The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle Read online

  *CHAPTER III.*

  _*HOW ALIVA RECEIVED A SECOND SUITOR.*_

  So fair and noble a maiden as the Lady Aliva de Pateshulle deserved abetter father than she possessed. The Lord of Bletsoe was rather tooinclined to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds, to play a doublepart, waiting to see where his own interests would best be served. Butwe must bear in mind the condition of affairs in the time in which helived. The old and formerly powerful county family of the De Beauchampswere fallen from their high estate; for Sir William, their head, hadbeen ousted from his castle, and in those days a baron without castleand stronghold occupied but an inferior position. On the other hand, thehouse of De Breaute had come decidedly to the front; for, as thechroniclers of the time tell us, Fulke held not only the castle ofBedford, but also the castles and the shrievalties of Oxford,Northampton, Buckingham, and Cambridge. All these he had received asthe reward for his services against the barons on behalf of King John,so there could be no doubt but that the De Breaute family was wealthy,and also, apparently, firmly rooted at Bedford.

  It must not be supposed, however, that De Pateshulle could excuseFulke's outrages, or that he would have gone so far as to give hisdaughter to one who bore so evil a name, even had he not been alreadymarried. The intended son-in-law was another member of the De Breautefamily.

  As the Lady Margaret de Ripariis, the unhappy wife of Fulke, had bornher husband no children, the heir to his wealth was his younger brotherWilliam. Now this William de Breaute was not yet as widely known, nor ashated, as his brother, nor was it even asserted that he had taken partin any of the foul deeds committed by the latter. Soldier of fortunelike his brother, he had but lately arrived from France, and taken uphis residence in Bedfordshire, where perhaps he was not altogetherunpopular, for he had even gone so far as to hint that, should Sir Fulkecome to a violent end in one of his forays, and he, William, become thelord of Bedford Castle, the neighbourhood should have no reason to mournthe change. With regard to the De Beauchamps, however, he intimatedpretty strongly that he considered his family to have sufficient titleto the castle from the grant of King John, and no one, naturally, wasprepared to say that the young King Henry was in a position to upset hisfather's arrangements.

  Accordingly, when William de Breaute approached De Pateshulle with aproposal that he should give him his daughter Aliva in marriage, it wasnot altogether unnatural that that gentleman, being of poor estatethough of good family, and not even possessing a fortified dwelling--initself a mark of position in those days--should be willing to listen toa suit which would place his descendants at Bedford Castle, and in theposition held in former days by the De Beauchamps.

  It was on the afternoon of the same day on which Ralph de Beauchamp hadmet Aliva de Pateshulle in the garden that William de Breaute presentedhimself in person at the mansion of Bletsoe. Had he been aware of thestolen interview which had taken place a few hours before by the turretdoor, he would hardly have selected this day for pressing his suit withAliva herself. But ignorance is bliss. De Breaute had not beensufficiently long in the neighbourhood to learn that there had been lovepassages between Ralph and Aliva, so he rode over to Bletsoe in aself-satisfied frame of mind, armed as he was with De Pateshulle'spermission, which, in those days when ladies were often given inmarriage against their will, was, he flattered himself, of considerableforce. But he little knew with what a resolute maiden he had to deal.Moreover, he was still ignorant of the outrages at St. Alban's theprevious evening, which were likely to bring fresh discredit on hisname. He only knew that Fulke had gone off on some raid, and had notyet returned when he left Bedford.

  William de Breaute was several years younger than his brother--not muchsenior, in fact, to Ralph de Beauchamp himself. French by title andeducation, he had imported something of Continental grace and mannersinto the Anglo-Norman society of the time in Bedfordshire. He was morecareful of his dress and person than the other young men of theneighbourhood. Instead of the short curling beard and half-long hairwhich was the fashion in England, he wore only a small,carefully-trimmed moustache, and his dark hair was cut short all overhis head. He had first met the Lady Aliva at a hunting-party held in thewoods on the other side of the river, by Sir William Wake of StevingtonCastle, when the maiden, no mean horsewoman nor inferior shot with thecross-bow, had greatly distinguished herself by her prowess in venery.Since then, upon every occasion, William de Breaute had attempted toingratiate himself with the daughter of De Pateshulle, by hisforeign-cultured manners, and by showing, not altogether unsuccessfullyperhaps, that he was more of a lady's man than the young knights andsquires of the county who flocked around her. But up till now he hadnot ventured to make serious love to her. Indeed, with his frothy,shallow nature, an impetuous, earnest wooing such as Ralph's would nothave been easy.

  There was a twofold motive in the suit De Breaute now sought to press.With his admiration for the stately beauty mingled a desire to establishhimself firmly in his position by an alliance with an old family, suchas that of a De Pateshulle. He was by no means totally insincere indisclaiming any part in Sir Fulke's malpractices, and was keenly aliveto the precarious footing upon which he stood in Bedfordshire, both onaccount of the sympathy universally felt for the ejected De Beauchamps,and also by reason of his brother's lawless freebooting career.

