The only true calm and happy sleep that man can ever obtain, is given by the heart at ease. Slumber, deep, profound, and heavy, may be obtained by fatigue of body or of mind; but even those great and tranquil spirited men, of whom it is recorded that, at any time, they could lie down, banish thought and care, and obtain repose in the most trying circumstances, must have gained the power, from that consciousness of having done all to ensure success in the course before them that human wisdom can achieve, or by that confidence in the resources within, which are the chief lighteners of the load of life.

Richard of Woodville slept soundly, but it was heavily. It was the sleep of weariness, not of peace. His mind was agitated even during slumber, with many of the subjects which might well press for attention in the circumstances in which he was placed; and unbridled fancy hurried him through innumerable dreams. Now he saw her he loved standing at the altar with another; and when the figure turned its face towards him, he beheld Simeon of Roydon. Then he stood in the presence of the King; and Henry, with a frowning brow, turned to an executioner, with the countenance of Sir Henry Dacre, but gigantic limbs, and ordered him to strike off the prisoner's head. Then came Isabel Beauchamp to plead for his life; and suddenly, as the King was turning away, a pale shadowy form, through which he could see the figures on the arras behind, appeared before the monarch, and he recognised the spirit of the murdered Catherine. Old times were strangely mingled with the thoughts of the present; and sometimes he was a boy again; sometimes still a prisoner in the castle of Montl'herry: sometimes in the court of a strange prince, receiving high rewards for some imaginary service. He heard voices, too, as well as saw sights; and the words rang in his ears,

At length when he had slept long, he suddenly started and raised himself upon his arm, for some one touched him; and looking round he saw the clerk with his black hood still drawn far over his head, and the page who had been his fellow captive, standing by the side of the pallet.

"You must be up and away, sir knight," said the young clerk, in the sweet musical tones of youth. "In an hour, a party of the Canonesses of Cambray, who arrived at noon under the escort of a body of my Lord of Charolois' men-at-arms,^[12] are to depart for Amiens, and you and your page can ride forward with them. I must here leave your fair company; for I have other matters to attend to for my good lord."

"But I shall see you again, young sir, I trust?" said Woodville; "I owe you guerdon, as well as thanks and deep gratitude."

"I have only done my duty, noble knight," replied the clerk; "but we shall soon meet again; for I suppose your first task will be to seek Sir John Grey, who is with the King; and I shall not be long absent from him,--so fare you well, sir."

"But where am I to find him?" demanded Woodville; "remember I am in utter ignorance of all that has happened."

"Nor do I know much," answered the clerk. "Rumour is my only source of information; for I have been cut off from all direct communication for many weeks. The only certainty is, that King Henry and his friends are now in France; that Harfleur surrendered a few weeks ago, and that he is marching through the land with banners displayed. You will hear of him as you go; and as soon as you know which way his steps are bent, you can hasten to join him. But ere you discover yourself to any one else, seek out Sir John Grey, and take counsel with him, for false reports have been spread concerning you, and no one can tell how the King's mind may be affected."

"But tell me, at least, before you go," said Richard of Woodville, "who was the lady spoken of by the man who aided my escape at Montl'herry; and also, who it is that has generously paid the high sums which were doubtless demanded for my deliverance?"

"In truth, noble sir," replied the clerk, "I must not stay to answer you; for the people with whom I go are waiting for me; and I must depart immediately. You will know all hereafter in good time. It was the Lord of Croy who furnished the money needful. Now, fare you well, and Heaven give you guidance!"

Thus saying, he departed, without waiting for farther question; and Richard of Woodville rising, dressed himself in haste in the same clothes which he had worn the day before, but which he now found carefully dried and ready for his use.

"I must have slept sound, boy," he said, speaking to the page, who remained beside him; "for I do not think that at any other time my clothes could have been taken away from my bed side, and I not know it."

"You did sleep sound, sir knight," replied the page, laughing; "and talked in your sleep, moreover, while we were looking at you. But I can tell you who the lady was at Montl'herry, if you must needs know, as well as the clerk, for I saw her once speaking with the guard."

"Say, say!" cried Richard of Woodville, impatiently. "I would fain know, for she must be in peril, if left behind."

