Anne of Geierstein; Or, The Maiden of the Mist. Volume 2 (of 2) Read online

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  Faint the din of battle bray'd Distant down the heavy wind; War and terror fled before, Wounds and death were left behind. MICKLE.

  Arthur, left alone, and desirous perhaps to cover the retreat of CountAlbert, rode towards the approaching body of Burgundian cavalry, whowere arrayed under the Lord Contay's banner.

  "Welcome, welcome," said that nobleman, advancing hastily to the youngknight. "The Duke of Burgundy is a mile hence, with a body of horse tosupport the reconnoitring party. It is not half an hour since yourfather galloped up, and stated that you had been led into an ambuscadeby the treachery of the Stradiots, and made prisoner. He has impeachedCampo-basso of treason, and challenged him to the combat. They haveboth been sent to the camp, under charge of the Grand Marshal, toprevent their fighting on the spot, though I think our Italian showedlittle desire to come to blows. The Duke holds their gages, and theyare to fight upon Twelfth Day."

  "I doubt that day will never dawn for some who look for it," saidArthur; "but if it do, I will myself claim the combat, by my father'spermission."

  He then turned with Contay, and met a still larger body of cavalryunder the Duke's broad banner. He was instantly brought beforeCharles. The Duke heard, with some apparent anxiety, Arthur's supportof his father's accusations against the Italian, in whose favour hewas so deeply prejudiced. When assured that the Stradiots had beenacross the hill, and communicated with their leader just before heencouraged Arthur to advance, as it proved, into the midst of anambush, the Duke shook his head, lowered his shaggy brows, andmuttered to himself,--"Ill will to Oxford, perhaps--these Italians arevindictive."--Then raising his head, he commanded Arthur to proceed.

  He heard with a species of ecstasy the death of Rudolph Donnerhugel,and, taking a ponderous gold chain from his own neck, flung it overArthur's.

  "Why, thou hast forestalled all our honours, young Arthur--this wasthe biggest bear of them all--the rest are but suckling whelps to him!I think I have found a youthful David to match their huge thick-headedGoliath. But the idiot, to think his peasant hand could manage alance! Well, my brave boy--what more? How camest thou off? By somewily device or agile stratagem, I warrant."

  "Pardon me, my lord," answered Arthur. "I was protected by theirchief, Ferrand, who considered my encounter with Rudolph Donnerhugelas a personal duel; and desirous to use fair war, as he said,dismissed me honourably, with my horse and arms."

  "Umph!" said Charles, his bad humour returning; "your PrinceAdventurer must play the generous--Umph--well, it belongs to hispart, but shall not be a line for me to square my conduct by. Proceedwith your story, Sir Arthur de Vere."

  As Arthur proceeded to tell how and under what circumstances CountAlbert of Geierstein named himself to him, the Duke fixed on him aneager look, and trembled with impatience as he fiercely interruptedhim with the question--"And you--you struck him with your poniardunder the fifth rib, did you not?"

  "I did not, my Lord Duke--we were pledged in mutual assurance to eachother."

  "Yet you knew him to be my mortal enemy?" said the Duke. "Go, youngman, thy lukewarm indifference has cancelled thy merit. The escape ofAlbert of Geierstein hath counterbalanced the death of RudolphDonnerhugel."

  "Be it so, my lord," said Arthur, boldly. "I neither claim yourpraises, nor deprecate your censure. I had to move me in either casemotives personal to myself--Donnerhugel was my enemy, and to CountAlbert I owe some kindness."

  The Burgundian nobles who stood around were terrified for the effectof this bold speech. But it was never possible to guess with accuracyhow such things would affect Charles. He looked around him with alaugh--"Hear you this English cockerel, my lords--what a note will heone day sound, that already crows so bravely in a prince's presence?"

  A few horsemen now came in from different quarters, recounting thatthe Duke Ferrand and his company had retired into their encampment,and the country was clear of the enemy.

  "Let us then draw back also," said Charles, "since there is no chanceof breaking spears to-day. And thou, Arthur de Vere, attend meclosely."

