The Grateful Indian Part 4

II.

Londesborough was a beautiful place in the county of York, about sixteen miles from York city. Lord de Vesci had other and larger estates, but as his dignity of baron was limited to male heirs, his daughter could only inherit two of his possessions, and Londesborough was one of them, consequently young Henry de Clifford was its next heir in right of his mother. He knew this, yet so well had his mind been trained by that excellent parent, that he was content to live in a shepherd's cot outside its gates with Robin and Maud, whom he soon became accustomed to call father and mother. As they had come from Skipton, and brought with them two little children of their own, the people of the hamlet where they were now settled, did not know but that Henry was their eldest son, and the little ones were so young that they were easily taught to believe he was their brother. He wore a shepherd's frock of grey serge, fastened round the waist by a leather belt, with half-boots made of untanned deer-skin; and every morning he went out with his foster-father to mind the flocks, taking with him, in a little wallet slung over his shoulder, his mid-day meal, which he would eat as he sat on some gra.s.sy mound, or by the side of a rivulet, from which he could fill his horn cup with water. How different was this from the costly banquet in his father's hall, where he had servants to attend upon him, and drank out of a goblet of gold or silver. Yet he did not repine, but performed his duties with a willing spirit, and instead of thinking his lot was a hard one, he often reflected how much worse it would have been if he had fallen into the hands of his father's foes; still he could not help feeling melancholy at times, for he longed to see his dear mother again, and more than two months had pa.s.sed, yet she came not. There was no occasion now to stain his hands and face, for the sun had embrowned them quite enough, and his long curls had been suffered to grow again, for Maud said it was a great pity to cut them off, and she was proud of hearing her neighbours say what nice hair her boy had got, and she would answer--

"Ay, my goodman tells me I take over much pride in Henry's curly locks, but he is my eldest, and sure it is natural for a mother to take pleasure in the beauty of her child, and, though I say it, he is as pretty a boy, and as good too, as any in the village."

One evening Henry had brought home the sheep, and having seen them safe in the fold, was sitting on the ground outside the cottage door eating his supper. One arm rested on the neck of a large dog, that was idly reposing by his side, as if tired with the toils of the day, for it was the shepherd's dog, and its duty was to guard the flocks as they were feeding in the fields, and warn his master if any danger seemed near them. At length the boy arose and walked slowly towards the entrance of a fair domain, where he stood gazing with tearful eyes through a long vista of tall oaks, on a n.o.ble mansion standing on the summit of a verdant slope, and his young heart was oppressed with unusual sadness as he looked wistfully on this his rightful home. He had stood there for some time when his foster-father came up and laid his hand kindly on his shoulder.

"Come, my boy, you are giving way to idle regrets. I do not like to see you here, Henry, for I know your thoughts are not what they should be."

"I know it is wrong, father, but I cannot help it sometimes."

"Whenever this feeling comes over you, Henry, try to drive it from you, and think of the past as if it had been but a dream. A dark prison, my boy, would have been a worse dwelling-place than a thatched cottage.

Think of that, and be content."

"Indeed I am content, father, for you are very kind to me. But when, oh when, do you think my own dear mother will come?"

"Nay, I cannot tell; but let us hope it will not be, long first. And now, Henry, come home and go to your bed, for the sun is set, and you must be up betimes. See, here is Lion coming to meet us. Poor Lion! he does not like to lose sight of his master."

Henry, who had dried his tears and was smiling again, sprang forward to caress the faithful dog, who frolicked round him as if he thought he had been long away, and was rejoiced at his return. Maud had put aside her spinning-wheel, for it was nearly dark; the two younger children were already asleep, and Henry was about to retire to rest, when the door was opened softly, and there entered one whose form was m.u.f.fled in a long dark cloak, the hood of which was drawn over the head to conceal the face from view. Robin and Maud trembled with fear as the idea struck them both that the boy's retreat had been discovered; but Henry, with the true instinct of affection, uttered the word "mother!" and rushed into the arms of the mysterious visitant, who threw off her disguise, and clasped her boy fondly to her bosom.

"My honoured lady!" exclaimed Maud, as she recognised the beautiful, but pale and careworn countenance of her mistress.

"Hus.h.!.+ Maud, hus.h.!.+" said the lady; "are you sure we are quite safe?"

"Yes, madam, we are safe," answered Robin, "there is no one within hearing, and I will fasten the door, so that none shall enter without giving notice."

