Two Penniless Princesses

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Two Penniless Princesses

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Geordie, used to more tumultuous and irregular gatherings, where
any man with a good horse and serviceable weapons was welcome to
join the raid, had not reckoned on such a review of the party as
was made by the old warrior accustomed to more regular warfare,
and who made each of his eight lances--namely, the two Andrew
Drummonds, Jock of the Glen, Jockie of Braeside, Willie and
Norman Armstrong, Wattie Wudspurs, and Tam Telfer--answer to
their names, and show up their three followers.

'And who is yon lad in bright steel?' Sir Patrick asked.

'Master Davie kens, sir,' responded old Andrew. David, being
called, explained that he was a leal lad called Geordie, whom he
had seen in Edinburgh, and who wished to join them, go to
France, and see the world under Sir Patrick's guidance, and that
he would be at his own charges. 'And I'll be answerable for
him, sir,' concluded the lad.

'Answer! Ha! ha! What for, eh? That he is a long-legged lad
like your ain self. What more? Come, call him up!'

The stranger had no choice save to obey, and came up on a strong
white mare, which old Andrew scanned, and muttered to his son,
'The Mearns breed--did he come honestly by it?'

'Up with your beaver, young man,' said Sir Patrick peremptorily;
'no man rides with me whose face I have not seen.'

A face not handsome and thoroughly Scottish was disclosed, with
keen intelligence in the gray eyes, and a certain air of
offended dignity, yet self-control, in the close-shut mouth.
The cheeks were sunburnt and freckled, a tawny down of young
manhood was on the long upper lip, and the short-cut hair was
red; but there was an intelligent and trustworthy expression in
the countenance, and the tall figure sat on horseback with the
upright ease of one well trained.

'Soh!' said Sir Patrick, looking him over, 'how ca' they you,
lad?'

'Geordie o' the Red Peel,' he answered.

'That's a by-name,' said the knight sternly; 'I must have the
full name of any man who rides with me.'

'George Douglas, then, if nothing short of that will content
you!'

'Are ye sib to the Earl?'

'Ay, sir, and have rid in his company.'

'Whose word am I to take for that?'

'Mine, sir, a word that none has ever doubted,' said the youth
boldly. 'By that your son kens me.'

David here vouched for having seen the young man in the Angus
following, when he had accompanied his father in the last riding
of the Scots Parliament at Edinburgh; and this so far satisfied
Sir Patrick that he consented to receive the stranger into his
company, but only on condition of an oath of absolute obedience
so long as he remained in the troop.

David could see that this had not been reckoned on by the high-
spirited Master of Angus; and indeed obedience, save to the head
of the name, was so little a Scottish virtue that Sir Patrick
was by no means unprepared for reluctance.

'I give thee thy choice, laddie,' he said, not unkindly; 'best
make up your mind while thou art still in thine own country,
and can win back home. In England and France I can have no
stragglers nor loons like to help themselves, nor give cause for
a fray to bring shame on the haill troop in lands that are none
too friendly. A raw carle like thyself, or even these lads of
mine, might give offence unwittingly, and then I'd have to give
thee up to the laws, or to stand by thee to the peril of all,
and of the ladies themselves. So there's nothing for it but
strict keeping to orders of myself and Andrew Drummond of the
Cleugh, who kens as well as I do what sorts to be done in these
strange lands. Wilt thou so bind thyself, or shall we part
while yet there is time?'

'Sir, I will,' said the young man, 'I will plight my word to
obey you, and faithfully, so long as I ride under your banner
in foreign parts--provided such oath be not binding within this
realm of Scotland, nor against my lealty to the head of my name.'

'Nor do I ask it of thee,' returned Sir Patrick heartily, but
regarding him more attentively; 'these are the scruples of a
true man. Hast thou any following?'

'Only a boy to lead my horse to grass,' replied George, giving
a peculiar whistle, which brought to his side a shock-headed,
barefooted lad, in a shepherd's tartan and little else, but with
limbs as active as a wild deer, and an eye twinkling and alert.

'He shall be put in better trim ere the English pock-puddings
see him,' said Douglas, looking at him, perhaps for the first
time, as something unsuited to that orderly company.

'That is thine own affair,' said Sir Patrick. 'Mine is that he
should comport himself as becomes one of my troop. What's his
name?'

'Ringan Raefoot,' replied Geordie Sir Patrick began to put the
oath of obedience to him, but the boy cried out--

'I'll ne'er swear to any save my lawful lord, the Yerl of Angus,
and my lord the Master.'

