"Sir William Ingleby?" said the King. "If I remember aright, you were one of those who, along with our kinsman, Lancaster, appeared in arms against our Royal authority."

"Not my Liege," replied Ingleby, "against your Royal authority, but against your evil advisers."

"Well," continued the King, with a slight scowl, "let bygones be bygones; you have done me a service which obliterates all that. You are from this moment restored to favour; in memory of what you have done this day, I decree that, for the future and all time, you and your family shall bear, as the crest of your arms, a boar's head. Let me see you shortly at my Court, and then I will see what further I can do out of grat.i.tude for the service you have rendered me."

Sir William made a profound obeisance to the King, and from that time the fortunes of the Inglebys, from that circ.u.mstance, coupled with the fortunate marriage with the heiress of Ripley, continued to rise.

The Rev. Thomas Parkinson, in his "Lays and Leaves of the Forest"

(1882), writes--"It is impossible to fix any date at which the various wild animals ceased to inhabit the forest. The wild cattle are not mentioned after the thirteenth century. Wolves were probably extinct in the fourteenth; indeed there are traditions of their existence three centuries later. Deer there were in 1654 A.D., for William Fleetwood, Sergeant of the Duchy of Lancaster, was plaintiff in a suit against Ellis Markham for destruction of some deer, game, and trees in Haverah or Heywra Park, at that date. The last wild boar is said to have been slain in the Boar-hole in Haverah Park, in the reign of Charles II. By the middle of the reign of Elizabeth, however, say 1580 A.D., probably all, except very rare specimens indeed, the larger wild animals were gone.... Nominally, the district remained a Royal forest up to the time of its enclosure, under Act of Parliament, in 1771 A.D., but long before that date it had practically ceased to be a refuge for wild beasts, or to be used for the chase. As we have seen, its larger animals were extinct, and, besides losing its chief fauna, it has been denuded, in a great measure, of its green woods and forest monarchs. This is said to have been brought about chiefly by the existence of smelting furnaces for lead and iron in the neighbourhood."

The Eland Tragedy.

In the reign of King Edward III., four gentlemen, the heads of four reputable county families, resided in their respective halls, within a short distance of each other, in the neighbourhood of Huddersfield.

They were Sir John Eland, of Eland Hall; Sir Robert Beaumont, of Crosland Hall; Sir Hugh Quarmby, of Quarmby; and John Lockwood, of Lockwood. The family of Sir John Eland had been seated here for several generations, descended from Leisingus de Eland, from whom Lasingcroft derives its name. They were a knightly race, had inter-married with some of the best county families, and lived in a style of great splendour. Their lands were held as a fief under the Earls of Warren, and Sir John, who now represented the family, held the stewardship of the Earl's manors in Yorkshire, including that of Wakefield. He was also the shire-reeve, and, as such, the representative of the King, in the administration of justice and law within the county. Little further is known of him, and he would have scarcely been remembered, but for a deadly feud which arose between him and his above-mentioned neighbours, and a series of atrocious murders arising thereout. Even this might have been forgotten, as at that time deadly fights between families or communities frequently occurred, and excited but little notice, blood-for-blood vengeance being looked upon as a matter of course, and in the same light that duels were a century or two ago. The Livery Companies then frequently met in Cheapside to settle their quarrels with bows and clubs; and the famous fight of Chevy Chase was nothing more than the outcome of a dispute between two border Earls about hunting without permission across the border. So, with other frays of similar character, it might have pa.s.sed into oblivion, but for a ballad which was written at the time, a modernised version of which appeared _temp._ Henry VIII., and which has come down to the present time--a copy of which was printed in Halifax in 1789, and another published in Whittaker's "Loidis et Elmete." The more modern version was ent.i.tled "Revenge upon Revenge: a narrative of the tragical practices of Sir John Eland, High Sheriff of Yorkshire, on Sir Robert Beaumont, in the reign of King Edward III." It gives the whole of the proceedings, with such circ.u.mstantial detail that, although some authorities have endeavoured to throw discredit upon the narrative, and expressed their belief that it is a fiction, it bears internal evidence of its truth. Sir John was a man of overbearing temper, impatient of opposition to his behests, and implacable in his hatred. The ballad opens with a long diatribe on pride and worldly ambition, and says--

"With such like faults was found infect One, Sir John Eland, Knight; His doings made it much suspect Therein he took delight."

