"Did he not poison Conon, our brave Count of Brittany?"
"What has he done for us, who shed our blood for him?"
"Has he fulfilled the promise he made?"
"He gave us barren lands for our wounds, and what does he do when we
have made them of some value? Does he not take them from us by force,
to give them to some new favourite?"
"Down with him!--Down with him!--Shall we call such a man our King?"
The deed was done! The die was cast. The banner of revolt was raised.
The assembled company knew that already they had gone too far to draw
back. The King would hear of this thing, and would never forgive. Action
must now follow hard upon words. The Conqueror was absent; much might be
done ere the news of insurrection reached him. Not one of those precious
days must be lost.
With the first light of the new day the bride stood watching the
departure of her brother and her lord. Roger was to travel night and day
with all speed to Hereford and beat up his followers and the hardy Welsh
on his borders, with whom he had maintained friendly relations. Raoul
was to collect forces nearer at hand in his own earldom; but he must
needs go in person, and to his girl-wife he left the care of the grim
castle which had been the scene of yesterday's wedding and feast, and
which was garrisoned with black-browed Bretons, devoted to the service
of their master, and ready to lay down their lives for his beautiful
bride.
Did her heart fail her as she saw the departure of her husband, her
brother, and their noble guests, together with the armed followers which
they had brought? Did she feel fear in the knowledge that she and they
were now accounted rebels, and that any day might bring an armed force
before the walls of Norwich?
No; there was no spark of fear in her heart, though there was for one
moment a glint of tears upon her long lashes as she saw her lord and
master ride away, and knew that peril threatened him and his comrades in
arms, so soon as it should become known that they were in revolt.
She set herself, as a true soldier's daughter and bride, to see to the
defences of the castle. The Breton garrison were true as steel. They had
no love for Norman or English; but they loved their lord, and for his
sake, as well as her own, they loved his sweet young bride; the sight of
her courage and devotion kindled new ardour in their breasts day by day,
and they toiled with all the energy in their power to strengthen the
stone walls, to obtain supplies of food and such munitions of war as
were needed in those days, and to prepare themselves for whatever might
betide.
Rumours were flying hither and thither, rumours of strife and of
disaster. It was said that Roger of Hereford was cut off from returning,
and was penned in behind the broad waters of the Severn; and again there
was a whisper nearer at home that Odo, the warlike Bishop of Bayeux, was
in the vicinity with a force of finely equipped men. On hearing this
Emma's cheek grew pale; not with fear for herself, but lest some hurt
should befall her lord, whom she had as yet scarcely learned to speak of
as "husband."
The watchman upon the tower had blown a warning blast. Something was in
sight; the horn sounded forth again and yet again.
There was hurrying within the walls of the castle, archers hastening to
their loopholes, and men at arms buckling on their helmets and
breastplates, and seizing their good broad-swords in readiness for the
word of command.
Emma, breathless and dishevelled, raced to the tower herself, and, as
she looked, she beheld a scattered band of fugitives, flying, as it
were, towards the castle; and so forlorn and woe-begone was the aspect
they bore that her heart seemed to die within her.
"Bretons, to the rescue of your brethren!" she suddenly cried aloud, and
the cry was taken up and passed from mouth to mouth. Wide swung the
great gates, down sank the drawbridge; the soldiers streamed forth to
meet the flying Bretons and Saxons, who came in crowds for the
protection of those strong walls, bringing with them the gloomy tale of
death and disaster.
Late in the day, conducting a ghastly company of maimed and mutilated
men, who had been bold stalwart soldiers a few days before, rode Raoul
into the courtyard, the blackness of night upon his brow; and Emma
rushed forth to clasp her husband to her heart, scarce knowing yet what
was the meaning of the things she saw and heard.
"It means ruin to our hopes of life and liberty, if we cannot yet change
defeat into victory," said the young Earl, as he let his bride divest
him of his heavy armour, whilst he told the tale of his overthrow at the
hands of Bishop Odo.
