CHAPTER XX.
It was something past the hour of nine, when Agnes, leaning on the armof Sir Christopher Seaton, and followed by Lady Seaton and two younggirls, their attendants, entered the church, and walked, with anunfaltering step and firm though modest mien, up to the altar, besidewhich Nigel already stood. She was robed entirely in white, without thesmallest ornament save the emerald clasp which secured, and thebeautiful pearl embroidery which adorned her girdle. Her mantle was ofwhite silk, its little hood thrown back, disclosing a rich lining of thewhite fox fur. Lady Seaton had simply arranged her hair in its ownbeautiful curls, and not a flower or gem peeped through them; a silverbodkin secured the veil, which was just sufficiently transparent topermit her betrothed to look upon her features, and feel that, pale andstill as they were, they evinced no change in her generous purpose. He,too, was pale, for he felt those rites yet more impressively holy thanhe had deemed them, even when his dreams had pictured them peculiarlyand solemnly holy; for he looked not to a continuance of life andhappiness, he felt not that ceremony set its seal upon joy, and boundit, as far as mortality might hope, forever on their hearts. He wasconscious only of the deep unutterable fulness of that gentle being'slove, of the bright, beautiful lustre with which it shone upon his path.The emotion of his young and ardent breast was perhaps almost too holy,too condensed, to be termed joy; but it was one so powerful, so blessed,that all of earth and earthly care was lost before it. The fears anddoubts which he had so lately felt, for the time completely faded fromhis memory. That there were foes without and yet darker foes within hemight have known perhaps, but at that moment they did not occupy afleeting thought. He had changed his dress for one of richness suited tohis rank, and though at the advice of his friends he still retained thebreastplate and some other parts of his armor, his doublet of azurevelvet, cut and slashed with white satin, and his long, flowing mantlelined with sable, and so richly decorated with silver stars that itscolor could scarcely be distinguished, removed all appearance of amartial costume, and well became the graceful figure they adorned; twoof the oldest knights and four other officers, all gayly attired as thehurry of the moment would permit, had at his own request attended him tothe altar.
Much surprise this sudden intention had indeed caused, but it was anexcitement, a change from the dull routine of the siege, andconsequently welcomed with joy, many indeed believing Sir Nigel hadrequested the truce for the purpose. Sir Christopher, too, though paleand gaunt, and compelled to use the support of a cane in walking, wasobserved to look upon his youthful charge with all his former hilarityof mien, chastened by a kindly tenderness, which seemed indeed that ofthe father whom he personated; and Lady Seaton had donned a richer garbthan was her wont, and stood encouragingly beside the bride. Abouttwenty men-at-arms, their armor and weapons hastily burnished, that nounseemly soil should mar the peaceful nature of the ceremony byrecalling thoughts of war, were ranged on either side. The church waslighted, dimly in the nave and aisles, but softly and somewhat with aholy radiance where the youthful couple knelt, from the large waxentapers burning in their silver stands upon the altar.
The Abbot of Scone was at his post, attended by the domestic chaplain ofKildrummie; there was a strange mixture of admiration and anxiety on theold man's face, but Agnes saw it not; she saw nothing save him at whoseside she knelt.
Nigel, even in the agitation of mind in which he had quitted Agnes--anagitation scarcely conquered in hastily informing his sister and herhusband of all that had passed between them, and imploring theircountenance and aid--yet made it his first care strictly to make theround of the walls, to notice all that might be passing within thecourts, and see that the men-at-arms were at their posts. In consequenceof the truce, for the conclusion of which it still wanted some littletime, there were fewer men on the walls than usual, their commandershaving desired them to take advantage of this brief cessation ofhostilities and seek refreshment and rest. A trumpet was to sound at thehour of ten, half an hour before the truce concluded, to summon themagain to their posts. The men most acute in penetration, most firm andsteady in purpose, Nigel selected as sentries along the walls; the postof each being one of the round towers we have mentioned, the remainingspaces were consequently clear. Night had already fallen, and anxiouslyobserving the movements on the walls; endeavoring to discover whetherthe various little groups of men and women in the ballium meant anything more than usual, Sir Nigel did not notice various piles or stacksof straw and wood which were raised against the wall in many parts wherethe shadows lay darkest, and some also against the other granaries whichwere contained in low, wooden buildings projecting from the wall.Neither he nor his friends, nor even the men-at-arms, noticed them, orif they did, imagined them in the darkness to be but the stones andother weights generally collected there, and used to supply the engineson the wails.
With the exception of the sentries and the men employed by Nigel, allthe garrison had assembled in the hall of the keep for their eveningmeal, the recollection of whose frugality they determined to banish bythe jest and song; there were in consequence none about the courts, andtherefore that dark forms were continually hovering about beneath thedeep shadows of the walls, increasing the size of the stacks, remainedwholly undiscovered.
Agnes had entered the church by a covered passage, which united the keepto its inner wall, and thence by a gallery through the wall itself,dimly lighted by loopholes, to the edifice, whose southern side wasformed by this same wall. It was therefore, though in reality situatedwithin the ballium or outer court, nearer by many hundred yards to thedwelling of the baron than to the castle walls, its granaries, towers,etc. This outward ballium indeed was a very large space, giving theappearance of a closely-built village or town, from the number of lowwooden and thatched-roofed dwellings, which on either side of the largeopen space before the great gate were congregated together. This accountmay, we fear at such a moment, seem somewhat out of place, but events inthe sequel compel us to be thus particular. A space about half a milesquare surrounded the church, and this position, when visited, by SirNigel at nine o'clock, was quiet and deserted; indeed there was verymuch less confusion and other evidences of disquiet within the dwellingsthan was now usual, and this circumstance perhaps heightened the calmwhich, as we have said, had settled on Sir Nigel's mind.
There was silence within that little sacred edifice, the silence ofemotion; for not one could gaze upon that young fair girl, could thinkof that devoted spirit, which at such a time preferred to unite her fatewith a beloved one than seek safety and freedom in flight, without beingconscious of a strange swelling of the heart and unwonted moisture inthe eye; and there was that in the expression of the beautiful featuresof Nigel Bruce none could remark unmoved. He was so young, so gifted, sostrangely uniting the gift of the sage, the poet, with the gloriousachievements of the most perfect knight, that he had bound himself aliketo every heart, however varied their dispositions, however oppositetheir tastes; and there was not one, from the holy Abbot of Scone to thelowest and rudest of the men-at-arms, who would not willingly, aye,joyfully have laid down life for his, have gladly accepted chains togive him freedom.
