CHAPTER XXX
ON THE STILL ISIS
The breath of spring was in the air. The verdant meadows had put on their rich new dress, and the flowers were springing up as if to welcome the returning strength and heat of the sun. The fritillaries gemmed the river-banks, and the stretches of woodland were blue with the carpet of fragrant wild hyacinth. The song of the cuckoo was in the air, and on north slopes the star-like primrose lingered yet. The chill east winds were changed to soft, summer-like zephyrs from the south, and everything in nature spoke of joy and hope and coming summer-tide.
Between its green banks, fringed sometimes by stately forest trees; meandering sometimes through wide stretches of green pasture, where cattle fattened upon the rich herbage or stood knee-deep in the shallow tide, the silent Isis slipped leisurely along.
Passing the Abbey of Eynsham, it widened out to a considerable breadth as it pursued its leisurely course towards the city of Oxford, seeming to linger lovingly in these pleasant reaches, far from the tumult and stir which surrounds the abodes of man.
The sun shone lovingly down upon the green world, and upon the shining, silver river, on this bright day in May. A boat was drifting slowly along the tide, propelled sometimes by the strong arms of the rower, at others idly lying upon the bosom of the stream, gently floating downwards with the slow, still current. Half-way betwixt Oxford and Eynsham two fishermen on the banks awaited the return of the tardy boat; but engrossed by their occupation, and soothed by the soft stillness of the afternoon, they were in no haste for its arrival. They had met with considerable success in pursuit of their craft, and a number of shining fish lay upon the bank beside them.
Edmund de Kynaston and Jack Dugdale were the fishermen; the fair Alys and Leofric Wyvill were the occupants of the boat.
They had all started forth together, with the intention of paying a visit to Lotta and her mother; but in the end the temptations of the river had proved too much for the anglers. Instead of waiting till they reached the pool near Eynsham, they had been landed some miles lower down; and whilst Alys and Leofric pursued the original plan, they remained engrossed by their sport, in no hurry at all for the return of their companions.
Nor did those companions appear in any haste to rejoin them.
Eight years had passed away since Leofric, an almost penniless lad, had first entered Oxford, uncertain whether or not he should ever succeed in maintaining himself there. Now, although not yet five-and-twenty, he had achieved many successes and distinctions, and was regarded by the authorities of the place as a promising young Master, secure of honours and rewards. He had become the recipient of royal bounty, and was in a position of modest affluence, which seemed to him almost like riches.
Already he had in part carried out the plan suggested by Jack when first the knowledge of the Prince's generosity had been made known to them. One hundred marks represented something like sixty pounds, and sixty pounds in those days was equivalent to several hundreds in our times. It was positive wealth to Leofric, and enabled him to enter at once upon a new phase of his career.
Since the exodus of students from Oxford a couple of years before, the Halls and houses had not filled up to quite their former strength, and there were still buildings to be had at moderate rentals. Leofric found a couple of houses in Cat Street, which their owner was glad enough to rent to a man of substance. One of these Leofric retained for a dwelling-house for himself and his friend and assistant Jack, turning the lower floor into a commodious lecture-hall, and repairing and furnishing the upper story for his own use, although it was larger than he required at present.
The second house was speedily furnished as a Hall for clerks and students, and already was full to overflowing. The personal popularity of the young Master was great, and his determination to accept as his pupils only men who really desired to study, and who would refrain from joining in the tumults and riots of the city, made something of a new departure amongst the keepers of Halls, and attracted at once the better sort of student, to whom a quiet place of abode, where study was the rule, was regarded in the light of a boon and a blessing. The Chancellor had expressed great approval of the rules boldly laid down by Leofric for the regulation of his house, and Jack was invaluable to him in assisting him to carry out his plan.
Leofric had recognized the fact that in order to keep his pupils within reasonable bounds he must make their quarters comfortable. How could they be expected to remain at home after dark if lights and fires were denied them, and if the rooms they lived in were kept foul, ill-smelling, and wretched? So simple were the ideas as to plenishing and furnishing in those days, that Leofric found it easy to provide for his pupils comfort sufficient to render his Hall the favourite throughout Oxford. He insisted on cleanliness, and by doing his own share to ensure it, stimulated the lads to second his efforts. They paid him rather more than some Hall Masters asked (save those who were really poor yet honestly studious, to whom he showed himself liberal and generous); but they received a liberal diet, comforts undreamed of in other places, good fires in cold weather, lights after dark, liberty to play reasonably quiet games in the lecture-room if desired, and a well-aired and cleanly dormitory to sleep in.
