A Forgotten Hero Read online

  Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England

  A Forgotten Hero, or, Not for Him, by Emily Sarah Holt.

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  This shortish book takes us to the end of the thirteenth century, and,although the people in the book are mostly high-born, the scene is avery domestic one. It gives us a good understanding of the way life waslived in those days. Recommended for its social interest.________________________________________________________________________

  A FORGOTTEN HERO, OR, NOT FOR HIM, BY EMILY SARAH HOLT.

  CHAPTER ONE.

  CASTLES IN THE AIR.

  "O pale, pale face, so sweet and meek, Oriana!"

  Tennyson.

  "Is the linen all put away, Clarice?"

  "Ay, Dame."

  "And the rosemary not forgotten?"

  "I have laid it in the linen, Dame."

  "And thy day's task of spinning is done?"

  "All done, Dame."

  "Good. Then fetch thy sewing and come hither, and I will tell theesomewhat touching the lady whom thou art to serve."

  "I humbly thank your Honour." And dropping a low courtesy, the girlleft the room, and returned in a minute with her work.

  "Thou mayest sit down, Clarice."

  Clarice, with another courtesy and a murmur of thanks, took her seat inthe recess of the window, where her mother was already sitting. Forthese two were mother and daughter; a middle-aged, comfortable-lookingmother, with a mixture of firmness and good-nature in her face; and adaughter of some sixteen years, rather pale and slender, but active andintelligent in her appearance. Clarice's dark hair was smoothly brushedand turned up in a curl all round her head, being cut sufficiently shortfor that purpose. Her dress was long and loose, made in what we callthe Princess style, with a long train, which she tucked under one armwhen she walked. The upper sleeve was of a narrow bell shape, but underit came down tight ones to the wrist, fastened by a row of large roundbuttons quite up to the elbow. A large apron--which Clarice called abarm-cloth--protected the dress from stain. A fillet of ribbon wasbound round her head, but she had no ornaments of any kind. Her motherwore a similar costume, excepting that in her case the fillet round thehead was exchanged for a wimple, which was a close hood, covering headand neck, and leaving no part exposed but the face. It was a verycomfortable article in cold weather, but an eminently unbecoming one.

  These two ladies were the wife and daughter of Sir Gilbert Le Theyn, aknight of Surrey, who held his manor of the Earl of Cornwall; and thedate of the day when they thus sat in the window was the 26th of March1290.

  It will strike modern readers as odd if I say that Clarice and hermother knew very little of each other. She was her father's heir, beingan only child; and it was, therefore, considered the more necessary thatshe should not live at home. It was usual at that time to send allyoung girls of good family, not to school--there were no schools inthose days--but to be brought up under some lady of rank, where theymight receive a suitable education, and, on reaching the proper age,have a husband provided for them, the one being just as much a matter ofcourse as the other. The consent of the parents was asked to thematrimonial selection of the mistress, but public opinion required somevery strong reason to justify them in withholding it. The onlyexception to this arrangement was when girls were destined for thecloister, and in that case they received their education in a convent.But there was one person who had absolutely no voice in the matter, andthat was the unfortunate girl in question. The very idea of consultingher on any point of it, would have struck a mediaeval mother withastonishment and dismay.

  Why ladies should have been considered competent in all instances toeducate anybody's daughters but their own is a mystery of the MiddleAges. Dame La Theyn had under her care three girls, who were receivingtheir education at her hands, and she never thought of questioning herown competency to impart it; yet, also without a question, she sentClarice away from her, first to a neighbouring knight's wife, and now toa Princess, to receive the education which she might just as well havehad at home. It was the command of Fashion; and who does not know thatFashion, whether in the thirteenth century or the nineteenth, _must_ beobeyed?