The deep, sonorous voice of the abbot audibly faltered as he commencedthe sacred service, and looked on the fair beings kneeling, in thebeauty and freshness of their youth, before him. Accustomed, however, tocontrol every human emotion, he speedily recovered himself, anduninterruptedly the ceremony continued. Modestly, yet with a voice thatnever faltered, Agnes made the required responses; and so deep was thestillness that reigned around not a word was lost, but, sweetly andclearly as a silver clarion, it sunk on every ear and thrilled to everyheart; to his who knelt beside her, as if each tone revealed yet morethe devoted love which led her there. Towards the conclusion of theservice, and just as every one within the church knelt in generalprayer, a faint, yet suffocating odor, borne on what appeared a lightmist, was distinguished, and occasioned some slight surprise; by thegroup around the altar, however, it was unnoticed; and the men-a
t-arms,on looking towards the narrow windows and perceiving nothing but theintense darkness of the night, hushed the rising exclamation, andcontinued in devotion. Two of the knights, too, were observed to glancesomewhat uneasily around, still nothing was perceivable but the lightwreaths of vapor penetrating through the northern aisle, and dissolvingere long the arches of the roof. Almost unconsciously they listened, andbecame aware of some sounds in the distance, but so faint andindefinable as to permit them to rest in the belief that it must be themen-at-arms hurrying from the keep to the walls, although they werecertain the trumpet had not yet sounded. Determined not to heed suchvague sounds, they looked again to the altar. The abbot had laid atrembling hand on either low-bent head, and was emphatically pronouncinghis blessing on their vows, calling on heaven in its mercy to bless andkeep them, and spare them to each other for a long and happy life; or ifit must be that a union commenced in danger should end in sorrow, tokeep them still, and fit them for a union in eternity. His words werefew but earnest, and for the first time the lip of Agnes was observed toquiver--they were ONE. Agnes was clasped to the heart of herhusband; she heard him call her his own--his wife--that man should neverpart them more. The voice of congratulation woke around her, but ereeither could gaze around to look their thanks, or clasp the eagerlyproffered hand, a cry of alarm, of horror, ran though the building. Ared, lurid light, impossible to be mistaken, illumined every window, asfrom a fearful conflagration without; darkness had fled before it. Onall sides it was light--light the most horrible, the most awful, thoughperchance the most fascinating the eye can behold; fearful shouts andcries, and the rush of many feet, mingled with the now easilydistinguished roar of the devouring element, burst confusedly on theear. A minute sufficed to fling open the door of the church for knightsand men-at-arms to rush forth in one indiscriminate mass. SirChristopher would have followed them, utterly regardless of hisinability, had not his wife clung to him imploringly, and effectuallyrestrained him. The abbot, grasping the silver crosier by his side, witha swift, yet still majestic stride, made his way through the church, andvanished by the widely opened door. Agnes and Sir Nigel stoodcomparatively alone; not a cry, not a word passed her lips; everyfeature was wrapped in one absorbing look upon her husband. He hadclasped his hands convulsively together, his brow was knit, his lipcompressed, his eye fixed and rigid, though it gazed on vacancy.
"It hath fallen, it hath fallen!" he muttered. "Fool, fool that I wasnever to dream of this! Friends, followers, all I hold most dear,swallowed up in this fell swoop! God of mercy, how may it be born! Andthou, thou," he added, in increased agony, roused from that stupor bythe wild shouts of "Sir Nigel, Sir Nigel! where is he? why does he tarryin such an hour?" that rung shrilly on the air. "Agnes, mine own, it isnot too late even now to fly. Ha! son of Dermid, in good tune thou arthere; save her, in mercy save her! I know not when, or how, or where wemay meet again; I may not tarry here." He clasped her in his arms,imprinted an impassioned kiss on her now death-like cheek, placed her atonce in the arms of the seer (who, robed as a minstrel, had stoodconcealed behind a projecting pillar during the ceremony, and nowapproached), and darted wildly from the church. What a scene met hisgaze! All the buildings within the ballium, with the sole exception ofthe church, were in one vivid blaze of fire; the old dry wood and thatchof which they were composed, kindling with a mere spark. The wind blewthe flames in the direction of the principal wall, which was alreadyignited from the heaps of combustibles that had been raised within forthe purpose; although it was likely that, from its extreme thickness andstrength, the fire had there done but partial evil, had not theconflagration within the court spread faster and nearer every moment,and from the blazing rafters and large masses of thatch caught by thewind and hurled on the very wall, done greater and more irreparablemischief than the combustibles themselves. Up, up, seeming to the veryheavens, the lurid flames ascended, blazing and roaring, and lightingthe whole scene as with the glare of day. Fantastic wreaths of red firedanced in the air against the pitchy blackness of the heavens, risingand falling in such graceful, yet terrible shapes, that the very eyefelt riveted in admiration, while the heart quailed with horror.Backwards and forwards gleamed the forms of men in the dusky glare; andoaths and cries, and the clang of swords, and the shrieks of women,terrified by the destruction they had not a little assisted toignite--the sudden rush of horses bursting from their stables, andflying here and there, scared by the unusual sight and horridsounds--the hissing streams of water which, thrown from huge buckets onthe flames, seemed but to excite them to greater fury instead oflessening their devouring way--the crackling of straw and wood, as ofthe roar of a hundred furnaces--these were the varied sounds and sightsthat burst upon the eye and ear of Nigel, as, richly attired as he was,his drawn sword in his hand, his fair hair thrown back from hisuncovered brow and head, he stood in the very centre of the scene. Oneglance sufficed to perceive that the rage of the men-at-arms was turnedon their treacherous countrymen; that the work of war raged eventhen--the swords of Scotsmen were raised against each other. Even womenfell in that fierce slaughter, for the demon of revenge was at work, andsought but blood. In vain the holy abbot, heedless that one sudden gustand his flowing garments must inevitably catch fire, uplifted hiscrosier, and called on them to forbear. In vain the officers rushedamidst the infuriated men, bidding them keep their weapons and theirlives for the foe, who in such a moment would assuredly be upon them; invain they commanded, exhorted, implored; but on a sudden, the voice ofSir Nigel Bruce was heard above the tumult, loud, stern, commanding. Hisform was seen hurrying from group to group, turning back with his ownsword the weapons of his men, giving life even to those who had wroughtthis woe; and there was a sudden hush, a sudden pause.
"Peace, peace!" he cried. "Would ye all share the madness of these men?They have hurled down destruction, let them reap it; let them live tothrive and fatten in their chains; let them feel the yoke they pine for.For us, my friends and fellow-soldiers, let us not meet our gloriousfate with the blood of Scotsmen on our swords. We have striven for ourcountry; we have striven gloriously, faithfully, and now we have but todie for her. Ha! do I speak in vain? Again--back, coward! wouldst thouslay a woman?" and, with a sudden bound, he stood beside one of thesoldiers, who was in the act of plunging his dagger in the breast of akneeling and struggling female. One moment sufficed to wrench the daggerfrom his grasp, and release the woman from his hold.
