Grisly Grisell | Page 2

The Countess remained anxiously trying all that could allay the
suffering of the poor little semi-conscious patient, who kept moaning
for "nurse." She was Grisell Dacre, the daughter of the Baron of
Whitburn, and had been placed, young as she was, in the household of
the Countess of Salisbury on her mother being made one of the ladies
attending on the young Queen Margaret of Anjou, lately married to
King Henry VI.
Attendance on the patient had prevented the Countess from hearing the
history of the accident, but presently the clatter of horses' feet showed
that her lord was returning, and, committing the girl to her old nurse,
she went down to the hall to receive him.
The grave, grizzled warrior had taken his seat on his cross-legged,
round-backed chair, and a boy of some twelve years old stood before
him, in a sullen attitude, one foot over the other, and his shoulder held
fast by a squire, while the motley crowd of retainers stood behind.
There was a move at the entrance of the lady, and her husband rose,
came forward, and as he gave her the courteous kiss of greeting,
demanded, "What is all this coil? Is the little wench dead?"

"Nay, but I fear me she cannot live," was the answer.
"Will Dacre of Whitburn's maid? That's ill, poor child! How fell it
out?"
"That I know as little as you," was the answer. "I have been seeing to
the poor little maid's hurts."
Lord Salisbury placed her in the chair like his own. In point of fact, she
was Countess in her own right; he, Richard Nevil, had been created
Earl of Salisbury in her right on the death of her father, the staunch
warrior of Henry V. in the siege of Orleans.
"Speak out, Leonard Copeland," said the Earl. "What hast thou done?"
The boy only growled, "I never meant to hurt the maid."
"Speak to the point, sir," said Lord Salisbury sternly; "give yourself at
least the grace of truth."
Leonard grew more silent under the show of displeasure, and only hung
his head at the repeated calls to him to speak. The Earl turned to those
who were only too eager to accuse him.
"He took a bar of iron from the forge, so please you, my lord, and put it
to the barrel of powder."
"Is this true, Leonard?" demanded the Earl again, amazed at the frantic
proceeding, and Leonard muttered "Aye," vouchsafing no more, and
looking black as thunder at a fair, handsome boy who pressed to his
side and said, "Uncle," doffing his cap, "so please you, my lord, the
barrels had just been brought in upon Hob Carter's wain, and Leonard
said they ought to have the Lord Earl's arms on them. So he took a bar
of hot iron from the forge to mark the saltire on them, and thereupon
there was this burst of smoke and flame, and the maid, who was
leaning over, prying into his doings, had the brunt thereof."
"Thanks to the saints that no further harm was done," ejaculated the

lady shuddering, while her lord proceeded--"It was not malice, but
malapert meddling, then. Master Leonard Copeland, thou must be
scourged to make thee keep thine hands off where they be not needed.
For the rest, thou must await what my Lord of Whitburn may require.
Take him away, John Ellerby, chastise him, and keep him in ward till
we see the issue."
Leonard, with his head on high, marched out of the hall, not uttering a
word, but shaking his shoulder as if to get rid of the squire's grasp, but
only thereby causing himself to be gripped the faster.
Next, Lord Salisbury's severity fell upon Hob the carter and Hodge the
smith, for leaving such perilous wares unwatched in the court- yard.
Servants were not dismissed for carelessness in those days, but soundly
flogged, a punishment considered suitable to the "blackguard" at any
age, even under the mildest rule. The gunner, being somewhat higher in
position, and not in charge at the moment, was not called to account,
but the next question was, how the "Mother of the Maids"--the
gouvernante in charge of the numerous damsels who formed the train
of the Lady of Salisbury, and were under education and training--could
have permitted her maidens to stray into the regions appropriated to the
yeomen and archers, and others of the meine, where they certainly had
no business.
It appeared that the good and portly lady had last seen the girls in the
gardens "a playing at the ball" with some of the pages, and that there,
on a sunny garden seat, slumber had prevented her from discovering
the absence of the younger part of the bevy. The demure elder damsels
deposed that, at the