the aid of his fingers, that the 
 whole valley rang again with the sound. But 
 the falcon paid no regard to his call ; for just 
 then a window in the eastern turret was thrown 
 open, and the hawk instantly made a stoop, and
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 51 
 
 alighted upon the wrist of the knight, who was 
 already equipped for the saddle. 
 
 A grim smile passed over the features of the 
 groom at this triumph, — and as Rufus put 
 on a kind of puzzling look, which whether it 
 was shame at being thus taken aback in his 
 own boast, or seen in the act of throwing up a 
 falcon before the knight had given the order, were 
 difficult to tell. He, however, cast his eyes upon 
 the ground, and began to whistle a low ancient 
 air, at which the groom said, " Surely thou hast 
 forgotten the true chaunt, Rufus, or dost whistle 
 on the wrong side of the mouth; or mayhap she 
 cannot hear thee; show her the lure." 
 
 But Rufus was not one to be long daunted at 
 an accident like this, and was about to reply, 
 when the grating of the portcullis as it was up- 
 lifted, and the rattle of the chains of the draw- 
 bridge as it fell, announced the forthcoming 
 of the knight and lady ; and in another minute 
 they w^ere both mounted on their palfreys, and 
 the whole group were in motion. 
 
 «2 %^ 
 
 ^^'^^O 
 ^^%^
 
 52 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 It was a gallant sight to behold that little 
 group wending merrily along in the pleasant 
 sunshine, when they entered the Park of Wood- 
 stock ; and to hear the tramping of the steeds, 
 and the jingling of the bridles ; and to see the 
 jocund dogs bounding to and fro, as if the whole 
 had been got up for their own pleasure. There 
 was, however, a cloud upon the brow of the 
 noble horseman, and once or twice he shot off 
 at full speed from his fair companion, as if he 
 was unconscious of her presence; then remember- 
 ing himself, he was again as suddenly by her 
 side. They rode with the hawks perched upon 
 their wrists, and the hoods unloosed, ready 
 to cast them forth whenever the game ap- 
 peared. 
 
 They gained the very extremity of the Park 
 without starting a feather ; indeed it seemed as 
 much the object of the horseman to enjoy the 
 ride and the conversation of his fair companion, 
 as to start the quarry. At length they traversed 
 the banks of the Glyme, and the falconer made 
 a signal, for he espied a heron, which had
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 53 
 
 taken its solitary station on the sedge, where 
 k was on the look out for prey. 
 
 Up flew the heron, his long legs stretched out 
 like rudders, to steer him through the wide 
 space; after him shot the falcons, never once 
 turning their heads, but making way against the 
 wind, that they might be the better prepared for 
 the stoop, and seeming to fly a contrary way to 
 the quarry. 
 
 Each flew so high, that they appeared only 
 mere specks in the distance; and although 
 the gallant ger-falcons still gained upon 
 their prey, yet the heron flapped his bulkier 
 form to an amazing height, until at length they 
 both dropped like stones, and the nearest falcon, 
 in landing, missed the quarry. The flight was 
 again speedily renewed, and with as much ap- 
 parent vigour on each part; but the elevation 
 they gained next time was considerably beneath 
 their former ascent. The heron this time availed 
 itself of the wind, and descended at a slower 
 pace than before ; while the falcon, hovering a 
 moment in its flight, to make sure in the stoop-
 
 54 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 ing, fell plump downward, as a ball of lead, and 
 in so direct a line as to alight upon the heron, 
 ere it had reached the earth. Uttering a shrill 
 harsh cry as it saw the enemy descend, the 
 heron, by a dexterous motion, threw itself on its 
 back in the air ; and the noble falcon alighted 
 with all its force upon the beak of the bird, and 
 was pierced through the body. A moment or two 
 the flutter of their wings bore them along in the 
 struggle, then they fell heavily together on the 
 field. 
 
 But scarcely had our little party time to recal 
 their hawks, before they were startled by as gay 
 a cavalcade as ever rode forth with bell on 
 bridle; who came up at full speed, and in dash- 
 ing style, along the wooded avenue which led in 
 the direction of Oxford, and from which place 
 the party had that morning ridden. Conspi- 
 cuous among this new group was a lady, who 
 managed her steed (which was a high-spirited 
 animal) with masterly skill, and sat as firm in 
 her saddle as a knight who had rushed into 
 a hundred encounters. Of her looks we shall
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 55 
 
 here say nothing, saving that they mingled with 
 great beauty a spirit of daring and deep decision. 
 
 When the cavalcade first came in sight of our 
 hawking party, it seemed a race between the 
 lady and one of her attendants which should first 
 reach them ; but a stern " Back sirrah!" from 
 the hps of.the haughty female caused the horse- 
 man to fall behind among the retinue, and the 
 proud beauty rode up and reined in her steed 
 full in the face of the knight, just as a favourite 
 hawk was alighting upon his wrist. 
 
 " Your highness has delayed your sport be- 
 yond the usual hour," said the lady, addressing 
 the knight, who was none other than King 
 Henry the Second, and the speaker herself 
 Queen Eleanor. We left the Council awaiting 
 your presence in the palace of Oxford, and fear- 
 ing that your Grace might injure yourself by 
 pondering so much alone over your state affairs 
 at Woodstock, rode down that we might share 
 your company during your return. But you 
 have, I perceive," added she, darting a fierce 
 glance at the lady, who now, pale as death, drew
 
 56 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 up her steed beside the monarch, " no need of 
 our company." 
 
 Had the king suddenly awakened from slum- 
 ber, and beheld an adder, with its jaws expanded 
 ready to spring upon him, he could not have 
 evinced more surprise and alarm than at the 
 unexpected appearance of the Queen. It was, 
 however, but for a moment; for, like a man 
 situated as we have supposed, who sees in an 
 instant that the only chance of safety depends 
 either upon immediate flight or at once grappling 
 with the enemy; so did he turn with an angry 
 brow upon the Queen, and demanded to know 
 " whether it behoved the king of England to 
 consult his nobles at their pleasure, or was the 
 more fitting to wait his own V 
 
 ^' Methinks our presence hath brought the 
 plague with it this morning," continued the 
 undaunted Eleanor, casting her eyes upon the 
 lady, who had by this time relinquished the 
 reins of her palfrey, and would have fallen 
 from her saddle, had she not been caught by 
 Rufus Rantin; — " for that fair companion which
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 57 
 
 your highness hath chosen, and which, whether 
 to call maid or mistress, we have not yet heard 
 your royal pleasure ; seems ill to brook our 
 countenance; although I dare be sworn that 
 there are times when she hath not such great 
 objections to royalty." 
 
 Without hearing the half of Eleanor's sarcas- 
 tic remarks, and as if entirely unconscious of 
 her presence, Henry threw his arm around the 
 fair and fainting form of his companion, and ex- 
 claimed, " Rosamond! dearest Rosamond ! what 
 aileth thee?" and with that characteristic energy 
 which marked all his actions, he instantly sprung 
 from the saddle, and taking the senseless 
 beauty in his arms, stood with his eyes rivetted 
 upon her pale countenance, while her head 
 rested on his bosom. 
 
 "A marvellous pretty name!" said the Queen 
 apart to one of her attendants, " and a face that 
 looks as if all her life she had fed upon milk :" 
 then added in a louder tone, " We ride to Ox- 
 ford, for our presence seems not over-welcome 
 here; — hath your Grace any commands?'' 
 d5
 
 58 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Ride to Sathanus an* ye will!" thundered out 
 the fiery monarch, his blood now boiling with 
 anger, for he could no longer endure her taunts. 
 So stood the King of England, pressing one of 
 Eve's frail daughters to his bosom, and wishing 
 the other at the devil, as many a man has since 
 that day done, who has been over-blessed with 
 women. 
 
 Meantime Eleanor galloped back through 
 the green and forest-like paths of the chase of 
 Woodstock ; her countenance calm, but her 
 bosom working like a fiery volcano which is on 
 the eve of an eruption.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 59 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Mount, mount my thoughts above the earthly pitch 
 Of vassal minds, whilst strength of woman's wit 
 Props my ambition up, and lifts mj'- hope 
 Above the flight of envy. Let the base 
 And abject minds be pleased with servile bondage ; 
 My breast breeds not a thought that shall not fly 
 The lofty heights of towering majesty. 
 
 The Queen and Concubine. 
 
 Queen Eleanor turned her palfrey tlirough the 
 postern which led to Oxford, without once 
 deigning to approach the palace of Woodstock ; 
 nor could there be any doubt of the mood in 
 which she had left Henry, as she never once 
 slackened rein, until she had gained the royal 
 residence ; for in spite of her calm brow, her 
 unusual silence told too well the state of her 
 feelings. Her attendants also assumed the 
 same taciturn mood, for they well knew that a 
 storm was gathering, and on whom it first might 
 alight was almost a matter of chance. The
 
 60 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Queen, however, reserved her rage, and entered 
 the hall of the palace in silence, not even 
 deigning to exchange a nod of recognition with 
 any of the numerous domestics who were drawn 
 up to honour her entrance. 
 
 When she had gained the inner hall, she 
 threw herself for a few moments into a massy 
 oaken seat, and parting her hair in front, for it 
 had slipped from the braid by the motion of 
 riding, she placed her elbow upon the arm of 
 the seat, and heaved a deep sigh. She then 
 arose and paced the apartment slowly and 
 thoughtfully, until at length she halted by a 
 pedestal, on which stood the figures of the 
 Virgin and Child, carved in solid oak, and 
 executed in a far superior manner to the general 
 productions of the age. She regarded not, 
 however, the holy emblems by which she stood, 
 her thoughts having wandered to King Henry 
 and Fair Rosamond, and only bent upon 
 accomplishing some scheme which might lead 
 to a full development of the position in which 
 they stood with each other. While she thus
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 61 
 
 paused motionless by the holy images, she 
 bore no bad resemblance to a priestess waiting 
 beside the shrine of her deity, in expectation of 
 its uttering some sacred mandate, which she 
 only waited to obey. The sunbeams also shed 
 a holy splendour through the painted windows, 
 and gave a kind of religious light to the vaulted 
 and gloomy apartment, which corresponded 
 well with the solemn cast of her countenance. 
 Her lips were also in constant motion ; but the 
 words she uttered were inaudible, as if they stole 
 from her unawares, or the anger which she had 
 so long treasured to herself came too confused 
 for utterance, — a rolling together of thoughts 
 without order, sounding like the far-off murmur- 
 ing of a storm. 
 
 Her figure also, accorded well with the scene, 
 for she was tall and commanding, with a counte- 
 nance which, although handsome in its repose, 
 wore a somewhat stern expression, that seemed 
 partly aided by her almost olive complexion, 
 which had no doubt been deepened by the 
 scorching suns of Palestine. Her hair was black
 
 6*2 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 as the darkest thunder-cloud and had been plait- 
 ed in front, much after the present fashion ; the 
 braids were brought low down her lofty brow, 
 thereby aiding the heavy and thoughtful appear- 
 ance of the forehead. Her eyes were also large 
 and dark, and whenever she was excited, flashed 
 with a fierce and wild brightness, that almost 
 appalled the beholder ; and as she had mingled 
 in the camp of the crusaders, she had caught a 
 portion of the spirit of those brave warriors, and 
 moved with almost a masculine dignity. Nor 
 was there in the tones of her voice anything that 
 approached the feminine ; but on the contrary a 
 deep mellowness, which, although not disagree- 
 able, seemed better adapted to call a war-cry 
 than chaunt a bower-lay. She seemed a meet 
 mother for a race of warriors, one who could 
 only give suck to the brave, as if her breasts 
 were the very fountains of courage, and she 
 herself the great nurse of battle. And so much 
 did she carry out this feeling in all her actions, 
 that tradition records her quelling the cries of 
 her son Richard, (afterwards Coeur de Lion,) by
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 63 
 
 clanging a battle-axe on an helmet, and giving 
 him for toys, shields and swords, on which he 
 all day long kept up a constant clattering, and 
 was soon able to tilt at his nurse, and put to 
 flight any of the menials. She also carried a 
 richly cased dagger in her belt, and if rumour 
 spoke truth, it had more than once tasted 
 blood; nor could any one look at her for a 
 moment and feel a doubt that she would 
 hesitate to wield such a weapon if occasion 
 required. 
 
 Queen Eleanor, however, had undergone a 
 few trials, which naturally soured a disposition 
 originally proud and unyielding like hers. 
 Brought up with the full conviction that she 
 was the heiress of William the Ninth, Earl of 
 Poictou, and Duke of Aquitaine, and that she 
 would one day be in possession of the whole 
 western coast of France, from where the Loire 
 first poured its waters, to where the Pyrenees 
 upheaved their hilly barriers — she had claimed 
 and received homage from all who sur- 
 rounded her. But when she became the wifie
 
 64 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 of Louis the Seventh of France, and after her 
 return from the Holy Land was divorced by 
 that monarch, and accused of intriguing with a 
 young Saracen ; then did those strong passions 
 which she had so long subdued, blaze forth, and 
 she began to make those around feel her power. 
 Nor was her marriage with Henry, which 
 transpired within six weeks of her divorce, an 
 union in which the affections were consulted ; 
 for he had long before been united to Rosamond 
 Clifford, and even to the last for her kept up 
 a constant affection. Henry married Eleanor 
 for her possessions, without once regarding the 
 stain which was attached to her character ; and 
 she, on the other hand, although no doubt 
 a little smitten by the handsome person and 
 pleasing manners of the brave Henry, jumped at 
 a chance which at once offered the means of 
 annoying her former husband, and in every 
 way gratifying her ambition. Louis, too, was 
 jealous of the rising power of England, and 
 even prohibited Henry from marrying his 
 divorced Queen ; but that prince disregarded
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 65 
 
 his threats, well knowing that the union 
 would make him master of one-fourth of the 
 territories of France. 
 
 As it regarded his marriage with Rosamond, 
 that had taken place privately, and during his 
 minority ; so that, if even discovered, (which he 
 dreaded more from shame, than any fear of its 
 consequences,) it might be set aside with but 
 little difficulty. But still the monarch was 
 devoted to the bride of his early love, and as 
 our story will show, bravely sheltered her from 
 the attacks of her more powerful and ambitious 
 rivaL Conscience, however, that impartial 
 accuser, caused him to feel many bitter pangs, 
 and he would willingly have resigned Eleanor and 
 her immense possessions, if he could have done 
 so with safety. But he well knew that he 
 had now gone too far to retract ; and had no 
 alternative left but to arm himself against all 
 consequences. 
 
 It will be readily conceived that a marriage 
 under such motives as these was not calculated 
 to bring much happiness. Nor did Henry then
 
 66 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 dream of the misery it would in the end produce, 
 when the spirit of Eleanor was aroused, and as 
 some of the chroniclers suppose, to be revenged 
 for the love of Rosamond, she stirred up her 
 own sons to rebel against their sire, and was the 
 means of promoting a war which embittered the 
 close of Henry's days. Hers is a character 
 which falls like a shadow on the pages of 
 history. We feel that she was a chief mover in 
 many of the events, but the power by which she 
 acted is nearly hidden : like the mole, her plans 
 seemed to be carried on in darkness, and no one 
 was conscious of what she had done, until they 
 stumbled upon the very hillock which had been 
 upheaved. Such a character, it may be pre- 
 sumed, was but little likely to keep the heart of 
 Henry in thrall ; and as she never attempted to 
 win him over by subjecting herself to his wishes, 
 but on the contrary aspired at command, and as 
 the monarch was himself too much addicted to 
 rule, and too proud to acknowledge or even 
 permit the sway of another, no marvel that 
 there was a constant bickering between them.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 67 
 
 Eleanor's jealousy at first found vent in anger; 
 then an apparent coldness seemed to have 
 settled between them, an hollow armistice, 
 which at length gave way, and left in her 
 bosom no feelings but jealousy and revenge. 
 
 Eleanor's ancestors were a wayward race, and 
 seemed to struggle which should be the greatest 
 saint or sinner. Her grandfather was a cele- 
 brated troubadour, one of the most licentious, 
 and his are considered the oldest lays which 
 are extant. He offered to pledge the duchy of 
 Aquitaine to William Rufus ; he built an abbey 
 for strumpets and profligates, appointed over 
 them a suitable prioress, and mingling amongst 
 them, ate, drank, and sang his own obscene lays, 
 and had even the portrait of one of his profli- 
 gate women painted upon his shield, trusting to 
 the devil and his own evil deeds in the field of 
 battle. He seems to have had no limits to his 
 licentiousness ; for, after having yielded to the 
 exhortations of St. Bernard, to undertake an 
 expiatory crusade, (which was unsuccessful,) 
 he again took to his depraved course of life.
 
 68 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 and even turned the miseries of his calamitous 
 journey into merry metre, sung, and made him- 
 self jovial over his sorrows. Eleanor's father 
 seemed also to have caught the romantic spirit 
 of the profligate troubadour, which he carried to 
 the reverse purpose. Seized with a sudden fit 
 of penitence, he made the domains of Poictou 
 and Aquitaine, together with his daughter Elea- 
 nor, over to the king of France, rehnquished all 
 his splendour and greatness, and went on pil- 
 grimage to the shrine of St. James of Compos- 
 tella. During his journey he pretended to 
 have died, and was actually buried, and the 
 fact of his death was believed and acted upon, 
 and Eleanor established her claim to his pos- 
 sessions. And while it was believed that he 
 was dead, he went secretly to Rome, where he 
 confided his projected penance to the Pope, 
 travelled in disguise to Jerusalem, returned and 
 died in a retired hermitage on a desert mountain, 
 in Tuscany, none but his religious friends know- 
 ing for a long time his secret. Such was the 
 stock from which Queen Eleanor sprung, to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 69 
 
 whom we will now return after this out-of-place 
 digression. 
 
 Eleanor summoned an attendant, and bade 
 him instantly send into the room Oliphant 
 of Ugglethred. " I will fathom this mystery," 
 muttered the angry queen to herself, when she 
 was again alone in the apartment: ** I, who 
 was besieged by the Earl of Blois, and Geoffrey 
 of Anjou, for my hand, — men who cared more 
 for my person than my possessions, to be thus 
 slighted , after having brought a dower that rivals 
 the proudest in Europe, and that too by the king 
 of a petty island like England ! He loves 
 me not," continued she, after a painful pause ; 
 " fool that I was to wed with one so many 
 years younger than myself, — one who would 
 have joined his fate with the sister of Satan, if 
 she had but brought him such fair provinces as 
 Poictou and Aquitaine ! And this is the price at 
 which I have purchased my revenge on the old 
 dotard of France," added she with a sigh. 
 " But ere I lose my power over these goodly 
 realms, because another carrieth a fairer cheek
 
 70 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 than mine own, I will but this may but be 
 
 fancied jealousy. Fool that I am to care more 
 for Henry of England, than Louis of France !" 
 and just as she was about to uplift her hand to 
 her brow, her eye fell on Oliphant of Uggle- 
 thred, and a change passed instantly over her 
 fine features. 
 
 With the stealthy pace of a cat did Ugglethred 
 enter the apartment ; and when he saw the con- 
 fusion which his sudden presence had caused to 
 Eleanor, a smile of grim delight passed over his 
 countenance. 
 
 " Methinks thou mightest give us a slight 
 notice before entering our presence," said the 
 Queen, glancing angrily at the attendant; " I 
 marvel where thou didst pick up that stealthy 
 step of thine?" 
 
 "And I marvel also at your highness's 
 memory," said the ruffian, with matchless 
 effrontery, "that could thus soon forget my 
 learning it in your own service, when I kept 
 watch in the camp of the Crusaders, while 
 your "
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 7J 
 
 " Peace, villain !" exclaimed the angry Queen, 
 " or, by the soul of my father, I will plunge my 
 dagger into thine heart's blood." 
 
 *' An' that be all the reward I am w;orthy of 
 for past services," replied Ugglethred retiring, 
 " I will e'en look out for new employment." 
 
 " Remember, knave, that thou canst not retire 
 beyond the reach of my vengeance," said 
 Eleanor, subduing her passion with difficulty 
 as she spoke. 
 
 " It will but be making a confessor of the 
 assassin," replied Ugglethred, " and thy ven- 
 geance will soon find enough to do." 
 
 *' Thou art a villain," muttered the Queen in 
 a low voice, yet so high that it reached the ear 
 of Ohphant, as the savage glance which shot 
 from under his shaggy brows fully testified. 
 " Oliphant," said Eleanor in an altered tone 
 of voice which called forth all her powers of 
 dissimulation to give a softness to the sound, 
 " thou hast not, I trust, come to quarrel with 
 me at a time like this, when I have so much 
 need of thy kind service."
 
 72 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Had Eleanor hut seen llie expression of 
 Ugglethred's countenance while she spoke thus, 
 she could scarcely have resisted striking him to 
 the earth, for never did a more demonaical 
 spirit lurk in the human features. But he bent 
 his glance on the floor, while he said, "Small 
 temptation have I to quarrel with your grace, 
 for methinks neither of us would be great 
 gainers by that matter. What deed doth your 
 highness require me to execute ?" 
 
 " No deed of peril, my trusty Oliphant," 
 replied Queen Eleanor ; '* remember that we are 
 not now in Palestine, where we could find 
 death in the probe of a lancet, and gratify our 
 revenge by the cup in which we pledged our foe, 
 and lay all these deeds at the door of the 
 Infidel. But we can accomplish as much by 
 watching and playing the eaves -dropper, and 
 leave the accomplishment of our vengeance to 
 others." 
 
 " A matter of no small convenience," said 
 Ugglethred with a sneer. " But may I crave 
 to know what this business is, so free of peril, 
 that your grace wishes me to accomplish ?"
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 73 
 
 " To keep a sharp eye on the king's actions," 
 said Eleanor, " to watch him unobserved, and 
 whenever he makes a visit of more than or- 
 dinary length — and to discover who dwells 
 at the palace. Also to seek the favour of the 
 Chancellor Becket's domestics, and without 
 seeming to enquire, gather all that can be 
 known of his actions, designs, and secrets." 
 
 "That is not all," said Ugglethred after a 
 deep pause, and fixing his deep-sunk eyes on the 
 Queen as he spoke, — ** I must know why you 
 wish me to do this — become acquainted with the 
 secret you seem so anxious to obtain, and even 
 the very suspicions you harbour against the 
 King : without this knowledge, I may hunt in a 
 wrong slot." 
 
 The Queen glanced darkly upon him, and 
 was about to burst into one of those fits of 
 passion which she too frequently indulged in. 
 But she well knew the character of the man 
 before her, and had trusted him too deeply to 
 break with him on trifles ; and she thus pro- 
 ceeded :" If I err not, Henry hath found some 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 one among the pale-cheeked daughters of this 
 cold island, in whose company he taketh more 
 delight than becometh a wedded king." 
 
 "A fault common to both kings and queens," 
 answered Ugglethred looking more than he 
 seemed to express, and half speaking to himself. 
 
 '^ Speak no more on those matters," replied 
 the angry Queen, her conscience taking fire at 
 the slightest allusion to the subject of her 
 divorce, and too often construing things in her 
 own mind to that purpose, when the thoughts 
 of the speaker were wandering on matters the 
 most remote to what she imagined, — so 
 constant an accuser is conscience. " Speak no 
 more on that matter," continued she, raising her 
 voice, " if thou lovest thyself. Thinkest thou 
 that I should slumber the less easy if I even 
 shared my couch with my rival ? Marry, not a 
 jot. But let him once become a slave to her 
 beauty, and she will soon share his power ; this 
 alone is what I dread. I care not if a thousand 
 share his love whilst I direct his thoughts. 
 I will be king as well as queen, and to obtain
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 76 
 
 this power, I must become acquainted with all 
 his secrets." 
 
 " Is your highness sure that a knowledge of 
 these things will accomplish the objects at 
 which you aim ?" inquired OUphant ; *' bethink 
 you, he hath banished his high-minded and 
 meddling mother Matilda to Normandy. He 
 is no hawk to be blinded like Louis of France, 
 and left to beat his wings on the empty air, and 
 come at the first whistle that reclaims him. I 
 did but steal unawares upon him and Becket a 
 day or two agone, and, by the horned hoof of 
 Beelzebub ! he struck me such a blow with only 
 his hawking glove, that if he had chanced to 
 have worn his gauntlet, (and there is any truth 
 in the doctrines which these lazy monks teach,) 
 I should now have been reaping the rewards I 
 have earned in your service in penal flames." 
 
 "And callest thou thyself a man," said 
 Eleanor with unutterable scorn, " and fearest a 
 blow ? — By St. Paul and I were thou, I would 
 hover over the quarry a whole moon, but I would 
 find out my time to pounce upon it in safety, 
 E 2
 
 76 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 were it but to cry quits for such an insult." So 
 spoke this loving consort. 
 
 " My vengeance hath never long arisen before 
 me as an accuser," replied Oliphant v^^ith a 
 bitter frown, *^and gone to slumber ungratified; 
 but it behoveth even the serpent to keep aloof 
 from the paw of the lion. But what would st 
 thou that I should do?" 
 
 " Hie thee to Woodstock," said the jealous 
 Queen, *' and dog the steps of the king at a safe 
 distance; here is gold," added she, presenting 
 him with twenty marks : " spare it not ; neither 
 neglect the slightest chance that offers itself of 
 working thyself into the confidence of Henry's 
 followers. Begone, and when thou hast gathered 
 aught that may be worth communicating, speed 
 hither thyself, or send some trusty messenger. 
 Be bold, yet cautious, and as thou conductest 
 thyself, look to be rewarded." 
 
 Oliphant Ugglethred shrugged up his 
 shoulders, deposited the gold in the slip of 
 his gaberdine, promised to fulfil the Queen's 
 wishes without daring to look in her face.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 77 
 
 and with eyes fixed on the floor, left the apart- 
 ment. 
 
 Eleanor watched his departure with such a 
 glance as is attributed to the fabulous basilisk, 
 and her dark eyes seemed rivetted upon the 
 massy oaken doors through which he had pass- 
 ed, as if her fierce glance would pierce even the 
 thick barrier to clear up her mistrust. " There 
 goeth a wretch steeped up to the very brow in 
 villany," muttered she to herself, still keeping 
 her full black eyes rivetted on the door; "one 
 too, who hath dived to the bottom of my heart, 
 and fathomed its every secret; who knows that 
 which might undo me for ever, and is conscious 
 that I hate him with the very hatred of hell. 
 Yet so schooled is he in deceit, that he can read 
 men's thoughts at a glance, and drag off the 
 vizard from the face of the deepest dissembler. 
 Yet with such weapons only can the ambitious 
 work ; they are the scaffolds by which we are 
 enabled to complete the high building ; but if 
 we threaten their removal when the work is 
 done, have power to drag down the whole
 
 78 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 fabric ; they stand until they become a piece 
 of the work, and cling to it in spite of their 
 unsightliness. And can I, who am thus 
 plotting against my liege lord, love him after 
 all ? Down, heart ! and debase not thyself. 
 Would that he were any other than the young, 
 the handsome, the valiant Henry of England ! 
 But, alas ! he never loved me ; and to be thus 
 excluded from his presence whenever it is 
 his pleasure. Ah, there the armour bites ! 
 But woe be unto the harlot that steppeth 
 between me and his affection; 'twere better 
 that she had never been born ; and should it 
 prove that yonder blue-eyed, sleek-cheeked 
 damsel is the object, by the soul of my father! 
 I will tear open her cheeks with my nails, and 
 mar her beauty like a target.'' 
 
 Such were the various and contending 
 passions that had taken root in the heart of 
 the beautiful and high-souled Eleanor; and 
 although the taint was at first small which 
 had settled upon her, and might with but little 
 perseverance have been speedily eradicated, yet
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 79 
 
 she believed that it was visible to all eyes, and 
 in place of exterminating it, nourished the 
 disease in private, until it spread through every 
 artery and ramification and pervaded the whole 
 system. Conscious that her own life had been 
 far from blameless, she conjured up a thousand 
 fancied neglects and empty suspicions, which, 
 first seen through a diseased vision, appeared in 
 whatever colours her own imagination clothed 
 them, until to her they became realities. Her 
 pride knew no boundaries — her ambition no 
 limits; and the various tools which she snatched 
 up so hastily and thoughtlessly to accomplish 
 her work, through their increase, began at 
 last to alarm. If she chanced to spy two of 
 her trusted emissaries in conversation together, 
 she instantly fancied that they were plotting 
 against herself, and either endeavoured to sow 
 dissension and mistrust between them, or place 
 others as a guard upon their actions. She 
 seemed like one who has long plotted and laid 
 trains of powder to undermine some lofty 
 fabric, and never discovers until the match is
 
 80 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 lighted, that they must all be fired from the 
 centre; and that in the haste for revenge, she had 
 never once meditated her own escape. Such 
 indeed might be the summary of all that she 
 did ; for when she had even raised up the sons 
 to wage war against their father, she met with 
 her own deserts in a prison.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 81 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Verily, 
 I swear, 'tis better to be lowlj born, 
 And range with humble livers in content, 
 Than to be perk'd up in a glittering grief. 
 And wear a golden sorrow. 
 
 King Henri/ VIIT. 
 