"It is ill done, your lordship; it is the fiend, the arch-fiend that hasplanned it all," loudly exclaimed the man. "She has been heard to mutterthreats of vengeance, and blood and fire against thee, and all belongingto thee. Let her not go free, my lord; thou mayest repent it still."
"Repent giving a woman life?--bah! Thou art a fool, though a faithfulone," answered Sir Nigel; but even he started as he recognized thefeatures of Jean Roy. She gave him no time to restrain her, however;for, sliding from his hold, she bounded several paces from him, singing,as she did so, "Repent, ye shall repent! Where is thy buxom bride? JeanRoy will see to her safety. A bonny courtship ye shall have!" Tossing upher arms wildly, she vanished as she spoke; seeming in that light invery truth more like a fiend than woman. A chill sunk on the heart ofNigel, but, "No, no," he said, internally, as again he sought the spotwhere confusion and horror waxed thickest; "Dermid will care for Agnes,and guard her. I will not think of that mad woman's words." Yet even ashe rushed onwards, giving directions, commands, lending his aid to everyeffort made for extinguishing the fire, a prayer for his wife wasuttered in his heart.
The fire continued its rapid progress, buttress after buttress, towerafter tower caught on the walls, causing the conflagration to continue,even when, by the most strenuous efforts, it had been partiallyextinguished amongst the dwellings of the court. The wind blowing fromthe north fortunately preserved the keep, inner wall, and even thechurch, uninjured, save that the scorched and blackened sides of thelatter gave evidence of the close vicinity of the flames, and hownarrowly it had escaped. With saddened hearts, the nob
le defenders ofScotland's last remaining bulwark, beheld their impregnable wall, thescene of such dauntless valor, such unconquered struggles, against whichthe whole force of their mighty foes had been of no avail--that wallcrumbling into dust and ashes in their very sight, opening a broadpassage to the English foe. Yet still there was no evidence that toyield were preferable than to die; still, though well-nigh exhaustedwith their herculean efforts to quench the flames, there was nocessation, no pause, although the very height of the wall preventedsuccess, for they had not the facilities afforded by the engines of thepresent day. Sir Nigel, his knights, nay, the venerable abbot himself,seconded every effort of the men. It seemed as if little more could addto the horror of the scene, and yet the shouts of "The granaries, thegranaries--merciful heaven, all is consumed!" came with such appallingconsciousness on every ear, that for a brief while, the stoutest armhung powerless, the firmest spirit quailed. Famine stood suddenly beforethem as a gaunt, terrific spectre, whose cold hand it seemed had graspedtheir very hearts. Nobles and men, knights and soldiers, alike stoodparalyzed, gazing at each other with a blank, dim, unutterable despair.The shrill blast of many trumpets, the roll of heavy drums, broke thatdeep stillness. "The foe! the foe!" was echoed round, fiercely, yetrejoicingly. "They are upon us--they brave the flames--well done! Nowfirm and steady; to your arms--stand close. Sound trumpets--thedefiance, the Bruce and Scotland!" and sharply and clearly, as if butjust arrayed for battle, as if naught had chanced to bend those gallantspirits to the earth, the Scottish clarions sent back their answeringblast, and the men gathered in compact array around their gallantleader.
"My horse--my horse!" shouted Nigel Bruce, as he sprung from rank torank of the little phalanx, urging, commanding, entreating them to makeone last stand, and fall as befitted Scottish patriots. The keep andinner ballium was still their own as a place of retreat, however short aperiod it might remain so. A brave defence, a glorious death would stilldo much for Scotland.
Shouts, cheers, blessings on his name awoke in answer, as unfalteringly,as bravely as those of the advancing foes. Prancing, neighing, rearing,the superb charger was at length brought to the dauntless leader.
"Not thus, my lord; in heaven's name, do not mount thus, unarmed,bareheaded as thou art!" exclaimed several voices, and two or three ofhis esquires crowded round him. "Retire but for a brief space within thechurch."
"And turn my back upon my foes, Hubert; not for worlds! No, no; bring methe greaves, gauntlets, and helmet here, if thou wilt, and an they giveme time, I will arm me in their very teeth. Haste ye, my friends, if yewill have it so; for myself these garments would serve me well enough;"but ere he ceased to speak they had flown to obey, and returned ere adozen more of the English had made their way across the crumbling wall.Coolly, composedly, Nigel threw aside his mantle and doublet, andpermitted his esquires to assist in arming him, speaking at the sametime in a tone so utterly unconcerned, that ere their task was finished,his coolness had extended unto them. He had allowed some few of theEnglish to make an unmolested way; his own men were drawn up in closelines against the inner wall, so deep in shadow that they were at firstunobserved by the English. He could perceive by the still, clear lightof the flames, troop after troop of the besiegers were marching forwardin the direction both of the causeway and the river; several wereplunging in the moat, sword in hand, and attack threatened on everyside. He waited no longer; springing on his charger, with a movement sosudden and unexpected, the helmet fell from his esquire's hand, andwaving his sword above his undefended head, he shouted aloud hiswar-cry, and dashed on, followed by his men, to the spot where a largebody of his foes already stood.
Desperately they struggled, most gallantly they fought; man after man ofthe English fell before them. On, on they struggled; a path seemedcleared before them; the English were bearing back, despite theircontinued reinforcements from the troops, that so thronged the causewayit appeared but one mass of men. But other shouts rent the air. Thebesiegers now poured in on every side; wherever that gallant body turnedthey were met by English. On, on they came, fresh from some hours ofrepose, buoyed up by the certainty of conquest; unnumbered swords andspears, and coats of mail, gleaming in that lurid light; on came thefiery steeds, urged by the spur and rein, till through the very flamesthey bore their masters; on through the waters of the moat, up thescorching ruins, and with a sound as of thunder, clearing with a singlebound all obstacles into the very court. It was a fearful sight; thatlittle patriot band, hemmed in on every side, yet struggling to thelast, clearing a free passage through men and horse, and glancing swordsand closing multitudes, nearing the church, slowly, yet surely, formingin yet closer order as they advanced; there, there they stood, as asingle bark amid the troubled waves, cleaving them asunder, but to closeagain in fatal fury on her track.