"Many died of their wounds; but some few I rescued, and have brought
them hither to thee, my sweet bride. But for myself I may not linger.
Our only hope now lies in getting help from beyond the sea. I must take
ship with all speed to mine own domains in Brittany, and there, when
this tale is told, methinks they will rise to a man in the defence of
their brethren, in answer to my call, in the hope of vengeance and
plunder! I will return with an army at my back, and William, the
so-called Conqueror, shall yet learn to quake at the names of Raoul de
Gael and Roger Fitz-Osborn!"
"And my brother?--what of him?" asked Emma, "will he go with thee? And
wilt thou take me too?"
"Nay, my life, I must leave thee here to hold this fortress for me.
Roger is penned in the west; albeit he will break loose I doubt not ere
long, and march day and night to thine assistance. But our Breton
garrison must needs serve under one they can trust and love. Sweet, my
bride, hast thou the courage for the task? Though thou art so young in
years, thou hast the heart of a soldier. Wilt thou hold the castle here
against proud William's forces, till I or Roger come to thine aid?"
She looked him full in the face.
"Thou dost think that they will follow and lay siege?"
"They are so close behind me, that with the first dawn of the morning I
must be gone, else I shall be too late to escape them!" answered Raoul;
and his eyes rested with anxious questioning upon Emma's face. "Our poor
Bretons are treated with savage ferocity by the English," he added. "If
I lead them forth hence, and they fall into the Bishop's hands--well,
thou hast seen with thine own eyes how their brethren have fared."
The fire flamed in Emma's eyes; she threw back her head with her own
queenly gesture.
"Go, then, my husband, and I will guard thy castle for thee. I will keep
safe those thou dost leave with me. Go! fly over the water, and return
with the friends of the cause. Thou shalt find thy castle here,
safeguarded as though thou thyself wert at the head of thy soldiers. The
pitiless Bishop shall not lay hands on one of our Breton boys!"
So the brave young bride was left for the second time alone in the grim
castle, to hold it for her lord till he should arrive with succour. But
this time she was quickly ringed round with foemen, who, in the King's
name, bade her surrender; and when she fearlessly refused, they laid
close siege to the castle, vowing to serve every Breton they should
henceforward take as those hapless creatures had been served, some of
whom she was tending now with her own hands within the walls of the grim
old keep.
Emma had grown up inured to perils, to hardships, to the sights and
sounds of warfare, and warfare is always cruel. But her soul revolted
against needless cruelties; and the sufferings of the poor maimed
followers of her husband, who had been rescued and brought back by him,
nerved her to every effort to keep from a like fate those who served her
faithfully here, and looked to her to save them from it.
Parted from her husband upon their very wedding day, wife only in name
as yet, the brave daughter of William Fitz-Osborn played the hero's part
during those three long months of siege. Every day she made the circuit
of the fortifications, careless of the flights of arrows that often made
such exposure of her person a perilous matter; she spoke words of
encouragement to the archers and watchmen; she devised ingenious methods
of frustrating the various attempts made by the wily and determined foe
for cutting off supplies, and for forcing an entrance into the castle.
When it was known that a woman was in command, many devices were
practised for intimidating her and her soldiers; but all in vain; and
free promises of pardon for herself if she would but betray her trust
were answered with indignation and scorn.
The hard part of it to the brave young chatelaine was the uncertainty of
what was passing elsewhere. Penned within the four walls of her eastern
fortress, she knew nothing as to the fate of her brother in the west,
nor how the rebellion against the Conqueror was spreading in the ranks
of the disaffected Norman barons and the dispossessed Saxons. It had
seemed to her, upon their wedding feast, as though all the realm was
weary of the rule of "the Norman." Yet if that were so, if the revolt
were ready to break forth all over the kingdom, why did none come to her
aid? Surely her brother and others must know of the peril in which she
stood. Why did not some of them seek to raise the siege? Why did not
Raoul himself return with his Breton reinforcements?