  Arrived in the Duke's pavilion, Arthur underwent an examination, inwhich he said nothing of Anne of Geierstein, or her father's designsconcerning him, with which he considered Charles as having nothing todo; but he frankly conveyed to him the personal threats which thecount had openly used. The Duke listened with more temper, and when heheard the expression, "That a man who is desperate of his own lifemight command that of any other person," he said, "But there is a lifebeyond this, in which he who is treacherously murdered, and his baseand desperate assassin, shall each meet their deserts." He then tookfrom his bosom a gold cross, and kissed it, with much appearance ofdevotion. "In this," said he, "I will place my trust. If I fail inthis world, may I find grace in the next.--Ho, Sir Marshal!" heexclaimed. "Let your prisoners attend us."

  The Marshal of Burgundy entered with the Earl of Oxford, and statedthat his other prisoner, Campo-basso, had desired so earnestly that hemight be suffered to go and post his sentinels on that part of thecamp intrusted to the protection of his troops, that he, the Marshal,had thought fit to comply with his request.

  "It is well," said Burgundy, without further remark. "Then to you, myLord Oxford, I would present your son, had you not already locked himin your arms. He has won great los and honour, and done me braveservice. This is a period of the year when good men forgive theirenemies;--I know not why,--my mind was little apt to be charged withsuch matters,--but I feel an unconquerable desire to stop theapproaching combat betwixt you and Campo-basso. For my sake, consentto be friends, and to receive back your gage of battle, and let meconclude this year--perhaps the last I may see--with a deed of peace."

  "My lord," said Oxford, "it is a small thing you ask of me, since yourrequest only enforces a Christian duty. I was enraged at the loss ofmy son. I am grateful to Heaven and your Grace for restoring him. Tobe friends with Campo-basso is to me impossible. Faith and treason,truth and falsehood, might as soon shake hands and embrace. But theItalian shall be to me no more than he has been before this rupture;and that is literally nothing. I put my honour in your Grace'shands;--if he receives back his gage, I am willing to receive mine.John de Vere needs not be apprehensive that the world will supposethat he fears Campo-basso."

  The Duke returned sincere thanks, and detained the officers to spendthe evening in his tent. His manners seemed to Arthur to be moreplacid than he had ever seen them before, while to the Earl of Oxfordthey recalled the earlier days in which their intimacy commenced, ereabsolute power and unbounded success had spoiled Charles's rough butnot ungenerous disposition. The Duke ordered a distribution ofprovisions and wine to the soldiers, and expressed an anxiety abouttheir lodgings, the cure of the wounded, and the health of the army,to which he received only unpleasing answers. To some of hiscounsellors, apart, he said, "Were it not for our vow, we wouldrelinquish this purpose till spring, when our poor soldiers mighttake the field with less of suffering."

  Nothing else remarkable appeared in the Duke's manner, save that heinquired repeatedly after Campo-basso, and at length received accountsthat he was indisposed, and that his physician had recommended rest;he had therefore retired to repose himself, in order that he might bestirring on his duty at peep of day, the safety of the camp dependingmuch on his vigilance.

  The Duke made no observation on the apology, which he considered asindicating some lurking disinclination, on the Italian's part, to meetOxford. The guests at the ducal pavilion were dismissed an hour beforemidnight.

  When Oxford and his son were in their own tent, the Earl fell into adeep reverie, which lasted nearly ten minutes. At length, startingsuddenly up, he said, "My son, give orders to Thiebault and thy yeomento have our horses before the tent by break of day, or rather beforeit; and it would not be amiss if you ask our neighbour Colvin to ridealong with us. I will visit the outposts by daybreak."

  "It is a sudden resolution, my lord," said Arthur.


  "And yet it may be taken too late," said his father. "Had it beenmoonlight, I would have made the rounds to-night."

  "It is dark as a wolf's throat," said Arthur. "But wherefore, my lord,can this night in particular excite your apprehensions?"

  "Son Arthur, perhaps you will hold your father credulous. But mynurse, Martha Nixon, was a northern woman, and full of superstitions.In particular, she was wont to say, that any sudden and causelesschange of a man's nature, as from licence to sobriety, from temperanceto indulgence, from avarice to extravagance, from prodigality to loveof money, or the like, indicates an immediate change of hisfortunes--that some great alteration of circumstances, either for goodor evil (and for evil most likely, since we live in an evil world), isimpending over him whose disposition is so much altered. This oldwoman's fancy has recurred so strongly to my mind, that I amdetermined to see with mine own eyes, ere to-morrow's dawn, that allour guards and patrols around the camp are on the alert."

  Arthur made the necessary communications to Colvin and to Thiebault,and then retired to rest.

