CHAPTER XIV.
A brief pause followed the entrance of this unexpected visitor. Standingupon the threshold, his dark brow knit, his eyes fixed on his prisoners,the Earl of Buchan stood a few minutes immovable. Alan saw but amail-clad warrior, more fierce and brutal in appearance than thegenerality of their foes, and felt, with all that heart-sinkingdespondency natural to youth, that they were betrayed, that resistancewas in vain, for heavier and louder grew the tramp of horse and man, andthe narrow passage, discernible through the open door, was filled withsteel-clad forms, their drawn swords glancing in the torchlight, theirdark brows gleaming in ill-concealed triumph. Alan was still a boy inyears, despite his experience as a warrior, and in the first agony ofthis discovery, the first dream of chains and captivity, when his youngspirit revelled in the thought of freedom, and joyed as a bird in thefresh air of mount and stream, weaving bright hopes, not exile orwandering could remove, his impulse had been to dash his useless swordin anguish to the earth, and weep; but the sight of his mother checkedthat internal weakness. He felt her convulsive clasp; he beheld theexpression on her features,--how unlike their wont--terror, suffering,whose _entire_ cause he vainly endeavored to define, and he rousedhimself for her. And she, did she see more than her son? She _knew_ thatface, and as she gazed, she felt hope had departed; she beheld naughtbut a long, endless vista of anguish; yet she felt not for herself, shethought but of her child. And the earl, can we define his exultingmood?--it was the malice, the triumph of a fiend.
"Who and what art thou?" demanded Alan, fiercely, laying his right handon his sword, and with the left firmly clasping his mother's waist."What bold knight and honorable chevalier art thou, thus seeking bystealth the retreat of a wanderer, and overpowering by numbers andtreachery men, who on the field thou and such as thou had never dared tomeet?"
The earl laughed; that bitter, biting laugh of contempt and triumph sodifficult to bear.
"Thou hast a worthy tongue, my pretty springald," said he; "canst thouuse thy sword as bravely? Who and what am I? ask of the lady thou hastso caressingly encircled with thine arm, perchance she can give theeinformation."
Alan started, a cold thrill passed through his frame, as the real causeof his mother's terror flashed on his mind; her lips, parched andquivering, parted as to speak, but there was no sound.
"Mother," he said, "mother, speak to thy son. Why, why art thou thus?it is not the dread of imprisonment, of death. No, no; they have noterrors for such as thee. Who is this man?"
Engrossed in his own agitation, Alan had not heard the mutteredexclamation which burst from Buchan's lips with his first words, forgreat was the earl's surprise as he looked on his son; the impression hewas still a child had remained on his mind despite all reports to thecontrary, but no softer feeling obtained dominion.
"Who and what am I?" he continued, after a brief pause. "Wouldst thouknow, Alan of Buchan? Even a faithful knight, soldier, and subject ofhis Royal Highness Edward, king of England and Scotland, andconsequently thy foe; the insulted and dishonored husband of the womanthou callest mother, and consequently thy father, young man. Ha! have Ispoken home? Thy sword, thy sword; acknowledge thy disloyalty to thyfather and king, and for thee all may yet be well."
"Never!" answered Alan, proudly, the earl's concluding words rousing thespirit which the knowledge of beholding his father and the emotion ofhis mother seemed to have crushed. "Never, Lord of Buchan! for father Icannot call thee. Thou mayest force me to resign my sword, thou mayestbring me to the block, but acknowledge allegiance to a foreign tyrant,who hath no claims on Scotland or her sons, save those of hate anddetestation, that thou canst never do, even if thy sword be pointed atmy heart."
"Boy!" burst from the earl's lips, in accents of irrepressible rage, buthe checked himself; "thou hast learned a goodly lesson of disobedienceand daring, of a truth, and I should tender grateful thanks to thy mostworthy, most efficient and virtuous teacher," he added, in his ownbitterly sarcastic tone. "The Lady Isabella deems, perchance, she hasdone her duty to her husband in placing a crown on the head of hishereditary and hated foe, and leading his son in the same path ofrebellion and disloyalty, and giving his service to the murderer of hiskinsman."
