The Gothic Terror MEGAPACK™: 17 Classic Tales (48 page)

The Baron called upon Wenlock to reply to the charge; who, instead of answering, flew into a passion, raged, swore, threatened, and finally denied every thing. The witnesses persisted in their assertions. Markham desired leave to make known the reason why they were all afraid of him.

“He gives it out,” said he, “that he is to be my lord’s son-in-law; and they, supposing him to stand first in his favour, are afraid of his displeasure.”

“I hope,” said the Baron, “I shall not be at such a loss for a son-in-law, as to make choice of such a one as him; he never but once hinted at such a thing, and then I gave him no encouragement. I have long seen there was something very wrong in him; but I did not believe he was of so wicked a disposition; It is no wonder that princes should be so frequently deceived, when I, a private man, could be so much imposed upon within the circle of my own family. What think you, son Robert?”

“I, sir, have been much more imposed on; and I take shame to myself on the occasion.”

“Enough, my son,” said the Baron; “a generous confession is only a proof of growing wisdom. You are now sensible, that the best of us are liable to imposition. The artifices of this unworthy kinsman have set us at variance with each other, and driven away an excellent youth from this house, to go I know not whither; but he shall no longer triumph in his wickedness; he shall feel what it is to be banished from the house of his protector. He shall set out for his mother’s this very day; I will write to her in such a manner as shall inform her that he has offended me, without particularising the nature of his faults; I will give him an opportunity of recovering his credit with his own family, and this shall be my security against his doing further mischief. May he repent, and be forgiven.

“Markham deserves punishment, but not in the same degree.”

“I confess it,” said he, “and will submit to whatever your lordship shall enjoin.”

“You shall only be banished for a time, but he for ever. I will send you abroad on a business that shall put you in a way to do credit to yourself, and service to me. Son Robert, have you any objection to my sentence?”

“My Lord,” said he, “I have great reason to distrust myself; I am sensible of my own weakness, and your superior wisdom, as well as goodness; and I will henceforward submit to you in all things.”

The Baron ordered two of his servants to pack up Wenlock’s clothes and necessaries, and to set out with him that very day; he bade some others keep an eye upon him lest he should escape; As soon as they were ready, my Lord wished him a good journey, and gave him a letter for his mother. He departed without saying a word, in a sullen kind of resentment, but his countenance shewed the inward agitations of his mind.

As soon as he was gone, every mouth was opened against him; a thousand stories came out that they never heard before; The Baron and his sons were astonished that he should go on so long without detection. My lord sighed deeply at the thoughts of Edmund’s expulsion, and ardently wished to know what was become of him.

Sir Robert took the opportunity of coming to an explanation with his brother William; he took shame to himself for some part of his past behaviour. Mr. William owned his affection to Edmund, and justified it by his merit and attachment to him, which were such that he was certain no time or distance could alter them. He accepted his brother’s acknowledgement, as a full amends for all that had passed, and begged that henceforward an entire love and confidence might ever subsist between them. These new regulations restored peace, confidence, and harmony, in the Castle of Lovel.

At length, the day arrived for the combatants to meet. The Lord Graham, with twelve followers gentlemen, and twelve servants, was ready at the dawn of day to receive them.

The first that entered the field, was Sir Philip Harclay, knight, armed completely, excepting his head-piece; Hugh Rugby, his esquire, bearing his lance; John Barnard, his page, carrying his helmet and spurs; and two servants in his proper livery. The next came Edmund, the heir of Lovel, followed by his servant John Wyatt; Zadisky, followed by his servant.

At a short distance came the Lord Clifford, as judge of the field, with his esquire, two pages, and two livery-servants; followed by his eldest son, his nephew, and a gentleman his friend, each attended by one servant; He also brought a surgeon of note to take care of the wounded.

The Lord Graham saluted them; and, by his order, they took their places without the lists, and the trumpet sounded for the challenger. It was answered by the defendant, who soon after appeared, attended by three gentlemen his friends, with each one servant, beside his own proper attendants.

A place was erected for the Lord Clifford, as judge of the field; he desired Lord Graham would share the office, who accepted it, on condition that the combatants should make no objection, and they agreed to it with the greatest courtesy and respect. They consulted together on many points of honour and ceremony between the two combatants.

They appointed a marshal of the field, and other inferior officers, usually employed on these occasions. The Lord Graham sent the marshal for the challenger, desiring him to declare the cause of his quarrel before his enemy. Sir Philip Harclay then advanced, and thus spoke:

“I, Philip Harclay, knight, challenge Walter, commonly called Lord Lovel, as a base, treacherous, and bloody man, who, by his wicked arts and devices, did kill, or cause to be killed, his kinsman, Arthur Lord Lovel, my dear and noble friend. I am called upon, in an extraordinary manner, to revenge his death; and I will prove the truth of what I have affirmed at the peril of my life.”