In vain, amid that furious strife, did the Earl of Lancaster seek outthe azure plume and golden helmet that marked the foe he still desiredto meet; there was indeed a face, beautiful and glorious even in thatmoment, ever in the very thickest of the fight, alike the front, thecentre, the rear-guard of his men; there was indeed that stately form,sitting his noble charger as if horse and man were one; and thatunhelmed brow, that beautifully formed head, with its long curlsstreaming in the night wind, which towered unharmed, unbent, above hisfoes; and where that was, the last hope of his country had gathered. Theopen door of the church was gained, and there the Scottish patriots madea stand, defended in their rear by the building. A brief and desperatestruggle partially cleared their foes, and ere those in the rear couldpress forward, the besieged had disappeared, and the heavy doors wereclosed. The sudden pause of astonishment amidst the assailants wasspeedily dispelled by the heavy blows of axes and hatchets, the suddenshout "To the wall! to the wall!" while several ran to plantscaling-ladders and mount the inner barrier, left unhappily unguardedfrom the diminished numbers of the Scotch; there, however, theirprogress was impeded, for the space which that wall inclosed beingscarce half the size of the ballium, and the barrier itself uninjured,they were repulsed with loss from within. The church-doors meanwhile hadgiven way, and permitted ingress to the assailants, but the door leadingto the passage through the inner wall, and by which in reality theScotch had effected their retreat, was carefully closed and barredwithin, and had so completely the same appearance as the wall of thechurch in which it stood, that the English gazed round them fairlypuzzled and amazed.
This movement, however, on the part of the besieged occasioned a briefcessation of hostilities on both sides. The flames had subsided, excepthere and there, where the passing wind fanned the red-hot embers anewinto life, and caused a flickering radiance to pass athwart the pitchydarkness of the night, and over the bustling scene on either side theruins.
There was no moon, and Hereford imagined the hours of darkness might bebetter employed in active measures for resuming the attack by dawn thancontinuing it then. Much, very much had been gained: a very briefstruggle more he knew must now decide it, and he hoped, though againsthis better judgment, that the garrison, would surrender without furtherloss of blood. Terms he could not propose, none at least that couldprevail on the brave commanders to give up with life, and so great wasthe admiration Nigel's conduct had occasioned, that this true son ofchivalry ardently wished he would eventually fall in combat rather thanbe consigned to the fearful fate which he knew would be inflicted on himby the commands of Edward. Commands to the troops without were forwardedby trusty esquires; the wounded conveyed to the camp, and their placessupplied by fresh forces, who, with the joyous sound of trumpet anddrum, marched over by torchlight into the ballium, so long the covetedobject of their attack.
Sir Nigel meanwhile had desired his exhausted men to lie down in theirarms, ready to start up at the faintest appearance of renewedhostility, and utterly worn out, they most willingly obeyed. But theyoung knight himself neither shared nor sought for that repose; he stoodagainst a buttress on the walls, leaning on a tall spear, and gazing atonce upon his wearied followers, and keepin
g a strict watch on themovements of his foes. A tall form, clothed in complete armor, suddenlystood beside him; he started.
"Seaton!" he said; "thou here, and in armor?"
"Aye," answered the knight, his voice from very weakness sounding hollowin his helmet. "Aye, to make one last stand, and, if it may be, die as Ihave lived for Scotland. I have strength to strike one last blow, forlast it will be--all is lost!"
A low groan broke from Nigel's lips, but he made no further answer thanthe utterance of one word--"Agnes!"
"Is safe, I trust," rejoined the knight. "The son of Dermid, in whosearms I last saw her, knoweth many a secret path and hidden passage, andcan make his way wherever his will may lead."
"How! thinkest thou he will preserve her, save her even now from thefoe?"
"Aye, perchance conceal her till the castle be dismantled. But what dothey now? See, a herald and white flag," he added, abruptly, as by thelight of several torches a trumpeter, banner-bearer, herald, and fivemen-at-arms were discerned approaching the walls.
"What would ye? Halt, and answer," demanded Sir Nigel, recalled on theinstant to his sterner duties, and advancing, spear in hand, to theutmost verge of the wall.
"We demand speech of Sir Nigel Bruce and Sir Christopher Seaton,governors of this castle," was the brief reply.
"Speak on, then, we are before ye, ready to list your say. What wouldyour lords?"
"Give ye not admittance within the wall?" inquired the herald; "'tissomewhat strange parleying without."
"No!" answered Nigel, briefly and sternly; "speak on, and quickly. Wedoubt not the honor of the noble Earl of Hereford--it hath been toogloriously proved; but we are here to list your mission. What would ye?"
"That ye surrender this fortress by to-morrow's dawn, and strive nolonger with the destiny against you. Ye have neither men nor stores, andin all good and chivalric feeling, the noble Earls of Hereford andLancaster call on ye to surrender without further loss of blood."
"And if we do this?" demanded Nigel.
"They promise all honorable treatment and lenient captivity to theleaders of the rebels, until the pleasure of his grace the king beknown; protection to all females; liberty to those whose rank demandsnot their detention; and for the common soldiers, on the delivery oftheir arms and upper garments, and their taking a solemn oath thatwithin seven days they will leave Scotland never to return, liberty andlife shall be mercifully extended unto one and all."
"And if we do _not_ this?"
"Your blood be upon your own rebellious heads! Sacking and pillage musttake their course."
"Ye have heard," were the sole words that passed the lips of Nigel,turning to his men, who, roused by the first sound of the trumpet, hadstarted from their slumbers, and falling in a semicircle round him andSir Christopher, listened with intense eagerness to the herald's words."Ye have heard. Speak, then--your answer; yours shall be ours."
"Death! death! death!" was the universally reiterated shout. "We willstruggle to the death. Our king and country shall not say we desertedthem because we feared to die; or surrendered on terms of shame asthese! No; let the foe come on! we will die, if we may not live, stillpatriots of Scotland! King Robert will avenge us! God save the Bruce!"
Again, and yet again they bade God bless him; and startlingly andthrillingly was the united voice of that desperate, devoted band borneon the wings of night to the very furthest tents of their foes. CalmlySir Nigel turned again to the herald.
"Thou hast Scotland's answer," he said; "'tis in such men as these herglorious spirit lives! they will fall not unavenged. Commend us to yourmasters; we await them with the dawn," and, turning on his heel, hereassumed the posture of thought as if he had never been aroused.
The dawn uprose, the attack was renewed with increased vigor, anddefended with the same calm, determined spirit which had been evershown; the patriots fell where they fought, leaving fearful traces oftheir desperate courage in the numbers of English that surrounded each.It was now before the principal entrance to the keep they made theirfinal stand, and horrible was the loss of life, fierce and deadly thestrife, ere that entrance was forced, and the shrieks of women andchildren within proclaimed the triumph of the foe. Then came a shout,loud ringing, joyous, echoed and re-echoed by the blast of the trumpetsboth within and without, and the proud banner of Scotland was hurledcontemptuously to the earth, and the flag of England floated in itsplace. Many a dying eye, unclosed by those sudden sounds, looked on thatemblem of defeat and moved not in life again; others sprung up to theirfeet with wild shrieks of defiance, and fell back, powerless, in death.
