WILLIAM FITZ-OSBERT.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VI, Issue 53, 3 March 1871, Page 4

WILLIAM FITZ-OSBERT.

A STORY OF LONDON LIFE IN THE DAYS OF RICHARD COEUR DE LION. From, the Family Friend. Chapter V. THE TREACHERY OP ARMSTRONG. When Sir Hugh de Danedred returned to the Tower he found his followers fraternising with the soldiers. The place was full of life and bustle. A large ditch was being constructed for the better defence of the city. The hour had arrived for rest, and the workmen were collecting together in groups round large wood fires. Sir Hugh saw that his men were drinking with the men of the garrison, and knowing how much they had suffered during the campaign from which they had just returned, he preferred delaying his journey for another hour' rather than disturb their honest conviviality.. Early in the morning he had been very eager to start off for Danedred Tower to clasp the hand of his dear, dark-eyed Mary, to tell her and his mother of all his adventures, and to wander through all the old paths and nooks in the woods, for it seemed an age since he left for the Crusade. Now his mind was changed; Mary's eyes appeared to lose their attractive power. London was for a time more inviting than the woods round Danedred Tower, and he felt but one strong desire, to meet his mysterious enemy FitzOsbert, and to look once more into Nelly's beautiful and intelligent face. Advancing towards his men, he called one of them aside and told him that he should not start till the evening; then turning towards the city, he slowly walked down Tower-hill, and wended his way through streets and gardens u*|il he arrived at Cornhill. There he met thjppttle red-faced citizen Wickles. Judging i|om. his bearing that he was a tradesman.''sf some importance, Sir Hugh accosted him. The little man had an instinctive dread of anything really warlike. In questions affecting the welfare of the city he was always deeply interested, and being of an explosive nature he would oftentimes utter anathemas against knights and barons, and when out of their hearing he would even swell out with pious indignation and fierce defiance. But to meet one face to face was almost too much for him. He looked at the Crusader with suspicion and trembling, and had he not been so uncomfortably corpulent he would have taken to his heels. " Know you anyone named Fitz-Osbert?" asked Sir Hugh, smiling at the little man's trepidation and confusion. " Aye — no — yes — there is a citizen of that name," replied Wickles, cautiously shuffling as far as he could from the young baron. " Can you tell me where he lives ?" " Yes certainly, certainly I can, Sir Knight ; everyone knows him ; he is the defender of the people's rights — that is — I mean he is a good citizen,and " " I only want to know where I can find him," interrupted Sir Hugh impatiently. " Find him? Truly thou'lt find him— that, I suppose — indeed I know thou'lt find him at home, Sir Knight" said Wickles perspiring and getting into hopeless confusion. "Stay, man! Are you afraid of me?" shouted Sir Hugh, for Wickles was shuffling away further and further by degrees. "Afraid, Sir Knight ! Oh no, Si r Knight not afraid, Sir Knight, but a " "Then tell me in what part of London I shall find this good citizen, as you call him, Fitz-Osbert." "Thou'lt find him in the Chepe, Sir Knight. He is an honest man, and thou wilt find him great of speech. He is " "Thank you," and without troubling citizen Wickles further, Sir Hugh walked on towards Cheapside. As he strolled down the street, looking into the small shops and stalls, and wondering how he should find Fitz-Osbert's house, and what he should do when he found it, he observed two men parting company by the church of St. Mary-le-Bow. One was a tall broadshouldered man with a profusion of red hair, and the other was a maa of shorter stature, humped- back and with a long dark beard. The latter crossed over and went down a narrow lane towards the church of St. Stephen, Colman. Sir Hugh approached the man with the red hair, and asked if he knew the house of a citizen named FitzOsbert, but the fellow started back and appeared so confused that he turned away**' with contempt for the whole race of chicken hearted citizens. The man, however, suddenly recovered his self-possession, and calling after him, said respectfully, " I will i show you the way, Sir Hugh, if you so desire." "Do you know me?" asked Sir Hugh, somewhat astonished at the man!s use of his name. " Everyone should know the brave Sir Hugh de Danedred," replied Armstrong the armourer, for it was he whom Sir Hugh had spoken to. A "I thank ypu for your fine words, good citizen, \ and/will thank you more if you will takeVme' to Fitz-Osbert's house."