Lord Graham then bade the defendant answer to the charge. Lord Lovel stood forth before his followers, and thus replied:

“I, Walter, Baron of Lovel, do deny the charge against me, and affirm it to be a base, false, and malicious accusation of this Sir Philip Harclay, which I believe to be invented by himself, or else framed by some enemy, and told to him for wicked ends; but, be that as it may, I will maintain my own honour, and prove him to be a false traitor, at the hazard of my own life, and to the punishment of his presumption.”

Then said the Lord Graham, “will not this quarrel admit of arbitration?”

“No,” replied Sir Philip; “when I have justified this charge, I have more to bring against him. I trust in God and the justice of my cause, and defy that traitor to the death!”

Lord Clifford then spoke a few words to Lord Graham, who immediately called to the marshal, and bade him open the lists, and deliver their weapons to the combatants.

While the marshal was arranging the combatants and their followers, Edmund approached his friend and patron; he put one knee to the ground, he embraced his knees with the strongest emotions of grief and anxiety. He was dressed in complete armour, with his visor down; his device was a hawthorn, with a graft of the rose upon it, the motto—This is not my true parent; but Sir Philip bade him take these words—E fructu arbor cognoscitur.

Sir Philip embraced the youth with strong marks of affection. “Be composed, my child!” said he; “I have neither guilt, fear, nor doubt in me; I am so certain of success, that I bid you be prepared for the consequence.”

Zadisky embraced his friend, he comforted Edmund, he suggested every thing that could confirm his hopes of success.

The marshal waited to deliver the spear to Sir Philip; he now presented it with the usual form.

“Sir, receive your lance, and God defend the right!”

Sir Philip answered, “Amen!” in a voice that was heard by all present.

He next presented his weapon to Lord Lovel with the same sentence, who likewise answered “Amen!” with a good courage. Immediately the lists were cleared, and the combatants began to fight.

They contended a long time with equal skill and courage; at length Sir Philip unhorsed his antagonist. The judges ordered, that either he should alight, or suffer his enemy to remount; he chose the former, and a short combat on foot ensued. The sweat ran off their bodies with the violence of the exercise. Sir Philip watched every motion of his enemy, and strove to weary him out, intending to wound, but not to kill him, unless obliged for his own safety.

He thrust his sword through his left arm, and demanded, whether he would confess the fact? Lord Lovel enraged, answered, he would die sooner. Sir Philip then passed the sword through his body twice, and Lord Lovel fell, crying out that he was slain.

“I hope not,” said Sir Philip, “for I have a great deal of business for you to do before you die: confess your sins, and endeavour to atone for them, as the only ground to hope for pardon.”

Lord Lovel replied, “You are the victor, use your good fortune generously!”

Sir Philip took away his sword, and then waved it over his head, and beckoned for assistance. The judges sent to beg Sir Philip to spare the life of his enemy.

“I will,” said he, “upon condition that he will make an honest confession.”

Lord Lovel desired a surgeon and a confessor.

“You shall have both,” said Sir Philip; “but you must first answer me a question or two. Did you kill your kinsman or not?”

“It was not my hand that killed him,” answered the wounded man.

“It was done by your own order, however? You shall have no assistance till you answer this point.”

“It was,” said he, “and Heaven is just!”

“Bear witness all present,” said Sir Philip; “he confesses the fact!”

He then beckoned Edmund, who approached.

“Take off your helmet,” said he; “look on that youth, he is the son of your injured kinsman.”

“It is himself!” said the Lord Lovel, and fainted away.

Sir Philip then called for a surgeon and a priest, both of which Lord Graham had provided; the former began to bind up his wounds, and his assistants poured a cordial into his mouth. “Preserve his life, if it be possible,” said Sir Philip; “for much depends upon it.”

He then took Edmund by the hand, and presented him to all the company. “In this young man,” said he, “you see the true heir of the house of Lovel! Heaven has in its own way made him the instrument to discover the death of his parents. His father was assassinated by order of that wicked man, who now receives his punishment; his mother was, by his cruel treatment, compelled to leave her own house; she was delivered in the fields, and perished herself in seeking a shelter for her infant. I have sufficient proofs of every thing I say, which I am ready to communicate to every person who desires to know the particulars. Heaven, by my hand, has chastised him; he has confessed the fact I accuse him of, and it remains that he make restitution of the fortune and honours he hath usurped so long.”