  Clarice was on the brink of high promotion. By means of a ladder ofseveral steps--a Dame requesting a Baroness, and the Baroness entreatinga Countess--the royal lady had been reached at last, whose husband wasthe suzerain of Sir Gilbert. It made little difference to this ladywhether her bower-women were two or ten, provided that the attendancegiven her was as much as she required; and she readily granted thepetition that Clarice La Theyn might be numbered among those youngladies. The Earl of Cornwall was the richest man in England, notexcepting the King. It may be added that, at this period, Earl was thehighest title known short of the Prince of Wales. The first Duke hadnot yet been created, while Marquis is a rank of much later date.

  Dame La Theyn, though she had some good points, had also one grandfailing. She was an inveterate gossip. And it made no difference toher who was her listener, provided a listener could be had. A spicydish of scandal was her highest delight. She had not the least wish norintention of doing harm to the person whom she thus discussed. She hadnot even the slightest notion that she did any. But her bower-maidensknew perfectly well that, if one of them wanted to put the dame in highgood-humour before extracting a favour, the best way to do so was toinform her that Mrs Sheppey had had words with her goodman, or thatDame Rouse considered Joan Stick i' th' Lane [Note 1], no better thanshe should be.

  An innocent request from Clarice, that she might know something abouther future mistress, had been to Dame La Theyn a delightful opportunityfor a good dish of gossip. Reticence was not in the Dame's nature; andin the thirteenth century--and much later than that--facts which in thenineteenth would be left in concealment, or, at most, only delicatelyhinted at, were spoken out in the plainest English, even to young girls.The fancy that the Countess of Cornwall might not like her whole life,so far as it was known, laid bare to her new bower-woman was one whichnever troubled the mind of Dame La Theyn. Privacy, to any person ofrank more especially, was an unknown thing in the Middle Ages.

  "Thou must know, Clarice," began the Dame, "that of old time, beforethou wert born, I was bower-maiden unto my most dear-worthy Lady ofLincoln--that is brother's wife to my gracious Lady of Gloucester,mother unto my Lady of Cornwall, that shall be thy mistress. The Ladyof Lincoln, that was mine, is a dame of most high degree, for her fatherwas my Lord of Saluces, [Note 2], in Italy--very nigh a king--and sheherself was wont to be called `Queen of Lincoln,' being of so highdegree. Ah, she gave me many a good gown, for I was twelve years in herservice. And a good woman she is, but rarely proud--as it is but likesuch a princess should be. I mind one super-tunic she gave me, but halfworn,"--this was said impressively, for a garment only _half worn_ wasconsidered a fit gift from one peeress to another--"of blue damask, allset with silver buttons, and broidered with ladies' heads along theborder. I gave it for a wedding gift unto Dame Rouse when she was wed,and she hath it now, I warrant thee. Well! her lord's sister, our LadyMaud, was wed to my Lord of Gloucester; but stay!--there is a tale totell thee thereabout."

  And Dame La Theyn bit off her thread with a complacent face. Nothingsuited her better than a tale to tell, unless it were one to hear.

  "Well-a-day, there be queer things in this world!"

  The Dame paused, as if to give time for Clarice to note that veryoriginal sentiment.

  "Our Lady Maud was wed to her lord, the good Earl of Gloucester, withbut little liking of her side, and yet less on his. Nathless, she madeno plaint, but submitted herself, as a good maid should do--for markthou, Clarice, 'tis the greatest shame that can come t
o a maiden to sether will against those of her father and mother in wedlock. A goodmaid--as I trust thou art--should have no will in such matters but thatof those whom God hath set over her. And all love-matches end ill,Clarice; take my word for it! Art noting me?"

  Clarice meekly responded that the moral lesson had reached her. She didnot add whether she meant to profit by it. Probably she had her ownideas on the question, and it is quite possible that they did notentirely correspond with those which her mother was instilling.