"Why, it was the fair demoiselle," answered the page, "who went with us from Nieuport to Ghent. I caught but a glimpse of her, indeed; but that bright face is not easily forgotten when once it has been seen."

"And yet I never thought of her!" murmured Richard of Woodville to himself: "poor girl, her deep gratitude would have merited better remembrance. Why smile you, boy? Every honourable man is bound to recollect all who trust him, and all who serve him."

"Nay, sir," replied the page, resuming a grave look, "I did but smile to think how often ladies remember knights and gentlemen, when they are themselves forgot."

"A sad comment on the baseness of man's nature," answered Woodville; "let it never be so with you, boy. Now, see for the old monk; my purse is very empty, but I would not that he should call me niggard."

Some minutes passed before the page returned; but when he appeared he came not alone, nor empty handed, for the old man was with him who had conducted the fugitive to his chamber the night before; and the one carried a large bottle and a tin cup, while the other was loaded with a pasty and a loaf of brown bread. Such refreshment was very acceptable to the young knight; but the good monk hurried him at his meal, telling him that his party were waiting for him; and, finishing the repast as soon as possible, Woodville rose and put a piece of gold into his good purveyor's hand, saying, "That for your house, father. Now I am ready."

On going out into the little court between the priory and the abbey, he found some twelve or fourteen men mounted; and at the call of the monk who accompanied him, a party of six Canonesses and two novices, all closely veiled, came forth from the little lodge by the gate. They were soon upon the mules which stood ready for them; but the good ladies eyed with an inquiring glance the young stranger who was about to join their party; and one of them, as she marked the knightly spurs he wore, turned to her companions, and made some observation which created a light-hearted laugh amongst those around. The moment after, they issued forth from the gates, and rode on at a quick pace in the direction of Gisors.

The day was evidently far advanced, but the sun, though somewhat past his meridian, was still very powerful, so that the horses were distressed with the heat. The commander of the men-at-arms, however, would permit no relaxation of their speed, much to the annoyance of the fair Canonesses, who had every inclination to amuse the tedious moments of the journey by chattering with the young knight, and the other persons who escorted them. In reply to their remonstrances, the leader told them that if they did not make haste, they would get entangled between the two armies, and then worse might come of it.

"Besides," he said, "we have strict orders from our lord the Duke to take part with neither French nor English; and it would be a hard matter to fall in with either, and not strike one stroke for the honour of our arms."

Judging from his reply that he must have some knowledge of the relative position of the two hosts, Richard of Woodville endeavoured to gain intelligence from him, as to both the events which had lately taken place in France, and those which were likely to follow; but the man seemed sullen, and unwilling to communicate with his companion of the way, replying to all questions merely by a monosyllable, or by the assertion that he did not know.

Thus passed by hour after hour, during their first and second day's journey, which brought them to the small town of Breteuil. They had hitherto paused either for the purpose of seeking repose, or of taking refreshment, at religious houses only; but at Breteuil they took up their lodging for the night at the inn of the place, which they found vacant of all guests. The town, too, as they entered it, seemed melancholy and nearly deserted; but the tongue of the good host made up for the stillness which reigned around; and from him Richard of Woodville discovered that the apparent abandonment of the place by its inhabitants was caused partly by the dread which some of the more wealthy townsmen had felt on the near approach of several large detachments of English troops, and partly by the zeal of the younger portion of the population, which had led them to proceed in arms to join the royal standard raised against the invaders. From him, too, the young knight found that the King of England, at the head of his army, was marching rapidly up the Somme, in order to force the passage of that river, but that, as all the fords were strictly guarded, and French troops in immense multitudes were gathering on the opposite bank, it was scarcely possible that many days could pass without a battle.

"'Twas but yesterday at this hour," said the host, "that news reached the town that a fight had taken place at Fremont; and then, this morning we heard it was all false, and that the English King has not yet passed the river."

"Where was he when last you heard of him?" demanded Richard of Woodville, taking care to use the French tongue, which he spoke with less accent, perhaps, than most of the inhabitants of distant provinces.

"Oh, he was at Bauvillers," answered the landlord of the hostel, "and he wont get much farther without fighting, I fancy; for he has got St. Quentin on his right, and our people before him. Heaven send that he may not march back again; for then, he would come right through Breteuil; and we are poor enough without being pillaged by those vagabond English. I wonder your Duke does not come to the King's help, with all his gallant men-at-arms, for then these proud islanders would be caught in a net, and could not get out."

