The Caged Lion by Charlotte M. Yonge (books to read to increase intelligence TXT) 📕

veteran sub-governor, however, a quick step came hurrying to the gateway, and the light figure of a young knight stood before him, with outstretched hands, crying: ‘Welcome to the good town of Berwick-upon-Tweed, dear comrade!’  And he added in a lower tone: ‘So you have succeeded in your quest—if, as I trow, this fairest of clerks be your lady sister.  May I—’

‘Hold!’ softly said Malcolm.  ‘She is so shamefast that she cannot brook a word;’ and in fact Lilias had pulled her hood over her face, and shrunk behind him, at the first approach of the young gentleman.

‘We will to my mother,’ said Ralf, aloud.  ‘She has always a soft corner in her heart for a young clerk or a wanderer.’

And so saying, without even looking at the disguised figure, he gave the pass-word, and holding Malcolm by the arm, led him, followed by Lilias, through the defences and into the court of the castle, then to a side-door, where, bounding up several steps at once of a stone stair, he opened a sort of anteroom door, and bade the two strangers wait there while he fetched his mother.

‘That is well!  Who would have looked to see him here!’ cried Malcolm, joyously.  ‘What, you knew him not?  It was Ralf Percy, my dear old companion!’

‘Ralf Percy! he that was so bold and daring?’ cried Lilias.  ‘Nay, but how can it be, he was as meek and shamefast—’

‘As yourself,’ smiled Malcolm.  ‘Ah, sister, you have much to learn of the ways of an English gentleman among ladies.’

Before many further words could be exchanged, there entered a fair and matronly dame in the widow’s veil she had worn ever since the fatal day of Shrewsbury—that eager, loving, yet almost childish woman whom we know so well as Hotspur’s gentle Kate (only that unfortunately her name was Elizabeth); fondling, teasing, being fondled and teased in return, and then with all her pretty puerilities scorched away when she upbraids Northumberland with his fatal delay.  Could Malcolm and Lilias have known her as we do in Shakespeare, they would have been the more gratified by her welcome, whereas they only saw her kind face and the courtly sweep of her curtsey, as, going straight up to the disguised girl, blushing and trembling now more than ever, she said: ‘Poor child, come with me, and we will soon have you yourself again, ere any other eye see you;’ and then moved away again, holding Lily by the hand, while Ralf, who had followed close behind her, again grasped Malcolm’s hand.

‘Well done, Glenuskie; you have all the adventures!  They seek you, I believe!  So you have borne off your damosel errant, and are just in time to receive your king.’

‘Is he wedded then?’

‘Ay, and you find us all here in full state, prepared to banquet him and lodge him and his bride for a night, and then I fancy my brother is to go through some ceremony, ere giving him up to his own subjects.  We are watching for him every day.  Come to my chamber, and I’ll apparel you.’

‘Nay, but what brings you here, Ralf?—you, whom I thought in France.’

‘’Twas a Scottish bill that brought me,’ answered Ralf.  ‘What, are you too lost in parchment at Oxford to hear of us poor soldiers, or knew you not how we fought at Crevant?’

‘I heard of the battle, and that you were hurt, but that was months ago, and I deemed you long since in the field again.  Was it so sore a matter?’

‘Chiefly sore for that it hindered me from taking the old rogue Douglas, and meriting my spurs as befitted a Percy.  I was knighted while the trumpet was sounding, and I did think that I was on the way to prowess, for fully in the mêlée I saw a fellow with the Douglas banner.  I made at it, thinking of my father’s and of Otterburn; and, Malcolm, this very hand was on the staff, when what must a big Scot do but chop at me with his bill like a butcher’s axe.  Had it fallen on mine arm it would have been lopped off like a bough of a tree, but, by St. George’s grace, it lit here, between my neck and shoulder, and stuck fast as I went down, and the fellow was swept away from me.  ’Twas so fixed in the very bone, that they had much ado to wrench it out, when there was time after the fight to look after us who had come by the worse.  And what d’ye think they found, Malcolm?  Why, those honest Yorkshiremen, Trenton and Kitson, stark dead, both of them.  Trenton must have gone down first, with a lance-thrust in the throat; and there was Kitson over him, his shield over his head, and his own cleft open with an axe!  They laid them side by side—so I was told—in their grave; and sure ’twas as strange and as true a brotherhood as ever was between two brave men.’

‘The good fellows!’ cried Malcolm.  ‘Nay, after what I saw I can hardly grieve.  I went to Kitson’s home, where they knew as little as I did of his death, and verily his place had closed up behind him, so that I scarce think his mother even cared to see him more, and the whole of them seemed more concerned at his amity with Trenton than proud of his feats of arms.  I was marvelling if their friendship would be allowed to subsist at home, even when they, poor fellows, were lying side by side in their French grave.’

‘We warriors should never come home,’ said Percy; ‘we are spoilt for aught but our French camp.  I am wearying to get back once more, but so long as I cannot swing my sword-arm I must play the idler here.’

‘It must have been a fearsome wound,’ said Malcolm.  ‘The marvel is your overgetting it.’

‘So say they all; and truly it has lasted no small time.  They shipped me off home so soon as I could leave my bed, and bade me rest.  Nay, and my mother herself came even to London, when my brother was summoned to Parliament,—she who had never been there since the first year after she was wedded!’

‘You can scarce complain of such kin as that,’ said Malcolm.

