THE

KING'S COLLEGE MAGAZINE.

SEPTEMBER, 1841.

ELLERTON CASTLE;

A Romance.

BY "FITZROY PIKE."

CHAPTER THE SIXTH.

FORTUNE, IN UNUSUAL GOOD HUMOUR, SMILES UPON EVERY BODY-EDWARD ANTICIPATES A TRIUMPHANT CAREER-AND SO DO HIS ENEMIES.

HAVING entered the forest beside Joe Bensal's cottage, and taking the first path that chance presented, Edward had travelled onward but a few miles, when the sound of strife disturbed his solitary musing. Hastening his pace, a turn in the road soon disclosed a powerful man, with his back against a tree, bravely endeavouring to defend himself from the assaults of three others, in masks, who were united against him. Instinctively taking part with the weaker side, Heringford levelled his cross-bow and struck one of the assassins to the ground: his companions fled.

Without pausing to receive the thanks of the stranger whose life he had arrived so opportunely to preserve, Edward's first impulse was to attend to the fallen man. The mask being removed, discovered the features of the youth he had met last night, the companion of Curts and Spenton. He was dead. In vain Edward tried all means of restoring animation, and, as he ceased from his fruitless exertions, he looked down with sorrow on the man who, by his hand, had fallen in the midst of sin.

"Dost thou regret his death?" inquired the stranger.

"Would that it had been but a wound!" replied Heringford. "To be thus suddenly cut off!"

"He had but lived to greater punishment," said the other; "but now, I owe my life to thine interference."

Edward gazed at the stranger. He was tall; of a bearing proud and noble; a man, apparently, of no slight distinction. He wore a complete suit of chain armour, over which was thrown a cloak of crimson velvet; a chain of golden links was around his neck, and on his head, the light head-piece, or bascinet, surmounted by its graceful plume. The expression of his face was benevolent, with a trace of care; and his grey locks, as they escaped from beneath their prison-house of steel, told of a life beyond its prime.

"It was but just," said Heringford, "that my hand should have rescued thee, since I believe that, but for me, these men had not been here."

"Ha!-art thou connected with them?"

"By no friendly ties," replied Edward: "they are employed by one who seeks my life; for me, too, I have good reason to believe they were placed in ambush, until attracted by thy chain of gold."

"Who, then, is their employer?"

"Thou canst not know him. It is one Sir Richard Ellerton." The stranger started, and turned pale. "Sir Richard Ellerton !" cried he then, advancing fiercely, he grasped Edward by the wrist. "Young man, be careful how thou malignest the innocent! Hast thou proof of this?"

Heringford, surprised at his companion's emotion, thought, for the moment, that Sir Richard himself stood before him; although, from the circumstances of the case, this was scarcely possible. "I have good proof," replied he.

"Name it!"

"I am not at liberty so to do."

"There is honour in thy glance," continued the other; "I will believe thee. Thy story, alas! is but too probable. Sir Richard Ellerton !" muttered he, pacing among the rank grass: "would he even slay me!-Thy name, young man?"

Edward doubted the propriety of replying, but pride prevailed. "Edward Heringford. May I ask who questions me?"

"Who am I, askest name, then, know me. Can I serve thee there?"

thou? Men call me Bruton: by that Thou'rt bound, I presume, to London.

Edward hesitated. "I am but an adventurer," said he, at length, "without views or prospects"

"Enough!" said Bruton; "thy frankness pleases me: I know thee brave, and over yon corpse I found thee also humane. War is afoot; take service under my banner, and thou shalt. find in me no unprofitable friend."

The suddenness of the offer, natural as it was, aroused the suspicion that, from the first, had lurked in Edward's breast, and he wavered as Bruton eagerly pressed him to accept the proposal he had made.

“I see,” said he, "thou fearest to commit thyself to the care of a stranger. Heringford, I have other reasons for desiring thy friendship; I will not conceal the fact, to tell them would be folly -but-but-I am not used to be mistrusted."

There was something in his tone beyond all argument.

"Neither will I mistrust thee," cried Edward; "with thanks thine offer is accepted."

"So, good!

There is no time to lose: mount thou the horse this villain rode—it is tied to yon oak—and I will remount mine own good steed: if thou keep pace with her we shall not be long on the journey."

