THE violent struggles for the crown, which took place between Stephen, Earl of Blois, and Prince Henry, are well known to the reader of English history. This the former at last obtained, not, however, without much bloodshed, and Henry agreed to quit England, with an understanding that he should succeed to the crown on the death of Stephen, which took place not long after the cessation of hostilities. It is well known that Stephen, fearing to trust his cause entirely in the hands of the English, brought over many bands of foreign mercenaries, of almost VOL. II.

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every nation, but principally Flemings, whose insolence and violence soon rendered them objects of hatred and execration to the English people. On Henry's ascending the throne, his first act was to demolish the many castles which had been raised throughout the kingdom during the short reign of his predecessor, and to disband the before-mentioned troops of foreign soldiers. This was carried into effect with such vigour and promptitude, that in a short time the refractory English were subdued, and the aliens driven from the kingdom.

These mercenaries were men of daring and reckless character, and their courage and experience in war rendered them desirable instruments in the hands of the ambitious and violent. Owning no country nor master, save those in whose pay they were, their swords and lances were ever at the service of those who could offer most. The latter weapon was much in repute in those days, and these men were particularly dexterous in the use of it; hence the name of "free-lance," which was given, without distinction, to those restless spirits. Besides their pay, which

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was always considerable, there was with them another consideration, namely, plunder; which they seldom failed to get, even though the party they had joined should have been worsted in the fight; for being mounted on fleet horses, they defied pursuit.

Amongst those who had distinguished themselves in the late contests, was one Herman von Wernigerode, a captain of a band of German free-lances, who had done good service in the pay of Stephen, during his struggle for the sovereignty. He and his band had been well paid for their assistance; but calculating on the possibility of a renewal of hostilities, he still lingered in England, and in the month of October, A. D. 1154, he and his fellows had taken up their abode at a Hostelry in the city of Lincoln, which was then a place of considerable strength. One fine evening towards the latter end of October, two soldiers were observed under the walls

of the Cathedral, from which they had an extensive view of the country round. Their dress, and their arms, which they carried with them, shewed that they belonged to Herman's band. They were

engaged in earnest conversation as they walked to and fro.

As a literal version of their colloquy would be quite unintelligible to most of our readers, and interesting only to the antiquary, it will be necessary to render it into English.

"Well, Bernhard," said he who appeared to be the youngest of the two, "think ye this Henry, when he succeeds to the crown, will order us home again?" "I know not," 29 was the other's reply; "but he is said to entertain no good will towards us for having helped his rival to the seat which by good right belongs to him."

"Whist, man! · the walls of this Cathedral have ears. What if some of the sleek monks within should hear thy words and report them to the king? Thy head would fly from thy shoulders in the turning of a die."

"Tut, I fear it not; King Stephen knows I have helped him in the hour of need. See'st thou that broad tree in yon meadow to the right ?" "Ay,-what of it?"

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Why, I will tell thee. Where that

tree flings its shadow, King Stephen, in the late battle, stood it manfully against a host of his enemies, even though his men had fled from him. Earl Ranalph advanced upon him, and bore the king to the ground; but at the same moment I cast the earl out of his saddle with my lance, and should have made him prisoner had not his fellows rescued him. The king then gave me that goodly chain which I lost at play with Casper Hendricksen."

"Ah! ah! ah !" laughed the younger soldier, "by my halidame, thou hast set a proper value on a king's bounty! Why, there was enough to keep thee at home all thy life, without ever setting foot in the stirrup again."

"At home," replied the other with a sneer, "think'st thou I can live at home when broad pieces can be won so easily? The free-lance has no home. May the fiend rive me if I hold the plough while I can grasp a lance or rein a good steed." "Well, chafe it not, man; I meant not to offend thee. See, who rides so fast up yonder road?"

As he spoke, a horseman was descried at some distance, advancing towards the city at a rapid pace. He bore a long lance, wore a jacket of linked mail, and a basenet, and rode a strong bony horse, which seemed much jaded. The two worthies continued their colloquy.

"Who owns yonder castle ?" inquired Bernhard, pointing to a strongly embattled building, on which the sun, fast sinking towards the horizon, threw its departing rays.

"Dost thou not know?" answered his companion. "Tis Sir Mathew Witherne's, an old Knight, who promised our captain his fair daughter in reward for his having saved his life in a skirmish with the earl's men some short time since. But see, yonder horseman approaches. By this light, 'tis Conrade Braquemart!-what the fiend makes him ride so fast?"

The object which had occasioned this remark arrived at the city gates, and on being admitted rode hastily up the street. In a few moments, a trumpet sounded from below, which startled the two soldiers, and interrupted their conversation. "Ah!" exclaimed Carl, the younger one, "that's our trumpet! what means this sudden summons, it bodes no good methinks."

and the rest of his followers were assembled in council. The arrival of Conrade Braquemart caused a great ferment amongst them: from him they learnt that Stephen had paid that debt which even kings must discharge, and had bequeathed the crown to Henry, who had been proclaimed king, and had issued orders for the disbanding of all the foreign troops throughout the kingdom. This intelligence was by no means pleasing to the ears of these desperadoes.