 Our scene now changes to the ancient palace ot" 
 Woodstock, the favourite retirement of so many 
 of our English kings. Like all the buildings 
 of any note at this period, it was surrounded 
 with a moat, and only accessible by a draw- 
 bridge, which was flanked by two strong towers, 
 and further defended by both barbican and 
 portcullis, the latter of which fell in the grim 
 and gloomy archway. The architecture was a 
 mixture of Saxon and Norman, branching and 
 mingling together in all those fantastic forms, 
 which have so long puzzled the antiquary to 
 reduce to a regular order, and which are be- 
 £ 5
 
 S2 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 yond the power of any but the most skilful 
 author to unravel. Men in armour from head 
 to heel, were pacing the battlements, while 
 cross-bow-men were mounted on the turrets, 
 and archers and bearers of partizans guarded 
 every loop-hole and postern. Richly-clad 
 menials were also seen passing to and fro, 
 along the different courts and galleries, which 
 communicated with the various apartments, all 
 denoting that this was the abode of royalty; for 
 Henry the Second had already chosen it as a 
 retirement from the weighty matters which he 
 was compelled to carry on at Oxford. 
 
 Within in a lower room, the windows of which 
 opened on a small pleasance or garden, that 
 sloped down to the very edge of the moat, stood 
 a tall imposing figure, dressed in the very ex- 
 treme of fashion of that period. He had 
 thrown off the rich mantle, called the cloak of 
 Anjou, which is said to have been first intro- 
 duced by Henry the Second, and as it lay 
 carelessly on a table and caught the full stream 
 of sunshine, it made the eye ache while viewing
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 83 
 
 its splendour, for it was nearly covered with 
 half-moons and stars of silver, while the edge 
 was furred with the whitest and richest ermine. 
 His chausses or drawers were of a rich purple 
 cloth, scarcely distinguishable in colour from the 
 sandals, or leg bandages, which from the foot 
 were richly gilt. The tunic was rather short, 
 but richly indented on the border, and slit up 
 before and behind for the convenience of riding, 
 and from the various splashes which disfigured 
 his nether garments, it was evident that he had 
 but just returned from a journey. He had 
 doffed his Phrygian-shaped cap, and his fine 
 intellectual brow was bared, and denoted at a 
 glance that he was no common man. His 
 countenance was calm, handsome, and com- 
 manding, with just as much pride imprinted on 
 the open brow, and curved nostril, as became 
 so manly a figure : there was also a compression 
 about the lips, which bespoke great decision, 
 and the whole face possessed a noble firmness. 
 Something, however, there appeared in the clear 
 deep eyes, rather at variance with the rest of
 
 84 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the features, not that they then displayed aught 
 in opposition to the general appearance of the 
 character, but there was such strength in the 
 bold pupils, and such a sharpness in their 
 glance, as would have left the beholder to con- 
 clude that he was a man of strong passions, 
 had not that calm and dignified face seemed at 
 variance with their expression. 
 
 From the liberties taken by two or three large 
 stag-hounds, which reared up against him, and 
 attempted to pass their long tongues over his 
 face, it was evident that he was no stranger at 
 the palace. While he was stooping down to 
 pat one or other of his shaggy companions, king 
 Henry entered the apartment, his countenance 
 still wearing traces of anger, for he had but just 
 returned from his unexpected interview with 
 Eleanor. 
 
 "Welcome to Woodstock, my gay chancellor," 
 said King Henry, embracing his companion, who 
 was none other than Thomas a Becket, " I had 
 never more need of thy counsel, for the she- 
 wolf hath already had her eye upon my sweet 
 white-doe."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 85 
 
 " Then doth it behove your highness to look 
 out a place of shelter for her," said Becket; "for 
 believe me, my liege, your consort is keen-eyed, 
 and will but ill brook so fair a rival. Would 
 it not be wisdom to bury her in one of your 
 castles at Normandy, where she would be safe 
 from all harm?" 
 
 " Had I been guided by thy wisdom," said 
 Henry in a mournful voice, " this had not been ; 
 but now I have gone too far to retreat." 
 
 " Despair not, my liege," said the chancellor, 
 in a way which bespoke that he had really the 
 interest of his sovereign at heart ; " trust me, we 
 will yet devise some means to ease your high- 
 ness of this load ; you can but put this lady 
 aside at the worst." 
 
 "Becket," said Henry, planting his hand 
 familiarly upon his favourite's shoulder, " thou 
 art my chancellor, and I know thou art my 
 friend, and as such I have no fear of my secret 
 being safe in thy keeping. Sooner than I 
 would put aside Rosamond Clifford, I would, 
 were it possible, sink the domains of Poictou
 
 86 FAIR ROSAMOND 
 
 and Aquitaine to the bottom of the ocean, 
 and return Eleanor to the old dotard of France, 
 in whose hands I would to Heaven she had 
 remained ! Rosamond shall be mine if even I 
 have to share my kingdom with her, and make 
 her a partaker of my crown." 
 
 "And never could a crown be placed on a 
 brow more becoming," said Becket; *' but this 
 must not be, my liege ; some plan we will devise 
 for her safe keeping. Meantime let her abide 
 within the palace." 
 
 " 1 will leave all to thy management," replied 
 Henry, " for never had king a more faithful 
 servant. As for this our marriage with 
 Eleanor, I fear me that it forebodeth nought 
 but evil ; even my own heart revolted at the 
 deed; for her very name had become a bye- 
 word in the camp of the crusaders, through 
 her intrigues with the dark-browed Saracen. 
 And thou knowest well that love could but 
 weigh lightly in the balance when counter- 
 poised by her vast possessions. But even 
 these were as a feather compared to the power
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 87 
 
 which I aimed at possessing over Louis of 
 France." 
 
 " It becometh a king to marry more for the 
 glory of his nation than for his own happiness," 
 said the wily chancellor, " and assuredly, 
 whilst he giveth up his own comfort for his 
 country's honour, it behoveth not his subjects 
 to look too narrowly into his private matters, 
 nor those measures by which he seeketh to 
 counterbalance the sacrifices which he maketh 
 for the weal of his kingdom." 
 
 Leaving Henry and his chancellor to discuss 
 the best means for keeping his marriage a 
 secret, and for blinding the keen-eyed and 
 jealous Queen, we will return to Rosamond, 
 who had now become fully aware of her posi- 
 tion. She loved Henry too fondly to take any 
 advantage of the situation in which she found 
 herself so unexpectedly placed, and was more- 
 over of a disposition so much inclined to peace» 
 that she never once thought of making use 
 of the secret which she had so unexpectedly 
 obtained. All tenderness and trust, she could
 
 88 FAIR KOSAMOND. 
 
 not for a moment think of accusing Henry of 
 what he had done, and was at times scarcely con- 
 scious of the position in which she stood. Hers 
 was a disposition the very reverse of Eleanor's ; 
 she seemed like a lovely landscape, over which 
 sunshine and cloud alike career without injur- 
 ing its beauty. Eleanor, on the other hand, 
 resembled a jagged and mountainous country, 
 breaking the light of heaven in a thousand 
 ways — whole masses sleeping in shadow, and 
 possessing many an unsunned depth which 
 the eye of man could with difficulty fathom. 
 
 Rosamond would have been content if her life 
 had glided away like a gentle river, that rolls 
 along through its own native banks, happy in the 
 music which it throws out from its own bosom, 
 an^ delighting in the few trees and flowers that 
 a^ mirrored in its own calm surface. Eleanor 
 was like the sounding sea, ever bearing a wild 
 tumult upon its own bosom, never at rest within 
 itself, and but rolling towards the shore in search 
 of deeper caverns, or waging war with every jut- 
 ting headland, and trying its strength against
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. b\J 
 
 every opposing rock. No wonder then, if Henry, 
 after the toils of state, preferred the smooth 
 champaign to the "hill of storms," — that he 
 chose rather to glide along the smooth river of 
 peace, than subject himself to the constant 
 buffetings of a rough sea, where every moment 
 his attention was called to the breakers a-head, 
 or the hidden quicksands which were so 
 constantly shifting. He was one of those 
 who mingled enough amongst, daring and 
 valorous spirits in the field, without needing 
 their presence constantly around his pillow; who 
 however much he loved to hear the war-banner 
 rustle and shake its folds above the stormy 
 camp, would choose the flag of peace to droop 
 over his hearth ; and who, although mated with 
 the eagle, loved to rest an hour beside the 
 timorous dove ; to forget the thunder-cloud 
 which he had pierced, and the giddy regions 
 into which his ambition had prompted him to 
 soar. 
 
 Rosamond returned to her chamber and wept 
 bitterly when she reflected upon what had
 
 90 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 passed ; she now saw why Henry so anxiously 
 wished to keep her marriage a secret, and 
 regretted that she had so long estranged 
 herself from her father, who from grief at her 
 absence, it was rumoured, had betaken him- 
 self to Palestine. " Henry knew my love," 
 argued she, " and might assuredly have trusted 
 me with his secret, well knowing that I would 
 never weigh my own happiness beside the 
 welfare of his kingdom." But amid all these 
 reflections, one thought came to her relief, and 
 that was, the firm conviction that she was still 
 in possession of his love. Neither was she 
 ignorant of the character which Eleanor bore, 
 for her intrigues with the Saracen (by some 
 strange anachronism considered to be the 
 celebrated Saladin,) had already become 
 known to the minstrels, and as it had been 
 chaunted in many a castle hall, no marvel 
 that it at length reached the ears of Rosamond, 
 for her attendant Maud was ever ready to listen 
 to the newest lays of the troubadours. 
 
 Now, however, Rosamond having wept her fill,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 91 
 
 sat gazing over the lovely chase of Woodstock, 
 watching the shade and sunshine alternately 
 career over the green grass, and for the first 
 time in her life, finding a resemblance therein 
 to her own fate. Nor could she after having 
 twisted every argument that she could bring 
 to her aid, consider herself fully entitled to that 
 high honour to which she was elevated. "What 
 possession have I brought him ? None," argued 
 she to herself. " Yet I gave him all I had 
 to give, — a faithful heart, and at his wish 
 allowed my fate to be kept a secret from my 
 father. Nor would I have yielded my hand, 
 had I known that it was Henry, Prince of 
 Anjou, who rescued me from a watery grave. 
 He hath deceived me, not in his love, but by 
 his greatness ; woidd to God I had known this 
 secret !" 
 
 "Thou art ill at ease, lady," said Maud, 
 looking affectionately at her mistress, " what 
 aileth thee? Heaven send that it be not too 
 weighty a matter for thine handmaiden to hear; 
 may I not know what grieveth thee V
 
 92 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Nothing Maud," replied Rosamond with 
 a deep sigh, pressing her white hand to her fair 
 forehead; "nothing in which thy kindness would 
 avail me.'* 
 
 **You love me not as you were wont, dear 
 lady," said Maud with a sorrowful look, " or 
 you would not thus keep your sorrow secret." 
 
 ** 'Tis that I love thee well," answered 
 Rosamond, "which makes me keep this sorrow 
 to myself; why should I share with thee a 
 misery, the knowledge of which would only 
 make thee sad ?" 
 
 " I am unworthy of thy favour," replied 
 Maud with deep emotion; **if there is any 
 sorrow gnawing at thy heart on which I may 
 not pour a comfort, any secret in thy bosom 
 which I may not partake, any danger hovering 
 around thee, of which I am not apprised. I fled 
 from thy father's castle to share thy fate, 
 braved his anger and bore his censures rather 
 than reveal thy secret, although I was the 
 child of his companion in arms, and loved him, 
 next to thyself, beyond all whom I have ever
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 93 
 
 known. I have been thy companion from 
 childhood, and loved thee like a very sister. 
 Oh tell me then in what I have offended of 
 late, that thou deemest me unworthy of sharing 
 thy secrets?" 
 
 Although curiosity might have its share in 
 Maud's eagerness to get at the bottom of 
 Rosamond's sorrow, yet her solid attachment 
 to her fair mistress, and an earnest wish to 
 share her sufferings that she might sympathise 
 with her and be prepared for any sudden change 
 that might occur, were the chief reasons for press- 
 ing her enquiry. Brought up together from 
 childhood, they had broken asunder all that 
 diffidence which springs up between rank, nor 
 was Maud's original position much inferior to 
 Rosamond's ; but her father had perished in 
 the civil wars between Henry and Stephen, 
 and all his possessions had fallen into other 
 hands. 
 
 " Maud," said Rosamond, extending her 
 hand to her fair attendant, " I have done 
 unwisely in thinking to harbour my secret
 
 94 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 from thee. My husband is no longer a knight, 
 but the King of England ; and I, to you at least, 
 must appear free from all dishonour; to the 
 world and to future ages I shall but be known 
 as the concubine of King Henry of England ;" 
 she paused a few moments and wept bitterly, 
 then continued, " I have seen Queen Eleanor," 
 and again pressed her hand to her brow as she 
 spoke and sank into her seat, while the tears 
 oozed out from between her long white 
 fingers, and falling on her rich tunic, glittered 
 like drops of pearl. 
 
 "This then clears up all the mystery," said 
 Maud with a firmness that seemed unusual to 
 her character ; " this accounts for our residing 
 at Woodstock ; the numerous messengers that 
 pass to and fro, the secrecy with which we 
 have been so long secluded. Rosamond, weep 
 not, you are the bride of a king, what should 
 you fear. Think you that the daughter of 
 Walter de Clifford will be allowed to pass 
 away her days in disgrace and seclusion, while 
 her father can command every lance in the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 95 
 
 shire of Hertford, so trust me he will not let thy 
 claims slumber." 
 
 " Alas ! he hath betaken himself, I wot not 
 whither," said Rosamond : " T had hopes that 
 the day would come when I should look upon 
 his noble countenance without shame, and ap- 
 pear before him as the bride of a brave knight. 
 But now, these hopes are consigned to the tomb; 
 I must reign like a queen in a sepulchre, my 
 greatness will be overshadowed by sorrow, my 
 honour sealed up like a dreadful secret, and 
 nought left to comfort me but Henry's love." 
 
 "This then is all thy reward," said Maud, 
 with the true spirit of a Norman daughter: 
 " Oh that my nails were long enough to reach 
 his cheeks, I there would scratch thy wrongs. 
 This is thy reward for the sleepless nights 
 passed in his absence; for the prayers thou 
 hast offered up for his safety; for all the tears 
 thou hast shed for him in silence. While he 
 was dallying with a cast-off infidel's mistress, — 
 with a disgraced and divorced queen ; — a mor- 
 sel which the milk-livered mongrel of France
 
 96 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 disgorged, did the Lion of England lick up; one 
 who has been handed like a leathern flask 
 from tent to tent among the Crusaders, and 
 gone in turn to every lip. And thou didst give 
 up home, and kindred, and peace of mind, even 
 until thy very honour tottered between men's 
 lips. Thou must make way for this lady of 
 many lands, this harlot of Aquitaine, this Sara- 
 cen's strumpet, — this French cast-away. Ah! 
 I could spit upon her for thy sake, and trample 
 upon this mean-spirited king, who hath been 
 inveigled into a marriage with a doxy almost 
 old enough to be his mother; — who hath 
 sacrificed his own honour and thy peace 
 of mind to his ambition, and broken down 
 every tie that became a man, much less a 
 king." 
 
 " Peace, Maud," said Rosamond, sobbing as 
 if her very heart would break; "spare Henry 
 for my sake, if thou lovest me. Doubtless he 
 hath had evil counsellors to persuade him to 
 this, or perad venture the safety of his kingdom 
 needed it, for rest assured after all heloveth me;
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 97 
 
 and while I am innocent in the eyes of Heaven, 
 I will learn to bear my burthen in patience." 
 
 *^ I cannot love thee and be silent, while I 
 witness such wrongs," said the high-spirited 
 Maud. "Thou who wouldst not harm a lamb, 
 but with a soul all tenderness and love, wouldst 
 readily lay down thy life for this hollow-hearted 
 king. But I will stand up beside thee, and 
 champion thy wrongs. I will proclaim King- 
 Henry's infamy throughout England, and so 
 thunder it into men's ears, that he shall be glad 
 to pack off this proud daughter of a sing-song 
 duke, (who learnt to shape her virtues by the 
 immoral lays of her father,) to her own country 
 again; and to shake off her possessions as if 
 they were vipers clinging to his wrist." 
 
 '^ Not a word of what I have uttered to thee 
 must thou ever breathe again," said Rosamond ; 
 *' the secret must find a grave in thy breast and 
 mine. Nay, Maud, let his own conduct be 
 what it may, I will fashion mine as becomes 
 an honourable wife; but I wot well that he will 
 lay no heavier burthen upon me than I can bear, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 and which will weigh even heavier upon his 
 own heart than it doth on mine. Remember 
 that thou hast lost a father in the bloody wars 
 which have of late deluged England, and that 
 all we could do would but be to awaken anew 
 the carnage that hath so long slept. And 
 assuredly, if I bear this load in silence, thou 
 mayest learn to look on, if it be but to take 
 an example from me." 
 
 " But thou shalt not thus sit down tamely to 
 suffer," said Maud with a spirit that might have 
 become Eleanor herself. 
 
 "Speak not thus of my lord," said Rosa- 
 mond ; '* an* thou lovest me. Remember what 
 the seer foretold at my birth: thou hast often 
 heard ray father ponder over the rhyme : part 
 of the prophecy is already fulfilled. 
 
 Once thou wilt be nearly drown'd. 
 Almost queen — but never crown' d. 
 Poison and death hangs in the air, — 
 Of a rival queen beware ! 
 From thy love shall spring thy sorrow, 
 Thy griefs shall grow with every morrow. 
 
 Thou seest, Maud, that it is useless waging war
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 99 
 
 with fate : we must undergo that which Heaven 
 hath ordained." 
 
 " Alas ! thou speakest truly/' said Maud in a 
 dejected tone ; " we must submit in silence to the 
 will of Heaven ; nevertheless I will watch the 
 cloud that hangs over thee ; the dark sky is 
 not always fraught with thunder." 
 
 '* Nor misery prolonged beyond the grave/' 
 said Rosamond with a deep sigh ; " Maud, I 
 would that we were what we have been ; but it 
 boots not grieving for the past." 
 
 Maud replied only by heaving as deep a sigh; 
 and burying her face in her hands, they sat 
 apart in silence, each busied with her own 
 thoughts, as if they had calmly bowed to that 
 fate which neither could avert. 
 
 f2
 
 100 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Why I, in this weak piping time of peace^. 
 Have no delight to pass away the time ; 
 Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 
 And descant on mine own deformity ; 
 And therefore, — since 1 cannot prove a lover. 
 To entertain these fair well spoken days, — 
 I am determined to prove a villain. 
 And hate the idle pleasures of these days ; 
 Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous. 
 
 Richard the Third, 
 
 Oliphant Ugglethred reached the pleasant 
 chase of Woodstock towards the close of the 
 day, and about the same time that Rosamond 
 usually walked in the pleasance, for such was 
 the name given to the first rude approach to 
 a garden. The primitive English pleasure 
 ground, in which the lady and her attendant 
 were enjoying the cooL of the day, was the 
 remains of an immense forest, and although 
 many of the huge trees had been felled, the
 
 FyUK ROSAMOND. 101 
 
 dense underwood still remained, and through 
 this was cut a variety of winding paths, which, 
 by much labour, were prevented from being- 
 over-run by the shrubs and creepers. The 
 blossoming may, sloes, crab-trees, hazels, and 
 woodbine, grew in rank luxuriance in the midst 
 of these circling ways ; and while man formed 
 the footpaths. Nature was the only gardener. 
 Maud accompanied her fair mistress through 
 this wilderness, and they were also followed by 
 a kind of half-page and half-minstrel, for such 
 were the offices of Pierre de Vidal, (a native of 
 Provence, and a troubadour of great genius,) 
 whom Henry had sent to attend upon Rosa- 
 mond ; for the king was well aware that after 
 what had taken place, it would require con- 
 siderable skill to bring back her feelings to 
 their former calm. Pierre de Vidal had come 
 over in the train of Henry, and attached himself 
 to that monarch out of a feeling of respect, 
 mingled with a little rivalry against Bernard 
 de Vanteveur who was troubadour to Queen 
 Eleanor ; for both Henry and his consort were
 
 102 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 great patrons of the minstrels, and their names 
 and praises are still to be found in many an 
 ancient lay. The countenance of Vidal was 
 uncommonly intellectual : there was a deep fire 
 in his dark eyes, which gave a kind of wildness 
 to his almost olive features; and, together with 
 his long ringlets of a raven blackness, gave 
 him what is termed a '^foreign" look. His Hps 
 also were remarkably fine, and somehow kept 
 naturally apart, even when he was silent, and 
 revealed teeth of the most pearly whiteness. 
 His forehead was high and ample, and so 
 smooth, that where one or two of his dark 
 ringlets fell upon it, they seemed as if resting 
 upon a brow of polished marble. His dress was 
 also of the most costly description ; his short 
 cloak of Anjou, which was of the delicate 
 azure of the heaven, and of costly velvet, was 
 embroidered with silver, looking like a blue 
 cloud interlaced with the most dazzling light ; 
 his chausses were of the finest cloth woven in 
 the Flemish looms, and being purple, contrasted 
 richly with the bandages of gold cord which
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 103 
 
 secured his sandals, and were crossed on the 
 ancle so as to resemble net-work; his upper 
 garments were almost entirely concealed by his 
 short cloak, but from what was revealed, they 
 appeared to be of the richest materials. He 
 carried his cap, which was of that shape called 
 mortier, in his hand, but whether out of cour- 
 tesy to the ladies, or to show his beautiful head 
 of hair, we will not venture to decide. 
 
 Pierre de Vidal walked in the rear of the ladies 
 through this wild and natural shrubbery ; and 
 Maud, who was a-breast of her mistress, moved 
 along with her head averted, as if she could not 
 keep her eyes from the figure of the handsome 
 troubadour. Rosamond only turned her head 
 from time to time, as she occasionally held 
 converse with him. 
 
 " And you would fain persuade us, sir 
 minstrel/' said Maud with one of her sweetest 
 smiles, " that there can be no love without 
 your lays to create it; no sincerity but what 
 shapes itself into song, and no region so
 
 104 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 favourable fcr the growth of the muse as your 
 own fair Provence, and the sunny South V 
 
 " An' I would do this," replied the minstrel 
 in a rich mellow voice, every sound of which 
 sank into the heart of poor Maud : " I 
 would after all, award victory to this fair 
 island ; and if I called the sweet South the 
 seat of song, I would name England the bovver 
 of beauty; and were I a prophet, would venture 
 to fortell that here will valour and poetry one 
 day fly with lance and harp, and bask in the 
 starlight eyes that bring down all the splendour 
 of heaven upon earth, and people these flowery 
 valleys and dove-haunted woods with forms 
 more beautiful than the ancient goddesses.'* 
 
 "Ah! sir minstrel," continued Maud, "if 
 hearts were won with words, what a victory 
 would be yours ; many a maiden in fair 
 Provence, I dare be sworn, hath gone home 
 with a heart-ache after listening to your lays ; 
 and many an eye which your poetry hath 
 compared to diamonds has been dissolved in
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 105 
 
 ^* Thou strikest too hard, Maud," said 
 Rosamond ; " but I will wager the ruby rose 
 in my hair, against the last rose thou didst 
 embroider, that sir Pierre outruns that nimble 
 tongue of thine." 
 
 " Did the contest, fair lady, rest between the 
 roses that adorn these wilds, and those which 
 gather grace from cheeks worthy to give name 
 to the choicest of all flowers," said the minstrel; 
 " they would sink ashamed, and bury them- 
 selves amid their own leaves, and resign the 
 victory to cheeks which my unhallowed lips 
 are unworthy to name." 
 
 Rosamond blushed deeply as she found her- 
 self caught in the midst of a compliment which 
 she had innocently given rise to, and if ever a 
 rose could assume the human face, it would 
 have looked just like hers. Oliphant Uggle- 
 thred who had been attracted by the sound of 
 their voices, and had overheard their conversa- 
 tion from the thicket in which he had concealed 
 himself, chanced to obtain a view of Fair 
 Rosamond at this moment, and his eyes 
 f5
 
 106 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 blazed amid the underwood like the glance of 
 an amorous lion, when he first sees his shaggy 
 bride in the forest glade. 
 
 " The diamonds, the diamonds, sir minstrel," 
 said Maud, a little chagrined to hear the 
 compliment paid to the name of her mistress 
 when she herself was attempting to win his 
 praises : " trow you that I am to lose my gems 
 for your roses, which the first blast will shed. 
 What say you in answer to the eyes which your 
 flattery hath so often compared to crystals, and 
 which I maintain have been many a time 
 dissolved in tears?" 
 
 " And so would the costliest that ever lighted 
 the dark mines of the East,'* replied Vidal, 
 '^ dissolve with sheer envy that they could not 
 attain the splendour of eyes that I have lately 
 looked upon." 
 
 The minstrel fixed his piercing glance upon 
 Maud as he spoke, and while her heart beat 
 with a new and strange sensation, she blushed, 
 averted her head, looked on the ground, and
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 107 
 
 pulling to pieces a sprig of blossoming haw- 
 thorn, remained silent. 
 
 " Ah, sir minstrel," said fair Rosamond, 
 shaking her head, " if we women were but 
 to persuade ourselves that we were such 
 creatures as your lays would make us, earth 
 would be beneath our treading, I trow, and 
 we should aspire to walk above the stars." 
 
 "And the stars," answered the minstrel, 
 " would no longer shine on the earth, but turn 
 their blue eyes upward to gaze on the beauty 
 above them, or perad venture their rays would 
 be for ever eclipsed, and appear dim beside the 
 brighter orbs which would then cast their daz- 
 zling light below. Nor should we need moon- 
 light then, for there could be no darkness where 
 such eyes beamed, nor would the sun be able 
 to complete his course through the sky, but 
 pause before so much beauty : no human eye 
 would ever again look on the earth, while so 
 sweet an attraction was above them." 
 
 •' We shall be all the merrier for thy com- 
 pany, sir minstrel," said Rosamond ; " and are
 
 108 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 deeply bounden to his Highness, for this kind- 
 ness. But we would not make thy attendance 
 upon us a labour, although we will make free to 
 command thy presence occasionally, that is, 
 when his grace needeth not thy services." 
 
 Rosamond waved a graceful adieu, and re- 
 tired, while Maud, plucking a wild rose, threw 
 it at the minstrel, who was not long before he 
 placed it in his vest, and would probably have 
 gone half through a sirvente, had not Uggle- 
 thred crept from his hiding place, and making 
 a circle, drew up in front of Pierre de Vidal, as if 
 he had but just arrived from some considerable 
 distance. 
 
 Ugglethred, in spite of his forbidding features, 
 when he had any object to attain, could assume 
 the most winning manners, and was one of 
 those deep-sighted men, who catch the weak 
 points of mankind at a glance, and by some kind 
 of devilish superiority are soon able to lead 
 their victim whithersoever they will. Already 
 prepared for the character he was about to 
 accost, through what he had gathered while
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 109 
 
 screened in the covert, he thus commenced the 
 conversation. 
 
 " I crave pardon for thus unceremoniously 
 approaching one whose fame hath already been 
 wafted to every region, where genius is truly 
 valued, and whose lays are chaunted by the 
 sweetest lips that breathe over this island. Nor 
 need I to add my own praises to swell the loud 
 acclaim that already rings through hall and 
 bovver throughout every land which you have 
 now deigned to honour. Praises that have been 
 echoed by the lips of Queen Eleanor herself, and 
 which although, through some request of her 
 father's, she is bound to lend her countenance to 
 Bertrand de Vanteveur, she hath through so 
 humble a medium as myself, requested your ac- 
 ceptance of this slight guerdon as a token that 
 she acknowledges Pierre de Vidal, the chief of 
 all troubadours, and the true harp of Aquitaine." 
 Saying which, he bent one knee before the 
 minstrel, and with a humble grace, which no 
 one could better affect, presented him with ten 
 golden pieces and a lock of his own hair, which
 
 110 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 he had cut off while in the covert, intimating 
 that it also came from Queen Eleanor. Uggle- 
 thred had struck the true string, for Pierre de 
 Vidal, with all his talent, possessed the most 
 capacious stomach for flattery ; and so nicely 
 was the bait gilded with his rival's name, 
 that he swallowed all praise, arid pay, and even 
 pressed the greasy lock of Oliphant Uggle- 
 thred's hair to his lips, believing it to be 
 Eleanor's. 
 
 " I will wear this ringlet next my heart/' said 
 the minstrel; "for never did head bear a lock 
 more beautiful ; 'tis bright and glossy as the 
 choicest jet, and every separate hair, distinct 
 and beautiful as the dark lines we trace in the 
 choicest flowers. It well became a queen ; 
 each hair is stronger too than those which grow 
 on common heads, — but yet more beautiful with 
 all their strength, than the most silky threads 
 which maidens weave. So is the oak larger 
 than common trees, yet hath a peculiar beauty 
 of its own, that marks it as the monarch of the 
 forest.''
 
 PAIR ROSAMOND. Ill 
 
 Whilst Vidal was apostrophising the lock of 
 hair, Oliphant Ugglethred was grinning like 
 an arch-fiend, and would have laughed out- 
 right, had he not managed to stifle the rising 
 chuckle by an affected cough, and when the 
 minstrel looked upon his face again, it was calm 
 and unmoved as at first, and seemed to rest 
 upon his own with the most intense veneration. 
 
 " Sir squire," continued Vidal, '* I accept of 
 the rich guerdon which your royal mistress hath 
 been pleased to honour me with, unworthy 
 though I am of such high favours ; and also of 
 her praise, she being sprung from a line of min- 
 strels, and a legitimate string of the harp of 
 Aquitaine. I will wear her token, and hold it as 
 sacred as I would a plume from Apollo's wing, 
 albeit I am chosen to pour out my lays before 
 King Henry, and have also to strike up my 
 song before as sweet a bird as ever roosted in 
 bower." 
 