Whilst Sir Robert Beaumont, the main object of his hatred, is thus mentioned--

"Sometime there dwelt in Crosland Hall A kind and courteous Knight; It was well known that he withal Sir Robert Beaumont hight.

Some say that Eland Sheriff was By Beaumont disobey'd, Which might him make for that trespa.s.s With him the worst afraid."

The origin of the feud appears to have been in this wise--Earl de Warren had seduced Alice de Lacy, wife of Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, upon which a quarrel arose between the two Earls, and their retainers met and fought, when a nephew of Sir John was slain by one Exley.

Exley made over to Sir John a plot of land as compensation for the mischance, which he accepted, but still sought to be avenged by the death of the homicide. Exley fled to the house of his relative, Sir Robert Beaumont, for shelter, and Sir John demanded his surrender, which was refused by Sir Robert, and in this he was countenanced by his friends Quarmby and Lockwood, on the ground that Sir John, having accepted the plot of land, had condoned the offence, which gave great affront to Sir John, who went off muttering threats of vengeance.

Sir John was doubtlessly perfectly right, in his capacity of Sheriff, to demand the delivery up of an offender against the laws of the realm, but he was equally in the wrong in having accepted a bribe to compromise the offence; but his irritation arose from the fact of Sir Robert having set his authority at defiance--an insult which his proud spirit could not brook. He brooded over the matter at home for some days, and at length came to the resolution of erasing the stain upon his dignity by the death of Sir Robert, which he determined to accomplish with his own hands. He considered, further, that as Quarmby and Lockwood had backed Sir Robert in his defiance of him as Sheriff, they would be likely to avenge his death, so, to make a.s.surance doubly sure, he felt it to be necessary to deal out the same fate to them.

Accordingly, a few days after--

"He raised the country round about, His friends and tenants all, And for his purpose picked out Stout, st.u.r.dy men, and tall.

To Quarmby Hall they came by night, And there the lord they slew, At that time Hugh of Quarmby hight, Before the country knew.

To Lockwood then, the selfsame night, They came, and there they slew Lockwood of Lockwood, that wiley wight.

That stirred the strife anew."

"A gentleman of that wisdom and prudence that he was not only reckoned, but esteemed, as the oracle, as well as the darling, of his country, and whose memory will remain fragrant in future ages."

Having completed these preliminary murders, Sir John proceeded with his men to execute his _coup de grace_. Crosland Hall was surrounded by a deep moat--

"The hall was watered well about, No wight might enter in, Till that the bridge was well made out They durst not enter in."

As the bridge was raised, they lay in ambush till early in the morning, when it was lowered to allow a maid-servant to pa.s.s forth, upon which they rushed across and entered the house in a noisy, boisterous manner. Sir Robert came from his chamber, half-dressed, to ascertain the cause of the disturbance, when he was attacked by the invaders of his premises. He seized a sword and stood on his defence--

"And thus it was, most certainly, That slain before he was He fought again them manfully, Undressed though he was.

His lady cried and shrieked withal When as from her they led Her dearest knight into the hall, And there cut off his head."

A MS. says that Exley and a brother of Sir Robert were killed at the same time.

Sir John then ordered wine and victuals to be laid out for their breakfast, and invited the two sons of Sir Robert to sit down and join him in the repast; the younger, through fear, a.s.sented, but Adam, the elder, refused, with a scowling brow, to eat with the murderer of his father, upon seeing which, Sir John said, "How heinously that lad doth take his father's death; and looks with a frowning countenance as if he would take revenge; but I will keep such a watchful, circ.u.mspect eye over him that he shall never be able to do us any harm." Having thus accomplished his purpose, and finished his meal beside the corpse of his victim lying on the floor, he departed with his band of a.s.sa.s.sins, nor does it appear that he was ever called to account for the outrage. After the burial of her husband, Lady Beaumont, fearing for the safety of her children, fled with them to the house of her kinsman, Townley, in Lancashire, and took along with her the sons of Quarmby and Lockwood, and a youth named Lacy, of Crumblebottom, where they were instructed together in feats of chivalry, fencing, tilting, shooting with the long bow, riding, and other knightly qualities, as preparations for taking their revenge.