"Earl of Buchan, I have done my duty alike to my country and my son,"replied the countess, her high spirit roused by the taunts of herhusband. "According to the dictates of my conscience, mine honor as aScottish woman, the mother of a Scottish warrior, I have done my duty,and neither imprisonment, nor torture, nor death will bid me retractthose principles, or waver in my acknowledgment of Scotland and herking. Pardon me, my lord; but there is no rebellion in resisting theinfringement of a tyrant, no disloyalty in raising the standard againstEdward, for there is no treason when there is no lawful authority; andby what right is Edward of England king of Scotland? Lord of Buchan, Ihave done my duty. As my father taught _me_ I have taught my child!"
"Regarding, of course, madam, all which that child's father would havetaught him, particularly that most Christian virtue returning good forevil, as in the fact of revenging the death of a kinsman with the giftof a crown. Oh! thou hast done well, most intrinsically well."
"I own no relationship with a traitor," burst impetuously from Alan."Sir John Comyn was honored in his death, for the sword of the Bruce wastoo worthy a weapon for the black heart of a traitor. Lord of Buchan, weare in thy power, it is enough. Hadst thou wished thy son to imbibe thypeculiar principles, to forget his country and her lights, it had beenbetter perchance hadst thou remembered thou hadst a child--a son. Hadthe duty of a father been performed, perchance I had not now forgottenmine as a son! As it is, we stand as strangers and as foes. Against theein truth I will not raise my sword; but further, we are severed andforever!" He crossed his arms proudly on his bosom, and returned thedark, scowling glance of his father with a flashing eye, and a mien asfirm and nobler than his own.
"It is well, young man; I thank you for my freedom," returned the earl,between his teeth. "As my son, I might stand between thee and Edward'swrath; as a stranger and my foe, why, whatever his sentence be--the axeand block without doubt--let it work, it will move me little."
"Heed not his rash words, in mercy, heed them not!" exclaimed thecountess, her voice of agony contrasting strangely with its former proudreserve. "Neglected, forgotten him as thou hast, yet, Lord of Buchan, heis still thy son. Oh, in mercy, expose him not to the deadly wrath ofEdward! thou canst save him, thou canst give him freedom. It is I--I whoam the attainted traitor, not my child. Give me up to Edward, and hewill heed not, ask not for thy son. It is I who have offended him andthee, not my child. Art thou not a Scottish noble, descendant of ahouse as purely loyal and devoted to their country as mine own--art thounot indeed this man, and yet hath Edward, the deadly foe of thy race,thy land, thy countrymen, more exalted claims than thine own blood? No,no, it cannot be! thou wilt relent, thou wilt have mercy; let him be butfree, and do with me even what thou wilt!"
"Free! go free!" repeated the earl, with a hoarse laugh, ere Alan couldinterfere. "Let him go free, forsooth, when he tells me he is my foe,and will go hence and join my bitterest enemies the moment he is free.Go free! and who art thou who askest this boon? Hast thou such claimsupon me, that for thy pleasure I should give freedom to thy son?"
"My lord, my lord, 'tis for thine own sake, for his, thy child as wellas mine, I do beseech, implore thy mercy? draw not the curse of heavenon thy heart by exposing him to death. Thou wilt know and feel him asindeed thy child when he lies bleeding before thee, when thine own handhath forged the death-bolt, and then, then it will be too late; thouwilt yearn for his voice in vain. Oh! is it not sufficient triumph tohave in thy power the wife who hath dared thy authority, who hath joinedthe patriot band, and so drawn down on her the vengeance of Edward? Theprice of a traitor is set upon her head. My lord, my lord, is not onevictim enough--will not my capture insure thee reward and honor in thecourt of Edward? Then do with me what thou wilt--chains, torture, death;but my child, my brave boy--oh, if thou h
ast one spark of mercy in thyheart, let him go!"