'Hist, Ringan,' interposed Geordie. 'Sir, I will answer for his
faith to me, and so long as he is leal to me he will be the same
to thee; but I doubt whether it be expedient to compel him.'

So did Sir Patrick, and he said--

'Then be it so, I trust to his faith to thee. Only remembering
that if he plunder or brawl, I may have to leave him hanging on
the next bush.'

'And if he doth, the Red Douglas will ken the reason why,' quoth
Ringan, with head aloft.

It was thought well to turn a deaf ear to this observation.
Indeed, Geordie's effort was to elude observation, and to keep
his uncouth follower from attracting it. Ringan was not
singular in running along with bare feet. Other 'bonnie boys,'
as the ballad has it, trotted along by the side of the horses to
which they were attached in the like fashion, though they had
hose and shoon slung over their shoulders, to be donned on
entering the good town of Berwick-upon-Tweed.

Not without sounding of bugle and sending out a pursuivant to
examine into the intentions and authorisation of the party, were
they admitted, Jean and Eleanor riding first, with the pursuivant
proclaiming--'Place, place for the high and mighty princesses of
Scotland.'

It was an inconvenient ceremony for poor Sir Patrick, who had to
hand over to the pursuivant, in the name of the princesses, a
ring from his own finger. Largesse he could not attempt, but
the proud spirit of himself and his train could not but be
chafed at the expectant faces of the crowd, and the intuitive
certainty that 'Beggarly Scotch' was in every disappointed mind.

And this was but a foretaste of what the two royal maidens'
presence would probably entail throughout the journey. His wife
added to this care uneasiness as to the deportment of her three
maidens. Of Annis she had not much fear, but she suspected Jean
and Eleanor of being as wild and untamed as hares, and she much
doubted whether any counsels might not offend their dignity, and
drive them into some strange behaviour that the good people of
Berwick would never forget.

They rode in, however, very upright and stately, with an air of
taking possession of the place on their brother's behalf; and
Jean bowed with a certain haughty grace to the deputy-warden who
came out to receive them, Eleanor keeping her eye upon Jean and
imitating her in everything. For Eleanor, though sometimes the
most eager, and most apt to commit herself by hasty words and
speeches, seemed now to be daunted by the strangeness of all
around, and to commit herself to the leading of her sister,
though so little her junior.

She was very silent all through the supper spread for them in
the hall of the castle, while Jean exchanged conversation with
their host upon Iceland hawks and wolf and deer hounds, as if
she had been a young lady keeping a splendid court all her life,
instead of a poverty-stricken prisoner in castle after castle.

'Jeanie,' whispered Eleanor, as they lay down on their bed
together, 'didst mark the tall laddie that was about to seat
himself at the high table and frowned when the steward motioned
him down?'

'What's that to me? An ill-nurtured carle,' said Jean; 'I
marvel Sir Patie brooks him in his meinie!'

Eleanor was a little in awe of Jeanie in this mood, and said no
more, but Annis, who slept on a pallet at their feet, heard all,
and guessed more as to the strange young squire.

Fain would she and Eleanor have discussed the situation, but
Jean's blue eyes glanced heedfully and defiantly at them, and,
moreover, the young gentleman in question, after that one error,
effaced himself, and was forgotten for the time in the novelty
of the scenes around.

The sub-warden of Berwick, mindful of his charge to obviate all
occasions of strife, insisted on sending a knight and half-a-
dozen men to escort the Scottish travellers as far as Durham.
David Drummond and the young ladies murmured to one another
their disgust that the English pock-pudding should not suppose
Scots able to keep their heads with their own hands; but, as
Jean sagely observed, 'No doubt he would not wish them to have
occasion to hurt any of the English, nor Jamie to have to call
them to account.'

This same old knight consorted with Sir Patrick, Dame Lilias,
and Father Romuald, and kept a sharp eye on the little party,
allowing no straggling on any pretence, and as Sir Patrick
enforced the command, all were obliged to obey, in spite of
chafing; and the scowls of the English Borderers, with the scant
courtesy vouchsafed by these sturdy spirits, proved the wisdom
of the precaution.

