That may not be, gentle sir, said the umpire, extending the prize. Sith Alwyn vails of himself, it is thine, by might and by right.
The Lord Montagu had not been inattentive to this dialogue, and he now said, in a loud tone that silenced the crowd, Young Badgeman, thy gallantry pleases me no less than thy skill. Take the arrow, for thou hast won it; but as thou seemest a new comer, it is right thou shouldst pay thy tax upon entry,this be my task. Come hither, I pray thee, good sir, and the nobleman graciously beckoned to the mercer; be these five nobles the prize of whatever Londoner shall acquit himself best in the bold English combat of quarter-staff, and the prize be given in this young archers name. Thy name, youth?
Marmaduke Nevile, good my lord.
Montagu smiled, and the umpire withdrew to make the announcement to the bystanders. The proclamation was received with a shout that traversed from group to group and line to line, more hearty from the love and honour attached to the name of Nevile than even from a sense of the gracious generosity of Earl Warwicks brother. One man alone, a sturdy, well-knit fellow, in a franklins Lincoln broadcloth, and with a hood half-drawn over his features, did not join the popular applause. These Yorkists, he muttered, know well how to fool the people.
Meanwhile the young Nevile still stood by the gilded stirrup of the great noble who had thus honoured him, and contemplated him with that respect and interest which a youths ambition ever feels for those who have won a name.
The Lord Montagu bore a very different character from his puissant brother. Though so skilful a captain that he had never been known to lose a battle, his fame as a warrior was, strange to say, below that of the great earl, whose prodigious strength had accomplished those personal feats that dazzled the populace, and revived the legendary renown of the earlier Norman knighthood. The caution and wariness, indeed, which Montagu displayed in battle probably caused his success as a general, and the injustice done to him (at least by the vulgar) as a soldier. Rarely had Lord Montagu, though his courage was indisputable, been known to mix personally in the affray. Like the captains of modern times, he contented himself with directing the manoeuvres of his men, and hence preserved that inestimable advantage of coolness and calculation, which was not always characteristic of the eager hardihood of his brother. The character of Montagu differed yet more from that of the earl in peace than in war. He was supposed to excel in all those supple arts of the courtier which Warwick neglected or despised; and if the last was on great occasions the adviser, the other in ordinary life was the companion of his sovereign. Warwick owed his popularity to his own large, open, daring, and lavish nature. The subtler Montagu sought to win, by care and pains, what the other obtained without an effort. He attended the various holiday meetings of the citizens, where Warwick was rarely seen. He was smooth-spoken and courteous to his equals, and generally affable, though with constraint, to his inferiors. He was a close observer, and not without that genius for intrigue, which in rude ages passes for the talent of a statesman. And yet in that thorough knowledge of the habits and tastes of the great mass, which gives wisdom to a ruler, he was far inferior to the earl. In common with his brother, he was gifted with the majesty of mien which imposes on the eye; and his port and countenance were such as became the prodigal expense of velvet, minever, gold, and jewels, by which the gorgeous magnates of the day communicated to their appearance the arrogant splendour of their power.
Young gentleman, said the earl, after eying with some attention the comely archer, I am pleased that you bear the name of Nevile. Vouchsafe to inform me to what scion of our House we are this day indebted for the credit with which you have upborne its cognizance?
I fear, answered the youth, with a slight but not ungraceful hesitation, that my lord of Montagu and Northumberland will hardly forgive the presumption with which I have intruded upon this assembly a name borne by nobles so illustrious, especially if it belong to those less fortunate branches of his family which have taken a different side from himself in the late unhappy commotions. My father was Sir Guy Nevile, of Arsdale, in Westmoreland.
Lord Montagus lip lost its gracious smile; he glanced quickly at the courtiers round him, and said gravely, I grieve to hear it. Had I known this, certes my gipsire had still been five nobles the richer. It becomes not one fresh from the favour of King Edward IV. to show countenance to the son of a man, kinsman though he was, who bore arms for the usurpers of Lancaster. I pray thee, sir, to doff, henceforth, a badge dedicated only to the service of Royal York. No more, young man; we may not listen to the son of Sir Guy Nevile.Sirs, shall we ride to see how the Londoners thrive at quarter-staff?
With that, Montagu, deigning no further regard at Nevile, wheeled his, palfrey towards a distant part of the ground, to which the multitude was already pressing its turbulent and noisy way.
Thou art hard on thy namesake, fair my lord, said a young noble, in whose dark-auburn hair, aquiline, haughty features, spare but powerful frame, and inexpressible air of authority and command, were found all the attributes of the purest and eldest Norman race,the Patricians of the World.
Dear Raoul de Fulke, returned Montagu, coldly, when thou hast reached my age of thirty and four, thou wilt learn that no mans fortune casts so broad a shadow as to shelter from the storm the victims of a fallen cause.
Not so would say thy bold brother, answered Raoul de Fulke, with a slight curl of his proud lip. And I hold, with him, that no king is so sacred that we should render to his resentments our own kith and kin. Gods wot, whosoever wears the badge and springs from the stem of Raoul de Fulke shall never find me question over much whether his father fought for York or Lancaster.
Hush, rash babbler! said Montagu, laughing gently; what would King Edward say if this speech reached his ears? Our friend, added the courtier, turning to the rest, in vain would bar the tide of change; and in this our New England, begirt with new men and new fashions, affect the feudal baronage of the worn-out Norman. But thou art a gallant knight, De Fulke, though a poor courtier.
The saints keep me so! returned De Fulke. From overgluttony, from over wine-bibbing, from cringing to a kings leman, from quaking at a kings frown, from unbonneting to a greasy mob, from marrying an old crone for vile gold, may the saints ever keep Raoul de Fulke and his sons! Amen! This speech, in which every sentence struck its stinging satire into one or other of the listeners, was succeeded by an awkward silence, which Montagu was the first to break.
Pardieu! he said, when did Lord Hastings leave us, and what fair face can have lured the truant?
He left us suddenly on the archery-ground, answered the young Lovell. But as well might we track the breeze to the rose as Lord Williams sigh to maid or matron.
While thus conversed the cavaliers, and their plumes waved, and their mantles glittered along the broken ground, Marmaduke Neviles eye pursued the horsemen with all that bitter feeling of wounded pride and impotent resentment with which Youth regards the first insult it receives from Power.