Frank Cowper - The Captain of the Wight (Frank Cowper) - comprehensive, unabridged with the original illustrations - (Literary Thoughts Edition)

As Ralph looked down into the valley below he was struck by the gay prospect. The bright tabards and glancing weapons of the men-at-arms gave colour and life to the picture, mingling as they did with the soberer dresses of the townsfolk, with their wives and daughters. The high pointed head-dresses of some of the dames, and the horned caps of others, whence transparent draperies hung in the wind, much to the annoyance of their male relatives, who had either to take care not to become entangled in them, or else to run the risk of sharp reprimand or scornful look, added a quaint variety to the scene. The banner of Newport flaunted its blazon in the breeze, side by side with the arms of Woodville and the royal arms. Beyond were the red tiles of the old houses, the streets, neat and orderly, the tower of the Church of St Thomas, rising above the houses, and, behind all, the steep down of St George's to the left, and the range of downs stretching away to the right, with the vale of the Medina between, from which the mist of approaching evening was already beginning to rise, while from out the valley to the right the noble pile of Carisbrooke Castle rose clear and grand in all its feudal beauty, lately restored, and rendered wellnigh impregnable to the forces of mediæval warfare. How splendid it looked, its walls and battlements, turrets and bastions, lighted up by the westering sun, the dark shadow of the smooth slope of Buccomb down forming a background to the ruddy pile, and the donjon keep standing up grim and distinct amid the lesser towers and roofs, flinging defiance to the assaults of men and time alike in the flag on its summit.

Such was the scene Ralph looked upon, but as they descended the steep hill his eyes became fixed on the throng of people awaiting them, and once more he felt a sense of shyness come over him. He was not yet used to being looked at. His fellow-pages, however, were quite unconcerned, and were passing remarks freely among themselves under their breath, as they recognised faces in the crowd.

"Marry! there's old Billy Gander. How red his nose is! Why didn't he get some of thy powder thou art so fond of, Bowerman?"

"And look! there's Dicky Shide. By St Anthony! but he's got a worse squint than of old. Poor old Squint Eye!"

"Willie, my swain, there's Polly Bremeskete. I wouldn't let her see thee, that I wouldn't. She told Tom o' Kingston she meant to marry thee, come next Peter's day. And she always keeps her word."

"By'r lady, there's Yolande de Lisle; she looks more lovely than ever!" And Eustace Bowerman drew himself up, and sat his horse with greater importance than before, while even Richard Cheke and Maurice Woodville looked conscious, and glanced at their dress, squared their toes, and sat more erect on their steeds, holding their horses tighter with their knees, and making them step in lighter action.

Ralph glanced to where Bowerman had descried the object of all this homage, curious to see who it was that bore his name. He had heard that a great-uncle of his had returned to the island home of his ancestors in King Harry the Fourth's reign, but he had forgotten all about it, and had never given such remote genealogical questions a thought. However, now he heard the name mentioned, he recollected what he had been told, and what his father had said about the disinherited son, and the only daughter.

He had not to search long for the young lady who created so much admiration among the pages.

Sitting her palfrey with easy grace, and perfectly at home amid the noisy crowd and free manners of the rough troopers, was a girl or rather young woman of about eighteen or twenty, of very graceful, although somewhat robust, proportions, but remarkable for her brilliant complexion, lovely features, and sparkling blue eyes. Fun and health glowed in every line of her face, in her masses of wavy fair hair, which refused to be confined under the prim cap and horned head-dress in which the fashion of the time struggled hard to reduce them to order, in her soft cheeks, red lips, and graceful rounded figure. Ralph thought there never was anyone so lovely in the whole world. He forget everything. He gazed at her in rapt admiration, utterly oblivious of all that was going on.

"By my halidome, Master Page, whither goest thou?" said the grating voice of Sir John Trenchard, against whom Ralph bumped with a sudden jerk, as the troop stopped for Lord Woodville to receive the homage of his subjects. "Canst not see where thou goest, or keep a fitting distance from thy betters? Draw back to thy fellows, I say."

Thus roughly aroused, Ralph, much abashed, reined up his horse, and backed it to a line with the other pages, who were grinning from ear to ear at his luckless mistake; but what made him more uncomfortable still, was that he saw the fair object of his admiration had witnessed it all, and was smiling meaningly at Eustace Bowerman. He began to envy that page in a way he would not have thought possible before.

But Bowerman was all smiles and amiability now. He nodded familiarly to one person, haughtily to another, and most expressively to the lady on horseback. But she, after the first glance of recognition and amusement, looked no more his way, being occupied with gazing at the Captain of the Wight and the two French knights who were with him.

Ralph, as soon as he had recovered from his mortification, tried to keep his eyes away from Mistress Lisle, and watched what was going on.

After the bailiffs had done homage, and congratulated Lord Woodville on the success of his expedition, the burgesses came forward and performed their part of the ceremony, being greeted kindly by the Captain, who was evidently very popular. Ralph noticed that the old knight who sat his horse so firmly, and held up his head so proudly, was greeted with especial respect by Lord Woodville, who also exchanged very courteous salutations with the lovely lady of the golden hair, to whom he presented the two French knights, who, with their proverbial gallantry, seemed to be paying her compliments which, as they could not be too flattering, seemed not unwillingly received.

The ceremonies over, the cavalcade reformed. The bailiffs and the burgesses heading the procession, they then defiled over the bridge, and passed into the town.

Ralph had now recovered himself sufficiently to ask who that old knight was who looked so striking, and to whom Lord Woodville had paid so much attention.

"Ay, certes, you may well ask," said Maurice Woodville, "for he is, or ought to be, a kinsman of thine own, seeing he beareth the same name as thyself, and, for aught I know, the same coat armour."

"Nay, for the fair lady weareth on her mantle a coat argent with a chief gules charged with three lions rampant of the field, whereas my father beareth or a fess between two chevrons sable."

"Well, you must e'en settle that as best pleaseth you; all I know is that he is called Sir William de Lisle of the Wood, or, as our chaplain would have it, 'Dominus de Insula de Bosco,' which, to my thinking, isn't half as pretty as the English."

"And is that his daughter?" asked Ralph shyly, thinking of his father's words with keener interest.

"Ay, marry is she, and the loveliest demoiselle in all the Wight, and the world to boot, say I!" answered Maurice, with enthusiasm.

At the corner of St James Street, where it intersected the High Street, there was a halt. Here the Abbot of Quarr took leave of Lord Woodville, for his road lay down High Street, and so to his monastery. Sir William Lisle and his daughter, much to her regret, also took leave; but Lord Woodville, before parting with the Abbot and the old knight, called to Ralph to come up; who, with some embarrassment, rode forward, and was by Lord Woodville presented to Sir William Lisle and the fair Yolande.

"Sir William, I have a kinsman of yours I would fain make you acquainted with. This fair youth hath already begun right manfully, and I dare vouch will prove a full knightly twig of thy own worshipful stock."