*CHAPTER XVI.*
_*WITHIN THE CASTLE WALLS.*_
The Lady Aliva had been carried off to Bedford in a half-unconsciousstate; for though she had awoke from her sleep refreshed andrestored--thanks to the kind care of Mistress Hodges--the treacherouspriest had so arranged that nothing should hinder him from carrying outhis part of the shameful contract.
After the departure of the lay-brother he returned to the chapel.
"Daughter," he said to Aliva, through the half-open door of thesacristy, "thou hast done well in seeking the protection of MotherChurch, and I, the humble minister of this altar, will see that thou artwell guarded if thou remainest here."
"Thanks, reverend father," replied the maiden; "but a short time since,towards dawn of day, methinks (but I have slept since), this faithfulwoman's son offered to set off to my father's house at Bletsoe and warnthe household there of my whereabouts."
"Thy messenger will be yet some time ere he returneth," answered thepriest, "and if thou art minded to depart at once, we needs must findsome other means of conveyance for thee, lady. I have looked roundabout since it grew light, and thy pursuers have departed," he added,revolving in his mind how best to induce Aliva to enter the horse-litterfrom Bedford, which he guessed would by now not be far off.
"Thanks for the hospitality of this holy sanctuary," Aliva replied, "butI would fain depart as speedily as may be," she added, not caring tooccupy the sacristy of a chapel as her apartment any longer than wasnecessary, and with an indefinable dislike, if not distrust, of thespeaker.
"So be it, lady," Bertram hastened to answer. "I will myself to Bedford.Doubtless from some of the burghers can I procure a conveyance suited tothy rank. Moreover, thou art doubtless weak in body, and I have takenupon myself to order food to be brought thee."
So saying he moved to the door and beckoned to some one without. Awoman from the village entered, bringing such food and wine as thehostelry could supply.
"Thou mayest eat yonder in the sacristy, my daughter, for it is notconsecrated to holy purposes."
He followed the woman into the priest's room and then dismissed her.This left him alone for a few moments, for Aliva had entered the chapelto kneel down before the rude altar, and offer up a heartfeltthanksgiving for her preservation.
Father Bertram took a small vial from within his robe and poured somedrops from it into the wine-flask.
He had not studied the art of drug-concocting in the infirmary of hislate monastery in vain.
Then he passed out of the chapel, saying that he was going to Bedford.
Aliva rose from her knees and went into the sacristy and found the foodawaiting her. But she could not swallow, famished though she was, therough village fare copiously seasoned with garlic.
"Alack!" exclaimed Goody Hodges. "But thou wilt die of weakness. Seethe wine-flask, lady! Drink, if thou canst not stomach the food."
Aliva did as she advised; and when the priest shortly returned, havingbrought the litter which he had found waiting on the bridge, and havingreceived back again the pledge of the crucifix, he found the maiden in ahalf-unconscious state.
"Alack, alack! father, she hath swooned again!" cried the deludedpeasant woman.
"She is overwrought with her hardships," replied the priest. "We mustget her home with all speed. I have found a litter on the road, and itis in readiness. Help me to bear her to it."
The fresh morning air outside the chapel door partially revived Aliva.Opening her eyes she moaned,--
"Where am I? where are you taking me?"
"Home, daughter, to Bletsoe. Let me lay you in the litter!" exclaimedBertram hurriedly, and rudely pushing back Dame Hodges, who had stoppedshort when she too recognized the De Breaute livery, and saw that shehad been deceived.
Aliva sank back languidly on the cushions, and her eyes closed again.She was deaf to a well-known voice imploring her to stay, and unaware ofthe lay-brother's gallant attempt to detain her.
When she recovered her senses again, the litter was jolting fearfully,for the horses were going at the top of their speed. Bertram rightlyconjectured that Aliva had taken but little of the drugged wine, and wasalarmed lest its numbing influence should wear off ere his captive wassafely secured. So he urged the postillion along, galloping by hisside.
With returning consciousness Aliva drew aside the curtains of the litterand looked out. They were certainly not on the road to Bletsoe; she sawthat at once. They were swinging through streets, and curious burgessescame to their house doors, marvelling what brought the litter of theLady Margaret out so early.