"Mother," hoarsely murmured Alan, as he strove to raise her from hersuppliant posture, "mother, this shall not be! look upon that face andknow thou pleadest in vain. I will not accept my freedom at such aprice; thy knee, thy supplications unto a heart of stone, for me! No,no; mother, dear mother, we will die together!"
"Thou shalt not, thou shalt not, my beloved, my beautiful! thy deathwill be on my head, though it come from a father's hand. I will plead, Iwill be heard! My lord, my lord," she continued, wrought to a pitch ofagonized feeling, no heart save that to which she pleaded could haveheard unmoved, "I ask but his freedom, the freedom of a boy, achild--and of whom do I ask it?--of his father, his own father! Speak tome, answer me; thou canst not be so lost to the voice, the feelings ofnature. For the sake of the mother who loved, the father who blessed_thee_, whose blessing hallowed our union and smiled on our infant boy,have mercy on me, on thyself--let him, oh, let him be free!"
"Mercy on thee, thou false and perjured woman!" the earl burst forth,the cold sarcastic expression with which he had at first listened to herimpassioned entreaties giving way to the fearful index of ungovernedrage; "on thee, thou false traitress, not alone to thy husband'sprinciples but to his honor! Do I not know thee, minion--do I not knowthe motives of thy conduct in leaving thy husband's castle for the courtof Bruce? Patriotism, forsooth--patriotism, ha! the patriotism that hadvent in giving and receiving love from him; it was so easy to do homageto him in public as thy king. Oh, most rare and immaculate specimen offemale loyalty and virtue, I know thee well!"
"Man!" answered the countess, springing from her knee, and standingbefore him with a mien and countenance of such majestic dignity, thatfor a brief moment it awed even him, and her bewildered son gazed at herwith emotions of awe, struggling with surprise.
"Ha! faithless minion, thou bravest it well," continued Buchan,determined on evincing no faltering in his purpose, "but thou bravest itin vain; dishonored thou art, and hast been, aye, from the time thyminion Robert visited thee in Buchan Tower, and lingered with thee themonths he had disappeared from Edward's court. Would Isabella of Buchanhave rendered homage to any other bold usurper, save her minion Robert?Would the murder of a Comyn have passed unavenged by her had themurderer been other than her gallant Bruce? Would Isabella of Buchan behere, the only female in the Bruce's train--for I know that he is withthee--were loyalty and patriotism her only motive? Woman, I know thee! Iknow that thou didst love him, ere that false hand and falser heart weregiven to me; thy lips spoke perfidy when they vowed allegiance at thealtar; and shall I have mercy on thy son, for such as thee? Mercy! ha,have I silenced thy eloquence now?"
"Silenced, false, blasphemous villain!" vociferated Alan, every otherfeeling lost in the whirlwind of passion, and springing on the earl,with his drawn sword. "'Tis thou who art the false and faithless--thouwho art lost to every feeling of honor and of truth. Thy words are falseas hell, from whence they spring!"
"Alan, by the love thou bearest me, I charge thee put up thy sword--itis thy father!" exclaimed, the countess, commandingly, and speaking thelast word in a tone that thrilled to the boy's heart. He checked himselfin his full career; he snapped his drawn sword in twain, he cast itpassionately from him, and uttering, convulsively, "Oh God, oh God, myfather!" flung himself in agony on the ground. With arms folded and thesmile of a demon on his lip the earl had awaited his attack, but therewas disappointment within, for his foul charge had failed in itsintended effect. Prouder, colder, more commandingly erect had become themein of the countess as he spoke, till she even appeared to increase instature; her flashing eyes had never moved from his face, till his fellbeneath them; her lip had curled, his cheek had flushed: powerful indeedbecame the contrast between the accused and the accuser.