"It is a wonder," answered Richard of Woodville. "But, hark! and, as he listened, he heard two sweet voices talking in the hall, in a tongue that sounded like English to his ear.

"I am sure of it," said the one, "and if it be so, I beseech you own it. My heart beat so, I can scarcely speak; but, I say again, I am sure of it; and that if you will, you have the power not alone to punish the guilty, for that, perhaps, you may not desire--"

"Yes I do," replied the other, in a somewhat sharper tone; "and in my own good time, I will do it."

"To punish the guilty, the time is your own," replied the first voice; "but, to save the innocent from utter destruction, there is no time but the present."

"Ha! you must tell me more," said the second, in a tone of surprise; "from utter destruction, did you say? Let us to our chamber. There we can speak at ease."

Richard of Woodville heard no more; but what he did hear cast him into deep thought; and when the next morning they again set out upon their journey, he gazed with an inquiring eye at the Canonesses and their companions--and, mingling in their conversation, endeavoured to discover if the voices which he had heard were to be distinguished amongst them. They all laughed and talked gaily with him, however, in the French tongue; and he came to the conclusion, that though the host had assured him the inn was vacant when he and his party arrived, some other guests must have passed the night within its walls.

On their way during this day, he remarked that the leader of the men-at-arms inquired often and anxiously, in every town and village, for news of the two armies. Little information did he gain, except from vague reports; but some of these, it would appear, induced him to alter his course towards Amiens, and strike off to the right, in the direction of Peronne. The young knight had not been inattentive to everything that was said, and he heard that the King of France, and all his nobility, were certainly gathered together in the direction of Bapaume, while the rumour grew stronger and more strong, that the English army had effected the passage of the Somme at some unguarded ford, in the neighbourhood of St. Quentin, and was boldly marching on towards Calais.

Such tidings, as the reader may well suppose, caused not a little agitation in the mind of the young soldier. Apprehension, lest a battle should be fought and he be absent, was certainly the predominant sensation; but, still he had to ask himself, even if he arrived in time, where arms were to be procured, and a horse fit to bear him through such a strife as that which was likely to take place? The beast he rode, though swift and enduring, was far too lightly formed to carry a knight equipped according to the fashion of that day; and no weapons of any kind did he possess, but the dagger which he had retained when captured.

It seemed clear to him, also, that the leader of the Burgundian men-at-arms, had, in common with most of his countrymen, a strong inclination to take part with the French, who were naturally considered as kinsmen and allies, against the English, who were looked upon as strangers and enemies; and he felt convinced that the soldier's course had been altered in the hope, that, by falling in with the troops of the King of France, he might find a fair excuse for disobeying the more politic orders of his Prince, and take a share in the approaching combat.

Such thoughts brought with them some doubts of his own safety; and assuredly the dull, taciturn, and repulsive demeanour of the commander of the troop, was not calculated to win confidence. It was evident, however, that orders--which he trusted would meet with some respect--had been laid upon his sullen companion, to treat him with deference, and attend to his comfort and convenience; for, at every place where they stopped by the way, the best chamber, after their fair charge had been attended to, was assigned to himself; and it was not without permission that the men-at-arms sat down to the same table with him, affecting much to reverence his knightly rank.

At length, after a long and hard day's ride, the party reached Peronne, on the evening of the second day after quitting Breteuil; and as they approached the gates, the young knight's confidence was somewhat restored, by the leader of the men-at-arms riding up to his side, and saying, in a low tone, "I pray you, sir knight, be careful here, and give no hint of your being an Englishman; for we are coming on dangerous ground."

"I will be careful, my good friend," replied Richard of Woodville; "and to say the truth, if we can discover where the King of England is, it may be as well for me to quit your party soon, as I may bring danger upon you for no purpose."

"We shall soon near more," replied the soldier, "but you had better be beyond the walls of Peronne, before you part from us."