  "Now look on me, Clarice," pursued Dame La Theyn, earnestly. "When Iwas a young maid I had foolish fancies like other maidens. Had I beenleft to order mine own life, I warrant thee I should have wed with oneMaster Pride, that was page to my good knight my father; and when I wistthat my said father had other thoughts for my disposal, I slept of a wetpillow for many a night--ay, that did I. But now that I be come toyears of discretion, I do ensure thee that I am right thankful my saidfather was wiser than I. For this Master Pride was slain at Evesham,when I was of the age of five-and-twenty years, and left behind him notso much as a mark of silver that should have come to me, his widow. Itwas a good twenty-fold better that I should have wedded with thy father,Sir Gilbert, that hath this good house, and forty acres of land, andspendeth thirty marks by the year and more. Dost thou not see thesame?"

  No. Clarice heard, but she did not see.

  "Well-a-day! Now know, that when my good Lord of Gloucester, that wedwith our Lady Maud, was a young lad, being then in wardship unto SirHubert, sometime Earl of Kent (whom God pardon!) he strake up alove-match with the Lady Margaret, that was my said Lord of Kent hisdaughter. And in very deed a good match it should have been, had itbeen well liked of them that were above them; but the Lord King thatthen was--the father unto King Edward that now is--rarely misliked thesame, and gat them divorced in all hate. It was not meet, as thoumayest well guess, that such matters should be settled apart from hisroyal pleasure. And forthwith, ere further mischief could ensue, hecaused my said Lord of Gloucester to wed with our Lady Maud. But lookthou, so obstinate was he, and so set of having his own way, that hescarce ever said so much as `Good morrow' to the Lady Maud until he knewthat the said Lady Margaret was commanded to God. Never do thou beobstinate, Clarice. 'Tis ill enough for a young man, but yet worse fora maid."

  "How long time was that, Dame, an' it like you?"

  "Far too long," answered Dame La Theyn, somewhat severely. "Three yearsand more."

  Three years and more! Clarice's thoughts went off on a long journey.Three years of disappointed hope and passionate regret, three years ofweary waiting for death, on the part of the Lady Margaret! Naturallyenough her sympathies were with the girl. And three years, to Clarice,at sixteen, seemed a small lifetime.

  "Now, this lady whom thou shalt serve, Clarice," pursued her mother--andClarice's mind came back to the subject in hand--"she is first-borndaughter unto the said Sir Richard de Clare, Lord of Gloucester, and ourLady Maud, of whom I spake. Her name is Margaret, after the damsel thatdied--a poor compliment, as methinks, to the said Lady Maud; and had Ibeen she, the maid should have been called aught else it liked my baron,but not that."

  Ah, but had I been he, thought Clarice, it should have been just that!

  "And I have heard," said the Dame, biting off her thread, "that thereshould of old time be some misliking--what I know not--betwixt the LadyMargaret and her baron; but whether it were some olden love of his partor of hers, or what so, I cast no doubt that she hath long ere thisoverlived the same, and is now a good and loving lady unto him, as ismeet."

  Clarice felt disposed to cast very much doubt on this suggestion. Sheheld the old-fashioned idea that a true heart could love but once, andcould not forget. Her vivid imagination instantly erected an exquisitecastle in the air, wherein the chief part was played by the LadyMargaret's youthful lover--a highly imaginary individual, of the mostperfect manners and unparalleled beauty, whom the unfortunate maidencould never forget, though she was forced by her cruel parents to marrythe Earl of Cornwall. He, of course, was a monster of ugliness inperson, and of everything disagreeable in character, as a man in suchcircumstances was bound to be.

  Poor Clarice! she had not seen much of the world. Her mental picture ofthe lady whom she was to serve depicted her as sweet and sorrowful, witha low plaintive voice and dark, starry, pathetic eyes, towards whom theonly feelings possible would be loving reverence and sympathy.

  "And now, Clarice, I have another thing to say."

  "At your pleasure, Dame."

  "I think it but meet to tell thee a thing I have heard from thy father--that the Lord Edmund, Earl of Cornwall, thy lady's baron, is one thathath some queer ideas in his head. I know not well what kind they are;but folk say that he is a strange man and hath strange talk. So do thoumind what thou dost. Alway be reverent to him, as is meet; but sufferhim not to talk to thee but in presence of thy lady."

