The Prose Marmion | Page 3

hand! Thou
flower of English land!"
Two pursuivants stood at the entrance to the donjon, and hailed the
guest as Lord of Fontenaye, of Lutterward, Scrivelbaye, of "Tamworth
tower and town." To requite their courtesy, Marmion, as he alighted,
hung about the neck of each a chain of twelve marks.
"Largesse, largesse, knight of the crest of gold!" cried the heralds, in
acknowledgment of the bounty received;
"'A blazon'd shield in battle won, Ne'er guarded heart so bold.'"
As they marshalled him to the castle hall, the guests stood aside, and
again the trumpets flourished, and the heralds cried:
"'Room, lordlings, room for Lord Marmion, With the crest and helm of
gold! Full well we know the trophies won In the lists at Cottiswold:

There, vainly Ralph de Wilton strove 'Gainst Marmion's force to stand;
To him he lost his lady-love, And to the King his land. Ourselves
beheld the listed field, A sight both sad and fair; We saw Lord
Marmion pierce the shield, And saw the saddle bare; We saw the victor
win the crest He wears with worthy pride; And on the gibbet-tree,
reversed, His foeman's scutcheon tied. Place, nobles, for the
Falcon-Knight! Room, room, ye gentles gay, For him who conquered
in the right, Marmion of Fontenaye!'"
As the welcome died away, forth stepped Sir Hugh, lord of the castle.
He led his visitor to the raised dais and placed him in the seat of honor,
while a northern harper chanted a rude hymn. The ear of Marmion
could scarcely brook the barbarous sound, yet much he praised, well
knowing that,
"Lady's suit, and minstrel's strain, By knight should ne'er be heard in
vain."
As the weird strains died away, the host pressed the English lord to
bide long as a guest, promising rest for horse, and refreshment and
pleasure for man, with many a joust, or feat at arms, for those who
wished to learn northern ways.
At this the brow of Marmion grew dark and stern. Sir Hugh marked the
changed look, and pouring out a bowl of sparkling wine, said:
"'Now pledge me here, Lord Marmion: But first I pray thee fair, Where
hast thou left that page of thine, Whose beauty was so rare? When last
in Raby towers we met, The boy I closely eyed, And often marked his
cheeks were wet With tears he fain would hide.'"
Lord Marmion ill concealed his rising anger, yet he made a calm reply.
"The lad was too frail to endure the northern climate, and I have left
him at Lindisfarne. May I ask, Lord Heron, why the lady of the castle
disdains to grace the hall to-day? Is it because Marmion of Fontenaye is
present?"

The Knight replied:
"Norham Castle is a grim, dull cage for a bird so beautiful as the lady
of Heron, and with my consent she sits with the noble and fair Queen
Margaret, the bride of royal James."
"Ah!" replied the Heron's noble guest, "if this be so, I will gladly bear
to her your tender messages. I am now, by the request of our good
English King, on my way to the court of Scotland, to learn why James
is gathering troops, why making warlike preparations, and, if it be
possible, I am to persuade him to maintain the peace. From your great
goodness, I make bold to ask for myself and for my train a trusty guide.
I have not ridden in Scotland since James backed Richard, Duke of
York, in his pretensions to the throne of England. Then, as you
remember, I marched with Surrey's forces, and razed to the ground the
tower of Aytoun."
"For such need, my lord, trust old Norham gray. Here are guides who
have spurred far on Scottish ground, who have tasted the ale of St.
Bothan, driven off the beeves of Lauderdale, and fired homes that the
inmates might have light by which to dress themselves."
"In good sooth," replied Lord Marmion, "were I bent on war, a better
guard I could not wish, but I go in form of peace, a friendly messenger
to a foreign King. A plundering border spear might arouse suspicious
fears, and the deadly feud, the thirst for blood, break out in unseemly
broil. More fitting as guide, would be a friar, a pardoner, traveling
priest, or strolling pilgrim."
Sir Hugh musingly passed his hand over his brow, and then replied:
"Fain would I find the guide you need, but, though a bishop built this
castle, few holy brethren resort here. If the priest of Shoreswood were
here, he could rein your wildest horse, but no spearsman in the hall will
sooner strike or join in fray. Friar John of Tilmouth is the very man! He
is a blithesome brother, a welcome guest in hall and