 " No one so meet to chaunt a bower-lay as 
 yourself, Prince of Minstrels," said Ugglethred, 
 "and many a heart in this fair island sighs for
 
 112 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the instrument that sends forth such sweet 
 sounds, and would not care a hawk's feather if 
 their lords slept in the castle moat, so that they 
 were but with the minstrel in the turret. Even 
 Queen Eleanor, when she cut off that lovely 
 lock with her silver shears, sighed, as if she re- 
 gretted that she could not send herself in its 
 place." Although this was spoken with an ap- 
 parent seriousness, yetone who was not so blinded 
 with flattery as Vidal, would have detected the 
 look of sly mockery which sat in Ugglethred's 
 eye, and that constant shifting of the pupils while 
 he spoke, piercing as if into the very soul of the 
 minstrel when not observed, yet resting upon 
 the ground the instant his glance was detected. 
 "Thou art a keen observer of woman's 
 heart. Sir Squire/' said the unsuspecting and 
 vain minstrel, " and ill betide me, if I deny 
 that I have seen the glance of lady fair alight 
 upon me in hall or bower, and with so serene a 
 light that I half loved, half hoped, yet feared it 
 might but be the power of song, and that their 
 thoughts were far away from myself."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 113 
 
 *• Thou art too modest, far too modest, 
 worthy minstrel," replied Ugglethred, " and 
 although thou mayest never have seen me before, 
 yet have I listened to thy lays ere now; and 
 they have so rung in mine ears, that I could 
 think of nought beside for days together. And 
 at such times I have seen, when thou couldst 
 not, an hundred bright eyes wanton over thy 
 face, until their deep-drawn sighs waved the 
 long ringlets that fell athwart their lips. Ah ! 
 minstrel mine, thine is a happy life, beauty and 
 gold showered upon thee like April rain ; and 
 then thou art set to watch the choicest fruit 
 that the garden bears ; and who dare blame thee 
 if thou temptest these fair Eves with an apple. 
 Ah! minstrel, mine," added he with a sigh, 
 " thine is a happy life, and kings may sigh in 
 vain for thy power." 
 
 " Pleasant at times, I grant thee," answered 
 Vidal, rubbing his hands with delight, so 
 heartily had he fed on Ugglethred's villanous 
 flattery ; " thou art a boon companion, and I care 
 not if I crush a cup of real Gascon with thee.
 
 114 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 such as might gladden the hearts of the gods, 
 and such as no lip can touch without becoming 
 inspired with song. Nay more, 'tis such as 
 King Henry himself quaffs, and he would not 
 that his minstrel drained a worse goblet than 
 his royal self." 
 
 " Noble minstrel," said Oliphant, *^ you offer 
 me an honour at which kine^s might feel proud, 
 and princes would be glad to kneel for. But 
 I would fain crave not to be permitted to en- 
 croach upon your privacy, if it would be break- 
 ing in upon moments which you would other- 
 wise be dedicating to the riuse, — lest I should 
 deprive the world of your immortal lays." 
 
 '* Not a jot wilt thou infringe upon my pas- 
 time," replied the flattery-fed minstrel ; " what 
 thou art pleased to call grave matters, are to 
 me but toys thrown off, as a fair lady gives the 
 cast to her hawk, — just a jerk of the mind, and 
 away go the thoughts into their own sunshine. 
 No, I have nought serious on hand, but just to 
 keep a watch at the foot of the turret stair, and 
 see that no foul kite pounces on the nest of 
 the fairest of ring-doves."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 115 
 
 " Ah ! a fair lady then is no serious matter," 
 said Ugglethred, placing his hand as familiarly 
 upon the mhistrel's shoulder as if they had been 
 old acquaintance. " Beauty, wine and song are 
 the whole business of thy life, gay troubadour ; 
 and I dare be sworn that amid thy watch thou 
 findest time to visit the treasure thou art set to 
 guard." 
 
 The minstrel smiled, and showed the whole 
 lines of his pearly teeth, willing to be thought 
 a villain, rather than disavow himself a gallant ; 
 a strange trait in human nature! — but one 
 which is still kept alive in the present day; for 
 the coxcomb of fashion would be miserable if 
 forbidden to boast of his conquests. 
 
 Vidal led the way, and they passed through 
 the shrubbery into the park, crossing the moat 
 by a single plank, which led through a small 
 postern, and communicated with the palace, 
 — a way which was only known to those who 
 were familiar with the ins and outs of the build- 
 ing. They passed without interruption through 
 the various courts and galleries, and at length 
 entered a low room adjoining the turret stair,
 
 116 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the winding steps of which led to the apartments 
 occupied by Rosamond and her attendants. 
 The room into which the minstrel introduced 
 his guest, was but indifferently furnished, it 
 having been the residence of the chief soldier of 
 the guard; and, saving a pallet of straw, an 
 ancient oaken table, and two rude benches of 
 the same material, contained nothing worthy of 
 observation. From a small recess, the door of 
 which was so contrived as to resemble one of 
 the wainscot panels, Pierre de Vidal drew forth 
 a large leathern bottle, and two drinking horns, 
 saying, as he placed them on the table, " Here 
 is a drop of the true Gascony; better was never 
 rocked upon the bosom of the sea, or torn from 
 a wreck by the deep-throated Tritons. I drink 
 to thee :" so saying, he emptied the deep drink- 
 ing horn at a draught, and having recovered his 
 breath, smacked his lips together by way of 
 approval. Ugglethred followed his example, 
 taking, however, a much more moderate draught. 
 The minstrel then trimmed his lamp, for the 
 day was fast drawing to a close, and fixing it in
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 117 
 
 the drooping chains, they sat down on each side 
 of the table, and prepared for a bout at drink- 
 ing. After a few cups and much conversation, 
 the minstrel, who was growing drunk apace, 
 struck up a short stave in Norman French, 
 having before given several brief samples of his 
 talent. 
 
 " Whatthinkest thou to that lay, Sir Squire," 
 said he, his voice much altered through the 
 large potions of wine he had swallowed, " never 
 heardst its like from Bertrand Venteveur, I dare 
 be sworn, didst thou? It will be a long day 
 ere she will call him the harp of Aquitaine, and 
 send him a lock of her own dark hair. Fill 
 up! fill up ! I will drink a bumper to Queen 
 Eleanor, the dark-eyed daughter of Aquitaine ; 
 we will pledge her while there is a draught in 
 the flagon." And he again emptied the drink- 
 ing-horn at a draught. 
 
 " I have drunk thy pledge, worthy minstrel," 
 said Oliphant, who had himself become some- 
 what flushed with wine, but only sufficiently so 
 to make him ready for any daring deed, and
 
 118 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 not to affect him in the way it did his compa- 
 nion. " And after so sweet a lay as you have 
 sung, and so rare a beauty as we have toasted, 
 I would fain propose this fair Rosamond, if I 
 name aright the fairer perfection that you keep 
 a guard upon." 
 
 " I will answer thy pledge, Sir Squire," said 
 the minstrel, rocking too and fro in his seat as 
 he spoke, for it was with difficulty he could 
 now keep his sitting: " I will answer thy pledge, 
 though it were five fathom deep, and will match 
 her beauty against the wide world : — eyes like 
 roses, you knave," continued he, spiUing the 
 wine, which he was unable to hold steady; — 
 '* cheeks like stars; — no, stop — cheeks like 
 rubies; eye-brows brown, — yes brown, hanging 
 down her neck in long ringlets — like — like, — 
 and her neck white as — Vanteveur would say 
 snow, — but I wont snow it, no, beshrew me if 
 I would not say a cloud, — a blossom, — sunrise, 
 — or daisy, snow, Vanteveur -7- harp of locks of 
 Queens !" 
 
 And after uttering much more of such con-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 119 
 
 fused nonsense, he fell down upon the floor, and 
 was soon fast asleep. 
 
 The eyes of Oliphant Ugglethred (which 
 now glared with a wilder brightness through 
 drinking) had narrowly watched every motion 
 of the minstrel ; and no sooner did he see him 
 fall from his seat, than a grim and savage smile 
 passed over his hideous features, and when he 
 arose and held the lamp over his fallen comrade, 
 the red murky blaze, as it flashed upon his own 
 features, gave him the look of a demon tri- 
 umphing over his fallen victim. 
 
 The villain laughed outright as he bent over 
 the minstrel ,* but it was such a laugh — a hollow 
 mockery, as even startled himself — and he held 
 up the lamp and narrowly surveyed every 
 nook of the apartment, as if he expected to 
 see the echoes personified which had mocked 
 him. 
 
 '* Ah ! ah ! ah ! — a dose of praise, a lock 
 of ragged hair, and a few cups of wine," said 
 he, placing the lamp upon the table, "and 
 down topples my man of genius, and there he
 
 120 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 lies like a very brute ; his throat as much at 
 the mercy of my dagger, as the deer's which has 
 been pulled down by the hounds. Marry ! a 
 pretty sentinel to be placed over a fair lady, — a 
 fellow who hath no more guard of his tongue, 
 than a boy over his blackberries, who sets them 
 down to run and play, and leaves them at the 
 mercy of his companions. A pretty choice hath 
 this English king though," added he musing, 
 " and showeth some taste in leaving this hard- 
 rinded Eleanor for such a piece of dainty fruit, 
 which looks ready to melt in the mouth. 
 And she, I doubt not, awaiteth his coming, un- 
 conscious that he is battering away at yonder 
 castle, a league hence. By St. Dennis ! it would 
 be a charity to steal upon her while this drunken 
 minstrel lies here snoring like a swine ; for never 
 have I seen a figure so well worth risking a few 
 thrusts of the dagger for, as this Rosamond. 
 Up heart ! and we will make the venture to- 
 gether; she is a prize worth striking for, and 
 come the worst that may, it will but be flying 
 to Eleanor for protection; and assuredly, two
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 121 
 
 women are more than enough even for a kino-. 
 She shall be mine;" continued he, setting his 
 teeth as he spoke, " what if she rings an alarum 
 through the palace — why, I have quieted many 
 a noise ere now with the point of my dagger." 
 So saying, he took up the lamp and quitted the 
 apartment, with a flaming eye, and an unsteady 
 step. 
 
 VOL. T.
 
 122 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Our Tarquin thus 
 Did softly press the rushes, ere he wakened 
 The chastity he wounded. Cytherea, 
 How bravely thou becomest thy bed ; fresh lily ! 
 And whiter than the sheets ! That I might touch ! 
 But kiss ; — one kiss ! — Rubies unparagoned ! 
 How, dearly they do't ! — 'Tis her breathing that 
 Perfumes the chamber thus. 
 
 Cymbeline. 
 
 As King Henry was in the habit of visiting his 
 beautiful wife at ail hours when he could either 
 steal from his jealous queen or business, Ro- 
 samond paid but little regard to the security 
 of her chamber, well believing she was safe 
 amid those who guarded the palace. Nor was 
 it an uncommon thing to leave out the plank 
 all night which extended across the moat, and 
 as we have before described, communicated with 
 the wild shrubbery and the park ; thus pre-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 123 
 
 venting- the clattering of chains, and all the 
 tumult consequent upon lowering the draw- 
 bridge and raising the portcullis, whenever the 
 sovereign approached. Such was the state of 
 defence at Woodstock on the night that Uggle- 
 thred stole like a wolf into the fold, and was 
 bent upon making the fairest lamb in the flock 
 his prey. King Henry was also compelled to 
 attend to matters which called him away rather 
 suddenly, and with which the reader will in due 
 time become acquainted. He had, however, a 
 brief interview with Rosamond before his de- 
 parture, and — but what boots it to dwell upon 
 the scene ; the worst matters are speedily righted 
 where true love steps in between as a con- 
 ciliator. 
 
 Bold and daring to the highest degree as 
 Ugolethred was, yet his heart misgave him for 
 a moment ere he ventured to ascend the turret 
 stair. Although he had been nursed amid 
 dangers, and when he once made up his mind 
 to accomplish a deed, was not to be driven back 
 by any trifling obstacle ; yet, as he called to 
 g2
 
 124 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 mind the beautiful features of Rosamond, some- 
 thing from within seemed to tell him, that such 
 loveliness was far too high for his ruffianly 
 grasp. *' And yet/' argued he to himself, 
 " what thief was ever yet daunted by the value 
 of the treasure which he sought to filch ; or 
 what more risk do I run than if I only sought 
 the chamber of her meanest serving-wench. 
 Many a time have I wagered my life over-night 
 for the few gold pieces, which before sunrise 
 were wasted on some wanton revel ; and shall I 
 now shrink when the richest prize for which 
 I ever ventured, may be uon for a trial ? No ; ill 
 betide me if I play the coward ! And what 
 if she surrenders as soon as I commence the 
 siege ; who can better protect her from the 
 daggers of Queen Eleanor than myself, — and, 
 by all the saints I she looks like a woman who 
 cannot lack gratitude. May Beelzebub pound 
 me beneath his horned hoof, if I do not venture 
 for such a dainty morsel.". He held up the lamp, 
 and looked carefully around ; but not a soul was 
 astir, for the guards were stationed on the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 125 
 
 turrets and at the different posterns, and nothing, 
 save the lovely moonlight, slept upon the pave- 
 ment of the court-yard on which he gazed. 
 
 Slowly and cautiously did he steal up the 
 winding stairs, and when he had gained the first 
 landing, he planted the light in an angle of the 
 door-way, that its beams might not be seen 
 through the cracks and crannies. Before, how- 
 ever, attempting the door, he paused, and rested 
 by the topmost loop-hole, through which the 
 night air blew with a cool and refreshing current, 
 fanning for a moment the mad fervour of his 
 cheek. His heart misgave him while he looked 
 out on the tranquil night-scene below, and con- 
 templated the purpose which had drawn him 
 thither. He felt that the low murmuring of the 
 trees, — the faint and far-off plashing of the 
 waters of the Glyme, — and the deep serenity 
 that reigned over the starry heaven, but ill 
 accorded with the evil passions that seemed 
 to wither his very frame ; and for a few mo- 
 ments his resolution entirely forsook him. He 
 rested his burning brow on the ledge of the narrow
 
 126 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 shot-hole, and while the refreshing breeze blew 
 briskly around the high turret, and uplifted his 
 dark locks as it rushed through the outlet, and 
 dried the moisture of his brow, he reflected 
 again on the deed which he had meditated, and 
 determined within himself to retire. 
 
 Just as he put out his arm to take up the 
 light and depart, he heard the lovely inmate 
 murmur in her sleep; the words she uttered 
 were inaudible; and while he stood listening 
 in silent suspense, he was assured by her 
 gentle breathing, that she still slept soundly. 
 Low and faint as were those sounds which had 
 escaped the lips of fair Rosamond, they came 
 fraught with all that sweetness which gave such 
 music to her voice when awake, and he stood 
 like one who had been charmed by the song of 
 a syren, while his eyes, as they caught the un- 
 certain and flickering light, seemed to blaze 
 with almost an unnatural brightness. He drew 
 in his breath deeply, and set his teeth together, 
 as he applied his hand to the latch, and when 
 he felt that he had uplifted it, and set the door
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 127 
 
 ajar, and saw the light gleam through the 
 narrow opening on the opposite wall of the 
 chamber, and not till then, did he again venture 
 to breathe. 
 
 He snatched up the iron lamp, and opened 
 the door inch by inch, until at length the light 
 fell athwart the lower part of the couch on 
 which Rosamond slumbered, and his lips in- 
 voluntarily uttered a low " hush," as he planted 
 his footstep in the chamber, the weight of which 
 caused the oaken floor to creak. Another step 
 and he was fairly in the room, and he closed 
 the door gently with one hand, while with the 
 other he shaded the light, ere he ventured to 
 turn round and look at the sleeper. As he 
 stood with one foot firmly planted on the floor, 
 and the other resting a tip-toe, while his hand 
 shaded off the glare of light, — the bed was 
 thrown into a rich mellow shadow, and but just 
 darkened behind where the folds of the drapery 
 were drawn down, revealing the outline of the 
 lovely sleeper. As he gradually withdrew his 
 hand from the flame, it flashed fully upon the
 
 128 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 bare face, neck, and bosom of fair Rosamond, 
 and rested on their transcendent whiteness, 
 which put to shame the light by which they 
 were seen. 
 
 Her long hair was unbound, and fell over the 
 spotless snow of her bosom in rich clusters, or 
 now and then rose with the undulating motion, 
 like flowers just stirred by the white foam-bells 
 of the river. One of her bare arms was cradled 
 on the deep purple coverlet, and showed amid 
 the costly velvet like a galaxy, on the pall of 
 midnight ; the other fair hand partly imbedded 
 her cheek, with the thumb resting under her 
 bell like chin, as if she had fallen asleep while 
 musing. A kind of clouded hght seemed to 
 play about the eye-lids as if they were too thin, 
 or the lustres beneath were too strong to be 
 concealed. Even 
 
 "The flame o' the taper 
 Bowed towards her, as't would under -peep her lids, 
 To«ee the enclosed lights, then canopied 
 Under those windows." 
 
 The gentle breath stole over her parted lips 
 with a seeming reluctance, and appeared to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 129 
 
 sigh at leaving so sweet a month. But a pearly 
 tear lingered on her silken lashes, as if it had 
 stolen forth while she was asleep, and was 
 waitinor there to be admitted to its former home. 
 Sometimes a faint sigh escaped, as if it tried to 
 awake her, or warn her that evil was at hand. 
 Even Ugglethred stood over her wonder-struck, 
 as if he had stolen into a treasure chamber, and 
 amid so much unexpected wealth, despaired of 
 carrying off a millionth part of what he coveted. 
 She seemed like a goddess reclining in the 
 midst of her own temple, almost too beautiful to 
 look upon. 
 
 Her beauty was also the more striking by its 
 strong contrast against the villanous features of 
 the ruffian, whose face, flushed with wine, and 
 heightened by passion, resembled one of those 
 satyrs which the old masters so often place in 
 their pictures, glutting his gaze on some sleep- 
 ing nymph. He held the lamp aside with one 
 hand, while the light flashed redly upon his 
 flushed features, and his eyes glared again 
 with fierce delight, and bending over the bed, 
 G 5
 
 130 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 he pressed his burning lips on the cheek of fair 
 Rosamond . 
 
 " Hast thou come, my lord ?" muttered she, 
 scarcely awake, and without unsealing her 
 lovely eyes. 
 
 '' I have, my sweet cup of muscadine," replied 
 the ruffian, placing the lamp upon a table. 
 
 "Villain! — help! — Maud!" exclaimed Rosa- 
 mond, springing out on the opposite side of the 
 bed, like a bird darting from its nest, and fold- 
 ing a loose mantle hastily over her night-dress, 
 " Who art thou? — how earnest thou hither? — 
 help! help!" 
 
 " An' thou callest out again," said the villain, 
 planting one hand upon the bed, as if about to 
 spring across, while with the other he drew the 
 dagger from his belt, and fixed his dark and 
 deep-set eyes fiercely upon her, — " An' thou 
 callest out again, by the blazing home of Beel- 
 zebub, I will silence thy voice for ever ! Speak 
 lower, sweet/* added he in an altered tone, 
 *' and I will do you no scathe but what you 
 shall thank me for. I have come to save you
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 131 
 
 from Queen Eleanor; — know you not a friend 
 by his looks?" 
 
 '' Your looks alarm .me," said Rosamond, 
 trembling from head to foot, and not daring 
 again to raise her voice : '* Do but retire until 
 I render myself becoming to receive your tid- 
 ings, and call up my attendants, then_;.vi]l I 
 listen to you." <<. 
 
 " Nay, marry, I may not follow thine advice," 
 answered the villain with a fiendish grin. " I 
 am no such foolish huntsman as to give the doe 
 distance, which I have once run down. Nor 
 canst thou render thyself more becoming than 
 thou art ; that sweet confusion sits prettily upon 
 thee. Come, lie thee down, and be not alarmed. 
 Thou shalt find me true friend ; hand and glove 
 will I pledge myself to thee, — and trust me, 
 thou wilt need one." 
 
 '* Holy Virgin !" exclaimed Rosamond, *' look 
 down upon me in my hour of need." Then 
 turning to the ruffian, she added, " Do thou 
 but leave me for a httle space, and if thy inten- 
 tions are honest, I will reward thee ; and even
 
 132 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 shelter thee from this rash deed, which may 
 cost thee thy life." 
 
 **My life, fair lady, I weigh but lightly 
 against thy favour," answered the villain with 
 matchless effrontery : " come, thou wilt but be 
 granting me that which, in spite of all parley, 
 it is now in my power to possess." 
 
 ** I dare not understand thee/' answered 
 Rosamond, at a loss what to say ; yet willing 
 to gain time by any subterfuge, and arranging 
 her confused robes ; for she saw the ruffian's 
 purpose written in his brow. *' Thou sayest 
 that thou hast come to me as a friend ; shew 
 thyself as such, and threaten not an unprotected 
 lady in a lone apartment. Leave me, and I will 
 forgive thee for this intrusion, and forget thy 
 threats." 
 
 " I may leave thee to worse hands," answered 
 Ugglethred. " I have told thee that it is in my 
 power to shelter thee from a most deadly 
 enemy, one who never hits upon the slot, with- 
 out pursuing the victim to death. Be wise, 
 then, and give me thy love, and thou shalt have 
 my protection even to the death."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 133 
 
 " Villain," answered Rosamond, no longer 
 able to conceal her anger, " thinkest thou that 
 I would preserve my life at the price of my 
 hopour? Leave me this instant, or I will throw 
 open the lattice, and call hither the guards that 
 man the turrets." 
 
 " And talkest thou so proudly of honour, my 
 dainty doe ?" answered the hardened ruffian ; 
 " when we know the hart that leads the herd, 
 and have discovered where he harboureth in the 
 thicket. Preach up thine honour before Queen 
 Eleanor, my mincing hind, and thou wilt soon 
 see at what a high rate she values it. But I 
 waste words with thee," added he, drawing 
 nearer. *' Nay, menace me not, thou mayest 
 as soon drive a ravenous wolf from his prey, as 
 me from my firm purpose." 
 
 Rosamond saw that there was not a moment 
 to be lost ; and throwing down a heavy oaken 
 chair which stood between herself and Uggle- 
 thred, she sprang like an affrighted fawn across 
 the couch, threw open the door in an instant, 
 and closing it behind her with a loud bang, 
 hurried down the winding stair, across the court.
 
 134 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 and through the postern, over the moat, nor 
 paused a moment until she had gained the 
 shrubbery. 
 
 A man in armour, who guarded the gate 
 as she passed, and stood in a niche unobserved 
 by Rosamond, threw down his partisan in 
 affright, and hurried off to his comrade, who 
 watched the opposite postern, where, with his 
 teeth chattering in his head, he regaled his ears 
 with a long tale, about the white spirit which 
 had startled him from his post. 
 
 So sudden was the departure of Rosamond, 
 that ere OHphant Ugglethred had recovered 
 himself from the shock of the heavy oaken 
 settle, the back of which struck his breast, she 
 had shot out of the room. Nor, when he de- 
 scended the stair with the lamp in his hand, 
 could he discover a trace of her footsteps. He 
 placed the light cautiously in the apartment 
 where the minstrel still soundly slept, then 
 ventured forth into the court-yard. 
 
 His presence, however, attracted the attention 
 of the two soldiers, who were talking over the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 136 
 
 appearance of the supposed spirit. Ugglethred 
 soon saw that he was observed, and with his 
 usual hardihood drew up to them at once, just 
 as the soldier was saying, " Neither did its feet 
 awake a sound, as it passed over the single 
 plank that stretches across the moat, and saving 
 the rustling of the drapery, it moved by as 
 noiselessly as a ray of light." 
 
 " Ay ! name ye then the figure of a woman 
 that but now shot by?" said Ugglethred, 
 catching at once the drift of their conversation. 
 ** By St. Dunstan, it made my very flesh creep 
 with affright, and yet I dare be sworn, after all, 
 it was but a woman, stolen forth to meet her 
 lover in the. chase." 
 
 " And who art thou ?" said the man-at-arms, 
 whose senses had not been shocked by the ap- 
 pearance of Rosamond, and who half doubted 
 whether his comrade had not lost his wits. 
 '* Who art thou, that darest to wander amid the 
 courts of the palace at this hour? What is thy 
 business here ? speak truly, or my duty will lead 
 me to secure thee in the donjon."
 
 136 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " My business hath been the emptying a few 
 merry cups with the minstrel, an' it please you," 
 answered Ugglethred, " whom I have drank 
 down to the very floor. And by the mass, an' I 
 had not come forth into the moonlight to 
 swallow a few mouthfuls of the night-air, my 
 head would so have rung with the dregs of 
 the wine stoupand his jovial lays, that I should 
 have thrown myself beside him for company." 
 
 "An' that be all," answered the soldier, /' thy 
 presence concerneth Pierre de Vidal and not me; 
 but what sawest thou, for by the rood, thou 
 lookest not to have dived so deeply into thy 
 cups, but that thou hast preserved more of thy 
 wits than my comrade-at-arms, who hath not 
 wetted his lips since curfew ?" 
 
 " Marry, and it somewhat puzzleth me to teH 
 thee what T have seen," replied the ruffian; 
 " but while I stood by the postern at the foot of 
 the turret, a figure as of a female darted by me, 
 barefooted, and with her h^air flying loose, and 
 I will be sworn that she came down the 
 winding stair, unless she could spring out of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 137 
 
 the massy wall, which I hold to be no easy 
 matter." 
 
 •* No easy matter sayest thou ?" echoed the 
 superstitious soldier; ** marry thou knowest 
 but little of the power of the white spirits that 
 haunt these forests. Why, I can tell thee that 
 Christopher of the Crag, as brave a fellow as 
 ever buckled on an hauberk, or struck a blow 
 in the wars of stiff Stephen, saw a white witch 
 leap out from a massy oak ; ay ! and never a bit 
 was the bark frayed. Nay, he once stuck his 
 lance through a white woman while he kept 
 watch at Northampton, but he vowed that it 
 was only like piercing a mist." 
 
 Ugglethred had much ado to keep himself 
 from laughing outright, for he felt not the 
 slightest remorse at what he had done ; or if he 
 had any regret, it was that he had not com- 
 pleted his base purpose. *'I will venture forth," 
 said he, *' into the chase, and see if I can find 
 any traces of this bahr-gheist, which, after all, 
 may but be a woman." 
 
 "We will first accompany thee to arouse
 
 138 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Pierre de Vidal/' said tlie man-at-arms ; " for it 
 behoveth him to look narrowly to his charge in 
 yonder turret. Or woe be to his minstrel-ship 
 when next he looketh upon King Henry." 
 
 "Your will shall be mine in this matter," said 
 Ugglethred : and without changing countenance, 
 or betraying a symptom of his villany, he 
 crossed the court yard with the guards, passed 
 the western wing of the palace, and stepping 
 through the dark shadow which the turret threw 
 across their path, revealing all the outlines of its 
 quaint tracery in the moonshine, they entered 
 the minstrel's apartment. 
 
 Vidal was aroused with but little difficulty, 
 for he had slept off the chief effects of the revel, 
 and he no sooner heard their tale, than he 
 sprung up the turret-stairs without a moment's 
 hesitation, determined at least to knock at the 
 door of Rosamond's chamber, and from her 
 own lips receive answer of her safety. But 
 when he saw the door wide open, the couch 
 empty and disordered, and the oaken settle pros- 
 trated, he felt certain that villany was somewhere
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 139 
 
 afloat, and ascending the topmost flight of the 
 turret, he thundered loudly at a low oaken door, 
 and awakened Maud. 
 
 Meantime Oliphant Ugglethred deemed it 
 wisdom to decamp, and stole forth into the 
 park, through the outlet we have before de- 
 scribed, hoping thereby to escape the investiga- 
 tion of the minstrel, and peradventure meet 
 with Rosamond, whom he was determined 
 should not a second time escape him. 
 But leaving the din and tumult which was 
 raised in the palace when Maud appeared 
 and was apprized of her mistress's absence, 
 and making no mention of the complainings 
 of the minstrel, we must pursue the sad fortunes 
 of the fair fugitive in another chapter.
 
 40 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A poor soul sat sighing under a sycamore tree : 
 
 O willow, willow, wullow, 
 With her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee ; 
 
 O willow, willow, willow. 
 Sing O the green willow shall be my garland. 
 The cold streams ran by her, her eyes wept apace, 
 
 O willow, willow, willow : 
 The salt tears fell from her, which drowned her face, 
 
 Sing O willow, willow, willow, 
 Come all you forsaken and sit down by me. 
 And sing, willow, beneath the sycamore tree, 
 
 O the green willow shall be my garland. , 
 
 Ancient Ballad. 
 
 The pale moonbeams fell coldly upon the 
 sylvan shades of Woodstock park, when fair 
 Rosamond bare-footed, and bare-headed, rushed 
 through the narrow postern that opened into 
 its wooded solitudes. The chilly dew also lay 
 heavily upon the greensward, and as she had 
 nothing to cover her fronj the cutting night- 
 air, saving the thin mantle which she had 
 snatched up in her haste to escape, her lovely
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 141 
 
 and fragile frame shivered affain as she faced 
 the piercing wind. Regardless of the path she 
 pursued, she struck into a thicket, and forcing 
 her way through the dense underwood, which 
 was Hke fording a river, so saturated was the 
 heavy foliage with dew, she at length gained a 
 little eminence, and throwing herself down be- 
 neath a gigantic oak, endeavoured to pull out 
 the thorns with which her bleeding feet were 
 pierced. Her heart beat faster at every rustle 
 of the branches, and in every gust that blew, her 
 fancy conjured up the steps of her pursuer, and 
 while the tears flowed down her lovely cheeks, 
 and iiiipearled her beautiful but disarranged 
 tresses, she offered up a deep and silent prayer 
 to the Virgin. 
 