While she was doubting whether she should cry for help or fling herselffrom the litter, it turned under an echoing gateway, and stopped in acourtyard before the entrance of a castle keep.
A girl of about her own age came down the steps.
"Lady, please to alight and follow me to the apartment prepared foryou."
Aliva descended from the litter and looked around her, bewildered. Agroup of men-at-arms were drawn up at a respectful distance, and thegrooms who had brought her stood silent by their horses. The priest hadvanished as soon as he had seen her safe into the castle.
Aliva turned to the girl beside her.
"Where am I?" she murmured, still half dazed. "Is this not BedfordCastle? There has been treachery--treachery by that ill-looking priest!This is more of De Breaute's doings, damsel."
"Nay, lady, I can tell thee naught, save that my lord Sir Fulke bade meprepare a lodging in the keep for a lady who was to arrive in my lady'slitter. Thy chamber is ready on the floor above the great hall, next tomy lady's bower. Prithee, let me lead thee thither."
Aliva felt somewhat reassured by this reception. At least she foundherself in the care of women.
Silently she allowed her conductress to show her the way across the halland up a turret stair to her apartment, where she sank wearily on acouch.
The pretty waiting-woman bustled about, offering the unhappy girlvarious attentions. She brought her articles of dress from hermistress's coffer, and assisted Aliva to remove her travel-stainedgarments and clothe herself in becoming attire.
The latter eyed her curiously.
"And who art thou, maiden?" she inquired.
"My name is Beatrice Mertoun. I am the waiting-woman of the LadyMargaret, the wife of Sir Fulke. And thou, lady, if I might make sobold?"
"I am Aliva de Pateshulle from Bletsoe," returned Aliva.
"From Bletsoe!" echoed Beatrice. "Methought I remembered your face andfigure as one of the nuns at Elstow when I attended my mistress to theretreat there. We returned but yesterday. But thou art no nun--nosister of an abbey?"
"Nay," replied Aliva, "but I wore the habit of a novice as a penitentduring the retreat. Doubtless," she added, sighing, "this trouble whichhath come upon me is the reward of my sins."
"Fair lady," said Beatrice gently, "you look sad;" and she came andknelt down at her feet.
"Sad!" exclaimed Aliva, raising herself on her elbow and gazing down atthe waiting-maid with horror-stricken face; "I ammiserable--betrayed--undone! Ah, I see it all now--this foul plot!William de Breaute hath encompassed my ruin!"
"William de Breaute!" cried Beatrice. "It is he who is at the bottom ofthis, forsooth! By my halidom, _I_ see daylight now! I overheard himspeaking of you with his brother--and then the chapel, repaired andcleaned. That was what Sir Fulke meant as he watched the men at workand said in jesting mood that from his own experience an unwilling bridewas all the sweeter for the trouble of snaring and catching her, andWilliam de Breaute answered that for his part he cared not for a ripeplum that fell into one's mouth without the picking."
"The chapel--an unwilling bride!" gasped poor Aliva. "The Lady Margaretwas such! I see it all, alas! Does my father know of this? Does hegive his consent?"
"Alas, fair lady, I know naught! It pains me to see thee in such grief,and in good sooth I mind me well of the stories I have heard
of theunwilling wooing, the hasty bridal of my mistress. But, lady, cheerthee. Thou art weary and mazed. Rest here awhile, and talk no more,and I will watch by thee."
The bright spring afternoon was already waning when, some hours afterthe events related above, the two maidens walked out upon the south wallof the castle. Beatrice had persuaded Aliva to come thither, hopingthat the fresh air might revive her drooping spirits; and Sir Fulke hadgiven permission that his prisoner might repair thither when shepleased, though the precincts of the castle were forbidden.
As they paced up and down the terrace the fertile brain of MistressBeatrice, already a warm partisan of the fair young prisoner, began toweave plans of escape.
"Canst swim, fair lady?" she inquired. "'Twould be naught to leap intoOuse water from yon turret! Or, better still, that thy knight (she tookit for granted that Aliva had a knight) should bring hither a skiff somedark night, beneath the walls!"
At that moment they heard the twang of an archer's bow sounding from thegate-house hard by.