And so saying he proceeded to make all secure, whilst Henry laughed and wept by turns in the excess of his joy, and, amidst kisses and embraces, asked many questions about his brother and sister.

"I hope they are both well, my darling. Elizabeth I have seen lately, but I have not heard of Richard since his arrival in the Low Countries.

Nevertheless, I trust he is safe and well. But how fares it with you, my best and dearest? Can you make yourself happy in this new life?"

"As happy as I can be away from you, dear mother. I do not mind the sort of life I lead so much as I thought I should; for I am getting used to it now."

"In truth he takes to it bravely, my lady," said Robin. "I only hope my own lad will be as good a shepherd as Henry, when he is as old."

Lady Margaret sighed deeply, for although the worthy man did not mean to give her pain, but rather pleasure, by this rough applause, she could not help feeling how very low the fortunes of De Clifford's son had fallen. But she did not make this thought apparent, she folded him closer to her heart, and whispered words of encouragement and praise.

"You have shown yourself a true hero, Henry, for nothing is more n.o.ble than to bear misfortune n.o.bly, and this you have done. I am proud of my son, and should you ever be permitted by Providence to take your own name again, you will be doubly worthy of it."

"And that time will come, my lady," said Maud, fervently, "as sure as there are stars in yonder heavens!"

"We will hope so, Maud. And how shall I thank you for the care you have taken of my treasure? he looks well; the bloom of health is on his cheek. I would fain give you some token of my grat.i.tude, if I durst do so."

"Better not, my lady," said Robin in his blunt way. "Besides it is for us, not you, lady, to talk of grat.i.tude, since we owe all that we possess to your goodness. Even this cottage we live in, was it not your gift? It would be hard, then, if your child should meet with aught but kindness beneath its roof."

Lady Clifford did not stay long, fearing that her absence from her own abode might be discovered, and lead to suspicion; but she said she was going to stay some time at Londesborough, and should pay a visit to the cottage whenever she saw an opportunity of doing so without risk. For a few weeks she often came at nightfall without attracting the notice of the villagers; but at length she was obliged to leave Londesborough, and Henry saw her no more for a very long while. By degrees, however, he grew reconciled to her absence, and, as time wore on, the events of his early life were less distinctly remembered, until he could almost believe that his former grandeur had never been a reality. He often thought of his brother, and wondered where he was, and whether he was living like a peasant too, for he did not know till long afterwards that poor little Richard died soon after he was sent out of England.

When Henry was about fourteen, the death of his grandfather, Lord de Vesci, brought new dangers upon him, for a rumour got spread abroad that he was still live and in England, and, as he was the rightful heir to all the estates as well as the honours of the Bromfletes, the king's emissaries began to inquire into the matter, and make search in different parts of the country, where it was supposed he might be concealed. This alarming intelligence was first conveyed to his mother by the faithful Rolf, who, you remember, was one of the old Lord de Vesci's people, and devotedly attached to Lady Clifford. But she was not Lady Clifford now, for she was married to a n.o.ble knight named Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, whose domain was in the mountainous part of c.u.mberland, and was called Threlkeld. He was a kind-hearted, n.o.ble gentleman, and, as he had not taken an active part in the wars, he had been left in possession of his lands and dignities, and was living quietly on his own estate, when he offered his hand to the widowed Lady Clifford, who consented to become his wife because she knew he would be a friend to her dear boy, and they were married soon after the lady went away from Londesborough.

As soon as they heard that King Edward had inst.i.tuted a search for the young heir, Sir Lancelot proposed to his lady to remove Robin the shepherd, with all his family, including Henry, from Londesborough to the hills of c.u.mberland, and settle them as near as possible to Threlkeld.

Robin and Maud had now five children of their own, who all looked up to Henry as their elder brother, and, as he was always kind and good-natured amongst them, treating them exactly as if they had been his brothers and sisters, they were very fond of him, nor did they ever suppose he was not the child of their parents. It was the beautiful summer-time when Sir Lancelot Threlkeld paid a visit to Londesborough, and sent for Robin, to whom he told what had happened, and explained his designs.

"The boy is no longer safe here," he said; "his life may depend on his immediate removal, but it must be very cautiously done. I shall tell the people here that we have increased our flocks at Threlkeld so that we want more shepherds there, and have fixed on Robin, whose three sons, being active lads, will be very useful. What think you of this plan?"

"It is good," replied the shepherd. "But you will see Henry yourself, my n.o.ble lord?" (It was thus he styled his lady's husband, whose servant he now deemed himself to be.)