""Twould be witless to resist this mandate," said Herman to his followers, who were assembled round him, "" for 'tis well known we are not liked by these raw-boned Islanders; we must proceed to the coast at once.' As he uttered this, his eye glanced hastily round the room. "How is this?" cried he, "where are those two louts, Carl and Bernhard ?" They entered at this moment, and approached the table where Herman was sitting. His inflamed eyes and unsteady hand plainly told that he had drank deeply of the liquor before him. "How

now,

"he cried, or rather roared out, "where the fiend have ye been loitering? Look to my horse instantly, and see that it has but a spare measure of corn and no water; we must ride hard to-night, do ye hear? Get ye hence knaves and look to your beasts. You, Carl, remain here, I have something for your ear alone."

Herman's followers immediately re paired to the stables, for the purpose of getting their horses in readiness, wondering what could be the occasion of his giving such peremptory orders, which greatly perplexed them.

Ere twilight had spread its veil over the city, Herman and his band quitted the Hostelry, and passing through one of the gates soon reached the high road, along which they proceeded at a rapid rate.

Leaving Herman and his companions on their way, we must proceed to describe the castellated building referred to by Bernhard. It was a massive structure of Saxon origin, flanked with circular towers of a great height. Its walls were immensely thick, and the whole building was in those days justly considered impregnable. At this time it was held by an old Knight, named Sir Mathew Witherne, who had in the late contest rendered Stephen great assistance. Declining an offer from that monarch of a place near the throne, the old Knight had retired to his castle to enjoy, undisturbed, the society of his beautiful daughter, whose personal and mental charms were the theme of all the neighbouring youths. It should be mentioned that in a battle between Stephen and his rival near Lin

coln, the old Knight was unhorsed by a spearman, who would have slain him had not Herman arrived in time to strike down the soldier with his mace. In a transport of gratitude for this timely service, Sir Mathew grasped the hand of the free-lance, and swore to repay him with the hand of his only child. As Herman was at the time clad in a rich suit of mail, and unknown to him, Sir Mathew doubted not but that he had made this promise to no other than a belted Knight; but how great was his vexation and sorrow on hearing shortly after that his word was pledged to a daring mercenary, whose services were at the disposal of the highest bidder.

On Prince Henry's relinquishing his claim to the crown, upon the conditions before stated, hostilities ceased, and the old Knight hastened to his castle, hoping that Herman might quit the country with out pressing his claim. The free-lance and his band, shortly after the battle near Lincoln, removed to a distant part of England, which in some degree allayed the old Knight's fears; but not long after he was both perplexed and alarmed on hearing that Herman and his fierce companions were sojourning in that city. Though it grieved him to reflect that in refusing the demand of the free-lance, he should be breaking his knightly word, yet the prospect of his only child becoming the wife of such a man banished his scruples, and he determined to seek some noble youth whom he might think worthy of such a lovely partner. This was a task of no difficulty, for the wealth and beauty of the Lady Blanche had already procured her many admirers. Sir Mathew was not long in finding one, whose noble birth, gallant bearing, and comely person, led the Knight to suppose that his daughter could not be averse to the match. His fondest hopes were realized. Sir Guy de Metford was introduced to the lovely Blanche; and ere many weeks had passed, the lovers were daily seen on the ramparts of the castle, enjoying the cool evening breeze, and indulging in those fond endearments, which those of riper years may smile at, but true lovers alone can fully appreciate. The old Knight was rejoiced at the success of his plan it was settled that the marriage should take place without delay, and Sir Guy departed for his own castle to make preparation for the approaching ceremony.

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The evening on which Von Wernigerode and his band had left Lincoln was fast drawing in, when the Lady Blanche sat in her chamber, attended by her favourite waiting-maid, who was complet

ing her bridal dress. Sir Guy was hourly expected. But few of the old Knight's men were at the castle, several of them having attended the young Sir Guy for the purpose of assisting in the removal of many necessaries for the wedding to Sir Mathew's castle; for in those days good cheer was not forgotten upon such occasious. There were, at this time, only five or six servants remaining at the castle, who were busily engaged in making preparations for the morrow. Blanche looked eagerly over the country, intently watching every part of the road which was not obscured by tall trees and hedges, for the approach of her lover, Sir Guy, sometimes directing her attention to the Cathedral of Lincoln visible in the extreme distance, which reared its tall white spires majestically above the city, now shewn in fine relief by the dark and heavily charged clouds which lowered behind it.

The maiden looked in vain for the glittering train of her lover; for no figures were seen, except that of a rustic returning from his labour, or a solitary strolling spearman sauntering along the road. There was a stillness unbroken by any sound save the cawing of the rooks and daws, that winged their hasty flight to the forest, warning the traveller to seek shelter from the coming storm. The reigning silence which pervaded the evening well accorded with the spirits of the anxious maiden :-it was a feeling which those who have loved can well remember; a languor which, though it oppresses the heart, we are unwilling to dismiss. Blanche heeded not the gabble of her maid Maud, who, with a freedom from time immemorial allowed to such persons, ran on in a strain of raillery, which might, in a moment of less anxiety, have revived the drooping spirits of her mistress, who gazed intently on the murky clouds, whose edges catching the last rays of the setting sun, assumed that deep brassy hue which generally portends a thunder-storm. At length their dark masses began to be illumined by an occasional flash, or a quivering stream of light, which shooting upwards, played in fantastic lines across the heavens, and as they died away, the deep prolonged rumble of the thunder told that the storm was commencing.