Already many nobles and prelates had sent their sons to Leofric, and he had been obliged to refuse applications from some of the most notable men of the day. The Chancellor was urging him to open another Hall; and already it was being whispered that if the schemes already being discussed for the foundation of regular colleges should be carried out, Leofric Wyvill would be the man to place over such an institution.
Leofric was keenly interested in these proposed schemes, and had held many discussions with those in authority upon that very subject. It was evident to all that the present condition of Oxford must be reformed; that the massing together in one place of hundreds and thousands of lads and men, under no regular discipline and control, was likely to lead to grave evils, and had been the cause of an infinite amount of bloodshed and confusion.
Walter de Merton and John Balliol had already given endowments, and the question of the establishment of colleges, where students should reside beneath sufficient oversight and control, was being earnestly discussed. Probably other benefactors would come forward when once a start had been made; and there seemed little doubt that in the near future Leofric would obtain a high place as Master or Dean of one of these proposed buildings.
Leofric's personal popularity was great, and his position rather unique. He was the favourite of the Prince, from whom he received an annual bounty; so that all those who supported the royal cause regarded him with favour. But he was also known as the friend of the De Montforts, as one who had fought side by side with young Amalric at the battles of Lewes and Evesham. A halo of glory therefore surrounded him in the eyes of those who favoured the popular cause, and all men listened to him with respect and enthusiasm, as to a man who had seen great things, had shared in the most notable movement of the day, and had covered himself with glory and renown. For all sorts of stories were afloat about his prowess and valour, many of which he had combated in vain. He was fain to submit at last to be regarded in the light of a hero, though marvelling not a little at having won such a reputation.
His position, however, was assured. Although a layman, and resolved to remain one, he saw before him a career full of possibilities. He knew that his advancement would be more rapid if he consented to take orders, but he had never wavered in his resolve against so doing. A man might now advance to high distinction even in the University, and yet remain a layman, and Leofric had never been tempted for a moment to the clerical vocation. Perhaps some amongst his closer friends knew the reason why.
He had been admitted to the Castle for long as the friend both of Edmund and his father. The Constable liked and respected him, and his successes had made him rather a notable man. The death of Amalric had taken some hold upon the minds and hearts of the De Kynastons, who had loved him well, and regarded him almost in the light of Alys's betrothed husband.
She herself had been much affected by the story of his death, and had looked pale and pensive for some time. But to-day her cheek had regained its bloom, her eyes were bright and soft, and her voice and laugh showed a heart where happiness had made its home, and from which sorrow and pain had been banished.
A journey by water to Eynsham was always a treat to Alys. Linda and she corresponded as regularly as the uncertainty of messengers would permit; and when she heard from her former companion, she always sought to take news of her to the mother and sister dwelling beneath the Priory walls.
Lotta had never recovered from the effects of her strange illness. Her mind remained a blank as to the events of her stormy girlhood. She was like a gentle child, living in the present, or in the more remote past, happy with her mother, and always eager for news of her sister, yet without any real comprehension or memory of the events which had transpired during the past eight years.
The news to-day was of an exceptionally happy nature. Linda was the mother of a fair son, and Hugh had received knighthood and the gift of a goodly Manor at the hands of the Prince. There had been extensive confiscations of the estates of the supporters of the De Montforts, and the Prince had not forgotten Hugh when he came to distribute this spoil amongst those who had served him at the critical time of his career.
Having brought tidings of these good things to Lotta and her mother, Leofric and Alys were on their way to rejoin their companions; but the beauty of the day, and the warmth of the sunshine upon the flowing river, tempted them to idleness. They were talking of past days, and of how the friendship between them had grown and grown.
"The first time I saw you," said Alys, "was when you lifted me from my palfrey, that day when he was frightened and nearly threw me to the ground. How little we thought then of all that would happen later!"
"Indeed yes," he answered earnestly. "Looking back to those days, it all seems like a dream; and yet, Alys, I think I loved thee from that very day. Dost know that thou hast always been to me a bright particular star, set high above me in the sky, yet leading me ever onwards. Alys, sweetheart, I have waited long, but tell me I have not waited in vain. Hope has sprung up in my heart of late. Sweet Alys, dost thou love me?"
A beautiful light leaped into her eyes. She put out a hand and laid it upon his.
"I think I have loved thee always, Leofric," she said.