The scantiness of the band, and the title of Burgundian soldiers, soon obtained admission for the little party; but all was found in a state of bustle and activity within the town; and every tongue was full of the late passage of the King of England, at a short distance from the place. Great was the bravado of the inhabitants, who universally declared, that they wished he had sat down before their walls, to afford them an opportunity of showing what glorious deeds they would have performed; and all spoke of the condition of the English troops as lamentable, and their fate sealed. The approaching battle was looked forward to as a certain triumph for the arms of France, and rather as a great slaughter of a flying enemy, than a conflict with a powerful force. The very monks of the monastery where the men-at-arms received entertainment, while the Canonesses were lodged in the adjoining nunnery, were full of the same martial spirit; and a few years earlier, it is probable, their superior would have put himself in armour to aid in the destruction of the foe. Frequently was Richard of Woodville appealed to as a knight, to pronounce upon the likelihood of King Henry surrendering at discretion; and some difficulty had he so to shape his answers as to escape suspicion.

From the conversation which took place, however, he learned that his own sovereign was in the neighbourhood of a small town at no great distance; and he resolved, as soon as he was free from the walls of Peronne, to hurry thither without any farther delay. He ventured, during the evening, to issue forth for a short time into the city, in the hope of being able to purchase arms: but scarcely any were to be found in the town: and such had been the demand for good armour, that the price had risen far beyond his scanty means. All that he could afford to buy was a strong, well-tempered sword of a somewhat antique form, which he found in the shop of an armourer; and even for that the price demanded was enormous.

Returning to the monastery, he soon escaped from a sort of conversation that was by no means pleasant to his ear, by retiring to rest; and though for some time he did not sleep, yet when slumber did visit his eyelids, she came soft and balmy. The troubled thoughts died away--the anxious questioning of the unsatisfied mind ceased--the wild throbbing of the eager heart for the coming of the undeveloped hours, found repose; and he woke calm and refreshed with the first dawn of day, to meet whatever might be in store, with a spirit prepared and ready, and a body reinvigorated by the alternation of exertion and rest.

The monastery was one of those, not at all uncommon in those days, in which the vow of seclusion did not by any means exclude contrivances for enjoying at least some communion with the world. It was not surrounded by stern walls, and a large wing of the building rested upon the street, with windows small and high up indeed, and only lighting the chambers appropriated to the use of visitors, but which often afforded the monks themselves an excellent view of what was passing in the town without. In dressing himself with as much care as circumstances would permit, Richard of Woodville approached one of these narrow casements, and gazed out upon the gay scene that was enacted below; and, though so early, multitudes of people were to be seen passing along. While some stood for a moment gossiping with their neighbours, some were hurrying forward to their busy day, and others pausing to watch a considerable body of men-at-arms, who, in somewhat bad array, and without the display of much soldier-like order, came down from a house farther up.

When he saw them at a distance, the young knight's first thought was, "If all the French troops are like these, it will be no very difficult task to win a field of them." But as the troop came on, and the three leaders riding in front, passed under the window, he was struck by the arms of one of them who appeared in the middle. He could have sworn that the armour in which the knight was habited was familiar to his eye; and it must be recollected that the ornaments which covered the harness of a man-at-arms in those days were rarely the same, so that means of identification were always at hand, such as we do not possess in the present times. But there, before his eyes, if he could believe their testimony, was the identical suit which had been sent to him by good Sir Philip Beauchamp, shortly before he left the shores of England. There were the fan-shaped palettes, with the quaint gilt figures in the corners, and the upturned pauldrons with the edge of gold, and the bacinet shaped like a globe, with the enamelled plate on the forehead bearing "Ave, Maria!"

There could be no doubt that it was the same; and Woodville's brow knit for a moment, and his teeth closed tight. But the next instant he smiled again, asking half aloud, "How could a prisoner of near two years escape pillage? If I meet you in the field, my friend, I will have that harness back again for Mary's sake, or I will lie low."

Thus saying, he resumed his toilet, and the troop passed on. A moment after, he heard a voice singing, and turning to the window again he looked out. The sounds did not come from below; but there was a large projecting mass of building, with loopholes on the three sides, which protruded into the street on his right; and it seemed to him that the sounds came thence. He listened, and caught some of the words; but every now and then they died away in the cadence of a wild French air of the period, but those he could distinguish seemed so well suited to his situation at the time, that he strove eagerly to hear more:--

"Away, away, to the field of fame,

Gallant knight, gallant knight, hie away,"