"No, I think not," returned the knight; "it would please me much, but it will be better for him that I should not seem to think about him at all.

There may be spies on the watch to take note of my movements, and if only the shadow of a suspicion should be awakened, all would be lost.

We should have no power to save him then. How soon can you be ready to commence the journey?"

"To-morrow if you will, my lord."

"To-morrow let it be then, and may heaven send us a safe deliverance from this peril!"

"Amen!" responded the peasant, devoutly crossing himself. "It will be a happy day for me, and my dame too, should we live to see our Henry restored to his rights."

The worthy knight shook his head as he replied, "I fear me there is but small chance of that. The king is a young man; he is popular, and has sons to succeed him, and so long as there is one of the line of York to hold the sceptre of England, the house of De Clifford will be under a ban."

"Time, with the aid of Providence, works wonders, my lord."

"True, good Robin, true; but there is not much at present to encourage such hopes, and I would not have you speak thus to Henry."

"There would be little wisdom, indeed, in that," replied Robin smiling.

"Shall I tell him I have seen you, my lord?"

"Yes, surely--and you can tell him, also, why I thought it prudent to depart without seeing him, for I would not have him think me careless or unkind."

He then gave Robin money for his journey, and when all was arranged the good man took his leave, and Sir Lancelot Threlkeld departed from Londesborough that same day.

It was joyful news for Henry to hear that he was going to live so near to his own dear mother again. In the gladness of his heart he was almost inclined to regard his enemies in the light of friends, since they had been the cause of this happy change. Maud was very glad too, for anything that gave pleasure to Henry was always pleasing to her, besides which she was devotedly attached to Lady Margaret, and rejoiced in the thought of being settled in a place where she would see her more frequently than she had done of late, and as for the children, they were almost out of their wits with delight, for young folks were quite as fond of novelty four hundred years ago as they are now.

The journey was a long and a rough one, as travellers of a humble cla.s.s could not get on very fast in those days when there were no roads, and it was often a difficult matter to make their way through forests, or over wide tracts of waste land where the ground was rugged, uneven, and covered with brushwood. The vast forests which then existed in the north of England, have long since been cleared away, and wild trackless heaths have been converted into parks, meadows, and corn-fields. Maud and the two girls rode in a waggon wherein they had placed some wooden stools, several baskets of provision, and all their clothing, with such other things as they wished to take with them. Robin drove, while Henry and the other boys took it in turns to ride one at a time, the rest walking by the side of the clumsy vehicle, which could only proceed at a foot pace, so that their progress was but slow. They had taken care to put plenty of rushes in the waggon, so that some of them might sleep comfortably in it at night, while Robin and the elder lads, as it was summer-time, and warm, dry weather, could rest under the trees, wrapped in their shepherd's cloaks. In this manner they proceeded, sometimes halting at the villages to get a fresh supply of food and water, until at length they reached their destination, a small farm in a beautiful and romantic part of c.u.mberland, close to the borders of Scotland, but still within the domain of Sir Lancelot Threlkeld, which extended far and wide. You may be sure it was not long before our hero was again clasped to the heart of his fond mother, who, however, as before, only visited him in secret and under cover of the night. She was sometimes accompanied by Sir Lancelot, who was a kind-hearted man, and had always been well disposed towards the n.o.ble youth whom he delighted to call his son when they were alone, but at all other times he only noticed him as one of his shepherds.

Much of Henry's time was spent in solitude, as he watched his flocks feeding on the mountains, and being of a meditative disposition, he thought much and deeply of the beautiful works of the Great Creator that he beheld around him. Though wholly unlettered, though he could neither read nor write, he possessed a native n.o.bleness of mind that raised him far above the cla.s.s to which he seemingly belonged; yet his manners were plain and simple, nor did the knowledge of his high birth ever lead him to a.s.sume an air of superiority over the peasants with whom he was a.s.sociated. In his solitary musings he thought so much about the wonders of the earth, the sea, and the skies, that he became quite a natural philosopher; but his chief delight was in the contemplation of the heavenly bodies, and he would watch the moon in her course, or gaze for hours on the myriads of stars that shone in the blue vault above him, until he acquired an ardent taste for the sublime study of astronomy, in which he indulged to the full at a later period of his existence.

And so the time pa.s.sed on, bringing no change to Henry de Clifford, save the gradual increase of years, that transformed the slight delicate youth into the well-grown, powerful man, whose fine form, handsome face, and gentle manners won the hearts of the rustic maidens, and matrons too, of Threlkeld.