‘’Tis not the kin, but this petty Border life, that frets me.  Here we move from castle to castle, and now and then come tidings of a cattle lifting, and Harry dons his helm and rides forth, but nine times out of ten ’tis a false alarm, or if it be true, the thieves have made off, and being time of peace, he, as Warden, cannot make a raid in return.  I’m sick of the life, after the only warfare fit for a knight, with French nobles instead of Border thieves; and back I will.  If my right arm will not serve me, the left shall.  I can use a lance indifferent well already.’

As Sir Ralf Percy spoke, a bugle-call rang through the castle.  He started.  ‘Hark! that’s the warder’s horn,’ and flying to the door, he soon returned crying—‘Your king is in sight, Malcolm!’

‘How soon will he be here?’

‘In less than half an hour.  There’s time to array yourself.  I’ll take you to my chamber.’

‘Thanks,’ said Malcolm; ‘but this gown is no disguise to me.  I had rather meet the King thus, for it is my fitting garb.  Only I would remove the soil of the journey, and then take my sister by the hand.’

For this there was ample time, and Malcolm had arranged his hair, and brushed away the dust from his gown, washed his face and hands, and made himself look more like an Oxford bachelor, and less like a begging clerk, than he had of late judged it prudent to appear, ere Ralf took him to the great hall, where he found Lord Northumberland and the chief gentlemen of his household, with his mother, Lady Percy, and his young wife, together with their ladies, assembling for the reception of their royal guests.

Malcolm was presented to, and kindly greeted by, each of the principal personages, and then the Earl, Sir Ralf, and their officers went forth to meet the King at the gateway.  Malcolm, however, at his sister’s entreaty, remained with her, for in the doubt whether Patrick were really at hand, and a fond unreasonable vexation that he had had no part in her liberation, her colour was coming and going, and she looked as if she might almost faint in her intense excitement.

But when, marshalled by the two Percies, King James and Queen Joan had entered the hall, and the blare of trumpets without and rejoicings within, and had been welcomed with deep reverences by the two ladies, Ralf said: ‘Sir, methinks you have here what you may be glad to see.’

And standing aside, he made way for the two figures to stand forth, one in the plain black gown and hood, the other in the rich robes of a high-born maiden, her dark eyes on the ground, her fair face quivering within emotion, as both she and her brother bent the knee before their royal master.

‘Ha!’ cried James, ‘this is well indeed.  Thou hast her, then, lad?  See, Patrick!  Where is he?  Nay, but, fair wife, I must present thee the first kinswoman of mine thou hast seen.  How didst bring her off, Malcolm?’  And he embraced Malcolm with the ardour of a happy man, as he added, ‘This is all that was wanting.’

Truly James looked as if nothing were wanting to his joy, as there he stood after his years of waiting, a bridegroom, free, and on the borders of his native land.  His eyes shone with joy, and there was a bright energy and alacrity in his bearing that, when Malcolm bethought him of those former grave movements, and the quiet demeanour as though only interested by an effort, marked the change from the captive to the free man.  And beautiful Joan, lovelier than ever, took on her her queenly dignity with all her wonted grace and graciousness.

She warmly embraced Lilias, hailing her as cousin, and auguring joyously of the future from the sight of this first Stewart maiden whom she had seen; and the next moment Patrick Drummond, hurrying forward, fell on his knee before his lady, grasped, kissed, fondled her hand, and struggled and stammered between his rejoicing over her liberation and despair that he had no part in it.

‘Yea,’ said the King ‘it was well-nigh a madman whom you sent home to me, Malcolm.  He was neither to have nor to hold; and what he would have had me do, or have let him do, I’ll not say, nor doth he know either.  I must hear your story ere I sleep, Malcolm.’

The King did not ask for it then: he would not brook the exposure of the disunion and violence of Scotland to the English, especially the Percies; and it was not till he could see Malcolm alone that he listened to his history.

‘Cousin,’ he said, ‘you have done both bravely and discreetly.  Methinks you have redeemed my pledge to your good guardian that in the south you should be trained to true manhood; though I am free to own that ’twas not under my charge that you had the best training.  How is it to be, Malcolm?  Patrick tells me you saw the Lady of Light.’

‘Ay, Sir, but neither her purpose nor mine is shaken.  My lord, I believe I see how best to serve God and yourself.  If you will consent, I will finish my first course at Oxford, and then offer myself for the priesthood.’

‘Not hide thyself in cloister or school—that is well!’ exclaimed the King.

‘No, Sir.  Methinks I could serve yonder rude people best if I were among them as a priest.’

James considered, then said: ‘I pledged myself not to withstand your conscience, Malcolm; and though I grieve that the lady should be lost, she has never wavered, and cannot be balked of her will.  Godly and learned priests will indeed be needed; and between you and James Kennedy, when both are come to elder years, we may perchance lift our poor Scottish Church to some clearer sense of what a church should be.  Meanwhile—’  The King stopped and considered.  ‘Study in England!  Ay!  You see, Malcolm, I must take my seat, and have the reins of my unruly steed firm in my hand, ere I take cognizance of these offences.  The caitiff Walter—mansworn that he is—he shall abye it; but that can scarce be as yet, and methinks it were not well that I entered Scotland with you and your sister at my side, for then must I seem to have overlooked an offence that, by this holy relic, I will never pardon.  So, Malcolm, instead of entering Scotland with me—bonnie land, how sweet its air blows from the north!—ye must e’en turn south!  But how