Sir Christopher Seaton, whose exhausted frame could barely sustain theweight of his armor, had been taken in the first charge, fightingbravely, but falling from exhaustion to the earth. And where wasNigel?--hemmed in on all sides, yet seemingly unwounded, unconqueredstill, his face indeed was deadly pale, and there were moments when hisstrokes flagged as from an utter failing of strength; but if, onobserving this, his foes pressed closer, strength appeared to return,and still, still he struggled on. He sought for death; he felt that hedared his destiny, but death shunned him; he strove with his destiny invain. Not thus might he fall, the young, the generous, the gifted. Onfoot, his armor hacked and stained with blood, not yet had the word"yield" been shouted in his ear.
"Back, back! leave me this glorious prize!" shouted Lancaster, spurringon his charger through the crowd, and leaping from him the instant heneared the spot where Nigel stood. "Take heed of my gallant horse, Ineed him not--I shall not need him now. Ha! bareheaded too; well, soshall it be with me--hand to hand, foot to foot. Turn, noble Nigel, weare well-nigh equals now, and none shall come between us." He hastilyunclasped his helmet, threw it from his brow, and stood in the attitudeof defence.
One moment Sir Nigel paused; his closing foes had fallen from him at thewords of their leader; he hesitated one brief instant as to whetherindeed he should struggle more, or deliver up his sword to the generousearl, when the shout of triumph from the topmost turret, proclaiming theraising of the banner, fell upon his ear, and nerved him to the onset.
"Noble and generous!" he exclaimed, as their swords crossed. "Might Ichoose my fate, I would fall by thy knightly sword."
As stupefied with wonder at the skill, the extraordinary velocity andpower of the combatants, the men-at-arms stood round, without making onemovement to leave the spot; and fearful indeed was that deadly strife;equal they seemed in stature, in the use of their weapons, in everymystery of the sword; the eye ached with the rapid flashing of theblades, the ear tired of the sharp, unwavering clash, but still theyquailed not, moved not from the spot where the combat had commenced.
How long this fearful struggle would have continued, or who wouldfinally be victor, was undecided still, when suddenly the wild mockinglaugh of madness sounded in the very ear of Nigel, and a voice shoutedaloud, "Fight on, my bonny lord; see, see, how I care for your winsomebride," and the maniac form of Jean Roy rushed by through the thickestranks of the men, swift, swift as the lightning track. A veil of silvertissue floated from her shoulder, and she seemed to be bearing somethingin her arms, but what, the rapidity of her way precluded all discovery.The fierce soldiers shrunk away from her, as if appalled by her gaunt,spectral look, or too much scared by her sudden appearance to attemptdetaining her. The eye of Nigel involuntarily turned from his foe tofollow her; he recognized the veil, and fancy did the rest. He saw hernear a part of the wall which was tottering beneath the engines of theEnglish; there was a wild shriek in other tones than hers, the wallfell, burying the maniac in its ruins. A mist came over the senses ofthe young knight, strength suddenly fled his arm, he stepped back as torecover himself, but slipped and fell, the violence of the fall dashinghis sword many yards in air. "I yield me true prisoner, rescue or norescue," he said, in a tone so startling in its agony that the rudestheart beside him shrunk within itself appalled, and for a minuteLancaster checked the words upon his lips.
"Nay, nay, yield not in such tone, my gal
lant foe!" he said, with eagercourtesy, and with his own hand aiding him to rise. "Would that I werethe majesty of England, I should deem myself debased did I hold suchgallantry in durance. Of a truth, thou hast robbed me of my conquest,fair sir, for it was no skill of mine which brought thee to the ground.I may thank that shrieking mad woman, perchance, for the preservationof my laurels."
"I give you thanks for your courtesy, my lord," replied Sir Nigel,striving to recover himself; "but I pray you pardon me, if I beseech youlet that falling mass be cleared at once, and note if that unhappy womanbreathes. Methought," he added, in stronger agitation, "she carriedsomething in her arms."
"She did," answered many voices; "some child or girl, who wasstruggling, though the head was muffled up as if to prevent all sounds."
"See to it, and bring us news of what you find," said Lancaster,hastily, for the same ghastly expression passed over the countenance ofhis prisoner as had startled him at first. "Thou art not well, my goodlord?" he continued kindly.
"Nay, I am well, my lord; but I will go with you," replied the youngknight, slowly, as if collecting strength ere he could speak. "I amwearied with the turmoil of the last twelve hours' fighting against fireand sword at once; I would fain see the noble Hereford, and with hispermission rest me a brief while."
Lancaster made no further comment, and the two knights, who but a fewminutes before had been engaged in deadly strife, now made their waytogether through the heaps of the dying and the dead, through many agroup of rude soldiery, who scowled on Nigel with no friendly eye, forthey only recognized him as the destroyer of hundreds of theircountrymen, not the chivalric champion who had won the enthusiasticadmiration of their leaders, and soon found themselves in thecastle-hall, in the presence of the Earl of Hereford, who was surroundedby his noblest officers, Sir Christopher and Lady Seaton, and some fewother Scottish prisoners, most of whom were badly wounded. He advancedto meet Sir Nigel, courteously, though gravely.
"It grieves me," he said, "to receive as a prisoner a knight of suchhigh renown and such chivalric bearing as Sir Nigel Bruce; I would hehad kept those rare qualities for the sovereign to whom they werenaturally due, and who would have known how to have appreciated andhonor them, rather than shed such lustre on so weak a cause."
"Does your lordship regard the freedom of an oppressed country so weaka cause?" replied Nigel, the hot blood mounting to his cheek; "therising in defence of a rightful king, in lieu of slavishly adhering toone, who, though so powerful, all good men, aye, even all goodEnglishmen, must look on, in his claims to Scotland, as an ambitioususurper. My lord, my lord, the spirit of Hereford spoke not in thosewords; but I forgive them, for I have much for which to proffer thanksunto the noble Hereford, much, that his knightly soul scorned treacheryand gave us a fair field. Durance is but a melancholy prospect, yet anit must be I would not nobler captors."
"Nor would I forfeit the esteem in which you hold me, gallant sir,"replied the earl, "and therefore do I pray you, command my services inaught that can pleasure you, and an it interfere not with my duty to mysovereign, I shall be proud to give them. Speak, I pray you."
"Nay, I can ask naught which the Earl of Hereford hath not granted ofhimself," said Sir Nigel. "I would beseech you to extend protection toall the females of this unhappy castle; to part not my sister from herlord, for, as you see, his wounds and weakness call for woman's care; togrant the leech's aid to those who need it; and if there be some unhappymen of my faithful troop remaining, I would beseech you show mercy untothem, and let them go free--they can work no further ill to Edward; theycan fight no more for Scotland, for she lieth chained; they have no headand therefore no means of resistance--I beseech you give them freedomunshackled by conditions."
"It shall be, it shall be," replied Hereford, hastily, and evidentlymoved; "but for thyself, young sir, thyself, can we do naught for thee?"