  It was ere daybreak of the first of January 1477, a period longmemorable for the events which marked it, that the Earl of Oxford,Colvin, and the young Englishman, followed only by Thiebault and twoother servants, commenced their rounds of the Duke of Burgundy'sencampment. For the greater part of their progress they foundsentinels and guards all on the alert and at their posts. It was abitter morning. The ground was partly covered with snow,--that snowhad been partly melted by a thaw, which had prevailed for two days,and partly congealed into ice by a bitter frost, which had commencedthe preceding evening, and still continued. A more dreary scene couldscarcely be witnessed.

  But what were the surprise and alarm of the Earl of Oxford and hiscompanions, when they came to that part of the camp which had beenoccupied the day before by Campo-basso and his Italians, who,reckoning men-at-arms and Stradiots, amounted to nigh two thousandmen--not a challenge was given--not a horse neighed--no steeds wereseen at picket--no guard on the camp. They examined several of thetents and huts--they were empty.

  "Let us back to alarm the camp," said the Earl of Oxford; "here istreachery."

  "Nay, my lord," said Colvin, "let us not carry back imperfect tidings.I have a battery an hundred yards in advance, covering the access tothis hollow way; let us see if my German cannoneers are at their post,and I think I can swear that we shall find them so. The batterycommands a narrow pass, by which alone the camp can be approached, andif my men are at their duty, I will pawn my life that we make the passgood till you bring up succours from the main body."

  "Forward, then, in God's name!" said the Earl of Oxford.

  They galloped, at every risk, over broken ground, slippery with ice insome places, incumbered with snow in others. They came to the cannon,judiciously placed to sweep the pass, which rose towards the artilleryon the outward side, and then descended gently from the battery intothe lower ground. The waning winter moon, mingling with the dawninglight, showed them that the guns were in their places, but no sentinelwas visible.

  "The villains cannot have deserted!" said the astonished Colvin. "Butsee, there is light in their cantonment. Oh, that unhalloweddistribution of wine! Their usual sin of drunkenness has beset them. Iwill soon drive them from their revelry."

  He sprang from his horse, and rushed into the tent whence the lightissued. The cannoneers, or most of them, were still there, butstretched on the ground, their cups and flagons scattered around them;and so drenched were they in wassail, that Colvin could only, bycommands and threats, awaken two or three, who, staggering, andobeying him rather from instinct than sense, reeled forward to man thebattery. A heavy rushing sound, like that of men marching fast, wasnow heard coming up the pass.

  "It is the roar of a distant avalanche," said Arthur.

  "It is an avalanche of Switzers, not of snow," said Colvin. "Oh, thesedrunken slaves! The cannon are deeply loaded and well pointed--thisvolley must check them if they were fiends, and the report will alarmthe camp sooner than we can do. But, oh, these drunken villains!"

  "Care not for their aid," said the Earl; "my son and I will each takea linstock, and be gunners for once."

  They dismounted, and bade Thiebault and the grooms look to the horses,while the Earl of Oxford and his son took each a linstock from one ofthe helpless gunners, three of whom were just sober enough to stand bytheir guns.

  "Bravo!" cried the bold master of ordnance, "never was a battery sonoble. Now, my mates--your pardon, my lords, for there is no time forceremony,--and you, ye drunken knaves, take heed not to fire till Igive the word, and, were the ribs of these tramplers as flinty astheir Alps, they shall know how old Colvin loads his guns."

  They stood breathless, each by his cannon. The dreaded soundapproached nearer and more near, till the imperfect light showed adark and shadowy but dense column of men, armed with long spears,pole-axes, and other weapons, amidst which banners dimly floated.Colvin suffered them to approach to the distance of about forty yards,and then gave the word, Fire! But his own piece alone exploded; aslight flame flashed from the touch-hole of the others, which had beenspiked by the Italian deserters, and left in reality disabled, thoughapparently fit for service. Had they been all in the same conditionwith that fired by Colvin, they would probably have verified hisprophecy; for even that single discharge produced an awful effect, andmade a long lane of dead and wounded through the Swiss column, inwhich the first and leading banner was struck down.

  "Stand to it yet," said Colvin, "and aid me if possible to reload thepiece."

  For this, however, no time was allowed. A stately form, conspicuous inthe front of the staggered column, raised up the fallen banner, and avoice as of a giant exclaimed, "What, countrymen! have you seen Murtenand Granson, and are you daunted by a single gun?--Berne--Uri--Schwitz--banners forward! Unterwalden, here is your standard!--Cry yourwar-cries, wind your horns; Unterwalden, follow your Landamman!"