 Although her heart felt more at ease after this, 
 and she attributed her escape to her guardian 
 saint, nevertheless a strange consciousness of 
 her loneliness crept over her spirit, which, 
 together with the pain she had suffered, and a 
 feeling of weariness, made her wish for death. 
 She felt a kind of foreboding that her life was
 
 142 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 doomed to unhappiness, and that she was but 
 then tasting of the cup of bitterness, which in 
 the end she should be compelled to drain to the 
 dregs. Then she thought of the past and sighed, 
 regretting that time could not be recalled, and 
 thinking what she would now do had she but 
 those days to come over again. The thoughts 
 of her father also came strongly upon her me- 
 mory ; the knowledge that he had left his old 
 mansion, and departed to join the Crusaders on 
 her account, preyed heavily upon her mind. Then 
 her memory travelled back to childhood, and 
 a thousand little incidents long forgotten, and 
 which at the time they took place scarcely made 
 any impression on the mind, now rose up be- 
 fore her clothed in strange charms, such as de- 
 spair only can colour the objects with, that are 
 beyond its reach. At last her mind wandered 
 back to Henry, and reflecting upon all that she 
 had undergone for his peace and honour, her 
 heart accused him for a moment of neglect in 
 leaving her thus exposed to the attacks of such 
 a ruffian. But the thought remained with her
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. )43 
 
 no longer than the moment that it passed 
 through her mind, like a tiny cloud, that moves 
 hastily over the sun ; and when it is gone, his 
 rays seem to beam forth stronger ; and she 
 wept for having allowed such a thought to 
 possess her. 
 
 So strongly did these ideas follow each other 
 up, that she was scarcely conscious of the 
 situation which she occupied, and as that 
 drowsy feeling which is so often produced by 
 extreme cold, stole over her, she watched star 
 after star as they gleamed through the net- 
 work of boughs overhead, until their brightness 
 seemed to diminish, and she fell asleep. The 
 moon which had long been struggling through 
 a mass of light clouds, now broke forth and 
 threw her sloping and silvery beams full upon 
 the stem of the massy oak by which she 
 slumbered, giving to her pale and beautiful 
 features, an almost unearthly loveliness, as if 
 she was bound under the mighty spell of some 
 enchanter, into whose power she had fallen. 
 The mantle which she had hastily thrown
 
 144 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 around her, had also fallen from her shoulders, 
 and revealed her bare neck and bosom, on 
 which the cold moonlight streamed in an un- 
 interrupted flood of light, leaving only a shadow 
 here and there where her clustering tresses had 
 fallen. Around her reigned a solemn silence, 
 which was only broken by such sounds as 
 seemed to make the air stiller- for the drowsy 
 rustling of the foliage, as it swayed to and fro 
 at intervals, and the far-off murmuring of the 
 waters of the Glyme, came so subdued and 
 softened, that it was like the *'hush" of nature 
 whispering the world to sleep. Even the deer 
 moved along the moonlit glades like shadows, 
 or fed on the dewy herbage without a sound ; 
 and a night-hawk that was wheelinsj between 
 the moon and the earth, seemed to proclaim 
 by its startling shrieks, that all above was 
 as silent as below. 
 
 The silence was however suddenly broken 
 by a herd of deer, rushing affrighted down the 
 steep on which Rosamond slept: then came a 
 rattling of arrows, some of them striking the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 145 
 
 boles of trees into which they stuck, quivered 
 for a moment, then remained still. Others again 
 pierced the flying herd, and brought their lofty 
 antlers to the earth ; but not a human voice was 
 heard, and so thickly was the spot carpeted 
 with luxuriant grass, that the footsteps of the 
 marauders were inaudible until they rushed 
 down the green declivity to seize the fallen 
 deer. At length the hauberks and steel head- 
 pieces of the archers glanced brightly in the 
 moonlight, as they descended the steep eminence 
 on which the fair sleeper was seated ; and she 
 was no sooner observed by the two foremost 
 of the party, who were bearing off a dead 
 buck, than they threw down their load, and 
 pointing out the object of alarm to their com- 
 panions, the whole group, amounting to at least 
 half a score, fled as if Satan himself had been 
 at their heels. 
 
 On they rushed with a speed which was truly 
 marvellous, considering the weight of their 
 breast-pieces, and so closely together, that to 
 use a phrase of the turf, a blanket would have 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 covered the whole of them. They speedily 
 gained an open space not far distant from the 
 lofty wall of the park : here they halted, much 
 to the astonishment of three knights, who, 
 armed from head to heel, with only their visors 
 open, sat like statues in their saddles. Several 
 sumpter horses also stood at hand, and were in 
 readiness to carry off the spoil. 
 
 *' How now," said the tallest knight, riding 
 out from between his companions, and lowering 
 his lance. "Are we beset? — speak knaves, 
 where lurk the ambuscade? muster they strong?" 
 
 The men looked at each other with fear, for 
 no one seemed to have courage enough to reply. 
 At length, one bolder than the rest said, " We 
 have seen the white woman seated beneath an 
 
 " And is this all ye have met with, to raise 
 such an alarm !" exclaimed the knight. " Bet- 
 ter had ye face the whole legion of homed 
 fiends than return to the castle empty-handed. 
 Some white doe, browsing, I dare be sworn, 
 hath smitten your cowardly hearts with fear.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 147 
 
 Back, knaves ! and bring in every hide ye have 
 slaughtered, or by the true Lord, I will run a few 
 courses at your craven breasts." 
 
 *' Nearly every head which we have struck 
 down," said another, "lie where the white 
 fiend is seated ; and I would sooner face a score 
 of lances, than set foot on a spot where I am 
 sure to be torn limb from limb." 
 
 The knight made a plunge forward with his 
 steed, as if intending to ride down the archer ; 
 but a moment's reflection caused him to tighten 
 the reins ; and so much had he the noble animal 
 under obeyance, that although his lance point 
 was within a foot of the speaker's face, the 
 horse fell back on its haunches without doing 
 him any injury. He well knew that many a 
 cheek would turn pale at the sight of a falling- 
 star, or the croaking of a raven, which had never 
 been blanched in battle ; and as one or two of 
 the soldiers were Saxons, he was fully aware of 
 the impossibility of reasoning them out of their 
 superstitious notions, which they clung to more 
 closely than even their creed. 
 H 2
 
 148 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 *' Hugo," said he, after a pause, addressing 
 one of the bowmen, who had liitherto shrunk 
 back, as if ashamed of what he had done, 
 ** thou wert wont to be watchful when matters of 
 so great import to the beleaguered garrison, as 
 the present were on hand. Now tell me, as thou 
 hast hopes of one day becoming an esquire, 
 sawest thou aught to cause this unnecessary 
 delay ?" 
 
 " By the Holy Mother of Heaven !" answered 
 Hugo, *' and as I value your knightly favour, 
 Beowulph hath but spoken the truth. We 
 have seen the white woman, and I have stood 
 within a lance's length of her, and she seemed 
 asleep, with all that look of winning misery, 
 which leads mankind to pity her, when 
 she seizes on them, and sinks into the deep 
 earth." 
 
 " Talkest thou also of such folly, Hugo ?" 
 rephed the knight, sternly ; " but what boots 
 it to be angry with such boors ? lead on, 
 knaves, at least so far as I may gain sight of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 149 
 
 this dreaded object, which I dare be sworn is 
 some love-lorn damsel in distress, and may 
 need the succour of a knight." 
 
 The men obeyed, although reluctantly ; and 
 the knight signing to his companions in arms to 
 remain stationary, rode in the direction from 
 which the affrighted bowmen had fled, while 
 they gathered so closely to his steed, as almost 
 to impede its progress. 
 
 They were not long, however, before they 
 reached the acclivity where Rosamond was still 
 seated, wrapped in profound slumber. The 
 brave knight rode beyond his companions, and 
 reined in his palfrey within a spear's length of 
 the broad oak, and in such a position as to 
 command a full view of her figure, — for the 
 moon now shone forth in her greatest brilliancy. 
 Nor did he gaze upon her, without a feeling allied 
 to fear, for she looked more like one of those 
 beautiful statues of the ancients, than a living- 
 object : neither was he entirely free from those 
 superstitious notions for which he had censured
 
 150 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 his followers. Pride, however, came to his aid; 
 and offering up a prayer to his patron saint, 
 he ventured to touch her lightly with the butt- 
 end of his lance. 
 
 Springing up like a startled wood-nymph, 
 she hastily gathered the flowing drapery closer 
 around her, and stood erect and silent before 
 the armed knight. Her first thoughts were to 
 flee ; but when she saw the assembled archers 
 in the distance, she became conscious that there 
 remained no chance of escaping. She also 
 shook from head to foot with the cold. 
 
 " Tremble not, fair lady," said the knight, in 
 none of the firmest tones ; " but tell me how I 
 may render you such service as may be ten- 
 dered by a true knight to a fair maiden in 
 distress.'' 
 
 "Alas! I know not whither to betake me at 
 this hour," replied Rosamond, in a voice tremu- 
 lous with fear and cold, yet sweet as the thrilling 
 notes of the nightingale, and every word of 
 which caused the heart of the knight to tingle.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 151 
 
 ** It would ill become one wearing spurs to 
 leave a fair form like thine to shiver in the cold 
 night-blast," continued the knight, gaining con- 
 fidence : *' But might I crave to know the cause 
 which hath driven you abroad at so unmeet an 
 hour, that I might the better be enabled to give 
 counsel on the matter." 
 
 " That may not be, noble knight," answered 
 Rosamond, in the same sweet, but mournful 
 tones : " nor need I make an appeal to one of 
 your order to be permitted to keep my secret. 
 Meantime, if you would conduct me back to the 
 lodge of Woodstock, and permit a few of your 
 followers to keep guard until the morrow, it 
 should be service which I would well requite." 
 
 ** I will myself escort you thither in safety, 
 fair lady,'^ answered the knight, " although my 
 doing so may endanger mine own person; but 
 I dare not leave a man behind to keep watch, 
 nor may I bide longer than such times as you 
 reach a place of safety; for we have sallied forth 
 to forage for a beleaguered fortress, in which
 
 152 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 famine is making deeper inroads than battle. 
 Nor will I crave to know your secret in return ; 
 but I must be speedy in what I do, as the lives 
 of many of my companions in arms depend on 
 this night's success." 
 
 " May I crave the name of the castle that is 
 thus closely beleaguered?" inquired Rosamond. 
 
 " It is called the White Fortress," replied 
 the knight "whither I will bear you, should 
 such be your fair pleasure." 
 
 " Filled with the enemies of King Henry," 
 murmured Rosamond to herself: then speaking 
 aloud, " I have heard of its beleaguerment, and 
 may find friends amongst the besiegers; — 
 would you in all honour convey me to their 
 camp ?" 
 
 " I will, so far as it may be done in safety to 
 my companions," answered the knight, "but 
 King Henry hath himself sat down before our 
 walls to-day; and it will need some caution 
 to escape the vigilance of his sentinels. Nor 
 should I have spoken so openly of the besieged, 
 had I hit upon your request."
 
 PAIR ROSAMOND. 153 
 
 "Your secret is safe in my keeping, Sir 
 Knight," replied Rosamond, '* and it may be 
 that I shall find means to requite you according 
 to your deserts, when I reach yonder camp in 
 safety.'' 
 
 After some demurring on the part of Rosa- 
 mond, she was at length seated before the 
 knight, who with one hand lifted her into the 
 saddle, with as much ease as if she had been a 
 child ; and so refined were the true feelings of 
 chivalry at that period towards the fair sex, that 
 Rosamond placed the firmest reliance on his 
 word ; nor did his courtesy exceed any becom- 
 ing bounds. When he reached his companions 
 in arms, he obtained a thick Norman cloak, 
 which one of the archers had thrown over him 
 when he went as scout, to conceal the glittering 
 armour, and in this she was speedily enveloped. 
 
 At length the slaughtered deer were placed 
 on the horses which had been brought thither 
 for that purpose, and the whole party were 
 speedily in motion, and left the park by a pos- 
 tern gate, just high enough, and of sufficient 
 h5
 
 154 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 width to admit two horsemen abreast bearing 
 lances. Once without the park, their move- 
 ments became more guarded, and they pro- 
 ceeded along with great caution, keeping an 
 unbroken silence. Another knight was also 
 added to their party, who- had been on watch 
 beside the postern. 
 
 They moved along like men who were appre- 
 hensive of danger, but determined to make the 
 best of their little forces, which were so arranged 
 as to be in readiness for any sudden surprise. 
 Foremost, and at a considerable distance from 
 the cavalcade rode the warrior who had kept 
 watch, — his lance poised, — his triangular shield 
 hanging around his neck, — and his battle-axe 
 ready to be assumed at a moment*s warning. 
 Next came six archers moving three a-breast, — 
 their bows ready bent for action ; behind these 
 followed the two knights, armed like their com- 
 panion with their visors down, and ready for an 
 instant charge ; next came the warrior bearing 
 fair Rosamond, enfolding her waist with the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 155 
 
 same arm which held the reins ; and grasping 
 the lance firmly in his right hand. Then came 
 in order the horses heavily laden with the car- 
 cases of the deer, and they were again followed 
 by six bowmen who brought up the rear. 
 
 The scene which they now traversed was in 
 some places deeply wooded ; and therefore well 
 calculated to shelter an ambuscade; but so 
 thickly were the open spaces covered with grass, 
 that the tramping of their war-horses scarce 
 awoke an echo. Where the country was open, 
 they seemed to travel in greater security, and 
 with more speed ; and whenever a thicket or a 
 clump of trees appeared, the same guarded 
 caution and silence was observed. The heart of 
 Rosamond beat quicker in her bosom while 
 riding along the gloomy woodlands ; for when- 
 ever a chance offered, the party availed them- 
 selves of the shade, and she soon became con- 
 scious of the danger to which she was exposed. 
 The knight had, however, thrown his own shield 
 around her neck, so that she was in a great
 
 156 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 measure protected from any random shaft, 
 should they chance to encounter an enemy. 
 But thicket after thicket was left behind, and 
 no sign of danger appeared as they moved 
 securely along, now in the shadow of some hill, 
 then in the depth of a valley, down which a 
 full flood of moonlight streamed ; and anon 
 through rich pasture lands, clear enough, how- 
 ever, of either hoof or horn. At length they 
 gained an eminence which overlooked the castle 
 with its massy towers and keep, and imposing 
 battlements ; some parts slumbering in deep 
 shadow, — others again clearly revealed in the 
 broad moonbeams. A vast space of smooth 
 meadow land also stretched along the base of 
 the castle, and was covered with the tents of 
 the besiegers, which in the distance resembled 
 masses of fallen clouds; — the winding Thames 
 was also visible, as its tranquil waters flashed 
 and sported in the silver light, until they were 
 broken by the massy shadows of the castle. 
 AU was, however, silent ; not the foot-fall of a
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 157 
 
 sentry broke the tranquillity of the night ; nor was 
 the slightest sound from the camp audible in 
 the distance when they halted. The procession 
 struck into a winding road (if such that might 
 be called, in which the greensward appeared to 
 have been cut up by cavalry), which was 
 screened from the camp of the besiegers by a 
 kind of embankment, here and there overhung 
 with trees. 
 
 They had not, however, journeyed far along 
 this grassy path, which led direct to the bar- 
 bican of the castle, when they were challenged 
 by a horseman, to whom one of the knights 
 was about to reply with the point of his lance. 
 But the warrior, as if aware of his purpose, 
 struck the spurs into his steed, and instantly 
 alarmed the camp. A low buzzing sound was 
 then heard in the distance, as of men's voices 
 in consultation. It drew nearer ; and the 
 tramping of steeds was also heard in motion. 
 " We are discovered," exclaimed the foremost 
 knight ; '* bowmen, hasten on with your plunder
 
 158 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 to the barbican." The party was not above 
 two arrows' flight from the postern, when the 
 order was given, and the archers, hurried on their 
 laden steeds, and came within shelter of the 
 gateway, ere the besiegers rode down upon 
 them. 
 
 " It will be but throwing away thy life," 
 said the knight, who held Rosamond before 
 him, to put thee down here ; for thou mayest 
 be trampled to death beneath the feet of their 
 war-horses. And it will be a vain attempt to 
 make thy voice heard through the uproar that 
 is about to break forth. Speak quickly, what 
 would you have me do amid the approaching 
 danger?'' 
 
 -" Let me alight here," said Rosamond in a 
 sorrowful voice ; " if some random shaft strikes 
 me, I will welcome it to my bosom as a friend." 
 
 " Nay, by my knighthood !" replied her pro- 
 tector, " it shall not be said that I left thee in 
 harm*s way ; for, peradventure some bolt from 
 our own battlements might alight on thee, for I
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 159 
 
 see our soldiers are already astir on the turrets 
 that flank the drawbridge." So saying, he 
 struck the spurs into his steed, — delivered Ro- 
 samond into the hands of the foremost archers, 
 who were just entering the barbican, — then 
 galloping instantly into the rear with lance in 
 rest, unhorsed one of the foremost assailants. 
 
 The skirmish might have proved fatal to the 
 little party of foragers, had it happened at a 
 greater distance from the castle ; but fortu- 
 nately for themselves, they were under shelter 
 of the cross-bows and mangonels, that plied 
 so briskly from the neighbouring turrets, as to 
 keep the chief body of the assailants at a wary 
 distance. The four knights drew up boldly 
 abreast before the grim gateway, and drove back 
 a double number of armed horsemen, who 
 seemed bent upon passing the drawbridge to 
 recover the spoil. But no sooner did the 
 archers see their plunder safe across the moat, 
 and within the inner postern, than they turned 
 bravely around, and bending their bows to the
 
 160 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 full stretch, discharged a volley of arrows on 
 the besiegers, then retreated over the drawbridge. 
 One by one did the knights follow their ex- 
 ample, now backing their steeds within the 
 shadow of the postern, then again rushing for- 
 ward with their lances couched, and driving 
 back the assailants. One warrior, in his eager- 
 ness to gain the open gates, made a dash at full 
 speed, and passed under the archway with such 
 force, that ere he could recover himself, he had 
 gained the centre of the drawbridge, and while 
 attempting to retreat, horse and rider went head 
 foremost into the deep moat. He was, however, 
 rescued from drowning by the archers, just as 
 his heavy armour was drawing him under the 
 waters. 
 
 The four knights who had so boldly protected 
 the rear of their companions, had also by this 
 time gained the gloomy gatewaj'^, and the pon- 
 derous portcullis, rattling like thunder, as it fell 
 down the deep groves, again divided the be- 
 sieged and the besiegers. Had it stood uplifted
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 161 
 
 another minute, a score of armed warriors 
 burning with eagerness for the affray, would 
 have rushed through the barbican, and at least 
 have made themselves masters of the out-works 
 of the castle ; as it was, however, they drew up 
 in the pale moonlight, stood a shower or two of 
 bolts and shafts which rattled on their armour, 
 then rode off" in disappointment to the camp.
 
 162 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Death, traitor ! nothing could have suhdued nature 
 To such a lowness, but his unkind daughter. 
 Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 
 Should have thus little mercy on their flesh 1 
 Judicious punishment ! 
 
 King Lear. 
 
 The beleaguered castle to which we have now 
 drawn the attention of our readers, was one of 
 those which the old chroniclers have denomi- 
 nated " dens of thieves ;" and improbable as 
 the number may appear, it is on record that 
 Henry the Second, swept several hundreds of 
 these formidable strongholds from the face of 
 the land. Where they stood we know not ; 
 their very ruins are forgotten ; the besieged and 
 the besieger perished together in the same 
 moat, or were crushed beneath the fallen tur- 
 ret, and many a forgotten harvest has been
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 163 
 
 reaped over their graves. No one can now 
 point out the mound whereon the banner was 
 planted, or the spot where the tent of the chief- 
 tain stood. The wild flowers wave where the 
 struggle of battle was most terrible, when the 
 last brave handful of warriors rushed through 
 the postern with lance in rest. Many of these, 
 be it remembered, were held by foreigners at 
 the time of which we write, — brave men who had 
 been allured over by the promise of possessions, — 
 who had fought the battles between Henry the 
 First, and Stephen, and had even taken up arms 
 at the summons of Matilda, and waged war for 
 the very monarch who was now laying them 
 waste. But Henry well knew how insecure 
 would be his throne, while so many of these 
 strong fortifications stood, and as he was de- 
 termined to sway the scepter with a sterner 
 grasp than his weak predecessors, he at once 
 struck at the root of that power, by which they 
 had too frequently been overwhelmed. Many 
 a terrible battle took place before this mighty
 
 164 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 task was accomplished, and numbers of these 
 brave but savage barons perished in defending 
 their castles, and in very few instances gave up 
 the struggle, before they were either taken by 
 storm, or reduced by famine. Nor were they 
 even in the latter case subdued without much 
 bloodshed, and in many of these sieges Henry 
 boldly perilled his own life, and was only pre- 
 served by the daring devotion of his own fol- 
 lowers. Many of these storms and sieges must 
 be familiar to every reader of history ; and as we 
 only profess to narrate the few incidents in this 
 important reign which bear immediately upon 
 our story, we are prevented from entering further 
 into the events of the period, than what is 
 sufficient to satisfy the reader, that the scenes 
 portrayed are in keeping with the time of which 
 we write. 
 
 The castle, as we have before stated, 
 stood beside the Thames, and within an 
 hour's ride of Woodstock park, and conse- 
 quently no very great distance from Oxford,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 165 
 
 Near, however, as it stood to the royal resi- 
 dences, it had hitherto baffled every attempt 
 made by the besiegers to carry it either by 
 stratagem or storm ; and so much time had 
 been wasted in fruitless siege, that Henry 
 himself, with a powerful band of his boldest 
 knights, at last sat down before its walls. 
 
 The little garrison soon knew with whom 
 they had to deal, when they beheld the royal 
 standard, with its grim golden lions, floating 
 above a lofty pavilion, and heard the ^^ silver 
 snarling trumpets" ring out their loud defiance 
 over hill, valley, and river. Nor was the 
 adventure which we described in our last 
 chapter accomplished so secretly, but that it 
 had by this time aroused the whole camp, 
 which was now astir in the moonlight, ready 
 to press the besiegers anew. 
 
 Two large breaching-towers, so high that 
 they overlooked the tall battlements of the 
 castle, had also arrived since sunset, together 
 with mangonels, and the heaviest trebuchets
 
 166 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 which were then in use for hurling stones ; and 
 as these were already at work, the loud crash 
 which from time to time was heard within the 
 walls, rung frightfully upon the still night, 
 and told too well the destruction which they 
 were spreading among the besieged. 
 
 It was a gallant sight to behold those brave 
 knights drawn up in battle-array before the 
 barbican, or to see them moving along from 
 one point of attack to another, their armoui- 
 flashing in the moonlight like pillars of silver. 
 Nor were the besieged backward, but showed 
 themselves at every point of the embrasures, 
 and boldly gave back shot for shot : but as yet 
 the storm of battle seemed only awakening, like 
 the first faint burst of distant thunder, growling 
 and announcing its approach, and bidding us to 
 prepare for the coming tempest. 
 
 Chief amid the assailants was seen the form 
 of King Henry riding from point to point and 
 giving the order of attack, for his blood was 
 aroused when he heard that a party of foragers,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 367 
 
 had, in the very teeth of his camp, entered the 
 sallyport in safety. Shunning however the 
 outer barbican, generally the first point of 
 attack in this system of warfare, he drew up 
 before an angle of the moat which faced one of 
 the turrets that guarded a corner of the castle. 
 Here the besiegers had blocked up the moat, 
 and numbers were still busily employed in 
 beating down the earth and fallen trees, with 
 which they had formed a solid road up to the 
 very walls of the castle. This had been the 
 labour of some days, and was done that they 
 might draw up the breaching-tower level with 
 the battlements. Nor had this been ac- 
 complished without much bloodshed, for 
 although the archers kept almost incessantly 
 shooting from behind their pavisors, yet the 
 besieged never ceased hurling missiles, or other- 
 wise annoying them from the battlements. 
 
 All was, however, at length prepared ; the tall 
 breaching-tower, — consisting of six stories, and 
 each compartment filled with armed men, who
 
 168 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 could ascend to the upper story as the topmost 
 landed on the battlements, by means of ladders 
 which communicated with each floor, — began to 
 rumble on its heavy and solid wheels, as they 
 sank deeply into the new-laid earth with which 
 they had filled up that part of the moat. 
 
 The mangonels also stood in readiness, with 
 men ready to work both winch and lever, and 
 throw huge masses of stone, some of them as 
 much as two men could place upon the machine. 
 A score of gallant knights also were drawn 
 up behind the mantelets, and, well backed by 
 archers, only awaited the signal to attack the 
 outer barbican with their heavy battle-axes. 
 Men were also seen moving to and fro along 
 the walls, their armour gleaming in the moon- 
 light between the embrasures as they paced 
 along, or paused in uncertainty of where the 
 storm was first to begin. Numbers had, how- 
 ever, flocked to the corner turret, where the 
 breaching tower was stationed, ready to strike 
 down the first who should plant foot upon the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 169 
 
 parapet. Just as King Henry had exclaimed, 
 "Trumpeters, sound the onset — advance, banner- 
 bearer in the name of God and Saint George !" 
 a knight approached, followed by his esquire 
 and a prisoner. 
 
 " How now ?" said the monarch, waving his 
 arm to delay the charge, " whom have we here, 
 sir knight V 
 
 '' A captive to my sword and spear, my 
 Liege," answered the knight, — "one whom I 
 took in the act of crossing the moat, bearing 
 letters that crave the assistance of Thorold de 
 Thilmon and his rebel lances, and urging to 
 come up with day-dawn and charge the rear of 
 our camp; here, your highness, is the epistle." 
 
 " Thou art a daring knave, and a bold," said 
 the king, looking at the prisoner sternly; " what 
 thinkest thou, that because the foragers escaped 
 our guard, we were to be entrapped by such 
 treachery ? What could induce thee to peril 
 thyself in this adventure ?" 
 
 " My love to a brave chieftain," answered 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the prisoner, undauntedly; "one who hath fought 
 thy mother's battles, proud king, and whom thou 
 wouldst now deprive of the castle which he has 
 bought at the price of his own blood, and the 
 lives of so many of his followers." 
 
 " Ah ! by the mother of God ! thou repliest 
 boldly,'' said Henry, the blood mounting his 
 cheek and brow. '* Muster the rebels then so 
 weak, that they are compelled to seek aid from 
 other hands ?" 
 
 *'Thou wilt find enow to throw a tower full 
 of thy fellows from the battlements," replied 
 the prisoner in the same fearless tone, " should 
 they be daring enough to lower the platform of 
 the breaching tower upon the embrasures." 
 
 **Ah, sayestthou so?" answered the King; then 
 giving vent to his anger, he exclaimed, " By the 
 fiery ford of perdition ! thou shalt carry back 
 our message to these traitors. Seize him, knaves ; 
 place him on the trebuchet, and cast him over 
 the battlements. But first," added he, "tie 
 the letter around his neck, that he may carry 
 it back again."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 171 
 
 *' Bethink you, my Liege," said the knight, 
 '* this will but be setting a sorry precedent to 
 our enenaies, and they may retaliate with the 
 same cruelty upon ourselves, should we fall into 
 their power." 
 
 "Fear not that," answered Henry sternly; 
 "thinkest thou if they had sounded parley on the 
 walls, and demanded safe passage for man and 
 horse, to crave help of their comrades, I would 
 have refused their request ? No, by the rood of 
 our Redeemer ! but would have delayed the 
 attack until they gained reinforcements, were 
 they willing to give up the fortalice, if none should 
 arrive. But trowest thou that I will pardon this 
 unknightly ambuscade ? — no, by the mass, he 
 shall go body and soul, and tell them all the 
 aid they may expect. Up winch, until the 
 very rope cracks." 
 
 Two of the soldiers placed the unfortunate 
 
 prisoner on the point, from which the stone was 
 
 usually thrown, and keeping a fixed eye on the 
 
 men at the windlass, watched the moment when 
 
 i2
 
 172 
 
 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 it was wound to its full stretch, and, catching 
 a signal from King Henry, when the catch 
 was loosed, they sprang aside. The ponderous 
 lever struck the cross-bar with such force, that 
 the sound was heard far around the outstretched 
 camp, and the figure of the victim rose in the 
 moonlight, with twice the speed of an arrow. 
 For a moment he was seen flying over the battle- 
 ments, with no more motion in his body than a 
 log of wood, until at last he fell, with a sound, 
 which although only just heard above the sur- 
 rounding silence, fell coldly upon the heart of 
 the bravest warrior that was sheathed in mail.* 
 "Sound trumpets, to the onset !" exclaimed 
 Henry, in a voice which was heard by both the 
 besieged and the besiegers. " To the barbican, 
 gallant knights ! let not a mangonel stand 
 idle ; pavisors advance, archers shoot together ; 
 let neither a shot-hole nor an embrasure be 
 
 * A similar scene occurs in Froissart ; and the old chronicler 
 also mentions that during some siege, they threw the dead and 
 putrified bodies of horses into the castle, from these dreadful
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 173 
 
 clear of your shafts. Banner-bearer, to the 
 breaching tower — shout, soldiers, for God and 
 St. George, and follow your king !'' 
 