"That I will, Sir Hugh. Follow me this way. Fitz-Osberfc is a quaint man, and has a private entrance that runs beneath the ground to his house. The entrance is by the river side — and you will be astonished at the long passage. He is proud to receive guests, and will be rejoiced, I do most solemnly swear, to see you within his habitation. " " Are you sure of this?" asked Sir Hugh. "Quite sure. It was but to-day that he spoke of your arrival, and said he would like to see so nobio a soldier of the Cross beneath his humble roof." "I dare bo sworn you're, right" said Sir Hugh, remembering the Priest's warning, and resolved to bo prepared for treachery. They walked on in silence, Sir Hugh, thinking of his chance of looking again upon Nelly, and on his determination to discover the cause of Fitz-Osbcrt's hatred, and Armstrong sulkily measuring Sir Hugh from head to foot. At last they came to a pile of uneven stones and close behind it a small square buiklingof solid masonry, with a door in the side strengthened with bars of iron. The armourer opened the door and looked hastily round. No one was near but Sir Hugh. Sir Hugh observed the look, and his suspicions of something wrong were at once aroused. " This is the entrance, Sir Hugh," said Armstrong. " Then enter it yourself, fellow, and I will follow, replied Sir Hugh." Armstrong did not reply, but seizing Sir Hugh round the waist, lifted him frorn^ his feet. "Traitor!" shouted the Crusader, striking Armstrong full in the face ; but the armourer would not relinquish his hold, and Sir Hugh's blows, for want of scope, ■were ineffectual. With a desperate plunge he tried to free himself from the great sinewy arms which were folded round him. Again, and again, in rapid succession, ho struck his obstinate adversary, but the armourer held on, drew a long breath, and hurled him into the cell with tremendous violence. He felt a dull, heavy blow on his head, a flash of fire darted before his eyes, a momentary sense of agony, and he remembered nothing more. How long he had remained on the ground at the further end of the cell he kne*- not. Returning consciousness was accompanied by a strange confusion of ideas.* Darkness — thick, impenetrable darkness-*enveloped him. He raised himself on his arms, sick and giddy. A horrible chill ran through every limb as he put out his hand and felt the cold clamp wall. Then slowly and indistinctly the truth dawned upon his aching burning brain, and with desperation he scrambled on his feet and groped his way round the narrow chamber. Stone, nothing but hard, cold, repulsive stone, answered to his touch. At last, however, he f^md his way to the door; but not a crevice, not a single ray of light, relieved the oppressive darkness. With the violence ipf a strong man, mad with wrath, he struck at the solid timber, with his clenched fist, but it gave no signs of weakness. Hard and firm as the cold blocks of stone, it remained immovable beneath his blows. Dreadful thoughts came upon him. Was he left there to starve? Was that dungeon to be his tomb? Grim and terrible were the fancies which rushed through his mind as, exhausted with his efforts, he threw himself down on the ground and pressed his hand over his throbbing temples. Then an uncontrolable feeling of drowsiness crept upon him; he tried to shake it off— he felt that his brain was reeling, and he was losing all mastery over the fantastic ideas rushing through it. He shuddered at the thought of going mad, and clasped his hands to pray. Prayer seemed to have the power of dispersing the phantoms which were gathering around him. Fervently, earnestly he cried for help. Humbled and subdued, he confessed all the follies of his vain life, and praying, he fell asleep. His sleep was troubled. He dreamt that he was thrown from his horse on a fiela of battle, and that a crowd of furious Saracens were hammering at his head. He saw his own men drinking and laughing in a group some distance off, and he shouted vainly for help. Then the Saracens were suddenly transformed into a large mau^ with grizzly, red hair, and they were wrestling togetheiy'wbile a priest was holding their armour. Again and again the priest declared that the red-hairec man would win, and more and more desperate grew the encounter as the one was encouraged and "the other became incensed by the declaration of the priest. Suddenly there was a loud, grating noise beneath the earth, and a great flood of dazzling light burst jipon them. The priest and Saracen vanished, and a beautiful girl, like a spirit, with golden hair, stood in the stream of light.