The Lady Blanche would have viewed this warring of the elements with unconcern, had it not been for the frequent exclamations of Maud, who as every suc ceeding flash quivered on the floor of the chamber, screamed with terror, and besought her mistress to descend into the hall. Maud was a plump, round, rosy cheeked lass, a coquette in the sphere in which she moved, and had caused much

bickering between Sir Mathew's parkkeeper and falconer, who had both been smitten with her charms. Yielding to the intreaties of her maid, Blanche quitted her chamber, and repaired to the hall, where her father, the old Knight, was sitting, playing with a valued hawk, which was perched on his fist, and talking to his falconer about a new hood for his favourite bird, which, by the glance of its quick bright eye, seemed almost conscious of the intended arrangement. Blanche drew near her father, who observed her agitation with a smile.

"Ay, ay," said he, "I'll warrant thou hast been looking for Sir Guy, and art chafed because he has not arrived; but do not vex thyself, he will doubtless be here anon: no doubt the storm has obliged him to seek shelter on the road. Ralph, prithee bring lights." A servant left the hall, and Sir Mathew continued-"Come hither, Blanche, and seat thyself by my side: how pale thou look'st !"

At this moment the horn windows of the hall were illumined with a vivid flash of lightning, which rendered every object in the apartment visible. The several pieces of armour which hung against the walls threw back the strong glare of light, and a peal of thunder burst over the castle, which shook to the foundation. Blanche clung to her father in speechless terror, while the red cheeks of Maud, who stood near, assumed an ashy paleness. She kept crossing herself, and ejaculating prayers to the Virgin, while the two waiting men attempted, by smiling at her fears, to conceal their own; but it was easy to perceive, by their bewildered looks, that they partook of the general alarm, which extended even to the large mastiff that lay at the feet of the old Knight, and whined piteously. Torches were brought, and fixed in the iron staples against the wall; but they only served to shew the contrast of their own faint light with the vivid glare of the lightning, which still continued to illumine the hall, while loud peals of thunder burst in quick succession over the castle. On a sudden, between one of the pauses of the storm, the shrill sound of a horn was heard without.

"Ah," cried the old Knight, "here is Sir Guy at last! Run knaves, open gate and lower drawbridge! Quick varlets!"

The servants left the hall, and a smile lit up the pale countenance of the Lady Blanche, whose joy at the supposed return of her lover made her forget the storm which still continued to rage with unabated fury. At length the heavy tramp of feet was heard without. Blanche rose, and, prepared with a few words of gentle reproof for his absence, flew to the

door, expecting to be clasped in the arms of Sir Guy; but she recoiled on perceiving the tall herculean figure of a man who entered at the moment. With some difficulty she staggered to a seat, almost overpowered with mingled disappointment and alarm.

He who entered was clad in a complete suit of mail, over which he wore an aketon of tough leather, on which was emblazoned a red griffin. He bore in his hand a long lance, and wore a sword and dagger.One glance sufficed to shew Sir Mathew that Herman, the free-lance, stood before him. With an effort to subdue his emotion, he asked what had done him the honour of a visit, at the same time handing a seat to Herman.

"That ye shall know quickly," replied the free-lance, seating himself; but first let your knaves wipe the rain from my harness, for the wet will rust it.”

This request was complied with, and Herman bending a scrutinizing glance on Blanche, continued

"So, this is the fair lady, your daughter, who is to reward me for having knocked your enemy's basenet over his eyes in the ruffle near Lincoln? By my Halidame and St. Anthony to boot, 'tis a rich guerdon! What say ye, fair Lady, will ye become the bride of a free-lance?"

"Here he addressed a coarse remark to Blanche. The withered cheek of Sir Mathew reddened with rage, which he could ill conceal.

"Sir," said he sharply, "this is not fitting language for a maiden's ear, prithee cease, and

"Ha!" cried Herman in a fierce tone, " is it so Sir Knight? is she not mine? did'st thou not pledge thy word, ay, thy oath, that she should be my bride? Look that ye attempt not to deceive me, or woe to thy grey head?"

The old Knight dreaded the worst consequences in this visit; Herman's words almost deprived him of the power of utterance, and he groaned bitterly.

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Ay, groan on," continued the freelance, "while I shall read thy treachery to thee. Know, then, that I am come to claim my bride, of whom thou would'st rob me. I am acquainted with thy base treachery, and will maintain my right to the death!"

These words struck to the heart of the old Knight, who wrung his hands and remained silent. Herman observed his anguish with a grin.

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"Come," said he to Blanche, come, fair lady, you must away with me." Then raising his voice, he cried, "What ho! Conrade, Bernhard, Carl, where loiter ye knaves?"