"Arise, my son," she said, "arise and look upon thy mother; her broweven as her heart is unstained with shame; she fears not to meet theglance of her child. Look up, my boy; I speak these words to _thee_, notto that bold, bad man, who hath dared unite the name of a daughter ofFife with shame. He hath no word either of exculpation, denial, orassent from me. But to thee, my child, my young, my innocent child,thee, whose ear, when removed from me, they may strive to poison withfalse tales, woven with such skill that hadst thou not thy mother'sword, should win thee to belief--to thee I say, look on me, Alan--isthis a brow of guilt?"
"No, no, no, I will not look on thee, my mother! I need not to gaze onthee to know the horrid falsity of the charge," answered Alan, flinginghis arms passionately around his mother. "Did I never see thee more,never list that voice again, and did all the fiends of hell come aroundme with their lies, I would not hear, much less believe such charge. No,no! oh God, 'tis my father, speaks it! Father--and my hand is powerlessto avenge."
"I need not vengeance, my beloved; grieve not, weep not that thy hand ischained, and may not defend thy mother's stainless name; I need it not.My heart is known unto my God, my innocence to thee; his blessing restwith thee, my beautiful, and give thee strength for all thou mayestendure."
She bent down to kiss his brow, which was damp with the dew of intenseanguish. He started up, he gave one long look on her calm and nobleface, and then he flung himself in her arms, and sobbed like a child onher bosom. It was a fearful moment for that woman heart; had she beenalone with her child, both nerve and spirit must have given way, butfortunately, perhaps, for the preservation of her fortitude, the Earl ofBuchan was still the witness of that scene, triumphing in the sufferingshe had caused. The countess did indeed fold her boy convulsively to herbreast, but she did not bend her head on his, as Nature prompted; it wasstill erect; her mien majestic still, and but a slight quivering in herbeautiful lip betrayed emotion.
"Be firm; be thy noble self," she said. "Forget not thou art a knightand soldier amid the patriots of Scotland. And now a while, farewell."
She extricated herself with some difficulty from his embrace; she pausednot to gaze again upon the posture of overwhelming despondency in whichhe had sunk, but with a step quick and firm advanced to the door.
"Whither goest thou, madam?" demanded the earl fiercely. "Bold as thouart, it is well to know thou art a prisoner, accused of high treasonagainst King Edward."
"I need not your lordship's voice to give me such information," sheanswered, proudly. "Methinks these armed followers are all-sufficientevidence. Guard me, aye, confine me with fetters an thou wilt, but inthy presence thou canst not force me to abide."
"Bid a last farewell to thy son, then, proud minion," he replied, withfiendish malignity; "for an ye part now, it is forever. Ye see him notagain."
"Then be it so," she rejoined; "we shall meet where falsehood andmalignant hate can never harm us more," and with a gesture of dignity,more irritating to the earl than the fiercest demonstration of passion,she passed the threshold. A sign from Buchan surrounded her with guards,and by them she was conducted to a smaller apartment, which was firstcarefully examined as to any concealed means of escape, and then she wasleft alone, a strong guard stationed at the door.
The first few minutes after the disappearance of the countess werepassed by her husband in rapidly striding up and down the room, by herson, in the same posture of mute and motionless anguish in which she hadleft him. There is no need to define that suffering, his peculiarsituation is all-sufficient to explain it. Hurriedly securing the doorfrom all intruders, the earl at length approached his son.
"Wouldst thou be free?" he said, abruptly. "Methinks thou art youngenough still to love liberty better than chains, and perchance death.Speak, I tell thee; wouldst thou be free?"
"Free!" answered Alan, raising his head, with flashing eye and burningcheek; "would I be free? Ask of the chained lion, the caged bird, andthey will tell thee the greenwood and forest glade are better, dearer,even though the chain were gemmed, the prison gilded. Would I be free?Thou knowest that I would."