 A loud deep blast pealed from every trumpet, 
 and ringing along the blue and moonlit vault of 
 heaven, was answered from the battlements, and 
 before the echoes had died over the wide waters, 
 and the distant valleys, " God and St. George," 
 rolled from a thousand voices, and mingled with 
 the war-cries from the citadel. 
 
 Followed by his bravest knights, men of good 
 chivalry, stout of heart, and strong of limb, 
 Henry entered the breaching tower, and as- 
 cended flight after flight, with as little dread, 
 as if he had been bound for a banquet instead 
 of a battle. Every apartment of the machine 
 was instantly crowded, and many lingered on 
 the ladders which led from floor to floor, that 
 they might be in readiness to ascend, as soon 
 as their comrades fell, or make good their entry 
 into the barriers. The loud clattering of heavy 
 footsteps, and the ringing of their armour
 
 174 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 against each other, was heard as they ascended ; 
 while the rush with which they approached, 
 caused the tall machine to rock again. 
 
 Leaving the assailants to continue the storm 
 they had so boldly begun, we must return to 
 E-osamond, who was so unexpectedly borne 
 into the castle, both against her own wishes, 
 and the will of the knight, who had no intention 
 to break his word with her. She was carried 
 through the outer bailey without her appearance 
 seeming to draw forth any particular attention, 
 but when the archers entered the inner court, 
 and placed her before the donjon keep, Rosa- 
 mond found herself in the midst of a group of 
 men-at-arms. Other objects, however, seemed 
 to attract their attention, even more than her 
 beauty, at that time; for it was long since 
 many of those weather-beaten warriors had 
 broken their fast, and they were as ready to 
 fall upon the slaughtered deer, as a pack of 
 famished hounds are to feed after a hard chase. 
 Fires had been already kindled in the court-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 175 
 
 yard, in anticipation of the foragers providing 
 them something for supper, and nothing could 
 exceed the faciUty with which some of the old 
 veterans cut up their allotted share of the venison, 
 and devoured it raw, while they watched with a 
 vulture's glance, the portions which they had 
 thrown upon the embers. Nor could the 
 threats of their leaders keep the men at their 
 posts on the ramparts ; for as they scented the 
 roast flesh, one after another rushed from his 
 station, and seizing upon whatever came first to 
 hand, tore it asunder like dogs. Meantime 
 the knight had taken the trappings from his 
 steed, and making a seat for Rosamond, placed 
 her before the largest fire; and while he held 
 converse with two knights who appeared to be 
 the leaders of the party, left her to witness the 
 scenes which we have so faintly described. 
 
 " Enquired you not the maiden's business at 
 the camp of the besiegers?'' said the oldest 
 knight ; '* bethink you, it would but be folly to 
 part with her now, after having witnessed the 
 state of our famished garrison."
 
 176 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 '* That were but a trifling matter/' said the 
 knight who had escorted the lady thither; **for 
 they are by this time well assured that we 
 are not over-provisioned, while we made this 
 sally in the very throat of their guards." 
 
 " He speaketh but the truth, Sir Walter," 
 said the other knight. " It will avail nothing 
 keeping the maiden here, when she hath per- 
 chance some lover or husband without ; let her 
 depart, in God's name ; there is no fear but that 
 any of our men-at-arms will find safe escort both 
 for himself and her, amid the enemy." 
 
 " Pity but we had hit upon this matter 
 earlier," replied Sir Walter : " for I but now 
 lowered one of my esquires from the western 
 turret, with letters craving the aid of Thorold 
 de Thilraon : for so late did our foragers linger, 
 that I feared they had fallen into the wolf's 
 mouth. I will, however, with your permission, 
 first see if aught may be gathered from parley- 
 ing with her. It may be that she knoweth 
 somewhat of the disposition of those without."
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 177 
 
 To this the knights made no objection, but 
 stepping aside to see that all was right at the 
 various posts, left an attendant to summon 
 Rosamond, who without demur readily obeyed, 
 and was instantly in the presence of the baron. 
 
 "To whom wishest thou safe conduct in 
 yonder camp, damsel ?" said the knight, in 
 tones which rather softened the abrupt ques- 
 tion, although he spoke without once looking on 
 her countenance : as to his own features, they 
 were partly shaded by a buttress. 
 
 " To the King," replied Rosamond, " an' it 
 please you to allow me an escort to his tent, 
 whose honour I will wage for his safe return." 
 
 " Humph I canst thou make sure of possess- 
 ing influence enough with him on that point?" 
 enquired the knight in a colder tone of voice, 
 and one which, without her knowing why, 
 thrilled to her very heart. 
 
 "An' thou fearest for his safe return, gallant 
 knight ;" replied Rosamond, " Let me tarry 
 until he hath carried tidings that I am here, 
 i5
 
 178 
 
 FAI^l ROSAMOND. 
 
 and I doubt not but that, with your leave, Henry 
 will send a speedy escort." 
 
 " That were a wiser plan," murmured the 
 knight, *' what token wilt thou send that he 
 may be sure of thy presence, and what name 
 may we crave for our messenger to bear?" 
 
 "The token this braid," said she, unloosing 
 a rich gold band from her beautiful tresses, 
 which was covered with seed-pearl : " The name 
 Rosamond, should it be needed. '* 
 
 " Rosamond !" echoed the knight, turning his 
 eyes upon her for the first time, as he stepped 
 forth from the shadow of the buttress ; and 
 fixing such a look upon her, as would have 
 annihilated her, had they possessed the power 
 of the fabled basilisk. But she remarked him 
 not, for her glance at the moment was fixed 
 on the ground. 
 
 '' Rosamond !" continued he, raising his voice, 
 as his countenance seemed to kindle like a 
 fire, while gazing upon her : " Art thou then 
 the harlot that fled from her father's castle, to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 179 
 
 bring infamy upon his grey hairs, and an eternal 
 disgrace on his honourable name? Look up, if 
 thy guilty glance dare again to rest upon these 
 features/' 
 
 She obeyed him, and uttering a loud shriek, 
 which was echoed back by donjon and postern, 
 exclaimed, " Oh my father!" and fell upon the 
 ground. 
 
 The stern old warrior stood beside her with 
 folded arms, the same savage expression still 
 pervading his countenance ; for not a hand 
 did he stretch out to her assistance, nor did a 
 gleam of pity break upon his deeply-furrowed 
 brow. 
 
 Not so, however, with the young knight who 
 had brought her thither, and had been a witness, 
 although at some distance, of the interview, 
 but without being able to hear the conversation ; 
 — for, leaping forward, and overturning the 
 esquire, who was busied with the fastenings of 
 his armour, he was in an instant at her side. 
 
 '• Touch her not," said the angry baron,
 
 180 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Stepping up and releasing the knight's hold from 
 her drapery ; *' or if thou must needs bear her 
 away, throw her carcase over the ramparts into 
 the moat, and I will hold it good service." 
 
 '' Better that he never were born of a woman," 
 replied the young knight, his fine features 
 flushing with rage, '* who dareth but to injure 
 a single hair of her head. She came hither 
 under my pledge for her safety, and by my hope 
 in the Mother of Heaven ! I will bruise the bones 
 of him who dareth to molest her." 
 
 " Hear me, sir knight," replied the stern old 
 man, in a deep sepulchral voice; '' she who lyeth 
 there was my daughter, was once the pride of my 
 home, the image of her saintf^d mother. She is 
 now the concubine of the very man against 
 whom we are in arms; — nay, she is the cause of 
 my taking up arms against Henry of Anjou, 
 judge thou if " 
 
 " I am not what thou hast named me," re- 
 plied Rosamond, aroused by the harsh language 
 of her father, which pierced like a dagger
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 181 
 
 through her heart. " Spurn me from thee, 
 crush me like a reptile beneath thine armed 
 heel, hew me limb from limb; — but oh! call 
 me not by such a name. I invoke heaven and 
 earth to witness, that were these the last words 
 that my tongue may utter, I am not " 
 
 Her heart was too full to speak more, and 
 burying her lovely face in her hands, she gave 
 vent to her feelings in a flood of tears, while 
 her deep sobs seemed as if they would tear her 
 bosom asunder to escape. 
 
 "Liar!'* muttered the baron between his 
 teeth : '^ but no, they may have found another 
 name. Or, it may have become the fashion of 
 court, since even Queen Eleanor intrigued with 
 a Saracen; and Henry married the divorced — " 
 
 Just then the body of the unfortunate victim, 
 who was cast from the trebuchet with the 
 letter around his neck, fell within a few paces 
 of where they stood, and was crushed out of 
 every shape resembling the human form." 
 
 " I will yet act a Roman's part," said the
 
 182 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 baron, taking his daughter in his arms, after 
 having glanced at the crushed and lifeless body 
 of his own esquire, " Hither, knaves !" continued 
 he, calling to his followers, and approaching a 
 huge mangonel which stood by the embrasures ; 
 *'to the windlass, and draw it as if you were 
 about to hurl the castle from its foundations. 
 I will send Henry of England such a token of 
 my love as no father ever before gave to a king/' 
 The men obeyed with fear and trembling, for 
 they heard but the order indistinctly, as the 
 sound of trumpets, and the loud clamour to 
 which we have before alluded had began. Nor 
 had he relinquished his hold from his beautiful 
 daughter, or placed his hand upon the dreadful 
 spring, which once loosed, would have hurled 
 her far beyond the camp of the besiegers, when 
 a massy stone, cast from some trebuchet by the 
 assailants, shot through the embrasure, and laid 
 him lifeless within the battlements. He fell 
 just as the young knight was springing forward 
 to rescue her from his grasp, — for so sudden
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 183 
 
 had been his motion, that it was not until the 
 last moment that he became aware of his intent. 
 As it was, however, sire and daughter came 
 down with the speed of a thunderbolt together, 
 and he died with his arm around her, pressed 
 firmly in the deep and sudden agony of death. 
 Nor had Rosamond offered any resistance, or 
 even breathed a word for help; but closing her 
 eyes that she might not witness the horrid death, 
 of which she scarce seemed conscious, she re- 
 mained motionless in his grasp ; and when he 
 had fallen, pillowed her unconscious head upon 
 his breast, while her tresses were steeped in 
 his gore.
 
 184 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head. 
 Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; 
 Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! 
 
 King Richard III. 
 
 I am not mad ; — I would to heaven, I were ; 
 For then, 'tis like I should forget myself! 
 O ! if I could, what grief should I forget ! — 
 Preach some philosophy to make me mad. 
 And thou shalt be canonized. 
 
 King John. 
 
 Meantime, the storm had begun in right earnest 
 at almost every angle of the castle, which so 
 distracted the attention of the besieged, that 
 they were at a loss, as to what part they should 
 carry their greatest force. The combat, how- 
 ever, as yet raged hottest at the western turret, 
 where the breaching tower was already drawn 
 up to within three yards of the ramparts; for, 
 as we before stated, the moat had here been 
 filled up, in spite of the showers of missiles
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 185 
 
 which were continually poured upon the work- 
 men from the battlements. King Henry, with at 
 least a score of his boldest chivalry, stood ready 
 for the onset in the topmost floor of the tower, 
 and only awaited the signal for the ponderous 
 platform to fall, which would at once form a 
 kind of bridge to the battlements, and leave 
 them fully exposed to the enemy. 
 
 Two or three large stones from a mangonel in 
 the inner bailey, had already thundered loudly 
 at the iron-bound door, and threatened speedily 
 to procure their own admission, unless it was 
 lowered. The scene had now become in the 
 highest degree animated; it was the painful 
 suspense wrought up to the highest pitch of 
 excitement, more impressive than even the 
 combat. On the ramparts stood the besieged, 
 with axes and swords uplifted, ready to strike, 
 for they well knew that almost at the instant 
 the platform fell, the assailants would be upon 
 the battlements, unless kept back by dint of 
 arms.
 
 186 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 The archers from below, sheltered by their 
 pavisors, shot so quickly and close together, 
 that not an helmet could overhang the embra- 
 sures, without almost instantly becoming the 
 mark of an hundred arrows. Nor was there a 
 shot-hole in the wall of the castle that escaped 
 their shafts ; for the besiegers, who occupied the 
 middle divisions of the breaching tower, kept up 
 an incessant charge of arrows through every 
 loop-hole where a shaft could search. 
 
 At length the chains were unloosed, and the 
 massy platform fell upon the high battlements, 
 with a force which shook the whole breaching 
 tower from base to roof. "God and 8t. George!" 
 shouted the invaders, which was answered by 
 the war-cry of the besieged, *' Guerre a mortV^ 
 and both parties sprung upon the wooden path- 
 way at the same instant of time. 
 
 The huge platform in its descent had, how- 
 ever, crushed two of the soldiers to atoms as it 
 fell, who were bending over the embrasures, to 
 hurl fragments of stone upon the archers. The
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 187 
 
 meeting of the combatants was terrible : they 
 closed upon each other with the fury of tigers ; 
 they wrestled and struggled together, and many 
 a bold warrior fell from the steep height to the 
 depth of an hundred feet, clutching his enemy 
 in his grasp, and crushing the archers in their 
 fall. 
 
 It was a grand but fearful sight, to behold 
 that terrible combat, — to see such brave men 
 giving and receiving blow upon helm and corslet, 
 without once regarding the horrid depth which 
 yawned beneath them, and down which the 
 slightest falter of a footstep would precipitate 
 them to instant death. Foremost, but in the 
 very centre of the temporary bridge, stood King 
 Henry wielding an immense battle-axe, the head 
 of which glittered in the moonshine as it rose 
 and fell, and dealt the death-blow on many a 
 proud crest. Thrice had he been driven to the 
 very verge of the. platform, which was now 
 slippery with blood ; and more than once was he 
 caught by the hands of his gallant knights.
 
 188 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 just as he had lost his balance, and was within 
 an hair's breadth of toppling head-foremost 
 from that giddy height, down which so many of 
 his bold chivalry had already fallen. Still the 
 platform was crowded, for as one after another 
 fell, their places were instantly filled up by 
 others, who ascended from the lower apartments, 
 like bees rushing from the hive, and in more 
 than one instance, was their eagerness to crowd 
 to the affray, the cause of pushing down their 
 comrades. 
 
 One warrior, who fought by King Henry's 
 side on that fearful night, achieved wonders, 
 and received many a blow on his own triangular 
 shield, which was aimed at the monarch, and 
 which, had they not been parried by his powerful 
 arm, would have sent that sovereign to sleep. with 
 his fathers. He was the first to rush upon an 
 opponent, whose prowess had hitherto equalled 
 his own, and struck down every knight who 
 had ventured to leap upon the parapet, until 
 he was almost hemmed in by the bodies of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 189 
 
 those which his own arm had slain. At length 
 these two doughty champions met, and the 
 loud clangour of their blows, as they rung upon 
 shield and corslet, sounded high above the din 
 of the surrounding battle. 
 
 Foot to foot, and hand to hand did they 
 fight; each more eager to deal than avoid a 
 blow,, until portions of their mail were hacked 
 away, and the polish of their armour was 
 dimmed with blood. They closed, — they coiled 
 round each other like serpents, — they rocked to 
 and fro hke huge oaks bowed by some mighty 
 storm. They threw down their battle-axes at 
 the same instant of time, and grappled each 
 other by the iron band that secured their helmets, 
 until at length they fell together with a force 
 that shook the whole platform. The knight 
 who fought under King Henry's banner, fell 
 uppermost, and by an effort of almost more 
 than human strength, rolled his enemy to the 
 very edge of the platform ; and as he drew up 
 his leg to spurn him over with the force of his
 
 190 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 foot, the other, just as he was in the act of 
 faUing, clung around the projecting limb of his 
 foe, and hung in the air, clinging to his hold 
 with the tenacious grasp of a falcon. Nor 
 could the warrior, who still lay on the platform, 
 have withstood the weight of the shock, had he 
 not thrown his arm around King Henry's legs. 
 Two or three knights who were rushing past, — 
 for the battlements were now won, — observed 
 the danger, and by the King's order, released 
 the warrior, and gave the daring enemy quarter, 
 after he had sworn himself true prisoner. Still 
 the work of death raged along the battlements ; 
 and many a daring defender was hurled into 
 the moat, as the besiegers advanced, and won 
 post by post, until not a man remained of the 
 foe that flanked that side of the walls. 
 
 Onward rushed Henry, crying his war-cry, 
 and bearing down every opposing obstacle; 
 while his followers chased the routed garrison 
 from court to court, and through many a postern, 
 the thresholds of which were slippery with
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 191 
 
 blood. While the king stood giving orders to 
 three knights who were hacking with all their 
 might at an iron-studded door which had been 
 closed by the defenders as they rushed into a 
 tower to escape their pursuers, his ear was 
 arrested by the sound of voices near at hand, 
 and looking round, he perceived two of his 
 knights supporting the figure of a female be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "They have slain him!'' said Rosamond, 
 springing forward and seizing the king's hand ; 
 " Oh, come and see how cold and still he 
 lieth!" 
 
 The monarch gazed upon her with affright, 
 while his whole frame shook, and his eyes 
 seemed ready to burst from their sockets: he 
 held Rosamond from him at arm's length, and 
 the full moonlight showed her pale features 
 stained with blood ; with which her garments 
 were also dyed. He attempted to speak, but 
 his tongue clove to the roof of his mouth ; and 
 to such a pitch was superstition carried at that
 
 192 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 age, that he verily believed the ghost of his 
 murdered love stood before him. But when 
 she threw her arms around him, and he felt her 
 tears trickling down his own cheeks, and her 
 warm breath falling upon his face, he gradually 
 became himself again, and in a voice of thun- 
 der said, " Who hath done this ?" 
 
 The knights briefly stated the situation in 
 which they found her, lying prostrate on the 
 dead body of a warrior. The eyes of the king 
 flashed angrily while he listened to their nar- 
 ration, and for a moment jealousy haunted his 
 thoughts ; it was, however, but for an instant, 
 and he demanded to be led to where the dead 
 man lay. Preceded by two soldiers bearing 
 torches, and with Rosamond leaning uncon- 
 sciously on his arm, her naked feet stained with 
 the blood of the slain over which she had passed, 
 they crossed the inner bailey, and halted beside 
 the corse of her father. Henry snatched a 
 torch from one of the attendants, and waving it 
 athwart the features of the dead, exclaimed,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 193 
 
 " Mother of God ! it is Walter de Clifford !" 
 he cast the torch upon the ground, and folding 
 his hands together, bent over the form of the 
 lifeless warrior in silence and deep grief. 
 
 Meantime Rosamond had again thrown her- 
 self down beside the bleeding corpse, and held 
 one of its cold hands between her own, 
 while her hair fell wildly around her face, on 
 which the red light of the torch flashed, and 
 also gilded the cold armour of the dead, as 
 she thus kept up her bitter complainings : 
 '* Awake ! dearest father, awake ! Knit not thy 
 brows thus angrily upon me. Oh ! look as 
 thou wert wont to do in bygone days, when 
 thou didst call me thine own Rose. Alas !" 
 continued she, changing her tone, " he heareth 
 me not ; he cannot hear me ! he will never more 
 awake to call me his own dear Rose — never open 
 his eyes upon me again! His lips are a-cold," 
 said she, kneeling lower and kissing them ; " his 
 lips are a-cold, and return not my caress ; his 
 very looks accuse me of his death." 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 "Dry thy tears," said Henry, unconscious that 
 his own were falling in big drops. " Soldiers, 
 retire; it is not meet that ye should be witnesses 
 of her sorrow. Oh God !" added he, " is there 
 no one can tell me how this sad mishap hath 
 befallen? Why my own Rosamond is found 
 bleeding and bare-footed within a beleaguered 
 castle, when I had dreamed that her fair limbs 
 were outstretched in slumber." 
 
 " Would that I had fallen in place of thee," 
 continued the fair mourner^ unconscious that 
 Henry still stood beside her; "or that thou 
 hadst lived to have heard from Henry's lips 
 that I am not the vile thing thou didst deem 
 me. And yet I do thee wrong; many beside 
 thee believe that I have mixed thy noble 
 blood with shame. But my mother, who hath 
 bent over me a-nights, will tell thee all in 
 heaven. Oh, speak to me, say that thou art 
 not dead ; look wrathful on me, chide me with 
 angriest words, and I will bless thy tongue, and 
 call it sweetest music. Alas ! he hears me not ;
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 195 
 
 but sure thy spirit is yet hovering near; it 
 cannot have yet escaped the sound of my 
 voice : bid it come back ; in pity bid it come ; 
 where will it find a nobler tenement, or so fair 
 a frame to dwell in ? No ; it but sleeps, it hath 
 not gone away." 
 
 " Oh ! drive me not mad with misery," said 
 the monarch, striking his mailed breast with his 
 gauntleted hand. " III betide the hour that led 
 me to follow ambition at the sacrifice of honour. 
 Rise, my love," continued he, stooping and rais- 
 ing Rosamond: "look on me, and dry thy tears; 
 lean on me, my heart's best love." 
 
 " Am I not thy wife ?" said Rosamond lean- 
 ing upon Henry and looking wildly in his face, 
 which was half shadowed by the castle walls. 
 "Tell him, that his angry ghost may fly appeased 
 to heaven." 
 
 "Oh, heaven knows thou art," answered the 
 
 king, clasping her madly to his bosom: "would 
 
 that my soul was as freely purged from guilt as 
 
 thine own ! Ambition hath lured me on to dis- 
 k2
 
 196 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 honour : the love of power hath made me a 
 deoraded wretch, even in mine own esteem." 
 
 "Wilt thou not unbend thine angry brow^ and 
 smile upon me now," said Rosamond, averting 
 her head and looking upon the face of the dead, 
 on which the moonbeams now fell with a 
 ghastly light. " Alas ! he moveth not, — he 
 doubteth thy royal word, — he seeth no crown 
 upon my brow, — he frowneth because I hold 
 not the sceptre in my hand — he hath not yet 
 beheld me seated upon my throne. Haste 
 Henry, — speed my love, and lead me forth in 
 all my regal dignity ! Maud bind up my hair, 
 we will be seated hi royal state. Sound 
 trumpets, for Queen Rosamond is approaching. 
 Yet sound not loudly, lest he should awake. 
 Oh God ! how my poor heart doth ache." 
 
 " Oh Heaven! if thou hast one bolt in reserve 
 for the guilty," exclaimed Henry, looking up 
 to the starry heaven, which stretched above like 
 an ocean at rest; "hurl it upon my accursed 
 head ! Alight here, thou dark-winged messen-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 197 
 
 ger, — the gloomy Pity that attendeth on death, 
 and show me that mercy which the grave re- 
 fuseth not ! Oh bury me not with living- 
 misery; or, if thou wilt, gather up all the 
 sorrows of mankind, and pile them above me 
 for a sepulchre. Now heap every grief upon my 
 own breast, and I will perish under the load, 
 and undergo the mighty penance without a 
 murmur." 
 
 " Let us be gone," said Rosamond, her un- 
 extinguished love sympathizing in Henry's 
 sorrows. " An thou talkest of death, then 
 have I nought more to do on earth, but kneel 
 down and scratch my own grave. Let us 
 depart lest my limbs refuse to bear me away, 
 or ere I lie and strangle the envious breath 
 that draws my spirit earthward." Saying 
 which she half-led, half-dragged the king from 
 her father's corse; retreating, however, with 
 averted head, until the dead body was hidden 
 in the shadow of the battlements. 
 
 While the events took place with which we
 
 198 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 have attempted to make the reader acquainted, 
 the battle still raged with all its fury, at the 
 outer barbican, and within the walls around 
 the castle ; for the assailants were as yet only 
 masters of the spacious court-yards, the de- 
 fenders having retreated into the keep, every 
 door of which they had doubly barred. The 
 outer barbican fronted a large postern, which 
 was flanked by two strong towers, between 
 which the draw-bridge stood ; and even if this 
 were won, a massy portcullis grinned under the 
 gloomy gateway, triple cased with iron. Two 
 or three heavy mangonels were battering at 
 the outer postern, and had already splintered 
 one of the ponderous gates in several places; 
 nor could those who manned the ramparts 
 above do much execution amongst the assail- 
 ants, for not a man could make his appearance 
 at any of the embrasures, but a cloud of arrows 
 instantly rattled upon his xorslet, or the heavy 
 bolts from the cross-bows poured around him 
 like hailstones. Foremost in the attack was
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 199 
 
 Thomas a Becket, who little dreamed then that 
 a few more moons would see him stride into 
 the Primacy of England ; or that the man who 
 then was crying his war-cry in moonlight, would 
 one day have his name recorded amongst saints 
 and martyrs. Regardless of his present dignity 
 as Chancellor, and forgetting all other estates in 
 that of the warrior, he had approached the 
 heavy postern, and sheltered in a great measure 
 by the over-hanging arch, was dealing such 
 blows upon the doors as were heard at the 
 remotest corners of the castle. While he 
 stood battering with all his might, for the man- 
 gonels had now ceased to work, a partizan was 
 thrust through a wide rent in the postern, and 
 having a hook beneath the head, which was 
 used at this period to pull down the cavalry, it 
 fastened in the back part of his gorget, and he 
 was instantly drawn up with his head close to 
 the postern. A lance was, however, as speedily 
 thrust through by one of Becket's followers, 
 and piercing the throat of the soldier who
 
 200 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 grasped the partizan, he fell a dead man. 
 Meantime the knights had placed scaling-lad 
 ders before the barbican, and as numbers of the 
 defenders had fallen, the struggle, although 
 severe, lasted not long. True to their com- 
 panions in arms to the last, no sooner did the 
 soldiers who manned the towers across the 
 moat perceive the besiegers within the outer 
 barbican, than they threw open the inner pos- 
 tern, and let go the ponderous drawbridge. 
 The besieged and the besiegers instantly made 
 for it, and the heavy portcullis, when it fell, 
 admitted several of the assailants, who met 
 with instant death. Even Becket narrowly 
 escaped, for just as the portcullis dropped with 
 a noise like thunder, he sprung back, or in 
 another instant he would have been crushed 
 beneath its fall ; as it was, however, it only 
 severed the long lance which he had hastily 
 snatched up in the charg^e, and crushed the 
 shaft in the groove, to the compass of parchment. 
 It would, however, but weary the reader to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 201 
 
 dwell longer upon the struggle, which lasted 
 until sunrise, and even then found the defenders 
 in possession of the castle keep, and the inner 
 works of the draw-bridge; for the portcullis 
 was proof against all their attacks, and yielded 
 no more to the heavy stones which were hurled 
 from the mangonels, than if they had but 
 been pebbles from the brook. Nor have we a 
 wish to torture the reader's feelings, by describ- 
 ing the scene of slaughter on which the sun 
 arose, as it gilded the moat, already crimsoned 
 with blood. One archer there was amongst the 
 wounded, and only one, who murmured at the 
 approaching death ; and he had been struck by 
 one of his own arrows, which the besieged had 
 shot back again, for they had emptied their own 
 quivers. Poor fellow ! he knew it again, for the 
 feathers had been cut in a peculiar shape ; and 
 while he held it before his fast glazing eye, he 
 faintly murmured, — "My poor Blanch! thou 
 didst but httle dream, while helping me to 
 
 feather my shafts, that the very one which thou 
 k5
 
 202 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 didst cut so quaintly would be whetted in my 
 own heart's blood.'* 
 
 The storm of battle seemed at this time 
 almost to slumber, for many a gallant knight 
 was seen resting beside his steed, having slack- 
 ened the girths; and many a bold archer lay 
 stretched upon the green-sward, watching with 
 drowsy eyes, the bright sunbeams, which shone 
 on the lofty turrets of the keep. Meantime, a 
 trumpet was blown on the turrets that flanked 
 the drawbridge, and a parley demanded on the 
 part of the besieged, that all further hostihties 
 should cease until high noon, and not until then 
 was a blow to be struck on either side. This was 
 agreed to on the part of King Henry, within the 
 inner bailey, which he yet possessed, and 
 ratified by a herald sent from Becket, who was 
 admitted without molestation into the keep; — 
 for so binding were the pledges of chivalry, that 
 a promise given on either side was held as 
 sacred as a vow made to Heaven ; and although 
 a pledge to the latter was often broken, yet
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 203 
 
 the word and honour of knighthood, never. Even 
 the portcullis was at last uplifted, and those 
 who but an hour before were thirsting for each 
 other's blood, mingled together like friends, and 
 assisted one another in removing the wounded 
 and the dead ; and the very soldier whose hand 
 had perhaps struck down the wretched victim 
 that writhed at his feet, was seen kneeling beside 
 him, and giving him drink. 
 
 Such was war in those barbarous ages, — such it 
 is now. The man who might to-morrow be sum- 
 moned to strike down his fellow-being in the 
 ranks of battle, would, if left to his own feel- 
 ings, mingle tears with his blood. They bear 
 no hatred in their bosoms toward each other; 
 they fight for territories on which they never set 
 foot; but they decide a quarrel to keep the ambi- 
 tious in power, — and the tears of orphans and 
 widows are shed, that a few human brutes may 
 fare more sumptuously every day. But the lines of 
 blood are all marked in the great map of Heaven, 
 and the finger of the Highest will one day point
 
 204 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 out the great sources from whence these rivers 
 flowed ; — will bare the dark head-lands from 
 which they sprung, and point out the deep 
 ocean-chambers, — the eternal store-houses of 
 blood which they have filled, and which until 
 then, the huge rocks will seal up.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 205 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths j 
 Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 
 Our stern alarums changed to merrj meetings j 
 Our dreadful marches, to delightful measures. 
 Grim, visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front. 
 