As the long summer days went by, one after another, and weeks dragged on
to months, brave Emma's cheek grew pale, and her eyes took a wistful
yearning gaze, as of one whose heart is sick with hope deferred. But her
vigilance was never for a moment relaxed. Her courage never faltered.
Day by day she was to be seen upon the ramparts, speaking brave words to
the weary soldiers, hurling lightning glances of defiance at the lines
of the besiegers, and gazing with eager, expectant eyes in the direction
of the sea, asking of the birds of the air whether they had seen the
white sails of the coming vessels that should bring relief to her.
At last the voice of rumour reached even this beleaguered castle. First
it was an isolated whisper, then other whispers followed. Bit by bit the
story of woe was pieced together, and a fugitive from the west, who had
been sent with dispatches for the Lady Emma, contrived to gain entrance,
and to tell all the tale.
It was said that the treacherous Judith, wife of Earl Waltheof, had
learned the secret from her husband and had instantly betrayed it. The
rebellion had been quelled almost ere it broke out. In the west the son
of Fitz-Osborn had been taken captive, and was awaiting his doom on the
return of the King. Others had been taken or slain; Norwich alone was
holding out. Raoul had sent word that to return from Brittany was now
impossible. It would be but to fall into the hands of an implacable foe.
His word to his bride was to secure such terms as she could for herself
and her garrison, and to make her way across the sea with all speed to
join her husband there.
With whitening cheek and sinking heart Emma heard and read all this evil
news. Her brother a captive, her husband an exile, their friends
scattered and dispersed. Surrender inevitable! But what was she to
surrender? This very messenger brought horrid tales of mutilation and
cruelties of all sorts inflicted on hapless prisoners by their
bloodthirsty conquerors. Was she to give up to such a fate the brave men
who had learned to look to her and trust in her? For the castle she
cared little. Where her husband was, there was her home. But her
soldiers and servants, were they to be given up? Never! Never! Never!
"I will go forth and die at their head, fighting to the last, sooner
than that!" she cried.
The Bishop had many times sought to open negotiations with the brave
Emma, but hitherto fruitlessly. Now, with her own hand, she penned him a
missive, offering to surrender to him the castle and its munitions of
war, but only on the condition that every living creature within its
walls went forth unharmed, and that they should be permitted to take
ship unmolested for the shores of Brittany.
"Else will I never give up whilst one stone remains upon another. You
shall see how long the daughter of William Fitz-Osborn can bid defiance
to the man whom her father made England's King."
Was it chivalry, was it admiration for the spirit of the brave woman,
or was it the policy of a soldier wearied by a long three months' siege
of a fortress that seemed no nearer falling now than it had done upon
the first day?
Whatever was the motive for the concession, the answer that came back
was courteously, even generously worded. The brave young wife rode forth
at the head of her whole garrison, and the Norman soldiers who had
fought against the rebels in other places raised a shout of admiration
as she appeared. She sat her horse like an Amazon, and returned the
salutation with a dignity worthy of her name and race.
Saluting and being saluted by the Bishop, and lustily cheered by the
soldiers, she passed through the town on her way to the coast, where
vessels were awaiting her, while her men marched boldly behind her,
singing the songs of their native land to which they were about to
return, and chanting aloud the praise of the beautiful Emma to whose
courage and resolution they owed their lives.
She and her band of devoted Bretons were thus permitted to march to the
coast with all the honours of war, and to take ship for her husband's
domains in Brittany without receiving insult or violence of any kind.
How high her heart was beating as she sighted the shore, and knew that
her lord was awaiting her there, in that home which she had never yet
seen! True, she was sad for her brother, and for the cause which had
been lost in England; but after all, was not her husband safe, and
waiting for her to rejoin him? and might not the tide turn some day, and
they return to England in triumph, to help to overthrow the rule of
Norman William, against whom they had sought to incite this rebellion?