  Clarice felt rather frightened--all the more so from the extremevagueness of the warning.

  "And now lap up thy sewing, child, for I see thy father coming in, andwe will go down to hall."

  A few weeks later three horses stood ready saddled at the door of SirGilbert's house. One was laden with luggage; the second was mounted bya manservant; and the third, provided with saddle and pillion, was forClarice and her father. Sir Gilbert, fully armed, mounted his steed,Clarice was helped up behind him, and with a final farewell to Dame LaTheyn, who stood in the doorway, they rode forth on their way to OakhamCastle. Three days' journey brought them to their destination, and theywere witnesses of a curious ceremony just as they reached the Castlegate. All over the gate horseshoes were nailed. A train of visitorswere arriving at the Castle, and the trumpeter sounded his horn forentrance.

  "Who goes there?" demanded the warder. "The right noble and puissantPrince Edmund, Earl of Lancaster, Leicester, and Derby; and his mostnoble lady, Blanche, Queen Dowager of Navarre, Countess of the same,cousins unto my gracious Lord of Cornwall."

  "Is this my said noble Lord's first visit unto the lordship of Oakham?"asked the warder, without opening the gate. "It is."

  "Then our gracious Lord, as Lord of the said manor, demands of him oneof the shoes of the horse whereon he rides as tribute due from everypeer of the realm on his first coming to this lordship."

  "My right noble and puissant Lord," returned the trumpeter, "denies thesaid shoe of his horse; but offers in the stead one silver penny, forthe purchase of a shoe in lieu thereof."

  "My gracious Lord deigns to receive the said silver penny in lieu of theshoe, and lovingly prays your Lord and Lady to enter his said Castle."

  Then the portcullis was drawn up, and the long train filed noisily intothe courtyard. This ceremony was observed on the first visit of everypeer to Oakham Castle; but the visitor was allowed, if he chose, as inthis instance, to redeem the horse-shoe by the payment of money to buyone. The shoes contributed by eminent persons were not unfrequentlygilded.

  The modest train of Sir Gilbert and Clarice crept quietly in at the endof the royal suite. As he was only a knight, his horse-shoe was not inrequest Sir Gilbert told the warder in a few words his name and errand,whereupon that functionary summoned a boy, and desired him to conductthe knight and maiden to Mistress Underdone. Having alighted from thehorse, Clarice shook down her riding-gown, and humbly followed SirGilbert and the guide into the great hall, which was built like achurch, with centre and aisles, up a spiral staircase at one end of it,and into a small room hung with green say [Note 3]. Here they had towait a while, for every one was too busily employed in the reception ofthe royal guests to pay attention to such comparatively mean people. Atlast--when Sir Gilbert had yawned a dozen times, and strummed upon thetable about as many, a door at the back of the room was opened, and aportly, comfortable-looking woman came forward to meet them. Was thisthe Countess? thought Clarice, with her heart fluttering. It wasextremely unlike her ideal picture.

  "Your servant, Sir Gilbert Le Theyn,"
said the newcomer, in a cheerful,kindly voice. "I am Agatha Underdone, Mistress of the Maids unto mygracious Lady of Cornwall. I bid thee welcome, Clarice--I think that isthy name?"

  Clarice acknowledged her name, with a private comforting conviction thatMistress Underdone, at least, would be pleasant enough to live with.

  "You will wish, without doubt, to go down to hall, where is good companyat this present," pursued the latter, addressing Sir Gilbert. "So, ifit please you to take leave of the maiden--"

  Sir Gilbert put two fingers on Clarice's head, as she immediately kneltbefore him. For a father to kiss a daughter was a rare thing at thattime, and for the daughter to offer it would have been thought quitedisrespectful, and much too familiar.

  "Farewell, Clarice," said he. "Be a good maid, be obedient and meek;please thy lady; and may God keep thee, and send thee an husband in goodtime."