 Richard the Third* 
 
 Fighting and feasting followed each other so 
 naturally in these barbarous ages, that it almost 
 appeared as if they won a victory merely to 
 show after-kindness to the conquered. Nu- 
 merous are the instances on record of those who 
 were opposed hand to hand in the morning, 
 sitting down by the same festal board at night. 
 Nor did King Henry ever push his revenge to 
 the extent of his power on those who had so 
 stoutly held out their castles against him ; but 
 having once conquered them, he endeavoured, 
 by courtesy and fair promises, to retain them
 
 206 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 as friends. It was his policy also to extend the 
 greatest favours to those who had shown the 
 most resistance in defending their possessions, 
 rie^htly judging that such brave warriors were 
 dangerous enemies, and in that restless age, the 
 friends to be most valued. Acting upon this 
 politic principle, he had prepared a large feast 
 at the palace at Woodstock, and invited the 
 chief knights amongst the prisoners, to share it, 
 together with the different nobles who were 
 leaders of his armed forces, taking care, how- 
 ever, that the numbers of the latter should at 
 least double those of the conquered. 
 
 Great preparations were of course made for 
 the occasion ; the Thames was dragged with 
 nets to furnish its share to the feast ; steers and 
 sheep were slaughtered ; and many a buck that 
 had carried his antlers stately enough the day 
 before, fell beneath the shafts of the foresters. 
 The huge hall of the palace was strewn afresh 
 with green rushes ; the ponderous oaken tables 
 were removed from almost every other apart-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 207 
 
 ment, and brought thither to accommodate the 
 guests. Seats also, each formed of a solid 
 oaken plank, and supported by tressels of the 
 same material, were ranged on each side the 
 tables, and covered with haubergettain, a kind of 
 coarse cloth of mixed colours, for the tables were 
 not so much as smoothed with the plane. The 
 walls of the immense hall were decorated with 
 arms and armour, and sylvan trophies mingled 
 with banners, and lances placed cross-wise over 
 hauberks and helm, and many a shield^that bore 
 the dint of former frays. On the doors, and by 
 the upper table, which was set apart for the 
 chosen guests, stood a rich canopy, emblazoned 
 with the arms of England, two lions blazing in 
 gold ; this was set apart for the king. Drinking- 
 vessels of silver and gold also glittered upon 
 every table ; yet amid all this barbaric splendour, 
 there were not those real comforts which the 
 meanest cottager now possesses. The huge 
 loaves of bread were neither half kneaded nor 
 half baked, and bitter as aloes with the dregs
 
 208 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 of beer with which they were mixed ; and also 
 heavy as lead, and not freed from a tenth portion 
 of the bran. Even some of the wine was so 
 thick and full of dregs, that the barons were 
 compelled to filter it between their teeth, and 
 spit out the thick sediment upon the floor. 
 Their repasts seemed to resemble their armour, 
 —heavy, showy, and cumbrous ; but possessing 
 little or no comfort. 
 
 Henry entered the hall from a private door, 
 followed by Glanvil, the great law-giver of the 
 age, and Thomas a Becket : the Chancellor, 
 was seated on the right of the monarch, and 
 the judge on the left. At the sounding of 
 trumpets, the guests took their seats ; those at 
 the upper end of the table placing themselves 
 according to their rank, which each one seemed 
 perfectly to understand ; those at the lower 
 tables took their places as chance offered, or 
 seated themselves beside their companions in 
 arms. Although there seemed more of chance 
 than order in this arrangement ; yet, by some
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 209 
 
 nice stroke of art, it was so contrived that one 
 or other of King Henry's trusty followers sat 
 between the knights they had so recently con- 
 quered. The dishes were handed from guest 
 to guest by the attendants, each carving off 
 that which suited his taste. Many a dagger 
 which dealt the death-blow the day before at 
 the siege, was now making deep inroads into 
 boars' heads, barons of beef, and haunches of 
 venison, which they placed upon their wooden 
 trenchers, and having cut it into such mouthfuls 
 as would choke any modern gormandizer, they 
 helped themselves with their fingers ; for forks 
 were unknown, and therefore never wanted. 
 
 A few rather delicate dishes there were at 
 the upper table, where the King was seated ; but 
 even these were spoilt to preserve a show ; 
 peacocks half roasted, that the beauty of their 
 trains might be uninjured ; and cranes served 
 up with their heads and necks raw, and so 
 propped up that they looked murderously on 
 their devourers, and seemed ready to leap off
 
 210 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the dishes. Even the boars' heads grinned 
 hideously, and showed their horrid tusks and 
 deadly eyes (which were thrust into their heads 
 again after they were dressed), as if they were 
 ready to rend every knight who brandished his 
 dagger over them. Wines there were in abun- 
 dance ; but many of these were spiced, and 
 retained none of their natural flavour; even 
 those that were drank in their original state, were 
 drawn from massy hogsheads with a spigot and 
 faucet, much after the manner that an English 
 peasant, in the present day, draws his home- 
 brewed and muddy beer. Hipporcras, pigment, 
 morat, and mead, were served up in large vessels, 
 into which each guest plunged his cup as he 
 pleased. Ale and cyder were also plentiful, and 
 stood in large open tubs along the sides of the 
 hall. More than one attendant, when a chance 
 offered, knelt down and drank his fill out of 
 these huge wooden vessels; for King Henry was 
 not so plentifully supplied with drinking-cups, 
 but that two or three knights were compelled to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 211 
 
 drink from the same vessel. One knight at the 
 lower end of the table, who had thrice called on 
 an attendant to bring a drinking-cup, was at last 
 told that there was not one but what was in use, 
 filled his helmet from a huge vessel that con- 
 tained mead, and having drank himself, gave it 
 to his comrade. 
 
 Although many of the huge joints were not 
 half cooked, yet there were no squeamish 
 stomachs, but what could each bear their two 
 pounds of solid flesh ; for, as Peter of Blois says, 
 (and he fed many a time at Henry's court) 
 " their stomachs, by the help of powerful ex- 
 ercise, got rid of everything." 
 
 But the whole scene was in keeping with the 
 characters there assembled. The high-pillared 
 and vaulted hall, with its richly painted windows, 
 comported well with the broad-breasted, deep- 
 voiced, and mail-covered guests, that sat beside 
 the massy tables. Even the ponderous drinking- 
 cups, which they from time to time uplifted to 
 their lips, seemed only made for such strong
 
 212 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 steel-covered arms to upraise. And when they 
 reached over the table to converse with each 
 other, between the huge mountains of meat, the 
 beholder felt assured that the men who fed on 
 such pastures could fight. Nay, some there were 
 talking apart on the late blows they had dealt, 
 who pointed with their daggers to the immense 
 joints, running lines with the point, and saying, 
 " An thus were his gorget, thus I brought my 
 battle-axe, as it were, on this point of the 
 haunch, striking his neck as I now separate this 
 joint.'' Or, pointing to a round of beef, into 
 which another would stick his dagger, saying, 
 " So came the point of my lance, cleaving the 
 fastenings of his acteon through ; and I hold 
 it a good stroke, if the head of the lance can 
 enter a-slant in this wise," again mangling the 
 joint, to show how he had dealt his blows on 
 the enemy. 
 
 But deem not that all who met there were 
 alike unfeeling; some there were who conversed 
 together in low voices, and talked over the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 213 
 
 ■virtues of those who had fallen in the fight. 
 How nobly they had dealt with the foes they 
 had in their day struck down ; how their shields 
 had interposed between their companions, when 
 the death-blow had all but fallen. How they 
 had sheltered their enemies in the late wars, 
 setting at nought the menaces of either Stephen 
 or Matilda, when weighed beside their own 
 honour. How beautiful maidens, (whose names 
 have been for ages forgotten,) sought out their 
 lovers from amid the slain, — how some wept, and 
 others shed not a tear, but buried themselves in 
 the solitudes of their ancient castles, and died 
 broken-hearted. 
 
 But all are now gone; the mourned and the 
 mourners are forgotten ; even the grey and the 
 weather-beaten turrets of their castles have long 
 ago mouldered to dust. Those with whom they 
 fought, and those whom they loved, and wept 
 over, have not left even their ashes upon the 
 earth. Nearly a thousand harvests have been 
 gathered over their graves. Summer and
 
 214 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 winter, day and night, storm and sunshine, 
 have gathered over and passed away, from their 
 silent beds ; and we cannot now point out the 
 spot where they sleep ; for even cities have 
 sprung up over the solitudes where they fought, 
 fell, and were interred ! A few of their names, 
 worm-eaten and mouldered, are all that we have 
 left to tell that they once lived, that they pos- 
 sessed lands and dwellings in spots, which even 
 the scholar is now puzzled to discover, — that 
 they married — and time has even erased the 
 fair name of her they loved ; a worm has eaten 
 out what we shall never again discover. 
 
 But they thought not of these things ; even 
 Glanvil, as he remained silent, and from time to 
 time forgot his meat to ponder over some 
 clauses in the Doomsday Book which he 
 had that day been referring to, thought not 
 that his wisdom and learning would only be 
 known to future ages, through the industry 
 and talent of a poor monk. Henry, too, 
 little dreamed that Peter of Blois, who was
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 215 
 
 laughing among the merriest at the lower end 
 of the table, would, after seven centuries, 
 hand down his very features on a soiled strip 
 of sheep-skin. Nor did Becket at that moment, 
 while he sat with his hand pressing a slight 
 wound which he had received in the arm 
 during the siege, then think that he one day 
 was doomed to become a saint, and that 
 miracles were to be wrought by that very body 
 which he was then so freely supplying with 
 wine. 
 
 But never did a summer sunset brighten 
 over a merrier or noisier group, than were that 
 day assembled in the hall of Woodstock. They 
 *' fought their battles o'er again," while the 
 wine-cup passed gaily from hand to hand. 
 They drank healths "three fathoms deep;" 
 fomented new quarrels and buried old ones ; 
 pledged beauties whose names will never be 
 heard again ; spoke of tournaments and gallant 
 deeds, of brave steeds and generous hawks, and 
 hounds deep-chested and good at the chase.
 
 216 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 The crusade, — stormy voyages, — castles which 
 had stood long sieges, — mangonels which took 
 ten men to work them, — armour of proof, and 
 a thousand other matters which are only now to 
 be found in ancient chronicles, were to them 
 matters of the greatest importance in the 
 world, for they never knew trade, science, or 
 study. 
 
 But the giver of the feast was ill at ease ; 
 and neither the wit of Becket, as he from time 
 to time pointed out some scene of humour and 
 folly which was going on at the lower table, 
 nor the wisdom of Glanvil, as he struck out 
 some new and weighty matter of the law, could 
 chase the dark spirit from the King. His 
 thoughts were troubled about Fair Rosamond, 
 for he had that day had a stormy interview 
 with Queen Eleanor, and he well knew from 
 her threats, that danger hovered over her he 
 loved. Nor did he doubt for a moment but 
 that the individual who had intruded into her 
 chamber was one of the queen's emissaries,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 217 
 
 but he knew not that it was OHphant Uggle- 
 thred ; nor had Pierre de Vidal since then dared 
 to show his face before his sovereign. 
 
 *' But mark yonder knaves at the lower end 
 of the banquet/' said Becket, endeavouring to 
 arouse Henry from his reverie; " saw ye ever such 
 monsters at a feast ? See how those two take 
 hold of the wings of a crane, and are attempting 
 to rip it down the middle, as if it had no more 
 bones than an ell of broad-cloth." 
 
 " I see," answered the king with a faint smile, 
 and again sank into forgetfulness. 
 
 " Your highness hath scarcely tasted of the 
 wine-cup,'* said Becket, keeping a watchful 
 glance m the king, and speaking in a low tone ; 
 " will not this be attributed as a sorry welcome 
 to the guests. Come, my liege, endeavour to 
 rally yourself; all eyes are upon the clouded 
 sun." 
 
 " Thou meanest rightly," replied the king, 
 emptying his golden goblet at a draught : " I 
 will endeavour to arouse myself, although the 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 effort will cost me some pain. I feel strangely- 
 thoughtful to-night." 
 
 ** So it becometh one who hath such a mighty 
 load upon his shoulders, as your Highness," 
 replied the chancellor ; " but shift your cares 
 upon me for a little space, and I will ponder 
 over them. Trust me, it behoveth you not to 
 bear such a load of trouble, without making 
 me a partaker/' 
 
 ** Nay ! thou hast borne more than thy share 
 of late,"' replied the king, *' and I have been 
 thinking how I may best reward thee for thy 
 service. What say est thou to the Primacy of 
 England ? I am serious, and will make thee 
 Archbishop of Canterbury. The See has been 
 vacant long enough, and I know no one on 
 whom I could bestow it, that I love so well as 
 thyself." 
 
 The eyes of Becket kindled for a moment, 
 while he remained in deep thought j then lifting 
 up a corner of his rich surcoat, he said laugh- 
 ingly, '* A pretty Archbishop should I make,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 219 
 
 my liege, and mayhap slip from the midst of a 
 sermon to a siege. Or, thinking that I was 
 again in converse with your grace, hold forth on 
 the. power of hawks, whither of the long or 
 short wing. Or peradventure forget my homily, 
 to dwell upon the noble qualities of hound or 
 horse ; or unwittingly lifting the chalice to my 
 lips, pledge you again in a bumper, thinking of 
 some one or other of your Highness's witty 
 sayings, while offering up mass, and laugh- 
 ing outright in the midst of my grave bre- 
 thren." 
 
 " If thou art but as merry a primate, as thou 
 hast been a chancellor/' said King Henry, 
 " thou wilt smile upon our sins, and ordain us 
 many a pleasing penance." 
 
 The cup-bearer re -filled his goblet, while 
 Henry laughed, drank deeply, and seemed to 
 recover his spirits. 
 
 " Then my liege, what shrewd guesses I 
 should form as to whether or not thy con- 
 fessions were true," continued Becket, glad to 
 l2
 
 220 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 see the king shaking off his moody habit, 
 " knowing the number of thy peculiar sins." 
 
 " Which thou couldst occasionally see did 
 not outrun their old date," said the king; '' and 
 out of pure love might appoint such a penance 
 as thou thyself wouldst share." 
 
 " And strike out such clauses of the law," said 
 the grave Glanvil, entering into the humour of 
 the monarch, " as were beyond absolution, that 
 you might sin up to the statue." 
 
 '^ Then your Grace must work a miracle," 
 continued Becket, "giving me a plurality of 
 persons ; for I could not list a confessional, and 
 empty a cup at the same moment. And T fear 
 should be apt to don my sancity with my gar- 
 ments, and doff it at your highness's bidding. 
 And many might marvel at my turning saint on 
 so short a notice, and vow that I took such time 
 to think of my conversion, as while your Grace 
 drew on your surcoat. Then, when I came to 
 give you ghostly consolation, would you not 
 laugh outright in my face, and swear that, as
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 221 
 
 I was a Saracen on my mother's side, it would 
 be natural to find a little of the heathen in me, 
 making that an excuse to drink deeper, until 
 I could not even steady my steps by the help 
 of my pastoral crook." 
 
 " And knowing mine honour," continued the 
 king, " thou couldst give me credit for a goodly 
 catalogue of crimes ; or mightest thyself, at 
 leisure, repeat for me half an hundred credos, 
 that I might the sooner get to horse and share 
 thy company." 
 
 " Bethink your highness of the long list of 
 saints and apostles I should have to commit 
 to memory," said Becket; "of the aves, credos, 
 comphns, and placebos that I must learn. And 
 that when your grace, as was your wont, should 
 call upon me for a merry stave, should have 
 your royal ears regaled with a penitential 
 psalm. Or that when following the hart, 
 instead of breaking forth into the cry of the 
 chase, I should burst forth into my homily;
 
 222 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 or blow the notes of our matin song on the 
 bugle instead of a-mort." 
 
 " Faith, an' I think I should laugh at thee," 
 continued the king, looking affectionately upon 
 his chancellor, " when I saw thee robed in 
 cope and stole, and that merry brow of thine 
 shadowed by a mitre, and in especial if some 
 of thy mirthful sayings came into my head, 
 or a kw of those tricks which thou knowest 
 I wot of/' 
 
 ^'l will be no archbishop,'^ said Becket, 
 " where I must perforce listen to every con- 
 fessional; know every woman that is not honest, 
 and be acquainted with all the corners in which 
 sin is committed. Or if I am, I will have 
 written tables with the crimes named under their 
 proper heads, and blanks left for figures. So 
 that the number of times a man trespassed 
 into his neighbour's enclosure, should be put 
 down at once. How often he got drunk, with 
 the number of the cups he emptied, should 
 appear in round numbers. Nine times covet-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 223 
 
 ing, should number as one of real transgression. 
 I would have your little sins bundled together 
 as the Flemings pack their cloth, so many ells 
 to a bale. And thou, Glanvil, shouldst draw 
 up my tables of penance." 
 
 " Beginning with the Assizes of Woodstock," 
 replied the great lawyer: "and keeping separate 
 volumes for his grace and my lord chancellor ; 
 and, out of courtesy, reserving the larger volume 
 for his highness ; calling the lesser, Dooms-dsiy 
 Book, and the larger, the Book of Night.'* 
 
 '* Ah! ah ! well struck, my grave judge," said 
 Henry laughing ; " but remember that Becket's 
 volume must be of goodly dimensions, as he is 
 the keeper of my conscience." 
 
 "Which is ever ready to embrace any reason- 
 able matter," said Becket, "rather than give 
 your chancellor much trouble ; and which, 
 through your grace's good training, will now 
 leap an hedge, where before it boggled at a 
 bush." 
 
 "Now out upon thee," said the king laugh-
 
 224 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 ing and striking Becket smartly on the shoulder, 
 for he had perfectly regained his gay humour. " I 
 will make thee primate, whether thou wilt or not : 
 and, on my soul, if thou ladenest my conscience 
 heavier than thou hast done of late, I shall say 
 that thou hast lost thine own. ' 
 
 " But what if I should become possessed of 
 an archbishop's conscience, when I have lost 
 the chancellor's?" said Becket, half seriously ; 
 " might it not prove less accommodating." 
 
 *' Methinks it hath done too much service to 
 become now an over-tender one," said King 
 Henry j *' but, like some of the clauses in Glan viFs 
 codes, may make a highway for the King, 
 where it would be trespass for a subject to tread." 
 
 '* And where even the King himself might 
 sometimes get wrong," replied Glanvil, " did 
 not his own laws render it impossible, attaching 
 all blame to the roads, and immediately making 
 new ones." 
 
 " And many of these so intricate," said the 
 Earl of Leicester, now first listening to the con-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 225 
 
 versation, *' that even those who made them 
 are puzzled to find their way through the 
 forest." 
 
 Pledges were now drank in rapid succession ; 
 and from the loud tumult occasioned by the 
 number of voices which were uplifted at a time, 
 it was evident that the huge drinking-cups had 
 almost finished their labour for the night. In 
 more than one place the attendants were seen 
 busied in shaking down heaps of straw and 
 rushes in readiness for the knights as they fell one 
 by one from the benches, overcome with drinking. 
 Some of these were already occupied ; and the 
 lamps which had long been lighted, flashed 
 here and there upon many a manly form in 
 mail, now snoring soundly on these simple 
 couches. Henry and Becket arose from the 
 table together, each, however, entering different 
 apartments; but ere they separated for the 
 night, the King enquired if he had seen Ro- 
 samond safely conducted to her new residence, 
 
 and receiving an answer in the affirmative, 
 l5
 
 226 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Henry embraced him, and bade him think over 
 the subject of their recent conversation, adding, 
 '^ Rest assured that I was never more in 
 earnest/' 
 
 Becket was lighted to the apartment allotted 
 him, by his own attendant, Edward Gryme, as 
 faithful a monk as ever left a monastery to serve 
 a master, and the only one who remained true 
 through every change of fortune. " Bring me 
 water, said Becket to the attendant, " and let me 
 wash off all traces of this revel ;" then muttered 
 to himself, — " Ay, the Primacy of England is 
 worth soaring for; I will climb, now the ladder 
 offers itself." Gryme placed a silver ewer on 
 the table ; and the Chancellor having performed 
 his ablutions, threw himself into a seat, and 
 remained several moments in silence. His 
 thoughts, however, were busily employed, and 
 ran nearly as follows : — 
 
 '* Better would it be, were he not to extol me 
 to this giddy height. I love the king ; but not 
 more than my own honour; — would be true
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 227 
 
 subject ; — but ruler of my own church ; and 
 rate the King of Heaven higher than a king 
 of earth. I should watch as jealously over the 
 holy privileges, as Henry does over his throne. 
 I feel that I am ambitious; and our powers 
 would cla§h together. No ; I would extend to 
 him no more favour, than I would to another 
 child of the church. I would grasp my pastoral 
 crook with as firm a hand as he does his 
 sceptre. Strange that these thoughts have long 
 haunted me like a never-to-be-forgotten dream. 
 Strange, that even in sleep I have felt the mitre 
 weigh heavily upon my brow, and swept through 
 the long vaulted aisles of Canterbury in the 
 proud robes of office. It must be the hand of 
 Heaven;" muttered he aloud, " and I will 
 prepare myself to obey its call." 
 
 " Heaven always dictateth aright ;" said the 
 monk stepping forward from the shadow of the 
 door-way, where he had stood waiting Becket*s 
 orders to retire for the night, " obey her call, 
 my Lord, and you cannot err."
 
 228 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed the Chancellor, springing 
 up from his seat, " but what if those dictates, 
 which we take for the voice of Heaven, are 
 whisperings of the evil-one ? What," continued 
 he with energy, and pacing the apartment as he 
 spoke, "what if they spring from pride, ambition, 
 a love of power, or that common human weak- 
 ness, a wish to be great ? Ought they not to 
 be torn from the breast, even as one would drasf 
 off a serpent that was in the act to bite?" 
 
 " It becometh not me to reply to such in- 
 terrogations;" answered Gryme, folding his 
 hands together, " you possess more knowledge 
 on such matters than your unworthy servant, 
 and the answer must come from your own 
 heart." 
 
 " Ah ! 'tis there that the armour pinches," 
 replied Becket. " I would soar fairly abreast 
 with the proudest hawk that ever beat his 
 wings in the empty air ; but let him once 
 attempt to overtop me," added he to himself, 
 " and I would wing my way with him into the 
 
 / ■ ■ -
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 229 
 
 very bosom of the highest cloud. Gryme," 
 continued he, '' bring me a cup of wine, that I 
 may look on the things which spring up before 
 me through a mist, believing that they find 
 birth in the juice of the grape. They leap up 
 too fixedly before me." 
 
 The attendant obeyed, and Becket drained 
 the goblet at a draught. 
 
 "Thou hast seen me climb step by step,'^ 
 continued the ambitious Chancellor, his speech 
 scarcely affected by the liquor he had drunk, 
 " overtopping every prejudice against my Saxon 
 birth. Thou hast seen me surmount all envy ; 
 humble the haughty Norman nobles, and keep 
 such a train of attendants, that they even out- 
 shone the king's. Another step I can but climb, 
 and shall then be equal to Henry himself. 
 What sayest thou Gryme? — the king hath all 
 but planted my foot upon it, — shall 1 ascend?" 
 
 '* If by so doing thou canst benefit our op- 
 pressed race," replied the monk, who was him- 
 self a Saxon, *^ ascend in Heaven's name."
 
 230 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 *'Thou kaowest not all! my faithful fol- 
 lower," said Becket, pacing the apartment in 
 great excitement : '' Thou canst scarcely dream 
 of the wide door which this would throw open 
 to my ambition. Once Primate of England, it 
 is but a step to become a cardinal; and I am 
 then at once at the foot of the Papal chair, 
 and " 
 
 '* Primate of England !" echoed Gryme in 
 amazement; ^* assuredly you aim not at so high 
 a station ? And yet," added he, " could you 
 once shake oiF this gay court-life, I know no 
 one worthier of so great an honour.'' 
 
 ^' The king forgets," continued Becket, fol- 
 lowing the dictates of his own thoughts, " that 
 I could acknowledge no earthly superior but 
 the Pope; that I should then become the ser- 
 vant of the sovereign of Heaven. No !" added 
 he, after a long pause, " he would find me no 
 clay to be fashioned to the, fancy of the potter. 
 I would that he would place this honourable
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 231 
 
 load upon more yielding shoulders, but the will 
 of Heaven be done I" 
 
 '* Amen !" responded the monk. *' And thou 
 mayest be assured that Heaven never permits 
 its weighty burthens to rest on unworthy shoul- 
 ders ; but that if thou art to fulfil this holy 
 office, it is the will of God, and that He 
 hath selected thee as the great instrument by 
 which to work His will." 
 
 " Unmeet instrument do I feel myself for the 
 mighty labour," replied Becket : " but Heaven 
 tempered the heart of Saul for its holy pur- 
 poses, even when he went forth to destroy the 
 chosen of Christ. — Would that I loved Henry 
 less, or Heaven more!" added he again, throw- 
 ing himself into the seat, where he sat, with his 
 brow buried m his hand, in long and deep 
 silence. The monk disturbed him not ; but 
 throwing himself on a lowly pallet beside the 
 Chancellor's couch, soon told by his deep 
 breathing, that he slept soundly.
 
 232 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Overpowered by his thoughts, and the drow- 
 siness which crept over him, through having 
 drunk so much wine at the banquet, Becket 
 soon fell asleep. But his was no tranquil rest ; 
 for the busy brain still pursued the same 
 thoughts which had haunted him when awake. 
 The form of King Henry also rose before him 
 in slumber, and eyed him with an angry aspect: 
 then passed long processions through the cathe- 
 dral aisles, — priests chaunting anthems, and 
 mitred forms in sweeping mantles, — crosses and 
 shrines, on which holy tapers cast their trem- 
 bling light, — all mingled in splendid confusion, 
 as they passed. 
 
 He awoke, but the lamp was extinguished, 
 and the round moon only shed her tender light 
 over the apartment. He threw open the lower 
 part of the richly-stained casement ; never had 
 moonlight appeared so calm and lovely before : 
 he looked out over the extensive park ; and saw 
 the deep tranquillity that reigned without. He 
 sighed deeply, and half whispered to himself.
 
 FAIR ROSAMONI). 233 
 
 '* How unlike is this holy repose to the tumult 
 which rages within myself! The weary world 
 is now at rest, the houseless beggar hath forgot 
 his hunger and raggedness, and sleeps soundly 
 in the shadow of the cold hawthorn. The cap- 
 tive is no longer conscious of his chains ; the 
 serf forgets that he is a slave, and he who is to 
 perish with the morning light, now enjoys a 
 peace which I seek in vain." He closed the 
 casement, knelt down beside his couch and 
 prayed fervently, then retired to sleep ; but 
 amid his slumbers, he was still haunted by 
 visions of future greatness, — dim, and dreary 
 splendours.
 
 234 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 The king therefore for her defence 
 
 Against the furious queen, 
 At Woodstock builded such a bower. 
 
 The like was never seen. 
 Most curiously that bower was built, 
 
 Of stone and timber strong, 
 An hundred and fifty doors 
 
 Did to this bower belong ; 
 And they so cunningly contrived 
 
 With turnings round about, 
 That none but with a faithful guide. 
 
 Could enter in or out. 
 
 Ancient Ballad of " Fair Rosamond." 
 
 The scene of our story now shifts to the wonder- 
 ful labyrinth of Woodstock, so celebrated in old 
 ballads, and well known to every reader of 
 history, and lover of antiquarian lore. Bromton 
 is perhaps the oldest authority on this matter, 
 but he has left us no further account of it, than 
 stating that it was the shelter of Rosamond ; 
 and it would form a curious volume, were all
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 235 
 
 the opinions and descriptions of this famous 
 retreat to be collected. Not a trace of it, how- 
 ever, now remains, even the very mound under 
 which all its intricate mazes wound is swept 
 away, and the spot where it stood is no longer 
 to be traced, nay, its very existence has at last 
 become a matter of doubt. 
 
 It had long stood neglected and solitary at 
 the time of which we write, and although it 
 had often aflPorded shelter to the defeated party, 
 during the wars between Matilda and Stephen, 
 yet, when these were over, it again sunk into 
 neglect. Even at the time of which we write 
 it was all but forgotten, for saving Henry and 
 Becket, and one or two trusty attendants, the 
 secret of its existence was unknown. Becket, 
 however, during his sojourn at Woodstock, had 
 explored many of its secret windings, and it 
 was the crafty chancellor that first suggested it 
 as a place of abode for Rosamond. Many 
 alterations were therefore necessary, before it 
 was brought to a fit state to receive this peerless
 
 236 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 beauty, and all these were carried on in the 
 most secret manner, either under his own eye, 
 or beneath the inspection of Gryme and Pierre 
 de Vidal. 
 
 The place itself was worthy of ranking among 
 the wonders of the world ; for never was such 
 a winding and mysterious mansion before 
 erected. Nothing without indicated its exis- 
 tence. A green ascent arose before the eye, 
 covered with jagged underwood in some places, 
 and crowned on the summit with numberless 
 trees. On the opposite side, stretched what seemed 
 the remains of an ancient forest, but the em- 
 bankments were in some places so steep, and 
 the trees so closely planted together, that even 
 the most adventurous huntsman turned aside 
 his steed in despair, when the stag took shelter 
 in that gloomy covert. 
 