"Nothing," answered the young man, calmly. "I need little more on earth,for neither my youth, my birth, nor what it pleaseth thee to term mygallantry, will save me from the sweeping axe of Edward. I would beseechthee to let my death atone for all, and redeem my noble friends; but Iask it not, for I know in this thou hast no power; and yet, though I asknothing now," he added, after a brief pause, and in a lower voice, as tobe heard only by Hereford, "ere we march to England I may have a boon tocrave--protection, liberty for a beloved one, whose fate as yet I knownot." He spoke almost inarticulately, for again it seemed the horridwords and maniac laugh of Jean Roy resounded in his ears. There wasthat in the look and manner of the English earl inviting confidence: amoment the tortured young man longed to pour all into his ear, toconjure him to find Agnes, and give her to his arms; the next herefrained, for her words, "Ask not how I will contrive to abide by theeundiscovered by the foe," suddenly flashed on his memory, with theconviction that if she were indeed still in life, and he acknowledgedher his wife, Hereford would feel himself compelled to keep her underrestraint, as he did Lady Seaton and the wives of other noble Scotsmen.His lip trembled, but fortunately for the preservation of his composure,Hereford's attention was called from him by the eager entrance ofseveral other officers, who all crowded round him, alike incongratulation, and waiting his commands, and perceiving he wasagitated, the earl turned from him with a courteous bow. Eagerly heseized that moment to spring to the side of his sister, to whisper theimpatient inquiry, "Agnes, where is Agnes?" To feel his heart a momentthrob high, and then sink again by her reply, that she had not seen hersince he had placed her in the arms of the seer; that in the fearfulconfusion which followed, she had looked for her in vain, examined allher accustomed haunts, but discovered no traces of her, save the silvertissue veil. There was, however, some hope in that; Jean Roy, misled bythe glittering article, and seeing it perchance in the hands of another,might have been deceived in her prey. Nay, he welcomed the uncertaintyof suspense; there was something so fearful, so horrible in the ideathat his own faithful Agnes was among those blackened and mangledbodies, which Lancaster informed him had been discovered beneath theruins, something so sickening, so revolting, he could not take advantageof the earl's offer to examine them himself, though, Lancaster added, itwould not be of much use, for he challenged their dearest friends torecognize them. He could not believe such was her fate. Dermid had notbeen seen since the fatal conclusion of their marriage; he knew hisfidelity, his interest in both Agnes and himself, and he could not, hewould not believe the maniac had decoyed her from his care. But wherewas she?--where, in such a moment, could he have conveyed her?--whatwould be her final fate?--how would she rejoin him? were questions everthronging on his heart and brain, struggling with doubts, with thehorrible suspicion still clinging to that shriek which had sounded asthe ruins fell. Darker and more forebodingly oppressive grew theseconflicting thoughts, as day after day passed, and still she came not,nor were there any tidings of the seer.
A very brief interval sufficed for the English earls to conclude theirarrangements at Kildrummie, and prepare to march southward, Berwickbeing the frontier town to which the Scottish prisoners were usuallyconveyed. Their loss had been greater than at any other similar siege;more than a third of their large army had fallen, several others werewounded, and not much above a third remained who were fitted to continuein arms. It was a fearful proof of the desperate valor of the besieged,but both earls felt it would so exasperate their sovereign against theScottish commanders, as to remove the slightest hope of mercy. The ruinswere with some labor cleared away, the remains of the outer walllevelled with the earth, except the tower communicating with thedrawbridge and barbacan, which could be easily repaired. The inner wallHereford likewise commanded to be restored; the keep he turned into ahospital for the wounded, leaving with them a sufficient garrison todefend the castle, in case of renewed incursions of the Scottishpatriots, a case, in the present state of the country, not veryprobable. True to his promise, these men-at-arms who survived, and whosewounds permitted their removal, Hereford set at liberty, not above tenin number; dispirited, heart-broken
, he felt indeed there was no need toimpose conditions on them. Those of the traitors who remained,endeavored by cringing humility, to gain the favor of the English; butfinding themselves shunned and despised, for the commonest Englishsoldier was of a nature too noble to bear with aught of treachery, theydispersed over the country, finding little in its miserable condition toimpart enjoyment to the lives they had enacted so base a part topreserve. It may be well to state, ere we entirely leave the subject,that the execution of Evan Roy exciting every evil passion in theiralready rebellious hearts, had determined them to conspire for a signalrevenge, the ravings of Jean Roy and the desperate counsels of hermother-in-law urging them to the catastrophe we have related; the murderof Nigel had been first planned, but dismissed as likely to bediscovered and thwarted, and bring vengeance on their own heads insteadof his. Before the execution of their comrade and head of theconspiracy, they had only been desirous of shunning the horrors of aprolonged siege; but afterwards, revenge became stronger than merepersonal safety, and therefore was it they refused to take advantage ofthe safe conduct demanded by Nigel, and granted, as we have said.
The Scottish prisoners were removed from the castle a few hours afterits capitulation, and placed in honorable restraint, in separatepavilions. Lancaster, whose romantic admiration for his antagonist hadnot been in the least diminished by Sir Nigel's bearing in captivity andthe lofty tone of the young knight's society and conversation, which hefrequently courted, absolutely made him shrink from heading the forcewhich was to conduct him a prisoner to England, for he well knew thosevery qualities, calling forth every spark of chivalry in his own bosom,would be only so many incitements to Edward for his instant execution.He therefore demanded that the superintending the works of the garrisonand keeping a strict watch upon the movements of the adjoining countryshould devolve on him, and Hereford, as the older and wiser, shouldconduct his prisoners to the border, and report the events of the siegeto his sovereign. His colleague acceded, and the eighth day from thetriumph of the besiegers was fixed on to commence their march.
It was on the evening of the seventh day that the Earl of Hereford, thenengaged in earnest council with Lancaster, on subjects relating to theirmilitary charge, was informed that an old man and a boy so earnestlyentreated speech with him, that they had even moved the iron heart ofHugo de l'Orme, the earl's esquire, who himself craved audience forthem.
"They must bear some marvellous charm about them, an they have workedupon thee, De l'Orme," said his master, smiling. "In good sooth, letthem enter."
Yet there was nothing very striking in their appearance when they came.The old man indeed was of a tall, almost majestic figure, and it wasonly the snowy whiteness of his hair and flowing beard that betrayed hisage, for his eye was still bright, his form unbent. He was attired as aminstrel, his viol slung across his breast, a garb which obtained forits possessor free entrance alike into camp and castle, hall and bower,to all parties, to all lands, friendly or hostile, as it might be. Hiscompanion was a slight boy, seemingly little more than thirteen orfourteen, with small, exquisitely delicate features; his complexioneither dark or sunburnt; his eyes were bent down, and their long, verydark lashes rested on his cheek, but when raised, their beautiful blueseemed so little in accordance with the brunette skin, that the sunmight be deemed more at fault than Nature; his hair, of the darkestbrown, clustered closely round his throat in short thick curls; his garbwas that of a page, but more rude than the general habiliments of thoseusually petted members of noble establishments, and favored bothHereford and Lancaster's belief that he was either the son or grandsonof his companion.