His foster-brothers and sisters, one by one, married amongst the villagers belonging to Sir Lancelot's estate, so that, at last, Henry was left alone with the worthy pair he called his father and mother.

In the meanwhile many stirring events were pa.s.sing in England, though little was heard about them in the remote and quiet regions of Threlkeld. The wars of the Roses had never wholly ceased. There had been some peaceful intervals, but they had not lasted for long together, as Queen Margaret, a.s.sisted by the great Earl of Warwick, the most powerful baron in the kingdom, had resolved never to give up the cause so long as the least chance remained of replacing her husband on the throne, and securing the right of succession to her son. The Earl of Warwick had at first fought for the Duke of York, and it was through his power and influence that Edward the Fourth was made king, for he had more men and more money at his command than any other n.o.bleman in the country. However, King Edward was unwise enough to quarrel with this high and mighty earl, who thereupon went over to the queen's party, and actually restored the poor, weak-minded King Henry the Sixth to the throne; on which Edward went over to Holland to get a.s.sistance of the Duke of Burgundy, his brother-in-law, who placed an army of foreigners at his command, with which he came back to England, and being joined by many of his partisans, a great battle was fought, in which the Earl of Warwick was slain. This event took place exactly ten years after the battle of Towton, where Lord Clifford fell. King Henry was then sent back a prisoner to the Tower, where he soon died; but Queen Margaret, who had just arrived from France, with Prince Edward, her son, who was then seventeen years old, resolved for his sake to make one more effort; but it would have been better for him and for her too, if they had given up this hopeless cause, and gone back to the court of her father, who was King of Anjou in France, for the battle was lost, the young prince was made prisoner, and being taken into the royal tent, the king spoke to him so rudely that he was provoked to answer with more spirit than he had been expected, on which some of the n.o.bles who were standing by fiercely drew their daggers and killed him on the spot.

The unhappy queen having no one to care for, gave up the contest, and went to end her days in France, and for thirteen years afterwards there was no more open warfare in England; but there were still two parties, so that the White and the Red Rose were badges of enmity as before, for it was natural enough that all who, like the De Cliffords, had suffered from the success of the Yorkists, should wish to see the line of Lancaster restored. The existing heir of that family was Henry, Earl of Richmond, who was an exile in France, when Edward the Fourth died, leaving two sons, the eldest only eleven years of age. These were the two little princes that were sent to the Tower by their cruel, ambitious uncle, Richard the Third, who contrived that they should both die there, that he might wear the crown himself; but he had reigned very little more than two years when some of the great n.o.bles, disgusted by his tyranny, sent word to the Earl of Richmond that, if he came to England, with a view to dethrone the usurper, he would find plenty of friends ready to a.s.sist him. The earl was soon here at the head of a large army, and met King Richard at Bosworth in Leicesters.h.i.+re, where the great battle was fought that put an end to the War of the Roses and to the life of Richard the Third.

You remember that when Edward the Fourth deprived the Cliffords of their lands and honours, the great manor of Skipton, with its fine old castle, was given to Sir William Stanley. This brave knight had remained faithful to King Edward, but he was amongst those who turned against Richard; and it was he who, when the fight was over and the victory won, took up the crown, which it appears, Richard had worn on the field, and placed it on Richmond's head, calling out aloud, "Long live King Henry the Seventh!" And this cry pa.s.sed from one to another till the air resounded with the shouts of the victors, who thus proclaimed the new sovereign on the battle plain. When this momentous event took place Henry de Clifford was about thirty years of age. He had now dwelt for sixteen years amongst the mountains of c.u.mberland, and one thing only had occurred to disturb the even tenor of his peaceful life.

A gentleman of n.o.ble family and good estate, Sir John Saint John, of Bletso, in Bedfords.h.i.+re, came on a visit to Threlkeld with his daughter Anne, a fair girl in the bloom of youth and beauty. Henry, who had seen her riding out over the hills with her father and Sir Lancelot, thought he had never beheld so lovely a maiden; and he was right, for in all England there were few to compare with Anne of Bletso. She had seen him too, and had observed how far superior he was in appearance to other rustic swains, for the shepherd's frock of homely grey could not conceal the graces of his person, which also attracted the notice of the worthy knight, her father, who, on one occasion, said to Sir Lancelot--

"That is a well-favoured youth of yours; I have seen a face like his before, but I cannot bethink me where or when, yet it is no common face either."