 The hill- side bore no striking sign of ingress, 
 saving a cavern-like entrance, here and there 
 overhung with trailing ivy and brambles, and 
 grey withered grass. And did any curious
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 237 
 
 wanderer, while rambling through the chase, 
 chance to pause before it, he generally turned 
 away satisfied with its darkness and gloomy 
 appearance, and fearful that it might prove the 
 lair of some wolf. Even if the acclivity was 
 ascended, the adventurer was compelled to tread 
 cautiously, for here and there gaped deep 
 chasms, in some places overgrown with grass 
 and various vegetable matter, and when looked 
 into, nothing was seen but a deep cavern of 
 darkness. 
 
 Even Becket, when his curiosity first led 
 him to enter the mouth of the cave, was about 
 to retreat, but when he had stood some time 
 gazing on the jagged roof of the vault, he 
 became conscious that a faint ray of light 
 gleamed in the remotest corner. He groped 
 his way to the spot, and soon discovered that 
 the light was admitted through an opening of 
 the hill, and saw another feeble gleam like that 
 streaming through a tunnel, in the distance. 
 After having passed several of these wind-
 
 238 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 ing and nearly dark passages, he at length 
 came to where a larger opening admitted the 
 light, and where three of these winding passages 
 again branched off. Fortunately he selected 
 the one which led farther mider the hill : had 
 he taken either of the others, they terminated 
 in dark and deep wells, the secret of whose 
 depths had never been explored.* 
 
 * The author had himself a naiTOW escape last spring, 
 while exploring the subterraneous ruins of the ancient palace 
 of Lincoln, which stands adjoining the Cathedral. At the 
 end of one of these vaulted and pillared caverns, he came 
 suddenly to the edge of a deep well, which, owing to the 
 dim light, (onlj admitted through cavities in the roof,) cannot 
 at first be seen. A stone thrown down, was a long time ere 
 it reached the bottom; and an attentive ear could but just 
 distinguish the plashing of water when it fell. Several other 
 winding and mysterious passages, terminated in deep and 
 dark donjons, without any sign of steps, or any visible 
 means either to ascend or descend in safety. Whoever 
 ventures to explore these too-little known, but magnificent 
 ruins, will do well to " look before they leap," for most of 
 these dismal donjons, are at the end of dark and winding 
 passages, and to come upon one of them unawares, produces 
 a fearful sensation : a step further, and there only reigns the 
 unbroken darkness that has hung there for centuries. What 
 they were originally intended for, we must leave the anti- 
 quarian to decide.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 239 
 
 After having passed several similar galleries, 
 and been compelled to retrace his footsteps 
 many times, and had several narrow escapes 
 from pits and donjons, which he only saved 
 himself from by feeling his way with a pole, 
 he at length came to a huge iron-studded door. 
 This he opened, and great was his surprise, 
 when he discovered a beautiful and natural 
 ampitheatre, at the farthest side of which 
 stood an ancient Saxon building. 
 
 Becket had taken a narrow survey of the spot, 
 when king Henry expressed his fears for the 
 safety of fair Rosamond, he immediately pointed 
 it out, as a secret and secure retreat. It was 
 also settled between them, that she should 
 possession of it without delay. Maud had 
 long been removed thither, and j Rosamond 
 was also placed there, after her return from 
 the beleaguered castle, for as the reader is 
 already aware, the palace of Woodstock was 
 no longer a fitting place of security from the 
 evil agents of Eleanor.
 
 240 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 Whether this labyrinth had been erected by 
 Alfred at the time he was compelled to seek 
 shelter from the Danes, or it belonged to a period 
 more remote than that of the wise monarch, his- 
 tory is altogether silent. But it is not improbable 
 that he dwelt here while translating Boetius, 
 which it is on record he accomplished amid the 
 retirement of Woodstock. Leaving, however, 
 all these conjectures, and the rust of past ages 
 which has gathered over, and eaten away all 
 that once remained of this mysterious mansion, 
 we will describe it, as it stood at the period of 
 which we write. 
 
 The building, to which access was so difficult, 
 and where Rosamond had now taken up her 
 abode, was altogether of Saxon architecture, 
 and had at the first glance the appearance of a 
 strong stunted tower, the angles of which were 
 broken by turrets. Nor did the tower rise so 
 high as the steep, but was overtopped by the 
 arena in which it stood. 
 
 Strength alone seemed to have been the great
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 241 
 
 object of the architect ; and the vast buttresses 
 that widened out at the base of the build- 
 ing, and climbed high on each side, were of 
 themselves large enough for modern apartments. 
 The windows appeared small from the outside, 
 looking like mere loopholes, although they were 
 of considerable dimensions within. One, which 
 overlooked the doorway, had evidently been 
 enlarged and supplied with a Norman casement. 
 The tower consisted of three floors, besides 
 smaller chambers, excavated in the thick or 
 double walls ; also a ground apartment, which 
 contained various recesses, and offices, many of 
 them formed in the buttresses. Excepting the 
 second floor, which was better lighted, the whole 
 of the apartments were gloomy and comfortless", 
 having a dull, prison-like appearance : they 
 were only accessible to each other by steep and 
 narrow flights of steps, badly lighted from some 
 narrow shot-hole. The doorway consisted of 
 a cluster of retiring arches, the outer arch 
 ornamented with a kind of zig-zag carving ; the 
 inner one dwindling with a pleasing perspective 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 to the size of the ponderous and iron-studded 
 door. Several subterraneous passages com- 
 municated with the winding galleries which 
 stretched under the hill; some of them leading 
 into deep dungeons, from which ascent was 
 gained by rope-ladders, which fell so closely 
 to the sides, that they could scarcely be dis- 
 tinguished. Behind the tower, a passage had 
 been excavated, and opened upon a beautiful 
 pleasance, which was skirted by the river 
 Glyrae, being here both wider and deeper than 
 in any other part. Nor was the pleasance or 
 garden accessible from any other quarter, with- 
 out crossing the river, and it was so thickly 
 hedged in with tall trees and dense underwood, 
 that both eye and foot sought in vain to pene- 
 trate it. 
 
 To describe the whole of this wondrous 
 labyrinth and ancient building minutely, would 
 add nothing to the interest of our tale ; we 
 must, therefore, leave it to be unravelled in the 
 forth-coming part of the story; and for the 
 present, conduct our readers into the apart-
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 243 
 
 ment occupied by fair Rosamond and her at- 
 tendant. Every room, be it remembered, had 
 been fitted up in a becoming style of splendour, 
 under the superintendence of Becket, and no 
 expense was spared to render this romantic 
 seclusion as comfortable as wealth and circum- 
 stances could make it. But in spite of all this 
 appearance of outward comfort, a silent sad- 
 ness seemed to overhang the fair inmates of the 
 tower, such as they had almost hitherto been 
 strangers to. Rosamond had put on mourn- 
 ing robes for the death of her father, and 
 although she had in some measure regained her 
 former composure, yet a new source of sorrow 
 awaited her, and one to which she had hitherto 
 been a stranger. Owing to her absence, and 
 other circumstances which the late tumult had 
 occasioned, on her return she found her first 
 born child on the point of death. Maud had 
 done all, but what a mother only could do, for its 
 preservation during her absence; yet it seemed 
 to droop hour after hour while Rosamond was 
 away : — and while Henry was seated at the 
 m2
 
 244 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 banquet which we have described, the fond 
 mother was bending over her beautiful babe, in 
 expectation that it would soon breathe its last. 
 
 It seemed as if sorrow had but waited to 
 usher her into a new scene of grief, as if her 
 life for the future was to be nothing more than 
 a varied scene of misery ; for she had scarcely 
 passed a peaceful moment since her brief inter- 
 view with Queen Eleanor in the park. To 
 be so suddenly and miraculously thrown into 
 the arms of her father, and then, after a few 
 moments, to see him stretched at her feet a 
 bleeding corse : to be hurried from a beleagured 
 castle to her apparently dying child, with the 
 remembrance of the miserable night she had 
 passed in the park barefooted and barehead, 
 were heavy trials for one so young and beautiful. 
 
 She sat by the window in her lonely tower; a 
 fair babe cradled upon her fairer bosom, and 
 her long eye-lids drawn downward, gazing with 
 a mother's love on that innocent face, on 
 which the cold moonbeams then fell. On the 
 other side of the window sat Maud, watching
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 245 
 
 the quick and heavy breathing of the beautiful 
 babe, whose little spirit seemed hovering be- 
 tween two worlds, as if loath to exchange a 
 mother's love for heaven. The httle white 
 hood which she had partially drawn around its 
 sweet face, caught up and threw back the rays 
 of the moon, making a kind of glory around the 
 arm on which it was cradled; and she herself, 
 in the solemn agony of her beauty, looked even 
 more divine than those glowing sketches which 
 do all but breathe on the canvass, and represent 
 Mary Mother, bending over her God-Hke child ! 
 There was something so solemn, and holy in 
 that still and melancholy scene, that it scarcely 
 seemed to belong to earth, and not inaptly re- 
 sembled one of those silent apartments, of which 
 some great enchanter kept the key, and only 
 ventured in alone in the still moonlight, to see 
 that no opposing spirit had broken the power of 
 his slumberous spell. Nor did the motion of 
 the agonized mother, as she swayed her beau- 
 tiful form to and fro to lull the infant at her 
 breast, break the repose of the scene, for it
 
 246 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 seemed uncertain whether the motion belonged 
 to her or the trembhng moonbeams, that fell 
 upon her white drapery. A *' dim religious 
 light/' also diffused itself through the vaulted 
 and ancient apartment, broken into a variety 
 of sad colourings as it streamed through the 
 stained window, and fell on the rude devices of 
 cross-winged seraph and full-cheeked cherub, 
 mingled with many a saint, whose cold stony 
 eyes looked deadly out from their ornamented 
 niches. It seemed indeed a meet anti-room for 
 death, a crowding together of the twilight-forms 
 which spring up in cathedral aisles, half 
 shadowy and half real, and waft the spirit 
 unawares to other worlds, peopled with shapes 
 which no longer belong to the earth. Neither 
 was the scene broken by any sounds, saving the 
 deep breathing of the infant, and the low un- 
 conscious hush of the fond mother, which 
 seemed like silence whispering for all around to 
 be still. Maud kept a steadfast glance on the 
 beautiful pair before her, as^ she sat with folded 
 hands, and that painful look of resignation,
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 247 
 
 the chiselled workmanship of the heart, every 
 stroke of which leaves on the brow a settled 
 and marble despair, the sculptured agony that 
 never deigns to murmur. 
 
 " He sleepeth/' said Maud, in a whisper so 
 low that it might only have been the breathing 
 of the sleeper. 
 
 '* He sleepeth but lightly/' replied Rosamond, 
 catching the faint sound, while a fainter smile 
 passed unawares over her lovely but sad features, 
 so pale with long watching. That look, how- 
 ever, was given back by the little sleeper, who 
 unconsciously smiled in his slumber ; it was but 
 a moment, and it faded over his innocent face, 
 like the moon j ust revealing herself between two 
 clouds then passing again into darkness. 
 
 "The angels are whispering to him,'* said 
 Maud, in the same scarcely audible tones, *' he 
 seeth the guardian spirits and smiles/' 
 
 " They have long hovered around him," re- 
 plied Rosamond, with a deep sigh, " and will 
 soon snap the string of love that links him to 
 my heart ; they but wait to bear him to a better
 
 248 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 world, his fever increaseth hourly, his breathing 
 waxeth feeble." As she spoke, a bright tear 
 lingered for a moment upon her eye-lash, then 
 stealing down her cheek, fell upon the face of 
 the little sleeper, and caused him slightly to 
 stir. " I would that it had pleased heaven to 
 take me away, when I were young and sinless 
 as this sleeping babe," continued she ; *' how 
 much agony should I have escaped, what a 
 load of suffering should I have spared my 
 father ! And yet it is the will of the Holy One 
 that we should endure; and oh ! Maud, how little 
 are all our sorrows, when weighed in the balance 
 beside His, whose brow was wreathed with 
 sharp thorns, and who shed his blood drop by 
 drop on the cross, for our sins. "What mother 
 hath undergone such agony?" 
 
 " None, lady," replied Maud, " most true it 
 is." 
 
 " Hold thou my child but a little while," said 
 Rosamond, arising and placing the infant gently 
 upon Maud's lap. " My ^ heart is full, and
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 249 
 
 would fain pour forth its feelings before the holy 
 cross." 
 
 She went to the further end of the apartment, 
 where hung the figures of a Madonna and Child, 
 and kneeling down in the pale moonlight before 
 a silver crucifix, which flashed back the bright 
 rays of the queen of night, and fell upon her long 
 silky hair, thus prayed, with her hands folded. 
 
 *' Holy Mary ! mother of God, Queen of 
 Heaven, and sovereign lady of the angelic hosts,^ 
 hear me and intercede in my behalf. And thou 
 her almighty Son who suffered in most cruel- 
 wise for our sins, bend down from thy dwelling 
 beyond the stars, and hearken to my orisonsi 
 Stretch out those hands to help me, through 
 which the hard nails were so mercilessly driven, 
 bend that brow which once bled beneath a 
 crown of piercing thorns, and let pity enter into 
 that tender side which the sharp lance pierced 
 thorough. Oh ! take not yet my blessed babe to 
 that place which thou hast provided for those 
 
 * The Virgin Mary was formerly mentioned and invoked 
 by these titles. See Sharon Turner's valuable " History of 
 the Middle Ages," vol. v. page 45. 
 
 M 5
 
 260 PAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 thou dearly lovest: leave it with me a little 
 longer, if it be thy holy pleasure, that from its 
 sufferings I may learn to bear, even as thou 
 thyself didst suffer. Holy mother ! intercede 
 in my behalf; by the remembrance of the God- 
 child which once fed on thy breast do I implore 
 thee to pity me. By the great love which thou 
 didst feel when watching over his holy slumber. 
 Oh ! be not an angered if I pray not to thee 
 aright, but behold me as the supplicating priest 
 pleading for mine only child. I have suffered 
 much of late, but, if it be thy blessed will, let 
 me endure more of thine anger, but oh ! mer- 
 ciful mother, spare my dear child. 
 
 "Holy Mary ! leave me not to weep a-nights, 
 and feel for the baby at my side when it is 
 gone ; place not yet its little head on the 
 cold pillow of the earth, leaving my heart 
 a-cold for its presence; slay not my tender 
 love. Almost all that were dear to me have 
 been taken away: my heart yet bleeds with 
 the wounds which were rhade when those I 
 U)Vod were torn from it : leave me then this
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 251 
 
 little one to weep over in the long dark nights, 
 that I may not lie alone and tremble at the 
 thoughts of death. My heart is fast breaking 
 with sorrow, — my eyes are a- weary with shed- 
 ing tears. I cannot pray at times for very 
 weeping. Oh make me stronger to bear, or 
 portion out my sufferings in fitting measure 
 for my feeble frame. Mother of God, my 
 heart is bowed before thee ; should it be thy 
 pleasure to take away my child, let me at least 
 sleep in the same grave, that its father's tears 
 may fall upon us twain. 
 
 " Spirit of my poor dear mother ! soul of my 
 father, that fled in anger against me ! sainted 
 sister now in heaven, oh ! plead for me a 
 sinner. Kneel and supplicate for me with 
 tears and prayers, even as my heart would 
 bow for your sakes, were ye sufferers like me 
 below. Alas ! they hear me not ; they will 
 not hear me; they have made complaints at the 
 throne of heaven. They believe I have thrown 
 a stain upon their graves. But thou, Holy 
 Mother, knowest my heart is innocent; all
 
 252 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 secrets are revealed before thine all-seeing 
 eyes : my guilt will, with thy mercy, only 
 darken the eyes of those on earth. Alas ! my 
 heart is no longer in a fitting mood to approach 
 thee ; it clings too closely to earthly remem- 
 brances. It is even unwilling to resign my 
 child to an easy death, when thou didst give up 
 thine only Son to suffer. Oh God ! forgive all 
 that my tongue hath uttered, and my soul hath 
 done amiss ; purify my feelings from all earthly 
 dross, and mould my nature to thy holy will." 
 
 She ceased; and the moon which now rested 
 full on the centre of the window, cast all her 
 splendour upon the Madonna and the silver 
 crucifix, and threw a glorious halo around 
 the bending figure of Rosamond. 
 
 She arose more resigned to the will of 
 heaven after praying, for rude as it was, it 
 came like the refreshing shower ; which, 
 accompanied by the wind, maketh the green 
 things appear lovelier when the tempest hath 
 subsided. 
 
 Just then King Henry entered the chamber ;
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 253 
 
 he spoke not, but drawing a seat towards Rosa- 
 mond, gently clasped her fair hand in his own, 
 and sat beside her in silence. Nor could he, 
 while gazing upon the mournful group before 
 him forget his own littleness. The conscious- 
 ness that a word from his lips could change the 
 destinies of nations, — could awaken the deep 
 throat of war, or spread peace over the land — 
 seemed but like the mockery of power; while, 
 with all his greatness, he could not even pour 
 comfort into one heart, or make happy the 
 only one he sincerely loved. While he gazed 
 upon her in speechless sorrow, he remembered 
 not that he was the ruler of a mighty people ; 
 his cares for the time where wholly concentered 
 in that silent chamber ; and when he awoke to 
 the full consciousness of his weak estate, 
 he only sighed to think others had as great 
 a claim upon his regard as Rosamond, and 
 cursed the fate that had destined him to rule. 
 
 He spoke not, for his mind wandered back to 
 the scene he had just quitted, and the stormy 
 shouts of the banquet seemed still to ring upon
 
 254 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 his ears. It appeared like a dream ; — the awful 
 and breathless stillness which reigned over the 
 ancient tower ; the gloomy galleries, through 
 which Pierre de Vidal had just lighted him ; 
 the lonely walk through the still and moonlit 
 park, — were strange contrasts to the uproar of 
 the feast, to the glare of lights which flashed 
 upon many a mailed warrior, and their loud- 
 throated revelry. 
 
 He drew the beautiful face of Rosamond 
 almost unconsciously to his bosom, and while 
 he brooded over the misery which his ambition 
 had drawn down upon one so lovely, a tear stole 
 unawares along his manly cheek, and fell upon 
 her neck. Although he moved like an un- 
 daunted lion in the presence of Eleanor, yet 
 before Rosamond he was peaceful as a lamb. 
 Her patience under all wrongs, her silence under 
 all suffering, subdued his haughty spirit, and 
 he felt himself unworthy of her love. 
 
 He gently unwound the arms of Rosamond 
 from his neck, arose from his seat without utter- 
 ing a word, and stood for several moments in
 
 FAIR ROSA.MOND. 255 
 
 silence, bending over the infant which still 
 rested on Maud's lap. 
 
 '• Rosamond," said he, after a long pause ; 
 ** dry thy tears, my own heart's love; our child 
 will not die, he now breathes freely, and his 
 fever hath much abated during the short space 
 which I have been with thee." 
 
 "The Holy Virgin be praised!" exclaimed 
 the fond mother, *^ who hath heard and answered 
 my prayer. I vow to burn waxen tapers before 
 her sacred shrine for a whole moon. Hast thou," 
 inquired she, in a voice which faltered with 
 emotion, '* had the remains of my beloved father 
 conveyed to where my mother is interred?" 
 
 '' Thy wishes are, ere this, fulfilled, my sweet 
 love," replied the King. " I have dispatched 
 a score of my most trusty followers to do thy 
 bidding." 
 
 ** Bless thee for thy kindness," said Rosamond, 
 *' had it not been for the ill state in which I 
 found this babe, I would have followed his bier." 
 
 '* Better remain where thou art, my sweet 
 Rose," said the King. " Here thou art secure.
 
 256 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 and with all my boasted vigilance, we have had 
 one narrow escape from the enemy. There are 
 those who love me less for thy sake, and it 
 behoveth me to be watchful over thee. Pierre 
 de Vidal is faithful and trust-worthy if kept 
 from the wine cup ; and there are now those 
 around thee, in whose hands I dare trust my 
 own life." 
 
 '* Oh, it is kind of thee to let my safety oc- 
 cupy so much of thy thoughts, when weightier 
 matters call for thy wisdom," said Rosamond ; 
 *' but will not your Grace, at times look in upon 
 our dwelling, which will be all but a prison- 
 house without your presence V' 
 
 " Sweet Rose, few shall be the minutes that 
 I will waste, when chance offers, without seeing 
 thee," replied the King, "but call me not by 
 any other name name than Henry. I would 
 forget that I am any other than the fond lover, 
 that saved thy beauty from the arms of death ; 
 and gave thee a heart, then uncontaminated by 
 ambition; — call me only thine own Henry. 
 Alas!'' added he with a sigh; "would that I
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 257 
 
 were now as worthy of thy love as when I first 
 clasped thee to my bosom. But now I dare 
 not even defend thy fair fame from evil whis- 
 pers, lest our secret should be discovered." 
 
 "They who speak evil of me," replied Rosa- 
 mond, " will one day answer for inj uring my 
 fame. If to love faithfully is a crime, then am 
 I indeed guilty ; but it is, I trust, a guilt that 
 heaven itself will pardon." 
 
 Just then the door of the chamber was 
 thrown open, and a strange wild-looking figure 
 rushed into the apartment, followed by Pierre 
 de Vidal. He seemed to be a youth of about 
 twenty summers, lean and sallow, and of a 
 cadaverous complexion. There was a wild 
 glare in his eyes, which bespoke him half 
 idiot, half savage, and while he ran to and fro 
 in the apartment, moving his long skinny arms 
 as a bird does its wings when flying, he made 
 a loud humming noise with his lips, not unlike 
 the buzzing of bees. The minstrel was about to 
 strike him with an ashen twig, when the idiot 
 clung to the side of Rosamond ; and, softening
 
 258 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 his loud buzz to a plaintive kind of humming, 
 seemed to implore her protection. Maud had 
 retired to an inner recess, to lay the infant on 
 its couch. 
 
 " What have we here ?" said the King, turning 
 first to the idiot, then to Vidal ; " speak, sirrah, 
 how came this poor wretch hither ?" 
 
 *' By the mass," replied the minstrel, " I can 
 scarcely tell your Highness; but the old gardener 
 says that he is akin to the owls that haunt the 
 ivy in the old labyrinths. They call him Ga- 
 mas Gobbo the bee-eater, for he does nothing 
 but run about all day long in the wilderness, 
 making that buzzing noise, and catching bees to 
 feed on their honey bags." 
 
 "Strange!" muttered the King; '* I do re- 
 member having heard mention made of this 
 youth, and gave orders that he should be cared 
 for by our Reeve in the town of Woodstock.** 
 
 " The worthy Reeve did obey your Grace*rf 
 orders as far as could," replied the Minstrel, 
 *'and hath, together with ^several of his neigh- 
 bours, been chasing the youth since sunset.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 259 
 
 For no sooner was the door opened and the 
 sunshine let in, than out darted the bee-eater 
 like a bird, shot down the long street, scaled the 
 park fence, and was soon in quest of his fa- 
 vourite food among the wild-flowers. I chanced 
 to be abroad in the chase when the Reeve 
 entered to reclaim his prisoner ; but never did a 
 hart-of-ten so baffle his pursuers as this idiot 
 did the Reeve and his followers ; and while 
 the puny pursuers puffed and perspired, not a 
 drop of moisture stood an the idiot's brow, and 
 they gave up the chase in very despair." 
 
 " But how gained he admittance here ?" in- 
 quired the King. 
 
 *' Even as the owls return to their nest," 
 answered Vidal ; " he drew to his old haunts at 
 moonlight, scaled the hill top, and dropped 
 himself through one of the crevices, that let in 
 the light, and had coiled himself up in the 
 arbour, where I aroused him from his slumber, 
 for he was buzzing in his sleep, as if his dreams 
 were of bees and flowers, and his thoughts like 
 sunbeams **
 
 260 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " Reserve thy metaphors until I call for thy 
 minstrelsy," said the King; then looking on 
 the poor idiot, who still clung to the side of 
 Rosamond, and from time to time cast an im- 
 ploring glance on her sweet countenance, he 
 added, " Poor wretch, I pity thee, and thou 
 seemest determined to take up thy home in this 
 solitude whether I will it or not." 
 
 " Let him remain with us," said Rosamond, 
 casting a glance of pity on poor Gobbo, which 
 he seemed to understand, for he clung closer to 
 her kirtle, and burying his face in the folds, kept 
 up a low humming, not unlike the purring of a 
 cat when it is pleased. " Poor creature !" con- 
 tinued she, " it were a pity to drive him from 
 his old haunts, I will see that he cometh to no 
 harm, leave him to my care ?" 
 
 "It shall be as thou wiliest it," replied king 
 Henry ; " and thou, Vidal, wilt keep an eye on 
 his actions. Remember I have forgiven thy 
 negligence once, let me not remind thee of thy 
 duty again." 
 
 The minstrel hung down his head ashamed,
 
 PAIR ROSAMOND. 261 
 
 and by his silence and the colour which darkened 
 his olive cheeks, admitted his guilt, but replied 
 not. 
 
 " I know thee to be faithful," continued the 
 king, extending his hand to the minstrel, which 
 the latter pressed to his lips, " and only wish 
 thee to watch over this lady's safety, as thou 
 wouldst, and hast done over mine own. Fear 
 not, but that in due time, we shall discover the 
 villain, who ensnared thee over thy cups. I 
 need not tell thee to be more guarded or the 
 future. Lead the poor idiot to his repose, and 
 deal kindly with him, as thou wouldst obtain 
 my favour." 
 
 Pierre de Vidal beckoned Gamas Gobbo to 
 follow him, and the bee-eater, looking first at 
 Henry and then at Rosamond, seemed con- 
 vinced by the kindness in their countenances, 
 that they intended him no harm, and buzzing 
 in his kindliest key, he placed his hand in that 
 of the minstrel, and they quitted the apart- 
 ment together. 
 
 "I must again leave thee, my sweet Rose,"
 
 262 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 said the king, pressing her fondly to his bosom. 
 " The moon is already bending westward, and 
 matters of great import require my presence at 
 an early hour on the morrow." 
 
 " Thou wilt be with me again speedily," said 
 Rosamond, returning the king's embrace. " I 
 crave pardonfor disturbing thee at the banquet, 
 but I feared that the last moments of my child 
 were numbered." 
 
 " From the council or the camp," answered 
 king Henry, " I will fly on the wings of love 
 to obey thy summons, be it noon-day or 
 night ; my greatest grief is in parting from 
 thee, my only pleasure in thy presence. As 
 for the child, it is now, thank heaven, past all 
 danger." 
 
 " Thou art ever kind to me," replied Rosa- 
 mond, again clinging to Henry, but his heart 
 was too full to reply, and gently unwinding 
 her fair arms from his neck, he imprinted a 
 fervent kiss on her sweet lips, and hurried from 
 the apartment. 
 
 Pierre de Vidal conducted him, by the light
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 263 
 
 of a torch, through the winding and gloomy 
 labyrinth, and the monarch retraced his foot- 
 steps, alone, in the pale moonlight, to the 
 palace.
 
 264 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Unclasp the ponderous volumes ! We will see 
 The ancient laws their time worn leaves contain ; 
 The tenures that men held in the olden times, 
 When every homestead paid its price in blood. 
 When Sock and Villein tilled the hedgeless hides, 
 And Norman William made the Book of Doom. 
 
 Ralph the Red-handed. 
 
 And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 
 With mask and antique pageantry ; 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream, 
 On summer eve, by haunted stream. 
 
 Miltoiu 
 
 Our story again shifts to the pleasant palace of 
 Oxford, at that period one of the chief residences 
 of the English kings. It was on the morning 
 after the banquet, that King Henry had ap- 
 pointed a meeting between two opposite parties 
 from the wild forests of Hampshire, to settle 
 «ome dispute regarding the just distribution of 
 lands, which was to be decided by a reference 
 to Doomsday Book. Becket would have
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 265 
 
 taken a share in the business of the court, 
 biit other urgent matters called him to meet 
 the King of Scotland at Lincoln, and he was 
 busied in preparing his splendid retinue ; for it 
 was his royal master's pride to see him move 
 with a train that even outdid his own. Ranulph 
 de Glanvil was therefore compelled to meet 
 these *' Hampshire hogs," for such was the 
 epithet bestowed upon them by the king, 
 taking care, however, that it was not spoken 
 within their hearing. Although the scenes 
 which we are about to describe may appear 
 like episodes in our story, yet being highly 
 illustrative of the manners of the period which 
 we are attempting to shadow forth, we are bound, 
 like true tale-tellers, to portray them. 
 
 The large hall of the palace was set apart 
 for this decision, and great numbers had 
 assembled to witness so novel a trial; for 
 never since the days of the Conquest had any 
 monarch openly offered to do justice between 
 the Saxons and the Normans, on such matters 
 as the present. The multitude assembled were 
 
 VOL. T. N
 
 266 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 of all ranks, from the mailed baron, to the well 
 dressed franklin, and down to the poor Saxon 
 who tilled the few acres, which he held at heavy 
 service from the greater landholder. Every 
 variety of costume worn at the period was 
 mingled together, from the surcoat of simple 
 sheep-skin, to the mantle of hauhergettaiuy or 
 cloth of mixed colour ; and on to the costly coat 
 of rich velvet trimmed with minever. All these 
 huddled together, had a pleasing appearance as 
 seen by the clear sunshine which streamed in 
 through a thousand varied dyes from the 
 painted windows. 
 