  In anything but an enviable state of mind Aliva sat at the little windowof her chamber, her hands clasped convulsively round her knees, andwatched the watery rays of the sunshine of a winter's afternoon piercingthe fog, which slowly mounted from the river over the low-lying countryaround. The scene seemed to her typical of her unhappy position.

  "The sunshine of my life is past and gone," she exclaimed to herself,with the acute bitterness of sorrowing youth. "My sun has vanished, andthe mists creep on apace! They threaten to enshroud me. I know notwhich way to turn!" she added, with the reaction of despair common toall proud, high-spirited natures. "O my father, my father! the burdenyou have laid upon me is too heavy to bear! Since you first told ofyour wishes--nay, your commands--I have been torn hither and thither.Had I a mother, had that dear parent not been taken so early from me,she would have known, have felt, that this is no idle fancy, no passingfriendship for Ralph! O be merciful! do not force me to take another!"

  Those were the days when a dutiful and reverential spirit of obedienceto parents, of which we find now, unhappily, not so much trace, waslooked upon as a sacred duty. Daughters were given in marriage by theirparents with but little regard for their own wishes, and richheiresses--though indeed poor Aliva was not one of these latter--wereeven disposed of by royal authority for political purposes. In thehapless Margaret de Ripariis, the wife of Fulke, Aliva had herself seenan instance of such a forced marriage. No wonder that she was indespair, and had torn herself away from Ralph in confusion and distress,when her miserable position was suddenly recalled to her.

  Even as she thus moaned to herself, the sun sank behind a bank of mist,and a raw, gray gloom fell over the landscape, while home-coming rookssettled in the tall elms round the house, cawing mournfully.

  "My father said he might come this very day," Aliva thought to herself."But surely the vesper-bell will soon be ringing from the church, andthen, thanks to our blessed St. Margaret, I shall be safe for yetanother day!"

  But even as she spoke she heard the sound of a horseman riding in underthe gateway, and of Dicky Dumpling's voice bawling to a serving-man; forafter his visit to the lay-brother's cottage, and the news he had thereheard, the fat porter felt in no mood to hold the bridle of a DeBreaute.

  But Aliva did not peep from her window as she had done when Ralph rodeoff, for she guessed who had come, and her heart sank within her.

  Quickly there came a knock at the door, and the old serving-womanentered.

  "My lady, my lord thy father desires you attend him in the great hall."

  "Tell him I come," answered Aliva, and she rose.

  A daughter's
obedience she owed, and she would indeed obey an order toconfront this unwelcome suitor. But even as she smoothed her flowinghair, and, with the natural vanity of a girl about to meet an admirer,arranged it beneath the fillet, and settled the sweeping lines of hertight-fitting robe, the exigency of the crisis raised the maiden'sspirit. For she was of Anglo-Norman blood. Her sires had fought atHastings, and from each line of ancestors she inherited totally distinctqualities of bravery, dogged resolution, intrepid pride, and tenacity ofpurpose, which, blended together, have produced the finest race theworld has ever seen.

  As she entered the hall door opening into the dais or upper end, herfather and William de Breaute, standing together in the oriel, thoughtthey had never seen her look so "divinely tall, and most divinely fair."

  With one glance at the latter she swept straight up to her parent, andspoke slowly and clearly, though it needed all her strong self-will tosuppress her agitation.

  "Father," she said, "I saw Sir Ralph de Beauchamp here this morning."

  A complete silence followed as she ceased and stepped quietly to thedeep oriel window, passing her father on the other side to that on whichDe Breaute stood. There was silence as she gazed fixedly out into thedistant winter landscape, over which the dusk was already gathering, herteeth set, her lips firmly closed, and her clasped hands so tightlyclinched that the nails cut into her flesh. She moved not a muscle, butstood rigid as a statue.

  De Pateshulle shifted uneasily on his feet, and sought his guest's facewith restless eyes and troubled expression, giving an apologetic cough.

  The large log burning in the open fireplace half-way down the hall fellwith a sudden crash from the fire-dogs, as one charred end gave way.

  De Breaute started. He had been cowed for a moment by the flashingglance Aliva had given him as she entered the hall. He had been stabbedby a maddening pang of jealousy at the few words she had spoken. But inthe silence which followed he regained courage, and plunged vehementlyinto the set speech he had prepared,--

  "Most beauteous Lady Aliva, fairest daisy of an English meadow, witchingDiana of the woods, behold in me a poor suppliant from _outre mer_,falling at your fair feet, wounded to death by the glance of your brighteen, the victim of Venus _venerie_! I pray thee, proud damoiselle, todeign to look upon me with favour, and to fan with words of comfort thefire ardent your beauty hath enkindled!"

  He paused for lack of breath, and then launched out again intoContinental flowers of compliment and gallantry.

  As he spoke he advanced gradually towards Aliva, bowing, his hand uponhis heart.

  The two were only about six paces apart. Slowly and deliberately Alivatook those six paces, with an expression of indignation and scorn. Herright fist was tightly clinched. She raised her arm, and (we mustremember this was the thirteenth and not the nineteenth century) shestruck the dark little Frenchman full in the face.