  There was nothing more necessary in Sir Gilbert's eyes. Obedience wasthe one virtue for Clarice to cultivate, and a husband (qualityimmaterial) was sufficient reward for any amount of virtue.

  Clarice saw her father depart without any feeling of regret. He waseven a greater stranger to her than her mother. She was aself-contained, lonely-hearted girl, capable of intense love andhero-worship, but never having come across one human being who hadattracted those qualities from their nest in her heart.

  "Now follow me, Clarice," said Mistress Underdone, "and I will introducethee to the maidens, thy fellows, of whom there are four beside thee atthis time."

  Clarice followed, silently, up a further spiral staircase, and into alarger chamber, where four girls were sitting at work.

  "Maidens," said Mistress Underdone, "this is your new fellow, Clarice LaTheyn, daughter of Sir Gilbert Le Theyn and Dame Maisenta La Heron.Stand, each in turn, while I tell her your names."

  The nearest of the four, a slight, delicate-looking, fair-haired girl,rose at once, gathering her work on her arm.

  "Olympias Trusbut, youngest daughter of Sir Robert Trusbut, of thecounty of Lincoln, and Dame Joan Twentymark," announced MistressUnderdone.

  She turned to the next, a short, dark, merry-looking damsel.

  "Elaine Criketot, daughter of Sir William Criketot and Dame Alice LaGerunell, of the county of Chester."

  The third was tall, stately, and sedate.

  "Diana Quappelad, daughter of Sir Walter Quappelad and Dame BeatriceCotele, of the county of Rutland."

  Lastly rose a quiet, gentle-looking girl.

  "Roisia de Levinton, daughter of Sir Hubert de Levinton and Dame MaudIngham, of the county of Surrey."

  Clarice's heart went faintly out to the girl from her own county, butshe was much too shy to utter a word.

  Having introduced the girls to each other, Mistress Underdone left themto get acquainted at their leisure.

  "Art thou only just come?" asked Elaine, who was the first to speak.

  "Only just come," repeated Clarice, timidly.

  "Hast thou seen my Lady?"

  "Not yet: I should like to see her."

  Elaine's answer was a little half-suppressed laugh, which seemed theconcentration of amusement.

  "Maids, hear you this? Our new fellow has not seen the Lady. She wouldlike to see her."

  A smile was reflected on all four faces. Clarice thought Diana's wasslightly satirical; those of the other two were rather pitying.

  "Now, what dost thou expect her to be like?" pursued Elaine.

  "I may be quite wrong," answered Clarice, in the shy way which she wasnot one to lose quickly. "I fancied she would be tall--"

  "Right there," said Olympias.

  "And dark--"

  "Oh, no, she is fair."

  "And very beautiful, with sorrowful eyes, and a low, mournful voice."

  All the girls laughed, Roisia and Olympias gently, Diana scornfully,Elaine with shrill hilarity.

  "_Ha, jolife_!" cried the last-named young lady. "Heard one ever thelike? Only wait till supper. Then thou shalt see this lovely lady,with the sweet, sorrowful eyes and the soft, low voice. _Pure foy_! Ishall die with laughing, Clarice, if thou sayest anything more."

  "Hush!" said Diana, sharply and suddenly; but Elaine's amusement had toomuch impetus on it to be stopped all at once. She was sitting with herback to the door, her mirthful laughter ringing through the room, whenthe door was suddenly flung open, and two ladies appeared behind it.The startled, terrified expression on the faces of Olympias and Roisiawarned Clarice that something unpleasant was going to happen. HadMistress Underdone a superior, between her and the Countess, whom tooffend was a very grave affair? Clarice looked round with much interestand some trepidation at the new comers.

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  Note 1. Stykelane and Bakepuce--both most unpleasantly suggestivenames--occur on the Fines Roll for 1254.

  Note 2. Saluzzo.

  Note 3. A common coarse silk, used both for dress and upholstery.