 Above the assembled crowd sat the grave 
 Glanvil, in the seat of justice; his long white 
 beard contributing to his look of venerable 
 wisdom, and giving him altogether an imposing 
 appearance: Beside him sat King Henry, and 
 around the table which the high seats of the 
 monarch and judge overlooked, were placed 
 the scribes and men of law, who endeavoured 
 to look as wise as Glanvil himself. On a 
 lofty desk before the judge, were placed the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 267 
 
 two volumes of Doomsday Book, each bound 
 in wood, and secured with strong brass clasj3s. 
 The larger volume was laid open at the page 
 commencing with " Hantescire, Terra 
 Regis." And while Glanvil pondered grave- 
 ly over the antique writing, or glanced from 
 time to time on the assembled group before 
 him, the mind could not help picturing to 
 itself the Great Judge unfolding the Book of 
 Life, and about to deal forth sentence upon 
 all mankind according to their good and evil 
 deeds. Many a Saxon cheek blanched as they 
 heard the crackling of the vellum leaves turned 
 over, and thought that those volumes contained 
 the destinies of a great people. They looked 
 upon the records of bloodshed and rapine with 
 a melancholy glance, and sighed as they 
 thought of the thousands of homes which 
 had become the spoil of the invaders. But 
 these regrets passed away as the business 
 proceeded, the opening forms of which we 
 shall altogether omit. 
 
 Great was the astonishment of the parties 
 n2
 
 268 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 when they found the dispute was not to be 
 settled by oaths, for they had hitherto been 
 accustomed to terminate all such matters by 
 the number of witnesses which each party could 
 bring forward, the value of every oath being 
 weighed according to the possessions of the 
 individual. Thus it required the oaths of several 
 franklins to be equivalent to that of one baron 
 or knight. But Glanvil had, in a great mea- 
 sure abolished this barbarous mode of trial; and 
 by weighing and comparing the diverse state- 
 ments, had reduced all decisions to the human 
 judgment, calling in also a judicious jury to 
 his aid. This the Saxons looked upon as worse 
 than the trial by ordeal, by which they believed 
 the matters were decided by the judgment of 
 God. They were at a loss to imagine how 
 justice could be given by parties who had not 
 witnessed the whole transaction brought before 
 them, and who preferred hearing both sides 
 state their cases, in preference to taking the 
 opinion of the majority of- witnesses ; they mur- 
 mured at it as a Norman innovation. 
 
 However, as the trial proceeded many of them
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 269 
 
 began to alter their opinions. "What is the 
 cause of that knave's complaint ?" inquired the 
 King, turning to Glanvil, and pointing out a 
 bluff double-chinned miller, whose garments 
 were white over with meal : and who, from the 
 unsteadiness of his step, and the peculiar ex- 
 pression of his eye, left no doubt but that he 
 had drank pretty freely before coming to court. 
 Glanvil inquired his name, and the grounds of 
 his complaint. 
 
 *' Cola, the son of Hugo, surnamed Barbatus- 
 with-the-long-Beard," replied the bluff mil- 
 ler ; *' and I come to complain of Humphrey 
 Wigot, called Wolf-face, our villanous bailiff, 
 who hath raised the rental of my mill to eighteen 
 pence, when it was but charged sixteen pence 
 by the year, at the time that William the 
 Norman parcelled out the kingdom, — like a 
 thief as he was," added the miller in a low 
 voice. 
 
 " Humphrey-of-the-W^olf-face, step forth," 
 exclaimed Glanvil ; " and answer by what right 
 thou didst add two pence to the yearly rental 
 of the miller?"
 
 270 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 *' Please your learned Justiceship," said the 
 bailiff, a huge tun of man, " Cola the son of 
 Hugo refused to pay the King's geld, or to 
 furnish two hundred eels to the lord of the 
 manor, according to the tenure which was re- 
 corded by the commissioners, sent down by his 
 Mighty Highness, King William, heaven rest 
 his soul ! Further, when I came to demand the 
 geld a second time, he had undermined the 
 bank by his mill-dam, which gave way, and let 
 me into the mill-stream." 
 
 "That is a lie, as big as the bailiff himself!" 
 exclaimed the miller, " for it was the constant 
 motion of the mill-wheel which undermined the 
 bank ; and I warned the bailiff to look to his 
 steps when next he came for his geld. Nor 
 would I pay the tax, because he gave Saul, the 
 fisherman, the power to fish in the mill-stream, 
 which was against my tenure, as I held my 
 land and mill by demesne. Beside the big 
 bailiff wanted to claim meal enough for a pud- 
 ding once a week, for which he swears he 
 holds Sidwolf the steward's seal ; but he hath 
 never shown the grant, and wants too big a
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 271 
 
 pudding for my hopper, which is scarce the 
 dimensions of his own huge paunch. Marry, 
 he would keep one man constantly grinding for 
 him, as he himself is grinding down every 
 one." Henry had much ado to keep from 
 laughing outright in the miller's face, but Glan- 
 vil moved not a muscle of his grave countenance, 
 while he referred to Doomsday book, and thus 
 proceeded. 
 
 " ' Clere Hundred, Hugo-with-the-long-Beard, 
 holds half a yardland, and a mill in demesne, 
 assessed at nothing ; for which, however, he pays 
 one solida and a third, besides furnishing two 
 hundred eels to the head-borough of the hun- 
 dred, — formerly it paid nothing. The hundred 
 swear that it paid nothing since King Edward's 
 time.' — How, miller, you have made no mention 
 of the half yardland of meadow," said Glan- 
 vil ; '* who now holdeth it ?" 
 
 '*The bailiff," replied the miller, " layeth 
 claim to it, through having paid the tax ; which 
 was never demanded in my father's time ; 
 nor is it mentioned in my grant, and Alaric- 
 the-Aged, who is now here, and lived in the
 
 272 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 hundred of Clere at the time the survey was 
 made, can testify to the same." 
 
 ** Let Alaric-the-Aged step forth !" exclaimed 
 Glanvil, glad to see a man who had been 
 witness to the proceedings of the commissioners 
 sent down by the Conqueror. 
 
 A venerable old man, whose long white beard 
 swept down his bosom, and whose aged features 
 expressed great intelligence, in spite of his dim 
 eyes, now came forward, supporting himself on 
 a staff. He made a low obeisance before the 
 judge, and awaited his interrogation. 
 
 Glanvil paused a moment ere he spoke, so 
 so much was he struck with the appearance of 
 the old patriarch ; he also ordered one of the 
 scribes to arise and resign to him his seat. 
 
 ''How old art thou?" inquired the judge, 
 in a kindlier tone of voice than that in which 
 he usually spoke. 
 
 '* One hundred and two years, come the feast 
 of St. Michael the Archangel," answered the 
 venerable patriarch. 
 
 " You remember the commissioners sent
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 273 
 
 down by King William," inquired Glanvil : 
 •* what year was that V 
 
 *' Four of them came to Warneford in the 
 hundred of Clere, in the year of Grace one 
 thousand and eighty -six," answered the old 
 man. " It was on a fine evening in Hay-monath. 
 I was then a young man, and had been mowing 
 in the meadows held by Hugo de Forth. I re- 
 member pausing with my scythe on my shoul- 
 der, and marvelling who such fine folks could 
 be, for we had not many strangers then to visit 
 the little Thorpe of Warneford." 
 
 Glanvil rubbed his hands with delight, 
 when he discovered the old man's garrulity, 
 for he had long endeavoured to ascertain the 
 correctness of Doomsday book, and was glad 
 that the evidence of one so uninterested had at 
 last appeared. 
 
 " Know you the names of those who came 
 down to make a return of the hundred of Clere?" 
 inquired Glanvil. 
 
 " Yea, an* it please you I can name them all," 
 replied the old man, unabashed by the assembly. 
 n5
 
 274 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 " There was William de Owe, whom we called 
 William-the-Liar, for sure never did man so 
 cram us poor villagers with false tales. And 
 Durand de Cave, whom we nick-named Dury- 
 the-Drunkard, for he was seldom or never sober. 
 Ernulf de Hesding, a very fat man, who used to 
 sit in the sunshine and fall asleep. And Walter- 
 with-the- Wooden-Leg, for he had left his real leg 
 on the field of Hastings, but he could not write, 
 and had a very red face, and swore awfully. 
 What his other name was I have forgotten." 
 
 " By the mass !" exclaimed king Henry, 
 laughing outright, "I would give my handful 
 of broad pieces, an' Becket were here to list this 
 description of the bastard's commissioners. It 
 would serve him to laugh at for many a moon." 
 Ranulph de Glanvil, could scarcely forbear 
 smiling, as he said, ** An' every county had such 
 vouchers, my liege, we could scarce trust the 
 judgment of these volumes." Then turning to 
 Alaric-the-Aged, he said. " How trowest thou 
 they accomplished their duty ? Did they to the
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 275 
 
 best of thy knowledge make full and fair 
 returns, without showing any favour ?" 
 
 " So far as they took the judgment of the 
 head-men of the hundred," answered the old 
 man, " the returns were honestly given. But it 
 is known that Dury-the- Drunkard, put down 
 the possessions of Amos, who kept the Scot-ale, 
 at nearly double their value, stating that what 
 had before been held at twenty shillings, was 
 then worth sixty. All because Amos would not 
 allow him to get drunk at free cost." 
 
 " Knowest thou any further instances of this 
 kind ?" enquired Glanvil. 
 
 "Ernulf, whom we surnamed the Sleepy," 
 continued Alaric, "put down the lands of 
 Rudolph the son of Sefrid, at only two hides 
 and a yardland, when they had time out of 
 mind paid Danegeld, as three hides and a half, 
 nor did he record the w^oods which furnished 
 five hogs, but stated that it paid sixty shillings, 
 but was not then worth more than thirty. 
 Whereas it had never before been of such value.
 
 276 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 But this he did because Rudolph procured him 
 store of good eating and drinking, and his 
 pretty wife also administered to his wants — 
 further causes were also assigned ; but Rudolph's 
 was folk-land, and was formerly held by jjetit 
 sergeantyy some presentation of horns if I err 
 not." 
 
 '^ Did they then never measure the lands," 
 inquired Glanvil, " when the quantity was 
 doubtful ?" 
 
 " They did once determine to settle a question 
 by this means," answered the old patriarch. 
 *' But Ernulf fell asleep under an oak, while 
 Walter was endeavouring to free his wooden 
 leg from a bog into which it had sunk. The 
 sleeper caught cold, and the soldier was com- 
 pelled to get Crutch the carpenter to make him 
 a new leg. So ever after they found a greater 
 increase of faith, and took all matters on hear- 
 say. One night too they were frightened by 
 the appearance of a monk, who swore that he 
 would carry them off to purgatory, if they 
 did not make a return of the Abbey-lands, much
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 277 
 
 beneath their true value; fear compelled them to 
 obey. 
 
 " Ingulphus, the Abbot of Croyland," said 
 Glanvil, turninp' to the kino- '^records an in- 
 stance of a like nature. But why," he continued, 
 "were they not received in the same manner as 
 in other shires?" 
 
 " There was a feeling against enclosing so 
 much land for the new forest," replied the old 
 man. " The people could not forget that 
 many of their hamlets and churches had been 
 swept away for this purpose. And had the 
 commissioners been any other than jovial and 
 careless fellows, they would never have lived 
 to make any return to the king." 
 
 " But how come the returns which your- 
 selves have made, to be so different from these 
 recorded in Doomsday Book," inquired Glanvil. 
 ** The very names scarce bear a resemblance." 
 
 '^The commissioners were Normans," answer- 
 ed the old man, '' and spelt the names, which 
 were given them by the hundred, after their 
 own fashion. Holding it unworthy of their
 
 278 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 dignity to search our ancient Saxon records, 
 therefore setting down such matters at a 
 venture, as if they were only anxious to eat, 
 drink, sleep, and obtain their pay." 
 
 *'And what land do you hold in the 
 hundred V inquired the judge. 
 
 Half a hide,*' answered old Alaric, " which 
 contains wood for one hog, pasturage for one 
 ox, yielding herbage, which, at the survey, was 
 valued at fourpence, a copse for mending fences, 
 rated at three-pence, one messuage worth sixteen- 
 pence. But great part of the wood has been 
 blown down, and it is not worth so much now. 
 I hold it allodially of Hugo de Forth. The 
 whole was returned as worth four shillings. 
 My father held half a ploughland in demesne, 
 but it was never so held by me." 
 
 "You doubtless remember the tenures by 
 which many in the hundred held their pos- 
 sessions at the time of the survey," said 
 Glanvil. " I will crave you to name a few 
 which have not been changed." 
 
 " Nigel the physician held half a hide of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 279 
 
 Hugo de Perth," replied Alaric, " for bleeding 
 the serfs at spring and fall ; his son holds the 
 same. Herbert the goatherd held two yardlands. 
 for furnishing two gallons of goat's-milk daily 
 Walernan the smith held his furnace and half 
 a hide of land, for shoeing the baron's palfreys. 
 William the son of Man, held three plough- 
 lands for dismembering malefactors. Croch 
 the huntsman held one hide of land, with 
 wood for six hogs, for furnishing one-hundred 
 conies, and behaving kindly to lame Hugo. 
 But he beat the poor cripple without cause, 
 and Turstin the son of Croch afterwards held 
 the lands ; some say in parcenary from 
 Bertram's sisters : but this the hundred doubt- 
 ed. Some say there was a mortgage of six 
 shillings from the abbey on this land, but no 
 one hath seen the Abbot's deed. Bertram was 
 killed at the battle of Hastings. Godfrey the 
 gate-keeper, held one hide of land for keeping 
 the roads in repair ; for this he gave a silver 
 cup to Hugo de Forth, having privilege to 
 claim toll for wares and merchandize passing
 
 280 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 through the hundred. But these rates were 
 made at his own will, and became so high 
 that the hundred rose up against him. For 
 he, together with his two sons, were wont to 
 stand at the gate with cudgels, and had two 
 large mastiffs, one chained to either post. So 
 they set the dogs on the horses, and themselves 
 cudgelled the travellers who refused to pay. 
 The hundred took up weapons against them, 
 killed the mastiffs, and compelled Godfrey to 
 take tolls at a rate of their own making." 
 
 " A truly ready way of settling disputes," 
 said Henry; *' by the holy sepulchre ! we need 
 such men as the stout gate-keeper and his 
 sturdy sons, now-a-days, to enforce a little of 
 their discipline among our rebellious barons." 
 
 " This was the law of force, my liege," 
 replied Glanvil, " an appeal in person bringing 
 the matter at once home to the feehngs, and was 
 semper paratus. We have had disputes of late 
 respecting tenure in socage; what was such 
 service in the time of King William?" 
 
 "Such as it remaineth up to the present time
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 281 
 
 in the Hundred of Clere," replied Alaric, 
 ** and hath been time out of mind. The tenants 
 that held their lands by socage, came on stated 
 days every year to plough, and sow, the lord's 
 lands, and if need was, to reap them in the 
 Autumn; this being called socage in ground 
 and garner ; for they saw the grain safely set, 
 and safely housed. Many a merry socage-time 
 have I passed when the labour was done in the 
 hall of Hugo de Forth. Every villeinage was 
 not what it hath now come to ; although the 
 lord of the manor might at any time enter the 
 villein's estate and turn him out. Yet while he 
 fulfilled his tenure, — whether it was to manure 
 the land, gather wood to burn, or any meaner 
 service, — he was never molested ; and although 
 he could not quit the lord's estate, being villein 
 regardant, yet he was master of the land he 
 held in tenure, and all but in name equal to 
 the socage." 
 
 Glanvil consulted a few minutes with the 
 King, then spake as follows: — 
 
 " Methinks with thy experience, friend, that
 
 282 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 the Hundred might have set these matters at 
 rest without coming hither. And you, sir 
 baihfF," added he, turning round to the man of 
 portly dimensions, " will do well to act upon 
 the judgment of the Hundred, and this venerable 
 man. We will set one of our scribes to copy your 
 own returns ; and when they are compared with 
 Doomsday-book, make such alterations as shall 
 bring them to their former positions ; for, in spite 
 of the negligence of King William's Com- 
 missioners, we must hold these volumes as our 
 chief judgment ; always, however, willing to 
 make alterations in cases of oppression. As to 
 you,'* added the judge, looking at the miller, 
 " you are free from all geld ; a lenity which I 
 hope you will extend to the corn of your neigh- 
 bour when it comes to be ground, for the name 
 of rogue hath long stuck as close to all brethren 
 of your profession, as the meal does to their 
 garments. Your land shall also be returned to 
 you. We have looked over divers other grounds 
 of complaint, and leave them to the decision of
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 283 
 
 the Hundred, appointing our aged servant, 
 Alaric, to preside over the Council ; and leaving 
 all matters of dispute, which cannot be arranged 
 by the judgment of the Hundred, nor a reference 
 to the clauses which we shall cause to be copied 
 from Doomsday-book, to be settled by his de- 
 cision, for which our Sovereign Lord the King 
 will allow him out of his own Exchequer twenty 
 marks yearly. It is therefore the pleasure of his 
 Highness that you again return to your different 
 Glomes; and on no account trouble this court 
 until you have settled these disputes in the way 
 which we have appointed, when our seals shall 
 then be aflSxed to the deeds drawn up by the 
 council." 
 
 Ranulph de Glanvil beckoned the venerable 
 Alaric aside, and having dismissed the court, 
 conducted him to his own apartment, and from 
 the old patriarch gathered many things which 
 he digested in his celebrated work, entitled 
 " Tractatus de Legibus et Consuetudinibus An- 
 gliaB,'' and which is beyond all doubt the oldest 
 book on English law extant.
 
 284 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 While the scene which we have attempted to 
 describe was proceeding in the hall, Becket had 
 collected his retinue and was passing in grand 
 state through the ancient streets of Oxford, on 
 his way to negociate matters with the King of 
 Scotland, who as we have already stated, 
 awaited the presence of the Chancellor at Lin- 
 coln. The readers of history are well aware of 
 the state and splendour which Becket travelled in 
 on public occasions, and which, when he once 
 arrived in France on an embassy, caused the 
 people to exclaim, '' What manner of man 
 must the King of England be, while his Chan- 
 cellor travels in such state ?" Henry also en- 
 couraged his favourite's extravagance ; and 
 perhaps even took more delight in witnessing 
 such splendour than Becket himself did. Nor 
 was there an office, no matter how important in 
 the affairs of state, that the king would not as 
 soon trust to his Chancellor as himself; for the 
 faith that Henry placed in him was unbounded. 
 At this time, be it remembered, Becket had no 
 rival in the royal favour; but they seemed to
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 285 
 
 mingle together more like equals, than king and 
 subject. It may be, that much of this was 
 owing to the secret which Becket alone pos- 
 sessed of the King's marriage with Rosamond; 
 a secret which, to his honour, he never divulged 
 during the quarrel which afterwards sprung up 
 between them, and to which period we are now 
 fast hastening. Nor must it be forgotten that 
 Becket was an able minister; and that while 
 he studied the interests of his master, he also 
 contrived that the benefit of the nation should 
 be advanced. Many of the useful measures 
 which had already taken place during the 
 young King's reign, were done at the suggestion 
 of the Chancellor. He embraced every oppor- 
 tunity that offered itself to humble the haughty 
 barons; and though he himself afterwards set 
 at naught the royal prerogative, yet no one 
 gjuarded it more strictly than he did while 
 Chancellor. 
 
 His insisting that the Bishops and Abbots 
 should pay the scutage for the war of Toulouse, 
 like the lay vassals of the crown, and that the
 
 286 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 church was bound to the king by the same oath 
 as his soldiers: — all prove how rigidly he en- 
 forced the royal prerogative, and doubtless 
 tended to his becoming in the end Primate of 
 England ; — when he daringly broke down the 
 systems which he had before so boldly advo- 
 cated. But these are matters which belong to 
 the historian, and we only glance at them 
 occasionally, that our readers may be prepared 
 for the change which will, ere long, necessarily 
 take place in our story. 
 
 Now, however, all Oxford had made holiday, 
 to witness the splendid procession of the Chan- 
 cellor, and hundreds were assembled at the end 
 of the narrow street which led from the palace, 
 and opened into the high road. Trees and 
 banks were crowded, and many a one had as- 
 sembled on the roofs of the ancient houses that 
 they might witness the procession. The grave 
 student mingled his voice with the ragged 
 urchin, and the expounder of laws had stolen 
 an hour from his books to gaze on the gay 
 scene. The shouting drew near, and all eyes
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 287 
 
 were anxiously turned in the direction .from 
 whence it came. 
 
 Nearer drew the loud murmurs of the great 
 multitude, which came upon the ear like the 
 sounding sea, heard inland ; now near, then 
 again remote, — swelling and falling with 
 solemn variation. Ever and anon, '' the silver 
 snarling trumpets 'gan to chide ;*' and the deep 
 braying rang over valley and woodland, until 
 it was lost along the distant river. By 
 and by, the far-off clattering of steeds 
 became audible, their hollow tramp sounding 
 far around the firm-set earth, which seemed 
 to vibrate beneath their measured tread. As 
 the eager buzz drew nearer, the face-thronged 
 walls seemed all astir with life ; tree and tower 
 appeared in motion ; the door-way of every hut 
 was crowded with faces, and every foot of 
 ground that showed an elevation, was speedily 
 taken possession of. Here was seen a young 
 Saxon mother, holding up her infant at arm's 
 length, that it might view the procession, while 
 the young slave crowed again with delight.
 
 288 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 There stood the surly Norman, with folded 
 arms, lowering brow, and quivering lip, only 
 wanting the signal of his leader to spring forth, 
 and stab " the proud upstart" (as the Chancel- 
 lor was called) to the heart. Further on were 
 seen grey locks, and aged bow-bent figures; 
 men who had fought and struggled through the 
 iron reign of Stephen, mingling with the dark 
 ringlets of youth ; and rejoicing in heart that 
 they had lived to see one of their own despised 
 and conquered race elevated to the highest 
 trust in the kingdom. 
 
 At length the procession wound in sight, and 
 the assembled throng; raised a loud shout which 
 was caught up and echoed back by the distant 
 crowd that were in waiting. 
 
 Foremost rode two hundred knights in suits 
 of complete armour, which made the eye ache 
 again under such a weight of splendour, for the 
 summer sun shot down his brightest beams. 
 Each knight carried his lance erect, and with 
 battle-axe slung at ^the saddle-bow, and their 
 huge triangular shields suspended from their
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 289 
 
 necks, showed that they were ready prepared 
 for any sudden danger. Behind these rode 
 several barons and nobles, all richly attired, 
 who, however much they might envy the Chan- 
 cellor in their hearts, found it to their in- 
 terest to show a fair face before a man already 
 possessing almost kingly power. 
 
 Then came two hundred boys of various ages, 
 six in a row, singing English war-songs, the 
 chorus of which was — 
 
 " Long, long may King Henry reign, 
 And make old England free again." 
 
 They were robed in white, and each had a gar- 
 land of flowers around his head, some of them 
 accompanied the chorus with the pipe and 
 tabor. After them came several couples of 
 beautiful stag-hounds, each couple attended by 
 a youth. The hounds were of the choicest 
 breeds, deep-chested, and strong of limb ; each 
 had the letter B. C. marked on their haunches, 
 signifying that they belonged to Becket, Chan- 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 cellor: they moved along as gravely and orderly 
 as if they were familiar with such scenes. Then 
 followed a variety of other hounds, large slough- 
 hounds, grey-hounds, beagles, and every kind 
 which could hunt the buck, doe, hare, fox, 
 badger, otter, boar, goat, or other vermin, or 
 beasts of chase. 
 
 , Some there were of the true Talbot-breed, with 
 round big thick heads, short upturned noses, and 
 wide nostrils ; their ears large and thin, and 
 falling much lower than their jaws, and the 
 flews of their upper lips which also hung low 
 showed them to be loud and deep voiced. 
 Their backs too were strong and straight, their 
 thighs round, denoting swiftness; and their 
 tails rush-grown downwards, a sure sign that 
 they were long-winded. Their legs also, 
 vv^ere large and lean, indicating how well they 
 could leap over tall fences. Then there 
 were others, white, with black ears, and 
 black spots on the top of their tails. There 
 were also black-hounds, black-tanned, liver-*
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 291 
 
 tanned, milk-white (the colour of the true 
 Talbot), grisselled, and every variety of 
 hue. 
 
 Many an urchin vi^histled, and endeavoured 
 to press forward to pat these beautiful 
 animals, but they were repulsed by the at- 
 tendants, who with their long whips drove 
 them back. 
 
 After these came the immense waggons, la- 
 dened with every species of luxury; — wines 
 and ale, cider and mead, venison, sheep, whole 
 beasts ready for dressing, bacon without weight, 
 game of every description, pastries, pies, and all 
 kinds of confectionery known. Others con- 
 veyed rich tents, which could be put up on the 
 shortest notice; and which, when erected, 
 formed his chapel, his chamber, his banqueting 
 hall, kitchen, &c., each having its correspond- 
 incr furniture. 
 
 o 
 
 These when properly arranged, formed a 
 
 scene of splendour, such as has rarely been 
 
 the lot of the greatest kings to enjoy, when 
 o2
 
 292 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 encamped at a siege, or in readiness for the 
 field of battle. 
 
 One of the wains contained no less than 
 twenty- four changes of apparel for the Chan- 
 cellor alone. Another was laden with plate, gold 
 and silver vessels of costly workmanship, out- 
 doing by far those which Henry himself pos- 
 sessed : another was laden with drink to distri- 
 bute to the people of the different towns through 
 which he passed. Each waggon was drawn by 
 five large black horses, and every driver had on a 
 new frock, emblazoned in front with the large 
 initials in gold of B. C. 
 
 The wains were all roofed in like the pon- 
 derous stage waggons of the present day : 
 beside each rode two armed knights, with 
 lance in rest; four archers also, with bows 
 ready bent, marched in the rear of every 
 waggon ; and as if such a guard was not suf- 
 ficient, a grim bull-dog, of the true savage old 
 English breed, was chained under each of 
 the waggons.
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 293 
 
 Behind these appeared a long train of 
 sumpter-horses, each one heavily laden with 
 the necessaries for the servants. Then came 
 the squires of the knights and barons, some 
 leading horses bearing shields, lances, and 
 armour; followed again by armourers, farriers, 
 physicians, pages, conjurers, morris- dancers, — 
 and women, whose tongues kept pace with the 
 wanton glances of their eyes, as they now and 
 then made their ambling palfreys curvette ; 
 or with an air of pretty coquetry, pulled down 
 their long tunics, as if they either wished to 
 conceal, or draw the spectator's attention to their 
 showy scarlet hose. 
 
 Behind this motley retinue came the fal- 
 coners, with the hooded birds perched on 
 richly ornamented frames, and walking in 
 stately wise, that they might show to ad- 
 vantage their peaked boots, or the gaudy 
 bandages with which their hose were de- 
 corated.
 
 294 FAIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 A long train of solemn monks and friars, 
 abbots, and every order of the clergy came 
 next, as if they brought divinity enough to 
 supply the wants of such a motley assembly, 
 many of whom, from their looks, seemed to 
 stand in need of spiritual comfort. 
 
 Great was the contrast between these big, 
 burly, and holy men, and the gay .knights ; the 
 latter losing no opportunity of d»cfplaying their 
 fine persons and good horsemanship, while 
 the former seemed to sit as immoveable in their 
 saddles, as a huge pasty on a pewter platter. 
 Most of these holy men had full cheeks, rosy 
 visages, and portly paunches, which showed that 
 however much they might preach up abstinence, 
 they themselves were no strangers to the honey 
 and the wine, and the fat of the land. Many 
 of these venerable men carried a huo;e leathern 
 bottle, which, lest it should cause them to lean 
 too much on one side while in the saddle, they 
 had balanced by a ponderous venison pasty on
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 296 
 
 the other : their missals, anthems, and holy 
 books, were borne by the pack-horses. These 
 were followed by Becket's cooks and cup- 
 bearers. 
 
 Then came the great magician himself, 
 sumptuously apparelled, seated on a beautiful 
 
 -^m-coloured charger, that was covered with 
 ..^^j. ^ ^,loth of gold, and seemed to 
 
 spurn the very earth on which he trod under 
 his mighty burthen. Beside the Great Chancellor 
 rode Edward Gryme, and then came a few of 
 Becket's choicest friends. 
 
 The procession was closed by a solemn 
 array of armed knights riding four abreast, 
 some with their shields ready slung on the 
 arm, others with their huge cross-handled 
 swords resting on their shoulders, or their 
 lances partly poised, as if ready at the first 
 whisper of danger. 
 
 Such was the gay procession that quitted 
 Oxford ; and while Becket's eye kindled as
 
 296 IJ-AIR ROSAMOND. 
 
 he surveyed the rich spectacle, and heard his 
 own praises pass from a thousand Hps; he 
 reined up his foam-covered charger beside 
 Gryme, and said, " Thinkest thou we shall 
 increase our glory if we exchange it for the 
 primacy ? Behold this scene !" 
 
 " Empty splendour !" muttered the mo"' 
 '^ the mere gilding of delegated power! '* ' 
 
 ** True, most true," replied Becket. ^' But 
 this is our last act of chancellorship ; on our 
 return we grasp the pastoral crook," saying 
 which, he waved his arm as if he already 
 held the mighty insignia of office, which in 
 his hand was soon to become more powerful 
 than the sword. 
 
 The sound of the singers' voices became 
 fainter ; the tramp of the steeds died away, 
 until a turning in the road shut the long pro- 
 cession out of view; and only the faint and 
 afar off braying of the trumpets was at last 
 heard. But our story carries us not farther on
 
 FAIR ROSAMOND. 297 
 
 this journey, as we should be entering a wider 
 field than we could compass within the space 
 of these volumes. We must, in the next 
 chapter, return to other characters and other 
 scenes which we have too long neglected. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 IMUNTED BY STEWART AND MUnUAY, OLD BAILEY,
 
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