Edmund kneeled, and with uplifted hands returned thanks to Heaven, that his noble friend and champion was crowned with victory. The lords and gentlemen gathered round them, they congratulated them both; while Lord Lovel’s friends and followers were employed in taking care of him. Lord Clifford took Sir Philip’s hand.

“You have acted with so much honour and prudence, that it is presumptuous to offer you advice; but what mean you to do with the wounded man?”

“I have not determined,” said he; “I thank you for the hint, and beg your advice how to proceed.”

“Let us consult Lord Graham,” replied he.

Lord Graham insisted upon their going all to his castle: “There,” said he, “you will have impartial witnesses of all that passes.” Sir Philip was unwilling to give so much trouble. The Lord Graham protested he should be proud to do any service to so noble a gentleman. Lord Clifford enforced his request, saying, it was better upon all accounts to keep their prisoner on this side the borders till they saw what turn his health would take, and to keep him safely till he had settled his worldly affairs.

This resolution being taken, Lord Graham invited the wounded man and his friends to his castle, as being the nearest place where he could be lodged and taken proper care of, it being dangerous to carry him further. They accepted the proposal with many acknowledgements; and, having made a kind of litter of boughs, they all proceeded to Lord Graham’s castle, where they put Lord Lovel to bed, and the surgeon dressed his wounds, and desired he might be kept quiet, not knowing at present whether they were dangerous or not.

About an hour after, the wounded man complained of thirst; he asked for the surgeon, and enquired if his life was in danger? The surgeon answered him doubtfully. He asked—

“Where is Sir Philip Harclay?”

“In the castle.”

“Where is that young man whom he calls the heir of Lovel?”

“He is here, too.”

“Then I am surrounded with my enemies. I want to speak to one of my own servants, without witnesses; let one be sent to me.”

The surgeon withdrew, and acquainted the gentlemen below. “He shall not speak to any man,” said Sir Philip, “but in my presence.” He went with him into the sick man’s room. Upon the sight of Sir Philip, he seemed in great agitation.

“Am I not allowed to speak with my own servant?” said he.

“Yes, sir, you may; but not without witnesses.”

“Then I am a prisoner, it seems?”

“No, not so, sir; but some caution is necessary at present. But compose yourself, I do not wish for your death.”

“Then why did you seek it? I never injured you.”

“Yes, you have, in the person of my friend, and I am only the instrument of justice in the hand of Heaven; endeavour to make atonement while life is spared to you. Shall I send the priest to you? perhaps he may convince you of the necessity of restitution, in order to obtain forgiveness of your sins.”

Sir Philip sent for the priest and the surgeon, and obliged the servant to retire with him. “I leave you, sir, to the care of these gentlemen; and whenever a third person is admitted, I will be his attendant; I will visit you again within an hour.”

He then retired, and consulted his friends below; they were of opinion that no time should be lost. “You will then,” said he, “accompany me into the sick man’s apartment in an hour’s time.”

Within the hour, Sir Philip, attended by Lord Clifford and Lord Graham, entered the chamber. Lord Lovel was in great emotion; the priest stood on one side of the bed, the surgeon on the other; the former exhorted him to confess his sins, the other desired he might be left to his repose. Lord Lovel seemed in great anguish of mind; he trembled, and was in the utmost confusion. Sir Philip intreated him, with the piety of a confessor, to consider his soul’s health before that of his body. He then asked Sir Philip, by what means he knew that he was concerned in the death of his kinsman?

“Sir,” replied he, “it was not merely by human means this fact was discovered. There is a certain apartment in the Castle of Lovel, that has been shut up these one and twenty years, but has lately been opened and examined into.”

“O Heaven!” exclaimed he, “then Geoffry must have betrayed me!”

“No, sir, he has not; it was revealed in a very extraordinary manner to that youth whom it most concerns.”

“How can he be the heir of Lovel?”

“By being the son of that unfortunate woman, whom you cruelly obliged to leave her own house, to avoid being compelled to wed the murderer of her husband: we are not ignorant, moreover, of the fictitious funeral you made for her. All is discovered, and you will not tell us any more than we know already; but we desire to have it confirmed by your confession.”

“The judgments of Heaven are fallen upon me!” said Lord Lovel. “I am childless, and one is arisen from the grave to claim my inheritance.”

“Nothing, then, hinders you to do justice and make restitution; it is for the ease of your conscience; and you have no other way of making atonement for all the mischief you have done.”

“You know too much,” said the criminal, “and I will relate what you do not know.”