  They rushed on like a raging ocean, with a roar as deafening, and acourse as impetuous. Colvin, still labouring to reload his gun, wasstruck down in the act. Oxford and his son were overthrown by themultitude, the closeness of which prevented any blows being aimed atthem. Arthur partly saved himself by getting under the gun he wasposted at; his father, less fortunate, was much trampled upon, andmust have been crushed to death but for his armour of proof. The humaninundation, consisting of at least four thousand men, rushed down intothe camp, continuing their dreadful shouts, soon mingled with shrillshrieks, groans, and cries of alarm.

  A broad red glare rising behind the assailants, and putting to shamethe pallid lights of the winter morning, first recalled Arthur to asense of his condition. The camp was on fire in his rear, andresounded with all the various shouts of conquest and terror that areheard in a town which is stormed. Starting to his feet, he lookedaround him for his father. He lay near him senseless, as were thegunners, whose condition prevented their attempting an escape. Havingopened his father's casque, he was rejoiced to see him give symptomsof reanimation.

  "The horses, the horses!" said Arthur. "Thiebault, where art thou?"

  "At hand, my lord," said that trusty attendant, who had saved himselfand his charge by a prudent retreat into a small thicket, which theassailants had avoided that they might not disorder their ranks.

  "Where is the gallant Colvin?" said the Earl. "Get him a horse, I willnot leave him in jeopardy."

  "His wars are ended, my lord," said Thiebault; "he will never mountsteed more."

  A look and a sigh as he saw Colvin, with the ramrod in his hand,before the muzzle of the piece, his head cleft by a Swiss battle-axe,was all the moment permitted.

  "Whither must we take our course?" said Arthur to his father.

  "To join the Duke," said the Earl of Oxford. "It is not on a day likethis that I will leave him."

  "So please you," said Thiebault, "I saw the Duke, followed by somehalf-score of his guards, riding at full speed across this hollowwatercourse, and making for the open
country to the northward. I thinkI can guide you on the track."

  "If that be so," replied Oxford, "we will mount and follow him. Thecamp has been assailed on several places at once, and all must be oversince he has fled."

  With difficulty they assisted the Earl of Oxford to his horse, androde, as fast as his returning strength permitted, in the directionwhich the Provencal pointed out. Their other attendants were dispersedor slain.

  They looked back more than once on the camp, now one great scene ofconflagration, by whose red and glaring light they could discover onthe ground the traces of Charles's retreat. About three miles from thescene of their defeat, the sound of which they still heard, mingledwith the bells of Nancy, which were ringing in triumph, they reached ahalf-frozen swamp, round which lay several dead bodies. The mostconspicuous was that of Charles of Burgundy, once the possessor ofsuch unlimited power--such unbounded wealth. He was partly strippedand plundered, as were those who lay round him. His body was piercedwith several wounds, inflicted by various weapons. His sword was stillin his hand, and the singular ferocity which was wont to animate hisfeatures in battle still dwelt on his stiffened countenance. Closebehind him, as if they had fallen in the act of mutual fight, lay thecorpse of Count Albert of Geierstein; and that of Ital Schreckenwald,the faithful though unscrupulous follower of the latter, lay not fardistant. Both were in the dress of the men-at-arms composing theDuke's guard, a disguise probably assumed to execute the fatalcommission of the Secret Tribunal. It is supposed that a party of thetraitor Campo-basso's men had been engaged in the skirmish in whichthe Duke fell, for six or seven of them, and about the same number ofthe Duke's guards, were found near the spot.

  The Earl of Oxford threw himself from his horse, and examined the bodyof his deceased brother-in-arms, with all the sorrow inspired by earlyremembrance of his kindness. But as he gave way to the feelingsinspired by so melancholy an example of the fall of human greatness,Thiebault, who was looking out on the path they had just pursued,exclaimed, "To horse, my lord! here is no time to mourn the dead, andlittle to save the living--the Swiss are upon us."

  "Fly thyself, good fellow," said the Earl; "and do thou, Arthur, flyalso, and save thy youth for happier days. I cannot and will not flyfarther. I will render me to the pursuers; if they take me to grace,it is well; if not, there is one above that will receive me to His."

  "I will not fly," said Arthur, "and leave you defenceless; I will stayand share your fate."