At Durham they were hospitably entertained in the absence of the
Bishop. The splendour of the cathedral and its adjuncts much
impressed Lady Drummond, as it had done a score of years
previously; but, though Malcolm ventured to share her
admiration, Jean was far above allowing that she could be
astonished at anything in England. In fact, she regarded the
stately towers of St. Cuthbert as so much stolen family
property which 'Jamie' would one day regain; and all the other
young people followed suit. David even made all the
observations his own sense of honour and the eyes of his hosts
would permit, with a view to a future surprise. The escort of
Sir Patrick was asked to York by a Canon who had to journey
thither, and was anxious for protection from the outlaws--who
had begun to renew the doings of Robin Hood under the laxer rule
of the young Henry VI, though things were expected to be better
since the young Duke of York had returned from France.

Perhaps this arrangement was again a precaution for the
preservation of peace, and at York there was a splendid
entertainment by Cardinal Kemp; but all the 'subtleties' and
wonders--stags' heads in their horns, peacocks in their pride,
jellies with whole romances depicted in them, could not
reconcile the young Scots to the presumption of the Archbishop
reckoning Scotland into his province. Durham was at once too
monastic and too military to have afforded much opportunity for
recruiting the princesses' wardrobe; but York was the resort of
the merchants of Flanders, and Christie was sent in quest of
them and their wares, for truly the black serge kirtles and
shepherd's tartan screens that had made the journey from Dunbar
were in no condition to do honour to royal damsels.

Jean was in raptures with the graceful veils depending from the
horned headgear, worn, she was told, by the Duchess of Burgundy;
but Eleanor wept at the idea of obscuring the snood of a
Scottish maiden, and would not hear of resigning it.

'I feel as Elleen no more,' she said, 'but a mere Flanders
popinjay. It has changed my ain self upon me, as well as the
country.'

'Thou shouldst have been born in a hovel!' returned Jean,
raising her proud little head. 'I feel more than ever what I
am--a true princess!'

And she looked it, with beauty enhanced by the rich attire which
only made Eleanor embarrassed and uncomfortable.

Malcolm, the more scrupulous of the Drummond brothers, begged of
George Douglas, when at Durham, to write to his father and
declare himself to Sir Patrick, but the youth would do neither.
He did not think himself sufficiently out of reach, and,
besides, the very sight of a pen was abhorrent to him. There
was something pleasing to him in the liberty of a kind of
volunteer attached to the expedition, and he would not give it
up. Nor was he without some wild idea of winning Jean's notice
by some gallant exploit on her behalf before she knew him for
the object of her prejudice, the Master of Angus. As to Sir
Patrick, he was far too busy trying to compose Border quarrels,
and gleaning information about the Gloucester and Beaufort
parties at Court, to have any attention to spare for the young
man riding in his suite with the barefooted lad ever at his
stirrup.

Geordie never attempted to secure better accommodation than the
other lances; he groomed his steed himself, with a little
assistance from Ringan, and slept in the straw of its bed, with
the lad curled up at his feet; the only difference observable
between him and the rest being that he always groomed himself
every night and morning as carefully as the horse, a ceremony
they thought entirely needless.

CHAPTER 3

Falcon and Fetterlock

'Ours is the sky
Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall fly.'--T. Randolph.

Beyond York that species of convoy, which ranged between
protection and supervision, entirely ceased; the Scottish party
moved on their own way, through lanes and fields at times, but
oftener through heath, rock, and moor, for England was not yet
thickly inhabited, though there was no lack of hostels or of
convents to receive them on this the great road to the North,
and to its many shrines for pilgrimage.

Perhaps Sir Patrick relaxed a little of his vigilance, since the
good behaviour of his troop had won his confidence, and they
were less likely to be regarded as invaders than by the
inhabitants of the district nearer their own frontier.

Hawking and coursing within bounds had been permitted by both
the Knight of Berwick and the Canon of Durham on the wide
northern moors; but Sir Patrick, on starting in the morning of
the day when they were entering Northamptonshire, had given a
caution that sport was not free in the more frequented parts of
England, and that hound must not be loosed nor hawk flown
without special permission from the lord of the manor.

He was, however, riding in the rear of the rest, up a narrow
lane leading uphill, anxiously discussing with Father Romuald
the expediency of seeking hospitality from any of the great
lords whose castles might be within reach before he had full
information of the present state of factions at the Court, when
suddenly his son Malcolm came riding back, pushing up hastily.

'Sir! father!' he cried, 'there's wud wark ahead, there's a
flight of unco big birds on before, and Lady Jean's hawk is awa'
after them, and Jeanie's awa' after the hawk, and Geordie Red
Peel is awa' after Jean, and Davie's awa' after Geordie; and
there's the blast of an English bugle, and my mither sent me for
you to redd the fray!'

