The Lances of Lynwood

  Produced by Jill Diffendal. HTML version by Al Haines.

  THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD

  by

  CHARLOTTE M. YONGE

  PREFACE

  For an explanation of the allusions in the present Tale, scarcely anyNotes are necessary, save a reference to the bewitching Chronicle ofFroissart; and we cannot but hope that our sketch may serve as aninducement to some young readers to make acquaintance with thedelectable old Canon for themselves, undeterred by the size of histomes.

  The story of Orthon is almost verbally copied from him, and bears acurious resemblance to various German legends--such as that of"Heinzelman," to be found in Keightley's "Fairy Mythology," and to"Teague of the Lea," as related in Croker's "Irish Fairy Legends."

  The old French "Vie de Bertrand du Guesclin" has likewise been drawnupon for materials, and would have supplied much more of greatinterest, such as Enrique of Trastamare's arrival in the disguise of apalmer, to consult with him during his captivity at Bordeaux, and manymost curious anecdotes of his early childhood and youth.

  To Breton tradition, his excellent wife Epiphanie Raguenel owes hertitle of Tiphaine la fee, meaning that she was endowed with magicpower, which enabled her to predict what would be lucky or unlucky daysfor her husband. His disregard of them was thought to have twice costhim the loss of a battle.

  We must apologize for having made Henry of Lancaster a year or twoolder than is warranted by the date of his birth.

  THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD

  CHAPTER I

  Seldom had the interior of this island presented a more peaceful andprosperous aspect than in the reign of Edward III., when the moreturbulent spirits among his subjects had found occupation in hisforeign wars, and his wise government had established at home a degreeof plenty, tranquility, and security, such as had probably never beforebeen experienced in England.

  Castle and cottage, church and convent, alike showed the prosperity andsafety of the inhabitants, at once by the profuseness of embellishmentin those newly erected, and by the neglect of the jealous precautionsrequired in former days of confusion and misrule. Thus it was with thevillage of Lynwood, where, among the cottages and farm-houses occupyinga fertile valley in Somersetshire, arose the ancient Keep, built ofgray stone, and strongly fortified; but the defences were kept uprather as appendages of the owner's rank, than as requisite for hisprotection; though the moat was clear of weeds, and full of water, thedrawbridge was so well covered with hard-trodden earth, overgrown atthe edges with grass, that, in spite of the massive chains connectingit with the gateway, it seemed permanently fixed on the ground. Thespikes of the portcullis frowned above in threatening array, but awreath of ivy was twining up the groove by which it had once descended,and the archway, which by day stood hospitably open, was at night onlyguarded by two large oaken doors, yielding to a slight push. Beneaththe southern wall of the castle court were various flower-beds, thepride and delight of the old seneschal, Ralph Penrose, in his ownestimation the most important personage of Lynwood Keep, manager of theservants, adviser of the Lady, and instructor of the young gentleman inthe exercises of chivalry.

  One fine evening, old Ralph stood before the door, his bald foreheadand thin iron-gray locks unbonneted, and his dark ruddy-brown face(marked at Halidon Hill with a deep scar) raised with an air ofdeference, and yet of self-satisfaction, towards the Lady who stood onthe steps of the porch. She was small and fragile in figure; her face,though very lovely, was pale and thin, and her smile had in itsomething pensive and almost melancholy, as she listened to hisnarration of his dealings with a refractory tenant, and at the sametime watched a noble-looking child of seven or eight years old, who,mounted on an old war-horse, was led round the court by a youth, hiselder by some ten or eleven years.

  "See mother!" cried the child, "I am holding the reins myself. UncleEustace lays not a finger on them!"

  "As I was saying, madam," continued Ralph, disregarding theinterruption, "I told him that I should not have thought of oneexempted from feudal service in the camp, by our noble Knight, beingdeficient in his dues in his absence. I told him we should see how heliked to be sent packing to Bordeaux with a sheaf of arrows on hisback, instead of the sheaf of wheat which ought to be in our granary bythis time. But you are too gentle with them, my Lady, and they growinsolent in Sir Reginald's long absence."