The curtain had fallen upon the first act of the drama; fifteen years had now elapsed, and the second act commences. The four youths had now grown up nearly to manhood, and Lockwood, the eldest, suggested that the time was now come when "we should bravely seek to revenge the spilling of our fathers' blood, for if Eland should have that foul act for well done, it will encourage him in his wickedness, and further to proceed in destroying the whole posterity of our renowned ancestors; therefore do I esteem it our wisdom, and an undertaking well becoming the successors of such worthy patriots, utterly to extirpate from the face of the earth the cursed Cain and his posterity." The others a.s.sented, and took into their counsel two men--Dawson and Haigh--retainers of one of the families--who had come from Yorkshire, and who informed them that Sir John would shortly go to Brighouse, where the Sheriffdom was to be held, and that they might easily waylay him and accomplish their purpose. Accordingly they set off, accompanied by an armed band of men, and secreted themselves in Crumblebottom Wood, on the wayside from Eland to Brighouse.

Sir John, suspecting nothing, went on his way to Brighouse, and coming upon some armed men on the roadside whom he knew not, courteously "vail'd his bonnet," when Adam Beaumont stepped forward and said--

"Thy courtesy 'vails thee not, Sir Knight, Thou slew my father dear, Sometime Sir Robert Beaumont hight; And slain thou shalt be here."

The others addressed him in like terms. "Whose fathers' blood," said they all, "we are now come to revenge upon thee and thine." They then attacked him, his followers drawing their weapons and rallying round him in his defence, and a general fight commenced between the two companies, several on both sides being wounded. At length the four young men, who kept together, succeeded in separating Sir John from his followers, and inflicting upon him numerous wounds, left him lying bleeding and dying upon the turf. Knowing that such a crime as the murder of the King's Sheriff could not pa.s.s unnoticed, as soon as they felt a.s.sured that they had accomplished their revenge they hastened back into Lancashire, but feeling that they would not be safe at Townley Hall, they went onward into Furness, then a wild unfrequented corner of the county, with few inhabitants excepting the monks of the abbey and a few peasants who were dependent upon it, and hid themselves in the recesses of the woods, among the caves and fells, depending upon their bows for the supply of their daily food. And thus ends the second act of the drama.

In the meanwhile, Sir John's son, a second Sir John, succeeded to Eland, who was married and had a son, then a young boy, who might also have succeeded but for the machinations of the allies in Furness.

During the winter they had been laying their plots, and came to the determination of utterly extirpating the male line of the Elands, and arranged to attack Sir John on his way to or from church on Palm Sunday. Accordingly, in the spring, they came secretly to Crumblebottom Hall, where they lay _perdu_ to watch events, and, on the eve of Palm Sunday, concealed themselves in Eland Mill. Their proceedings, however, were not so secret but that rumours of impending evil reached the ears of Sir John, and on Sunday morning he told his wife that he should not go out that day, but she rallied him on his fears, and urged that he must go to church on that specially holy day as an example to others, upon which he reluctantly a.s.sented, but took the precaution of putting on a coat of mail beneath his waistcoat.

The confederates and their followers saw the sun rise on the morning of Palm Sunday as they lay in the mill, and began to prepare for their meditated deed, when the door was suddenly opened, and the miller's wife entered for some corn which her husband had sent her for. They immediately seized her, bound her hand and foot, and told her that if she cried out they would knock her on the head. Not returning in due course, her husband grew wroth at her dalliance.

"The miller swore she should repent, She tarried there so long; A good cudgel in hand he went, To chastise her with wrong."

But the miller, instead of amusing himself by thrashing his wife, met with the same fate that she had undergone, and was thrown, securely bound, on a heap of flour-sacks beside her.