  "And I will remain also," said Thiebault; "the Switzers make fair warwhen their blood has not been heated by much opposition, and they havehad little enough to-day."

  The party of Swiss which came up proved to be Sigismund, with hisbrother Ernest, and some of the youths of Unterwalden. Sigismundkindly and joyfully received them to mercy; and thus, for the thirdtime, rendered Arthur an important service, in return for the kindnesshe had expressed towards him.

  "I will take you to my father," said Sigismund, "who will be rightglad to see you; only that he is ill at ease just now for the death ofbrother Rudiger, who fell with the banner in his hand, by the onlycannon that was fired this morning. The rest could not bark:Campo-basso had muzzled Colvin's mastiffs, or we should many more ofus have been served like poor Rudiger. But Colvin himself is killed."

  "Campo-basso, then, was in your correspondence?" said Arthur.

  "Not in ours--we scorn such companions--but some dealing there wasbetween the Italian and Duke Ferrand; and having disabled the cannon,and filled the German gunners soundly drunk, he came off to our campwith fifteen hundred horse, and offered to act with us. 'But no, no!'said my father,--'traitors come not into our Swiss host;' and so,though we walked in at the door which he left open, we would not havehis company. So he marched with Duke Ferrand to attack the otherextremity of the camp, where he found them entrance by announcing themas the return of a reconnoitring party."

  "Nay, then," said Arthur, "a more accomplished traitor never drewbreath, nor one who drew his net with such success."

  "You say well," answered the young Swiss.

  "The Duke will never, they say, be able to collect another army?"

  "Never, young man," said the Earl of Oxford, "for he lies dead beforeyou."[14]

  Sigismund started; for he had an inherent respect, and somewhat offear, for the lofty name of Charles the Bold, and could hardly believethat the mangled corpse which now lay before him was once thepersonage he had been taught to dread. But his surprise was mingledwith sorrow when he saw the body of his uncle, Count Albert ofGeierstein.

  "Oh, my uncle!" he said--"my dear uncle Albert! has all your greatnessand your wisdom brought you to a death, at the side of a ditch, likeany crazed beggar?--Come, this sad news must be presently told to myfather, who will be concerned to hear of his brother's death, whichwill add gall to bitterness, coming on the back of poor Rudiger's. Itis some comfort, however, that father and uncle never could abide eachother."

  With some difficulty they once more assisted the Earl of Oxford tohorseback, and were proceeding to set forward, when the English lordsaid,--"You will place a guard here, to save these bodies from furtherdishonour, that they may be interred with due solemnity."

  "By Our Lady of Einsiedlen! I thank you for the hint," said Sigismund."Yes, we should do all that the Church can for uncle Albert. It is tobe hoped he has not gambled away his soul beforehand, playing withSatan at odds and evens. I would we had a priest to stay by his poorbody; but it matters not, since no one ever heard of a demon appearingjust before breakfast."

  They proceeded to the Landamman's quarters, through sights and sceneswhich Arthur, and even his father, so well accustomed to war in allits shapes, could not look upon without shuddering. But the simpleSigismund, as he walked by Arthur's side, contrived to hit upon atheme so interesting as to divert his sense of the horrors aroundthem.

  "Have you further business in Burgundy, now this Duke of yours is atan end?"

  "My father knows best," said Arthur; "but I apprehend we have none.The Duchess of Burgundy, who must now succeed to some sort ofauthority in her late husband's dominion, is sister to this Edward ofYork, and a mortal enemy to the House of Lancaster, and to those whohave stood by it faithfully. It were neither prudent nor safe to tarrywhere she has influence."

  "In that case," said Sigismund, "my plan will fadge bravely. You shallgo back to Geierstein, and take up your dwelling with us. Your fatherwill be a brother to mine, and a better one than uncle Albert, whom heseldom saw or spoke with; while with your father he will converse frommorning till night, and leave us all the work of the farm. And you,Arthur, you shall go with us, and be a brother to us all, in place ofpoor Rudiger, who was, to be sure, my real brother, which you cannotbe: nevertheless, I did not like him so well, in respect he was not sogood-natured. And then Anne--cousin Anne--is left all to my father'scharge, and is now at Geierstein--and you know, King Arthur, we usedto call her Queen Guenover."

  "You spoke great folly then," said Arthur.