These were fond hopes not destined to be realised. The courage and
state-craft of William the Conqueror carried him safely through all the
plots which assailed him during his stormy reign. Raoul de Gael knew
where he was safe, and abandoned his claims upon English soil.
"I did well indeed to entrust my castle to the keeping of my bride!"
cried the proud husband, when he held her in his arms once more; and the
answer that went up from a thousand throats was a shout of admiration
and praise in honour of their lord's fair young wife, the brave Emma
Fitz-Osborn.
ELIZABETH STUART
A princess, yet a captive in the hands of her father's foes; those foes
who were already whispering their fell intention of putting him to
death!
This was the situation of the youthful Elizabeth, the second daughter of
the ill-fated monarch, Charles I. Her mother and her eldest brother were
beyond the seas, having made good their escape from Cromwell and his
Roundheads; but she, with her two brothers, James, Duke of York, and
Henry, Duke of Gloucester, were captives in the power of the Parliament,
and though treated with courtesy and a certain kindliness, they were
permitted no liberty to come and go, or even to write to their friends.
Every action was carefully observed, and their persons were so closely
guarded that there was little hope of evading the many watchful eyes
that were ever bent upon them.
"If I could but reach my brother and our mother!" was the exclamation
ever on the lips of James, when he and his sister were alone together.
It seemed to the high-spirited boy that once free from these encircling
walls and the vigilance of his warders, once across the sea to join the
others of his name and race, he must surely achieve some great thing for
the deliverance of his father; his restless mind was ever pondering this
theme. The thought of making good his escape was never absent from his
mind night nor day.
Perhaps he plotted almost too much for his own success; for a day came
when he was summoned to an interview with certain of the Parliamentary
authorities, and he returned to his sister's apartments with flushed
face and flashing eyes. Elizabeth saw that he had been deeply angered by
what had passed, and she quickly got rid of her attendant, that she and
her brother might speak in peace together. This liberty was the only one
accorded to the Royal captives. Their rooms were guarded; they never
went abroad unwatched and unattended; but within the precincts of the
palace they had some privacy permitted to them, and they could speak
together without being overheard, though never without a fear of
possible eavesdroppers.
"Sister, I have been grossly insulted!" cried James, with flashing eyes;
"they have intercepted my letter to our sister of Orange; they said they
had discovered treasonable matter in it."
"Treasonable matter!" echoed Elizabeth, her breath coming and going.
"They dare to talk of treason!--They!"
"Ay; that was the very word--treasonable matter! They saw, or thought
they saw it, in my desire to quit the country--to escape to Holland----"
"But the letter was in cypher," interrupted Elizabeth. "How could they
read it when they had it?"
A dark frown clouded the brow of James.
"That I did not condescend to inquire; but I heard some talk between
those knaves themselves. I gathered that they had got the letter, and
had then sent for the Earl of Northumberland, and had shown him how we
had evaded his vigilance; had warned him, that if he could not find the
key of the cypher in which it had been written, he should be committed
to the Tower. Did I not tell you the other day that I was certain my
effects had been ransacked? I did not miss the cypher key. I know it so
well that I scarce ever have to look at it now. Doubtless they found and
took it away; but I did not observe it."
"And they were angry with you, James?"
"Angry? Ay, that they were. They dared to threaten me with the Tower,
too, if they found me plotting escape again!"
Elizabeth clasped her hands closely together, her face worked with the
emotion she strove to master. She came and stood beside James, and laid
her soft cheek against his.
"Jamie, Jamie," she cried piteously, "if they were to take you from me,
I think that I should die!"
He put his arm about her, and they stood together, looking out of the
window, thinking and pondering deeply.
"But, sister, you would have to learn to live without me if I were to
escape this thraldom, and win my liberty. Could you bear to let me go
for that?"