"Swear, then, that thou wilt quit Scotland, and vow fealty to Edward;that never more will thy sword be rais
ed save against the contemned andhated Bruce. Be faithful but to me and to King Edward, and thou shalt befree."
"Never!" answered Alan, proudly. "Earl of Buchan, I accept no conditionswith my freedom; I will not be free, if only on this base condition.Turn recreant and traitor to my country and my king! resign the preciousprivilege of _dying_, if I may not _live_, for Scotland--I tell thee,never! Urge me no more."
"Nay, thou art but a boy, a foolish boy," continued the earl, strugglingto speak persuadingly, "incapable of judging that which is right andbest. I tell thee, I will give thee not freedom alone, but honor,station, wealth; I will acknowledge thee as my well-beloved son andheir; I will forget all that is past; nay, not e'en thy will or actionswill I restrain; I will bind thee by no vow; thou shalt take no partwith Edward; I will interfere not with thy peculiar politics; e'en whatthou wilt thou shalt do, aye, and have--and all this but on onecondition, so slight and simple that thou art worse than fool an thourefusest."
"Speak on," muttered Alan, without raising his head. "I hear."
"Give me but information of the movements of him thou callest king,"replied Buchan, in a low yet emphatically distinct voice; "give me but ahint as to where we may meet him in combat--in all honorable andknightly combat, thou knowest that I mean--give me but information suchas this, and thou art free, unshackled, in condition as in limb."
"In other words, _betray him,_" replied Alan, starting up. "Purchase myfreedom with the price of his! mine, of nothing worth, aye, less thannothing, redeemed by his! Oh, shame, shame on thee, my lord! Well mayestthou offer me freedom of action as in will on such condition. Of littleheed to Edward were the resistance of all Scotland, were Robert in hispower. Honor, station, wealth!--oh, knowest thou the human heart solittle as to believe these can exist with black treachery and fellremorse? Once and forever, I tell thee thine offers are in vain. Weredeath in one scale, and free, unshackled liberty in the other, and thoubadest me choose between, I would not so stain my soul. Death, deathitself were welcome, aye, worse than death--confinement, chains. I wouldhug them to my heart as precious boons, rather than live and walk theearth a traitor."
"Beware!" muttered the earl; "tempt me not too far, rash boy. I wouldnot do thee ill; I would have pity on thy erring youth, remembering theevil counsels, the base heart which hath guided thee."
"Do thou beware!" retorted Alan, fiercely. "Speak not such foul words tome. Father, as I know thou art in blood, there are ties far strongerwhich bind me to my mother--ties, neglect, forgetfulness, indifferenceas thine can never know. Pity, aye, mercy's self, I scorn them, for Ineed them not."
"Ha! sayest thou so; then I swear thou shalt not have them!" exclaimedthe earl, rage again obtaining the ascendant. "I would have saved thee;I would have given thee freedom, though I needed not the condition thatI offered. Thinkest thou I do not know that the traitor Bruce and hisfollowers will return hither, and fall into the net prepared? thinkestthou I know not he is with thee, aye, that he would not have left hispatriot countess thus slightly guarded, an he hoped not to returnhimself? He cannot escape me--the murder of Sir John Comyn will beavenged."
"He shall, he will escape thee, proud earl," undauntedly returned Alan."The savior of his wretched country will not be forced to bow beforesuch as thee; he will be saved out of the net prepared--harassed,chased, encompassed as he is. I tell thee, Earl of Buchan, he willescape thee yet."
"Then, by heaven, thy head shall fall for his!" fiercely replied theearl. "If he return not, he has been forewarned, prepared, and I, foolas I was, have thought not of this danger. Look to it, proud boy, if theBruce return not forty-eight hours hence, and thou art still silent,thou diest."
He held up his clenched hand in a threatening attitude, but Alan neithermoved nor spoke, firmly returning the earl's infuriated gaze till thedoor closed on his father's retreating form. He heard the bolts drawn,the heavy tramp of the guard, and then he threw himself on the couch,and buried his face in his hands.