'Time, indeed!' said Sir Patrick with a sigh, and, setting spurs
to his horse, he soon was beyond the end of the lane, on an open
heath, where some of his troop were drawn up round his banner,
almost forcibly kept back by Dame Lilias and the elder Andrew.
He could not stop for explanation from them, indeed his wife
only waved him forward towards a confused group some hundred
yards farther off, where he could see a number of his own men,
and, too plainly, long bows and coats of Lincoln green, and he
only hoped, as he galloped onward, that they belonged to outlaws
and not to rangers. Too soon he saw that his hope was vain;
there were ten or twelve stout archers with the white rosette of
York in their bonnets, the falcon and fetterlock on their
sleeves, and the Plantagenet quarterings on their breasts. In
the midst was a dead bustard, also an Englishman sitting up,
with his head bleeding; Jean was on foot, with her dagger-knife
in one hand, and holding fast to her breast her beloved hawk,
whose jesses were, however, grasped by one of the foresters.
Geordie of the Red Peel stood with his sword at his feet,
glaring angrily round, while Sir Patrick, pausing, could hear
his son David's voice in loud tones--

'I tell you this lady is a royal princess! Yes, she is'--as
there was a kind of scoff--'and we are bound on a mission to
your King from the King of Scots, and woe to him that touches a
feather of ours.'

'That may be,' said the one who seemed chief among the English,
'but that gives no licence to fly at the Duke's game, nor slay
his foresters for doing their duty. If we let the lady go, hawk
and man must have their necks wrung, after forest laws.'

'And I tell thee,' cried Davie, 'that this is a noble gentleman
of Scotland, and that we will fight for him to the death.'

'Let it alone, Davie,' said George. 'No scathe shall come to
the lady through me.'

'Save him, Davie! save Skywing!' screamed Jean.

'To the rescue--a Drummond,' shouted David; but his father
pushed his horse forward, just as the men in green, were in the
act of stringing, all at the same moment, their bows, as tall as
themselves. They were not so many but that his escort might
have overpowered them, but only with heavy loss, nd the fact of
such a fight would have been most disastrous.

'What means this, sirs?' he exclaimed, in a tone of authority,
waving back his own men; and his dignified air, as well as the
banner with which Andrew followed him, evidently took effect on
the foresters, who perhaps had not believed the young men.

'Sir Patie, my hawk!' entreated Jean. 'She did but pounce on
yon unco ugsome bird, and these bloodthirsty grasping loons
would have wrung her neck.'

'She took her knife to me,' growled the wounded man, who had
risen to his feet, and showed bleeding fingers.

'Ay, for meddling with a royal falcon,' broke in Jean. ''Tis
thou, false loon, whose craig should be raxed.'

Happily this was an unknown tongue to the foresters, and Sir
Patrick gravely silenced her.

'Whist, lady, brawls consort not with your rank. Gang back
doucely to my leddy.'

'But Skywing! he has her jesses,' said the girl, but in a lower
tone, as though rebuked.

'Sir ranger,' said Sir Patrick courteously, 'I trust you will
let the young demoiselle have her hawk. It was loosed in
ignorance and heedlessness, no doubt, but I trow it is the rule
in England, as elsewhere, that ladies of the blood royal are not
bound by forest laws.'

'Sir, if we had known,' said the ranger, who was evidently of
gentle blood, as he took his foot off the jesses, and Jean now
allowed David to remount her.

'But my Lord Duke is very heedful of his bustards, and when
Roger there went to seize the bird, my young lady was over-ready
with her knife.'

'Who would not be for thee, my bird?' murmured Jean.

'And yonder big fellow came plunging down and up with his
sword--so as he was nigh on being the death of poor Roger again
for doing his duty. If such be the ways of you Scots, sir, they
be not English ways under my Lord Duke, that is to say, and if I
let the lady and her hawk go, forest law must have its due on
the young man there--I must have him up to Fotheringay to abide
the Duke's pleasure.'

'Heed me not, Sir Patrick!' exclaimed Geordie. 'I would not
have those of your meinie brought into jeopardy for my cause.'

David was plucking his father's mantle to suggest who George
was, which in fact Sir Patrick might suspect enough to be
conscious of the full awkwardness of the position, and to
abandon the youth was impossible. Though it was not likely that
the Duke of York would hang him if aware of his rank, he might
be detained as a hostage or put to heavy ransom, or he might
never be brought to the Duke's presence at all, but be put to
death by some truculent underling, incredulous of a Scotsman's
tale, if indeed he were not too proud to tell it. Anyway, Sir
Patrick felt bound to stand by him.