  "But it is great truth--For, look you, I loved to tell Anne tales ofour hunting, and so forth, but she would not listen a word till Ithrew in something of King Arthur, and then I warrant she would sitstill as a heath-hen when the hawk is in the heavens. And nowDonnerhugel is slain, you know you may marry my cousin when you andshe will, for nobody hath interest to prevent it."

  Arthur blushed with pleasure under his helmet, and almost forgave thatnew-year's morning all its complicated distresses.

  "You forget," he replied to Sigismund, with as much indifference as hecould assume, "that I may be viewed in your country with prejudice onaccount of Rudolph's death."

  "Not a whit, not a whit; we bear no malice for what is done in fairfight under shield. It is no more than if you had beat him inwrestling or at quoits--only it is a game cannot be played overagain."

  They now entered the town of Nancy. The windows were hung withtapestry, and the streets crowded with tumultuous and rejoicingmultitudes, whom the success of the battle had relieved from greatalarm for
the formidable vengeance of Charles of Burgundy.

  The prisoners were received with the utmost kindness by the Landamman,who assured them of his protection and friendship. He appeared tosupport the death of his son Rudiger with stern resignation.

  "He had rather," he said, "his son fell in battle, than that he shouldlive to despise the old simplicity of his country, and think theobject of combat was the gaining of spoil. The gold of the deadBurgundy," he added, "would injure the morals of Switzerland moreirretrievably than ever his sword did their bodies."

  He heard of his brother's death without surprise, but apparently withemotion.

  "It was the conclusion," he said, "of a long tissue of ambitiousenterprises, which often offered fair prospects, but uniformly endedin disappointment."

  The Landamman further intimated that his brother had apprised him thathe was engaged in an affair of so much danger that he was almostcertain to perish in it, and had bequeathed his daughter to heruncle's care, with instructions respecting her.

  Here they parted for the present, but shortly after, the Landammaninquired earnestly of the Earl of Oxford what his motions were like tobe, and whether he could assist them.

  "I think of choosing Bretagne for my place of refuge," answered theEarl, "where my wife has dwelt since the battle of Tewkesbury expelledus from England."

  "Do not so," said the kind Landamman, "but come to Geierstein with thecountess, where, if she can, like you, endure our mountain manners andmountain fare, you are welcome as to the house of a brother, to a soilwhere neither conspiracy nor treason ever flourished. Bethink you, theDuke of Bretagne is a weak prince, entirely governed by a wickedfavourite, Peter Landais. He is as capable--I mean the minister--ofselling brave men's blood, as a butcher of selling bullock's flesh;and you know, there are those, both in France and Burgundy, thatthirst after yours."

  The Earl of Oxford expressed his thanks for the proposal, and hisdetermination to profit by it, if approved of by Henry of Lancaster,Earl of Richmond, whom he now regarded as his sovereign.

  To close the tale, about three months after the battle of Nancy, thebanished Earl of Oxford resumed his name of Philipson, bringing withhis lady some remnants of their former wealth, which enabled them toprocure a commodious residence near to Geierstein; and the Landamman'sinterest in the state procured for them the right of denizenship. Thehigh blood and the moderate fortunes of Anne of Geierstein and Arthurde Vere, joined to their mutual inclination, made their marriage inevery respect rational; and Annette with her bachelor took up theirresidence with the young people, not as servants, but mechanical aidsin the duties of the farm; for Arthur continued to prefer the chase tothe labours of husbandry, which was of little consequence, as hisseparate income amounted, in that poor country, to opulence. Timeglided on, till it amounted to five years since the exiled family hadbeen inhabitants of Switzerland. In the year 1482, the LandammanBiederman died the death of the righteous, lamented universally, as amodel of the true and valiant, simple-minded and sagacious chiefs whoruled the ancient Switzers in peace, and headed them in battle. In thesame year, the Earl of Oxford lost his noble countess.

  But the star of Lancaster, at that period, began again to culminate,and called the banished lord and his son from their retirement, to mixonce more in politics. The treasured necklace of Margaret was then putto its destined use, and the produce applied to levy those bands whichshortly after fought the celebrated battle of Bosworth, in which thearms of Oxford and his son contributed so much to the success of HenryVII. This changed the destinies of De Vere and his lady. Their Swissfarm was conferred on Annette and her husband; and the manners andbeauty of Anne of Geierstein attracted as much admiration at theEnglish court as formerly in the Swiss chalet.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [14] Note III.