Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent. G. P. R. James
was really the case, that into that place of general reception the travellers had been shown on their arrival. It was an immense gloomy apartment, paved with stone, occupying the whole interior space at the bottom of the chief tower. At one end was the great door, which opened at once into the court; and at the other was a high pointed window, not unlike that of a cathedral. Arms, of every kind then in use, decorated the walls in profusion. On the right side, as you entered from the court, was the wide open hearth, with stools and benches round about; and so wide and cool was the chamber, that at the time I speak of--though a night in the early part of September--an immense pile of blazing logs sparkled and hissed in the midst, casting a red and flickering glare around, which, catching on many a lance, and shield, and suit of armour on the opposite wall, lost itself in the gloom at either end of the hall, and in the deep hollow of the vault above.
A cresset--hung by a chain from the centre of the roof--added a degree of light, which, however, was confined to the part of the hall in the immediate vicinity of the lamp; and, within its influence, disencumbering themselves of some of the habiliments of the road, were seated the party of travellers just arrived, at the moment that the Lord of Hannut entered. He came in by a small door behind one of the massy pillars which supported the vault, and advanced at once towards his guests. The sound of his footstep caused them all to rise, but the Marshal of Burgundy immediately advanced before the rest to meet his friend. When within a few steps of each other, both stopped, and looked with a countenance of doubt and surprise on the face of the other. Each had forgotten that many years had passed since they last met, and each had pictured to himself the image of his friend as he had before seen him, in the pride of youth and health; but, when the reality was presented to them, both paused in astonishment to gaze upon the effects of Time's tremendous power, which they mutually presented to each other. Nor was their surprise at first unmingled with some degree of doubt as to the identity of the person before them with the friend from whom they had so long been separated.
"Good God!" exclaimed the Lord of Hannut, "Thibault of Neufchatel!"
"Even so, Maurice of Hannut!" replied the Marshal. "Good faith, old friend, I scarcely should have known thee. But more of this hereafter," he added, hastily. "See, here is a mighty prince, the Lord Louis of Valois, who demands thy care and hospitality for this night, as under my safe conduct, he journeys to visit his noble cousin, our sovereign, the Duke of Burgundy."
The Lord of Hannut bowed low at this intimation of the high quality of one of his guests, and proceeded to welcome the son of the reigning monarch of France, with that grave and stately dignity which the early habits of the court and camp had given to his demeanour. The forms and ceremonies of that day, which would be found dull enough even to practise at present, would appear still duller in writing than they would be in act; and, therefore, passing over all the points of etiquette which were observed in the reception and entertainment of the Dauphin, the supper that was laid before him, and the spiced wines that were offered him at his bedside, we will continue for a moment in the great hall, which, after he retired to rest, remained occupied by the few attendants who had accompanied himself and the Marshal of Burgundy thither, and by the usual servants and officers of the Lord of Hannut.
The presence of their superiors had restrained for a time all free communication amongst these worthy personages; but, between the squire of the body to the Marshal of Burgundy, and the seneschal of the Lord of Hannut, had passed many a glance of recognition, and a friendly, though silent, pinch of the arm during supper; and no sooner was Louis of Valois safely housed in his chamber, and his companion, the Lord of Neufchatel, closeted with the master of the mansion, than a conversation commenced between two of the followers, a part of which must be here put down as illustrative of those past events, which, in some degree, however slight, affect the course of this true history.
"What, Roger de Lorens!" cried the squire of the Marshal, "still hanging to the skirts of thy old lord? Do I find thee here at the end of twelve long years?"
"And where could I be better, Regnault of Gand?" replied the other. "But thou thyself, old friend, art thou not at the same skirts too as when last I saw thee? How is it, that after such long service thou art not yet a knight?"
"Why, in good faith, then," replied the squire, "it is that I am too poor to do honour to knighthood, and too wise to covet a state that I have not the means to hold. I have made money in the wars on an occasion too, like my neighbours; but, alack, friend Roger, no sooner does the right hand put the money in, than the left hand filches it out again. And is it, then, really twelve long years since we met? Lord, Lord! it looks but yesterday, when I think of those times; and yet when I count up all the things I have done since, and make old Memory notch them down on her tally, it seems like the score of a hundred years more than twelve. I remember the last day we ever saw each other; do you?"
"Do you think I could ever forget it?" said the other. "Was it not that day when the pleasure-house of Lindenmar was burned to the ground, and our good lord's infant was consumed in the flames?"
"I remember it well," replied the other, musing over the circumstances of the past; "and I remember that my lord and Adolph of Gueldres, and all the rest of the nobles that were marching to join the duke, saw the flames from the road; and all came willingly to help your gallant young lord. He was gallant and young then. But Adolph of Gueldres cried to let them all burn, so that the lands of Hannut might come to him. He said it laughing, indeed; but it was a bitter jest at such a minute."
"My lord heard of that soon enough," answered the seneschal, "and he never forgave it."
"Oh, but we heeded him not," exclaimed the other: "we all gave what aid we could. Mind you not, how my lord rushed in and brought out your lady in his arms, and how she wept for her child? It was but a fortnight old, they say!"
"No more, no more!" answered the other: "and I will tell you what, she never ceased to weep till death dried up her tears: poor thing! But, hark thee, Regnault," he added, taking the other by the arm, and drawing him a few paces aside, not only out of earshot of the rest of the persons who tenanted the hall, but also out of the broad glare of the lamp, as if what he was about to say were not matter for the open light:--"but, hark thee, Regnault de Gand! they do say that the spirits of that lady and her child visit our lord each night in his chamber at a certain hour."
"Didst thou ever see them, good Roger?" demanded his companion, with a smile of self-satisfied incredulity. "Didst thou ever set eyes upon them, thyself?"
"God forbid!" ejaculated the seneschal, fervently; "God forbid! I would not see them for all the gold of Egypt."
"Well, then, good Roger, fear not," replied Regnault de Gand, "thou shalt never see them! I have heard a mighty deal of spirits, and ghosts, and apparitions, and devils; but though I have served in the countries where they are most plenty, I never could meet with one in the whole course of my life; and between us two, good Roger, I believe in none of them; except, indeed, all that the church believes, and the fourteen thousand virgin martyrs."
"Why that is believing enough in all conscience," replied Roger de Lorens; "but if you believe in no such things, I will put you to sleep in the small room at the stairs' foot, just beneath my lord's private chamber."
Whither this proposal was relished much or little by the worthy squire, he had made too open a profession of his incredulity to shrink from the test; and he was fain to take up his abode for the night in a low-roofed, but not inconvenient chamber, at the foot of the staircase in the square tower. He looked somewhat pale as his old companion bade him good-night; but he looked a vast deal paler the next day when they wished each other good-morning. Not one word, however, did he say, either of objection at first, or of comment at last; and no one ever exactly knew how he sped during the night he passed in that chamber, though, when some months after he married a buxom dame of Ghent, a report got about amongst the gossips, that though he had not actually encountered a spirit, he had heard many strange noises, and seen many a strange beam of light wandering about the apartment, coming he knew not whence, and disappearing he knew not whither.
He himself told nothing openly; and when the fair dame whom he had taken to his bosom, and who was supposed to be deeply learned in all the secrets thereof, was spoken to on the subject, she, too, affected a tone of mystery, only