Thus speaking, Bruton mounted his horse, and Edward, having loosened, in charity, the three horses of the assassins that were hard by, chose the fleetest for himself, and joined his new companion.

the

Few words were exchanged, as the horsemen proceeded rapidly through the forest and gained the open road. Now a village was in sight; they galloped through it, and it was behind them: onward they went, without once staying, or slackening their hasty pace. Once, as Edward looked round on the country through which they had passed, he saw a horseman at some distance behind, following with equal rapidity; but as he looked, stranger abated his pace, and was hidden by a turn in the road: from this time he was seen no more. It was near sunset when they reached Iseldon, then a scanty village, now Islington, and inseparable from the town. Here, for a brief rest and refreshment, they halted awhile, and then, through a road skirted with small tenements, gardens, and bowling-greens, continued their journey to the metropolis. Crossing the town ditch, beneath the stone. arches of Alder's Gate, the bustle of London was around them. The tall spire of St. Paul's cathedral and its precincts, the profuse display of the goldsmiths collected in the old Exchange, through which they passed; the noise, the crowd, scenes and circumstances so new to Edward, served only, by their contrast, to recall to his

mind a picture of quiet Ellerton, and to make him sigh for the peaceful seclusion he had left. Passing, at length, beneath the northern tower of London bridge, and over the draw-bridge to the paved road, they were not long in gaining the opposite side, when, turning to the right, they alighted, in a short time, before a large stone mansion that looked backwards by a terrace upon the river. This was Bruton's home, to which Heringford was warmly welcomed. Leaving their horses to the care of the attendants, the travellers entered the house, which was fitted up with every attention to English comfort and luxury: a large room opened upon the terrace, and here, having thrown open the doors to admit the cool breeze from the river, they refreshed themselves before retiring to that rest which, by each of them, was so greatly needed.

Bruton's manner towards Edward was marked by the greatest kindness, and he seemed resolved to let no occasion slip on which it might be in his power to advance the interests of his young companion. Thus we find him, on the morning after his arrival in London, with Heringford by his side, passing through long suites of rooms filled with knights and nobles in splendid attire, and retainers scarcely less gay and modish, to seek audience of his sovereign. Edward's ideas of royalty were abstract in the extreme, and when Bruton, whose duty called him to the court, requested his companionship, it was not without many compunctions and a feeling of intense awe, that the inexperienced villager yielded his consent.

Proudly Edward looked on the rich attire of the gay courtiers in the antechamber. It was not by pomp such as this that his eye was caught or his heart humbled; but those nearest to the king were arrayed in no splendid robes, decked with no glittering gems; they were the poor, the oppressed, the afflicted, who daily, at this hour, had free access to the ear of their royal master. Bruton, without any ceremony of announcement, entered the presencechamber, and Heringford following, stood for the first time before his king. Henry was leaning upon a cushion, surrounded by his poor clients, listening with a sweet and compassionate smile to the tale of some orphan's grief. Never could his fine expressive face have been seen to more advantage than at that moment, as he bent in pity over the fair suppliant. His form was thin and slender, but none might doubt that it was fit to contain the soul of the hero of Shrewsbury.

The king raised his head as Bruton entered, but acknowledged

his presence only by a gesture of silence, while the orphan ended her recital; then raising her, with soothing speech, he promised that justice should be done, and dismissed her, glad of heart, from the interview. Turning then to Bruton: "Welcome, our gallant friend," said he; "where hast thou so long hidden thyself from our presence? and who is this youth that attends thee?"

"I have been engaged, my liege," replied Bruton, " on private and important business: this youth hath done me the greatest service, and is now enlisted as my retainer; for all else, himself shall best answer."

"It is a noble youth of manly bearing," said Henry; "if his actions correspond to his exterior, he will not remain long unknown to us. Of what family art thou?"

The king turned to Heringford, who was about to reply, when his attention was fixed by a face that peered forth anxiously from the crowd of suitors, as though eagerly expecting what he should say. It was not easy to mistake the features of-Curts! Edward felt his danger, but knew this was no place for equivocation.

"Be not ashamed of humble birth," continued Henry, seeing that Heringford paused; "it hath no disgrace in our eyes."

"May it please your majesty," replied Edward, proudly, “ I was never ashamed of aught that I bore with me; but I have reason to doubt my name: I have been bred a villager, and called, from infancy, Edward Heringford."

Edward watched the effect of this communication on Curts, his unexpected and unwelcome hearer: a smile of triumph confirmed every suspicion.

"Why dost thou doubt thy name?" asked Henry.

"Old Heringford told me, on his death-bed, that he was not my father; other cause have I none."

"No matter," replied the king; "Edward Heringford is good name enough; it remains for thee to ennoble it; opportunity will soon be offered." Then turning to Bruton: "We march tomorrow for Southampton, and embark the next day for France and glory!"

"So soon!" exclaimed Bruton.

"The times invite us," replied Henry: "our Archbishop of Canterbury is anxious that we should set forth, and therefore, to-morrow be it. How wilt thou join us ?”

"We will meet the army at Southampton," replied Bruton.

"So be it then," said the king; "and now, adieu! I can spare