Sir John, his wife, and little son, left Eland Hall for church, taking a short cut over the stones of the mill-dam which was nearly empty in consequence of a drought. As he was stepping over Beaumont shot an arrow at him which glanced off his coat of mail, as did Lockwood with a like effect. The villagers, who were going to church, seeing this, came running up, when Lockwood shot another arrow, which pierced Sir John's brain, whilst another from Quarmby, mortally wounded the boy.

They had now accomplished their vengeance; the male line of the Elands was extinct; but it behoved them to look to their own safety, as the villagers, armed with clubs and hatchets, were a.s.sembling in great force. They rushed out of the mill, fought their way along Whittlelane End to Old Earthgate, and hence to Anely Wood, hotly pursued by their foes. Willet, Smith, Remington, and Bunney, yeomanry officers, also summoned their men, who armed themselves with "pitchforks, long staves, knotted clubs, and rusty bills," and joined the hunt. As their foes neared them, they faced round and presented a bold, resolute front, as long as their arrows lasted, when they again took to flight; Lockwood carrying off Quarmby, who had fallen wounded. They gained the shelter of the wood, where they left Quarmby, dead, and each sought to shift for himself. Beaumont took refuge in Crosland Hall, and stood on his defence with the bridge drawn up; he afterwards escaped to France, fought against the Turks in Hungary, where he won great fame and honour, and eventually became a Knight of Rhodes. Lockwood sought shelter in Camel Hall, but was captured when incautiously visiting a village maiden with whom he had an amour, and was put to death there and then, and so ended the race of the Lockwoods. What became of Lacy is not known. Sir John Eland, the younger, left a daughter and heiress, who married Sir John Savile, of Tankersley, and conveyed the Eland and other estates to that family.

The Plumpton Marriage.

The Plumpton family, of Plumpton, near Knaresborough, were established there from the period of the Domesday Book, when Edred de Plumpton held two carucates of land of William de Percy, the mesne lord. They had estates afterwards at other places--Idle, near Leeds, held of the Lacies; Steeton, near Tadcaster; Nesfield, near Otley, where they had a manor-house, and elsewhere. They were a family of considerable importance in Yorkshire, and were great benefactors to the Nunnery of Esholt, in Craven. They frequently make a conspicuous appearance in the various historical events of the centuries of their existence.

Peter, son of Nigel, suffered confiscation of his lands for confederating with the Barons against King John; but, on submitting and doing fealty to Henry III., they were restored. Sir Robert, founder of a chapel in the church in Knaresborough, was beheaded at York, for partic.i.p.ation in Scrope's rebellion against King Henry IV., in 1408. Sir William, who objected to the levying of tolls, at Otley and Ripley, by Archbishop Kemp, lay in wait for the tax-gatherers at Thornton Bridge, with a company of foresters. The officials, apprehending the meaning of the armed men by the bridge, turned aside to pa.s.s over the river by Brafferton Ford, but were followed by Sir William and his men, shouting, "Slay the Archbishop's carles, and would to G.o.d we had the Archbishop himself here." In the fray which ensued, several of the Archbishop's men were slain and wounded, and others taken prisoners. Robert, the last male representative of the family, died unmarried and intestate at Paris, in 1749, when the estates pa.s.sed to his aunt, Anne, who, in 1760, sold them to Daniel Lascelles, for 28,000.

A volume ent.i.tled "The Plumpton Correspondence," consisting of family letters, chiefly of a domestic character, written in the reigns of Edward IV., Richard III., Henry VII., and Henry VIII., was published in 1869 by the Camden Society; edited by Thomas Stapleton, from Sir Edward Plumpton's "Book of Letters."