'Good sir,' said he to the forester, 'will it content thee if we
all go with thee to thy Duke? The two Scottish princesses are
of his kin, and near of blood to King Henry, whom they are about
to visit at Windsor. I am on a mission thither on affairs of
state, but I shall be willing to make my excuses to him for any
misdemeanour committed on his lands by my followers.'

The forester was consenting, when George cried--

'I'll have no hindrance to your journey on my account, Sir
Patrick. Let me answer for myself.'

'Foolish laddie,' said the knight. 'Father Romuald and I were
only now conferring as to paying the Duke a visit on our way.
Sir forester, we shall be beholden to you for guiding us.'

He further inquired into the ranger's hurts, and salved them
with a piece of gold, while David thought proper to observe to
George--

'So much for thy devoir to thy princess! It was for Skywing's
craig she cared, never thine.'

George turned a deaf ear to the insinuation. He was allowed
free hands and his own horse, which was perhaps well for the
Englishmen, for Ringan Raefoot, running by his stirrup, showed
him a long knife, and said with a grin--

'Ready for the first who daurs to lay hands on the Master! Gin
I could have come up in time, the loon had never risen from the
ground.'

George endeavoured in vain to represent how much worse this
would have made their condition.

Sir Patrick, joining the ladies, informed them of the necessity
of turning aside to Fotheringay, which he had done not very
willingly, being ignorant of the character of the Duke of York,
except as one of the war party against France and Scotland,
whereas the Beauforts were for peace. As a vigorous governor of
Normandy, he had not commended him self to one whose sympathies
were French. Lady Drummond, however, remembered that his wife,
Cicely Nevil, the Rose of Raby, was younger sister to that Ralf
Nevil who had married the friend of her youth, Alice Montagu,
now Countess of Salisbury in her own right.

Sir Patrick did not let Jean escape a rebuke.

'So, lady, you see what perils to brave men you maids can cause
by a little heedlessness.'

'I never asked Geordie to put his finger in,' returned Jean
saucily. 'I could have brought off Skywing for myself without
such a clamjamfrie after me.'

But Eleanor and Annis agreed that it was as good as a ballad,
and ought to be sung in one, only Jean would have to figure as
the 'dour lassie.' For she continued to aver, by turns, that
Geordie need never have meddled, and that of course it was his
bounden duty to stand by his King's sister, and that she owed
him no thanks. If he were hanged for it he had run his craig
into the noose.

So she tossed her proud head, and toyed with her falcon, as all
rode on their way to Fotheringay, with Geordie in the midst of
the rangers.

It was so many years since there had been serious war in
England, that the castles of the interior were far less of
fortresses than of magnificent abodes for the baronage, who had
just then attained their fullest splendour. It may be observed
that the Wars of the Roses were for the most part fought out in
battles, not by sieges. Thus Fotheringay had spread out into a
huge pile, which crowned the hill above, with a strong inner
court and lofty donjon tower indeed, and with mighty walls, but
with buildings for retainers all round, reaching down to the
beautiful newly-built octagon-towered church; and with a great
park stretching for miles, for all kinds of sport.

'All this enclosed! Yet they make sic a wark about their
bustards, as they ca' them,' muttered Jean.

The forester had sent a messenger forward to inform the Duke of
York of his capture. The consequence was that the cavalcade had
no sooner crossed the first drawbridge under the great gateway
of the castle, where the banner of Plantagenet was displayed,
than before it were seen a goodly company, in the glittering and
gorgeous robes of the fifteenth century.

There was no doubt of welcome. Foremost was a graceful,
slenderly-made gentleman about thirty years old, in rich azure
and gold, who doffed his cap of maintenance, turned up with fur,
and with long ends, and, bowing low, declared himself delighted
that the princesses of Scotland, his good cousins, should honour
his poor dwelling.

He gave his hand to assist Jean to alight, and an equally
gorgeous but much younger gentleman in the same manner waited on
Eleanor. A tall, grizzled, sunburnt figure received Lady
Drummond with recognition on both sides, and the words, 'My wife
is fain to see you, my honoured lady: is this your daughter?'
with a sign to a tall youth, who took Annis from her horse.
Dame Lilias heard with joy that the Countess of Salisbury was
actually in the castle, and in a few moments more she was in the
great hall, in the arms of the sweet Countess Alice of her
youth, who, middle-aged as she was, with all her youthful
impulsiveness had not waited for the grand and formal greeting
bestowed on the princesses by her stately young sister-in-law,
the Duchess of York.

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