"Ye are welcome, fair sirs," was the elder earl's kindly salutation,when his esquire had retired. "Who and what are ye, and what crave yewith me?"
"We are Scotsmen, an it so please you, noble lords," replied the oldman; "followers and retainers of the house of Bruce, more particularlyof him so lately fallen into your power."
"Then, by mine honor, my good friends, ye had done wiser to benefit bythe liberty I promised and gave to those of his followers who escapedthis devastating siege. Wherefore are ye here?"
"In the name of this poor child, to beseech a boon, my noble lord; forme, my calling permitteth my going where I list, unquestioned,unrestrained, and if I ask permission to abide with ye, Scotsman andfollower of the Bruce as I am, I know ye will not say me nay."
"I would not, an ye besought such a boon, old man," answered the earl;"yet I would advise thee to tempt not thy fate, for even thy minstrelgarb, an thou braggest of thy service to the Bruce, I cannot promise tobe thy safeguard in Edward's court, whither I give ye notice I wend myway to-morrow's dawn. For this child, what wouldst thou--hath he novoice, no power of his own to speak?"
The aged minstrel looked at his charge, whose eyes were still bent onthe floor; the heaving of his doublet denoted some internal emotion, butere the old man could answer for him, he had made a few hasty stepsforward, and bent his knee before Hereford.
"'Tis a simple boon I crave, my lord," he said, in a voice so peculiarlysweet, that it seemed to impart new beauty to his features; "a verysimple boon, yet my lips tremble to ask it, for thou mayest deem it moreweighty than it seemeth to me, and thou alone canst grant it."
"Speak it, fair child, whate'er it be," replied the earl, reassuringly,and laying his hand caressingly on the boy's head. "Thou art, methinks,over young to crave a boon we may not grant; too young, although aScotsman, for Hereford to treat thee aught but kindly. What wouldstthou?"
"Permission to tend on my young lord, Sir Nigel Bruce," answered theboy, more firmly, and for the first time fixing the full gaze of hisbeautiful eyes on the earl's face. "Oh, my lord, what is there in thatsimple boon to bid thee knit thy brow as if it must not be?" he added,more agitated. "The noble Hereford cannot fear a child; or, if hedoubted me, he cannot doubt the honor of his prisoner, an honor pure,unsullied as his own."
"Thou speakest not as the child thou seemest," replied Hereford,musingly; "and yet I know not, misery makes sager of us long ere therose of youth hath faded. For this, thy boon, I know not how it may begranted; it is not usual to permit other than English attendants on ourScottish prisoners. Since Sir Niel Campbell's escape through the agencyof his Scottish attendant, it hath been most strictly prohibited."
"Oh, do not, do not say me nay!" entreated the boy; "I ask but to sharehis imprisonment, to be with him, serve him, tend him. I ask no moreliberty than is granted unto him; the rudest, coarsest fare, a littlestraw, or the bare ground beside his couch. I can do naught to give himfreedom, and if I could, were there an open path before him--did Ibeseech him on my knees to fly--if he hath surrendered, as I have heard,to thee, rescue or no rescue, he would scorn my counsel, and abide thyprisoner still. Oh, no, no! I swear to thee I will do naught that canmake thee regret thou hast granted an orphan's prayer."
"And who art thou that pleadeth thus?" inquired the earl, moved alike bythe thrilling sweetness of his voice and the earnestness of his manner."Thou must have some wondrous interest in him to prefer imprisonmentwith him to all the joys which liberty can give."
"And I have interest," answered the boy, fervently; "the interest ofgratitude, and faithfulness, and love. An orphan, miserably anorphan--alone upon the wide earth--he hath protected, cherished, aye,and honored me with his confidence and love. He tended me in sorrow, andI would pour back into his noble heart all the love, the devotion hehath excited in mine. Little can I do, alas! naught but love and serve;yet, yet, I know he would not reject even this--he would let me love himstill!"
"Grant the poor boy his boon," whispered Lancaster, hurriedly; "of atruth he moveth even me."
"Thine heart is of right true mettle, my child," said his colleague,even tenderly. "Yet bethink thee all thou must endure if I grant thyboon; not while with me, for there would be a foul blot upon myescutcheon did so noble a knight as Sir Nigel Bruce receive aught saverespect and honor at my hands. But in this business I am but a tool, anagent; when once within the boundaries of
Edward's court, Sir Nigel isno longer my prisoner; I must resign him to my sovereign; and then, Idare not give thee hope of gentle treatment either for thyself or him."
"I will brave it," answered the boy, calmly; "danger, aye, death in hisservice, were preferable to my personal liberty, with the torture of thethought upon me, that I shrunk from his side when fidelity and love weremost needed."
"But that very faithfulness, that very love, my child, will make thyfate the harder; the scaffold and the axe, if not the cord," he added,in a low, stifled tone, "I fear me, will be his doom, despite his youth,his gallantry--all that would make _me_ save him. Thou turnest pale atthe bare mention of such things, how couldst thou bear to witness them?"
"Better than to think of them; to sit me down in idle safety and feelthat he hath gone forth to this horrible doom, and I have done naught tosoothe and tend him on his way," replied the boy, firmly, though hisvery lip blanched at Hereford's words. "But must these things be? IsEdward so inexorable?"
"Aye, unto all who thwart him now," said the earl; "there is no hope forany of the race of Bruce. Be advised, then, gentle boy, retain thyfreedom while thou mayest."
"No, no!" he answered, passionately, "Oh, do not seek to fright me frommy purpose; do not think aught of me, save but to grant my boon, and oh,I will bless thee, pray for thee to my dying hour! thou wilt, I knowthou wilt."
"I were no father could I refuse thee, my poor child," he replied, withearnest tenderness. "Alas! I fear me thou hast asked but increase ofmisery, yet be it as thou list. And yet," he added, after a brief pause,during which the boy had sprung from his knee, with an inarticulate cryof joy, and flung himself into the minstrel's arms, "Sir Nigel hathresolutely refused the attendance of any of his former followers, whowould willingly have attended him to England. Hast thou so muchinfluence, thinkest thou, to change his purpose in thy favor?"
"I know not," answered the boy, timidly; "yet an it please your noblelordship to permit my pleading mine own cause without witness, I mayprevail, as I have done before."