In the reign of Henry II., Gilbert de Plumpton, a youthful scion of the family, was living at Plumpton. As the Plumptons were then comparatively small land-owners, and as they had high aspirations, aiming at the knightly or baronial degree, it behoved them to improve their landed estates by prudent marriages with heiresses, and thus qualify themselves for a higher position in the county. Young Gilbert, then approaching manhood, therefore cast his eyes about him with that purpose. His range of vision was rather restricted, as people in those days, owing to the badness of the roads and other causes, rarely travelled far away from home, and were almost compelled to select their wives and husbands from amongst their neighbours, seldom going beyond the bounds of their native counties to enter into matrimonial alliances. Besides this, eligible heiresses were but few in number, and being under the guardianship of the King, or of some one appointed by him, whose consent was necessary for marriage, it being a serious offence to marry an heiress without such pre-consent, it became a difficult matter, even when an heiress was found and her affections secured, to consummate their reciprocal love by a conjugal union; especially as Kings were then wont to use their power over their fair wards in a very arbitrary and tyrannical fashion, by bestowing their hands and inheritances on their favourites, or in reward for some service, without the least consideration for the pleasure or will of the person most concerned--the lady herself.

About this time Roger de Guilevast, or, as he is sometimes called, Richard Wardwast, a wealthy land-owner, in the neighbourhood of Plumpton, died, and left his only daughter, Eleanor, heiress to his extensive possessions. This young lady, Gilbert had encountered when out with his hounds one day, some twelve months previously. He had been searching for game in the woodlands of the picturesque scenery which surrounds Plumpton, and had come to the lake, when he was startled by the sight of an exquisitely beautiful young girl wandering along the sh.o.r.e, and seemingly enjoying the beautiful prospect of land, water, and foliaged trees. He accosted her, and she readily entered into conversation with him, when he was as much struck by her wit and sensible remarks as he had previously been by her beauty. She informed him who she was, and who her father, and he imparted to her the same information respecting himself, and they discovered that, although they had never chanced to meet previously, they were well acquainted with each other's families. Gilbert therefore knew that if her father died without other issue his estates would descend to her as his heiress. Here he thought was the chance he had been hoping for; but as he was of a cautious, calculating disposition, he considered that her father, not yet aged, might still have a son, to whom the lands would pa.s.s, and leave her with nothing more than a slender marriage portion; and although he saw that she was beautiful and accomplished, and was just the wife whom he would choose if personal charms were the chief consideration, he could not, in justice to his family and his own aspirations, marry a dowerless maiden, and he resolved not to commit himself too far until he saw more as to the chance of her succession to the estates. Still he determined not to lose sight of her altogether, and that it would be well in the meantime to inspire her heart with the sentiment of love towards him, if it were possible to do so.

"Do you often walk in this direction?" he asked.

"Oh yes," she replied, "in the beautiful summer sunshine, when the trees are clad in their bright vestments of green, and the flowers are opening their petals and giving forth perfume from every bank; when the birds are singing joyfully overhead, and the hum of the bees and other insects add a pleasing undertone to their louder carolling--I love to wander alone with Nature for my companion. And you! Do you care to commune with Nature? or only feel a pleasure in going forth in the forest lands and pastures, to destroy the innocent and beautiful creatures who enjoy their existence as much as you do yourself?" And so saying, she pointed interrogatively at his dogs, which were barking and sniffing about among the bushes.

"Oh!" answered he, "believe not that my sole delight is in the chase.

Nature has sent certain animals into the world to supply us with food, and it is right to deprive them of life before placing them on the table; nor do I think it wrong to destroy noxious animals, such as wolves and foxes, and it is only on such that I wage war; nothing do I kill out of wanton sport. I experience pleasure in the sight of the rising and the setting sun, I can look with delight on the glories of a landscape, such as that which is spread around us, and witness with a thrill of sublime awe the warring of the elements in a tempest."

Thus they conversed for some time, mutually interested in each other's conversation, and before parting arranged to meet at set times near the huge rock which rises out of the water and stretches for a length of fifty feet, and which still attracts thousands of tourists to wonder at and admire it.

Many times did they meet there, and their love ripened at each interview, Gilbert almost forgetting the demands of his family for heiresses, and almost resolving to seek her hand, even in case of a brother coming to claim the inheritance; but some six months afterwards, Eleanor's father "went the way of all flesh," and she became really an heiress, when Gilbert commenced making love to her in real earnest, his own private inclinations coinciding now with what was due to his consideration of the interests of his family.