  "All goes ill in his absence," said the Lady. "It is a weary whilesince the wounded archer brought tidings of his speedy return."

  "Therefore," said the youth, turning round, "it must be the nearer athand. Come sweet sister Eleanor, cheer up, for he cannot but comesoon."

  "So many _soons_ have passed away, that my heart is well-nigh too sickfor hope," said Eleanor. "And when he comes it will be but a brightdream to last for a moment. He cannot long be spared from the Prince'sside."

  "You must go with him, then, sister, and see how I begin my days ofchivalry--that is, if he will but believe me fit to bear shield andlance."

  "Ah! Master Eustace, if you were but such as I have seen others of yourrace," said Ralph, shaking his head. "There was Sir Henry--at your agehe had made the Scottish thieves look about them, I promise you. Andto go no further back than Sir Reginald himself--he stood by thePrince's side at Crecy ere he was yet fifteen!"

  "It is not my fault that I have not done as much, Ralph," said Eustace."It is not for want of the will, as you know full well."

  "No. Thanks to me, I trust you have the will and the teaching, atleast, to make a good Knight," said Ralph. "And yet, while I think ofthe goodly height and broad shoulders of those that have gone beforeyou--"

  "But hark! hark!" cried Eustace, cutting short a comparison which didnot seem likely to be complimentary. "Dost not hear, Ralph? A horn!"

  "The Lynwood note! My husband's note! O thanks, thanks to theSaints!" cried the Lady, clasping her hands, whilst Eustace, vaultinginto the saddle behind his little nephew, rode across the drawbridge asfast as the stiffened joints of old Blanc Etoile could be prevailed onto move. Gaining the summit of a rising ground, both at once shouted,"Our own pennon! It is himself!" as they beheld the dark blue crossleton an argent field floating above a troop of horsemen, whose armourglanced in the setting sun.

  "There are the Lances of Lynwood, Arthur," said Eustace, leaping to theground. "Keep your seat, and meet your father like a brave Knight'sson."

  He then settled the reins in the child's hand, and walked beside him tomeet the new-comers. They were about twenty in number, armed alikewith corselets marked with the blue cross, steel headpieces, and longlances. In front rode two of higher rank. The first was a man ofnoble mien and lofty stature, his short dark curled hair and beard, andhandsome though sunburnt countenance, displayed beneath his small bluevelvet cap, his helmet being carried behind him by a man-at-arms, andhis attire consisting of a close-fitting dress of chamois leather, awhite mantle embroidered with the blue cross thrown over one shoulder,and his sword hanging by his side. His companion, who carried at hissaddle-bow a shield blazoned with heraldic devices in scarlet and gold,was of still greater height, and very slight; his large keen eyes, hairand moustache, black as jet; and his complexion dark brown, with awell-formed aquiline nose, and a perfect and very white set of teeth.

  The instant the first-mentioned horseman perceived Eustace and Arthur,he sprang to the ground and hurried to meet them with rapidaffectionate greetings and inquiries. In another moment Dame Eleanorappeared on the drawbridge, and, weeping with joy, was clasped in herhusband's arms. Behind her stood the venerable chaplain, Father Cyril,and a step or two further off, Ralph Penrose, both of whom in turnreceived the kindly greetings of Sir Reginald Lynwood, as, with hiswife hanging on his arm and his boy holding his hand, he passed underthe gate
way of his ancestral castle. Turning the next moment, headdressed his tall companion: "Friend Gaston, I bid you welcome! DameEleanor, and you, brother Eustace, I present to you my trusty Esquire,Master Gaston d'Aubricour."

  Due courtesies passed between the Lady and the Squire, who, after a fewwords with the Knight, remained to see the disposal of the men, whileSir Reginald himself entered the hall with his wife, son and brother.Eustace did not long remain there: he found that Reginald and Eleanorhad much to say to each other, and his curiosity and interest were,besides, greatly excited by the novelty of the scene presented by thecastle court, so different from its usual peaceful monotony. The menwere unsaddling their horses, rubbing them down, walking them about, orremoving the stains of dust and mud from their own armour, while otherswere exchanging greetings with the villagers, who were gathering injoyous parties round such of the newly arrived as were natives of theplace.