"Be it so, then," replied the earl. "And now, ere we part, I would bidthee remember I have trusted thee; I have granted that to thee, without_condition_, with perfect liberty of action, which to others could onlyhave been granted on their surrendering themselves, rescue or no rescue,even as thy master. I have done this, trusting to that noblefaithfulness, the candor and honesty of youth, which hath breathed forthin all that thou hast said. Let me not repent it. And now, Hugo del'Orme," he called aloud, but Lancaster himself declared his intentionof conducting the boy to Sir Nigel's tent, and the esquire wasconsequently dismissed; but ere they departed, the boy turned once moreto the aged minstrel.
"And thou--whither goest thou?" he said, in low yet thrilling tones. "Mymore than father, thou hast seen thy child's earnest wish fulfilled;that for which thou didst conduct me hither is accomplished; yet ere Isay farewell, tell me--oh, tell me, whither goest thou?"
"I know not," answered the old man, struggling with unexpressed emotion;"yet think not of me, my child, I shall be free, be safe, untouched byaught of personal ill, while young and lovely ones, for whom it would bebliss to die, are crushed and bleeding in their spring; the mountains,and rocks, and woods, yet unstained with blood, call on me to return,and be at rest within their caves. The love I bear to thee and him thouseekest hath yet a louder voice to bid me follow ye. I know not whitherI shall go, yet an my vision telleth that thou needst my aid, I shallnot be far from thee. Farewell, my child; and ye, true-hearted lords,the blessing of an aged man repay ye for the kindly deed this day thatye have done." He pressed the boy in his arms, reverentially saluted theearls, and passed from the tent as he spoke.
A few words passed between the warriors, and then Lancaster desired thepage to follow him. In silence they proceeded through the camp, avoidingthe more bustling parts, where the soldiery were evidently busied inpreparing for the morrow's march, and inclining towards the wooded bankof the river. The eye of the Earl of Lancaster had scarcely moved fromthe page during his interview with Hereford, though the boy, engrossedin his own feelings, had failed to remark it. He now glanced rapidly andsearchingly round him, and perceiving the ground perfectly clear, not asoldier visible, he suddenly paused in his hasty stride, and laying hishand heavily on the boy's shoulder, said, in a deep, impressive voice,"I know not who or what thou art, but I love thy master, and know thathe is ill at ease, not from captivity, but from uncertainty as to thefate of one beloved. If it be, as I suspect, in thy power entirely toremove this uneasiness, be cautioned, and whoever thou mayest be, letnot one in this camp, from the noble Earl of Hereford himself to thelowest soldier, suspect thou art other than thou seemest--a faithfulpage. The rage of Edward is deadly, and all who bear the name of Bruce,be it male or female, will suffer from that wrath. Tell this to thylord. I ask not his confidence nor thine, nay, I would refuse it were itoffered--I would know no more than my own thoughts, but I honor him,aye, and from my very heart I honor thee! Hush! not a word in answer; myspeech is rude, but my heart is true; and now a few steps more and weare there," and without waiting for reply he turned suddenly, and thepage found himself in the very centre of the camp, near the entrance ofa small pavilion, before which two sentinels were stationed, fullyarmed, and pacing up and down their stated posts; the pennon of Herefordfloated from the centre staff, above the drapery, marking the tent andall its appurtenances peculiarly the earl's. The watchword wasexchanged, and the sentinels lowered their arms on recognizing one oftheir leaders.
"Let this boy have egress and ingress from and to this tent,unquestioned and unmolested," he said; "he has the Earl of Hereford'spermission, nay, commands, to wait on Sir Nigel Bruce. His businesslieth principally with him; but if he hath need to quit his side, he isto pass free. Report this to your comrades." The soldiers bowed inrespectful acquiescence. "For thee, young man, this toy will give theefree passage where thou listeth, none shall molest thee; and now,farewell--God speed thee." He unclasped a ruby brooch, curiously set inantique gold, from his collar, and placed it in the boy's hand.
"Dost thou not enter?" asked the page, in a voice that quivered, and thelight of the torches falling full on his face disclosed to Lancaster alook of such voiceless gratitude, it haunted him for many a long day.
"No," he said, half smiling, and in a lower voice; "hast thou forgottenthy cause was to be pleaded without witness? I have not, if thou hast. Iwill see thy noble master ere he depart, not now; thou wilt, I trust me,take him better comfort than I could."
He lifted the hangings as he spoke, and the boy passed in, his heartbeating well-nigh to suffocation as he did so. It was in a smallcompartment leading to the principal chamber of the tent he foundhimself at first, and Sir Nigel was not there. With a fleet, yetnoiseless movement, he drew aside the massive curtain, let it fall againbehind him, and stood unperceived in the presence of him he sought.
The brow of Sir Nigel rested on his hand, his attitude was as one bowedand drooping 'neath despondency; the light of the taper fell full uponhis head, bringing it out in beautiful profile. It was not his capturealone which had made him thus, the boy felt and knew; the complicatedevils which attended his king and country in his imprisonment were yetnot sufficient to crush that spirit to the earth. It was some otheranxiety, some yet nearer woe; there had been many strange rumors afloat,both of Sir Nigel's bridal and the supposed fate of that bride, and theboy, though he knew them false, aye, and that the victim of Jean Roy wasa young attendant of Agnes, who had been collecting together thetrinkets of her mistress, to save them from the pillage which wouldattend the conquest of the English, and had been thus mistaken by themaniac--the boy, we say, though he knew this, had, instead of denyingit, encouraged the report, and therefore was at no loss to discover hismaster's woe. He advanced, knelt down, and in a trembling, husky voice,addressed him. "My lord--Sir Nigel."
The young knight started, and looked at the intruder, evidently withoutrecognizing him. "What wouldst thou?" he said, in a tone somewhat stern."Who
art thou, thus boldly intruding on my privacy? Begone, I need theenot!"
"The Earl of Hereford hath permitted me to tend thee, follow thee,"answered the page in the same subdued voice. "My gracious lord, do notthou refuse me."
"Tend me--follow me! whither--to the scaffold? Seek some other master,my good boy. I know thee not, and can serve thee little, and need noearthly aid. An thou seekest noble service, go follow Hereford; he is agenerous and knightly lord."
"But I am Scotch, my lord, and would rather follow thee to death thanHereford to victory."
"Poor child, poor child!" repeated Nigel, sadly. "I should know thee,methinks, an thou wouldst follow me so faithfully, and yet I do not.What claim have I upon thy love?"
"Dost thou _not_ know me, Nigel?" The boy spoke in his own peculiarlysweet and most thrilling voice, and raising his head, fixed his fullglance upon the knight.
A wild cry burst from Nigel's lips, he sprang up, gazed once again, andin another moment the page and knight had sprung into each other's arms;the arms of the former were twined round the warrior's neck, and SirNigel had bent down his lordly head; burning tears and impassionedkisses were mingled on the soft cheek that leaned against his breast.