  In the midst stood the strange Squire, superintending a horse-boy whowas rubbing down the Knight's tall war-horse, and at the same timeordering, giving directions, answering inquiries, or grantingpermission to the men to return home with their relations. RalphPenrose was near, his countenance, as Eustace could plainly perceive,expressing little satisfaction at finding another authority in thecourt of Lynwood Keep; the references to himself short, brief, andrapid, and only made when ignorance of the locality compelled thestranger to apply for information. The French accent and occasionalFrench phrases with which the Squire spoke, made him contract his browmore and more, and at last, just as Eustace came up, he walked slowlyaway, grumbling to himself, "Well, have it e'en your own way, I am tooold for your gay French fashions. It was not so in Humfrey Harwood'stime, when-- But the world has gone after the French now! Sir Reginaldhas brought home as many Gascon thieves as kindly Englishmen!"

  Eustace listened for a moment to his mutterings, but without answeringthem, and coming within a few steps of the stranger, stood waiting tooffer him any courtesy in his power, though at the same time he feltabashed by the consciousness of his inferiority in accomplishments andexperience.

  It was the Squire who was the first to speak. "So this is SirReginald's old Keep! A fine old fortalice--would stand at least afortnight's siege. Ha! Is not yonder a weak point? I would undertaketo scale that tower, so the battering-rams made a diversion on theother side."

  "I trust it will never be tried," said Eustace.

  "It would be as fair a feat of arms as ever you beheld! But I craveyour pardon," added he, displaying his white teeth with a merry laugh;"the state of my own land has taught me to look on every castle witheyes for attack and defence, and your brother tells me I am not behindmy countrymen in what you English call gasconades."

  "You have seen many sieges and passages of arms?" asked Eustace,looking up in his face with an expression at once puzzled andrespectful.

  "Since our castle of Albricorte was sacked and burnt by the Count deBearn, I have seen little else--three stricken fields--two townsstormed--castles more than I can remember."

  "Alas!" said Eustace, "I have seen nothing but the muster of arms atTaunton!"

  D'Aubricour laughed. "Look not downcast on it," said he; "you havetime before you and one year at Bordeaux is worth four elsewhere. But Iforget, you are the young clerk; and yet that scarcely accords withthat bright eye of yours, and the weapon at your side."

  "They spoke once of making me a clerk," said Eustace; "but I hope toshow my brother that I am fit for his own way of life. Sir Squire, dobut tell me, do you think I look unfit to sustain the honour of myname?"

  "Mere strength is little," said the Squire, "else were that comelygiant John Ingram, the best warrior in the army. Nor does heightreckon for much; Du Guesclin himself is of the shortest. Nor do youlook like the boy over whose weakly timid nature I have heard SirReginald lament," he proceeded, surveying him with a critical eye.

  Eustace had, in fact, hardly reached the middle height, and was veryslender; his limbs were, however, well proportioned, his step firm, andevery movement full of activity and grace. His face, shaded withbright chestnut hair, was of a delicate complexion, the features finelymoulded, and the usual cast of expression slightly thoughtful; butthere was frequently, and especially at this moment, a bright kindlinglight in the dark blue eyes, which changed the whole countenance fromthe grave and refined look of the young scholar to the bold ardentglance of the warrior.

  "A cavalier, every inch of you!" cried d'Aubricour, striking Eustace onthe shoulder as he concluded his inspection. "I'll have the trainingof you, my _gentil damoiseau_, and see if I do not make you as _preux achevalier_ as the most burly giant of them all. Here, know you thistrick?"

  He caught up one of the lances which the men had laid aside; Eustacefollowed his example, and acquitted himself to his satisfaction in oneor two chivalrous manoeuvres, till a summons to supper put an end tothe sport.