A little tremor ran through the girl's slight frame. She was very frail
and delicate, this gentle, young Elizabeth; little fit to bear the
buffets of outrageous fortune, to stand alone in her strange captivity;
cut off from father, mother, friends, and kindred, and beset with so
many cruel anxieties and fears on behalf of those she loved best. Her
greatest solace in these sorrowful days was the companionship of her
brother James, who, being a year or more her senior, and endowed with
robust health, seemed like a tower of strength to the frail girl, hardly
more than a child in years, though misfortune had given a strange
maturity to her mind and disposition. It could not but be a dismal
thought to lose the constant companionship of this brother, to send him
forth into the perils of the great world without, where so many foes
awaited him. She might well have sought to keep him beside her, fearing
the perils of any project of escape; but despite her natural fears and
shrinkings, and the delicacy of her frame, the spirit of kings and
warriors was within her, and that spirit rose to meet the sacrifice
which might be required of her.
"I would bear to let you go for that, Jamie," she answered. "But it
would break my heart were you taken from me to be immured within the
walls of the Tower."
"It may come to that one of these days," said James, "if I be not able
to effect my escape. I cannot show the patience that you are able to
command; and I am not a child like Harry, there, of whose words and acts
no special note is taken. And did not our father bid me use every effort
to regain my liberty, and reach the side of our mother and brother? It
may be that already they are planning how to invade these shores, summon
all loyal hearts to join them, and set my father on the throne once
more! Oh! if such a thing were to happen, I must be there to help."
His eyes kindled, his frame seemed to expand and grow tense; and an
answering thrill ran through that of the young Princess.
"Ah, Jamie, Jamie, if only it might be!" she cried.
"And why not, sister, why not? Other captives have escaped from far
stricter bondage than any we suffer from. What one has done another may
do. Why not?"
"But they were men, and we are so young. We are scarce more than
children, albeit often I feel so old--so old!"
"You are old enough to have the ready wit of a woman!" cried James; yet
even in his stress of feeling and excitement he kept his voice pitched
in a low key. "I have thought and thought and planned, but everything
falls to the ground; or we are betrayed into the hands of our enemies,
and threatened with stricter captivity than this. Elizabeth, put your
wits to work! Can you think of nothing? In bygone days it has been the
women sometimes who have done the thinking, whilst the men have done the
acting. Why should it not be so now?"
The boy's dark, strenuous face looked earnestly into the fair spiritual
one of his sister, and into the cheeks of the young Elizabeth a faint
colour stole.
"Oh, Jamie, I will try: I will try!" she answered. "But even could I
think of some stratagem or plan by which you could gain the freedom of
the world without, who is there outside that would dare to help you away
across the sea, whom we could dare to trust with such a secret?"
"There is Colonel Bamfield," answered James promptly. "He is the man
whom I would trust for that."
"Colonel Bamfield?" echoed Elizabeth doubtfully. "He who turned traitor
to our father's cause when all was lost? Would you trust such an one as
he?"
"He is not a traitor at heart," whispered James eagerly. "He is the
staunchest friend we have. He has but feigned adherence to the
Parliamentary cause that he may the better serve us. I have had speech
with him, sometimes, for a few minutes. I trow he is to be trusted. And
as our enemies know that none is so bitter as a renegade, they think he
is our deadly foe. They do not suspect him as they would suspect others.
He plays his part right cunningly. He rails upon the King and his brood
most lustily; but all the while he is on the watch to serve us. I know,
could I once escape from these walls, that he would make all the rest
easy."
There were footsteps without, and brother and sister started apart, as
the attendants entered the room on some pretext. They were well used to
this sort of thing. They were seldom left long alone together. The
little Duke of Gloucester, who had been playing quietly in a corner
whilst his brother and sister were talking, now came running up, and
begged for a game of hide and seek.
This was one of the favourite sports of the Royal children; but to-night
Elizabeth excused herself on the plea of fatigue, and the two young
Dukes played alone, running hither and thither, and forgetting their
troubles for awhile, in the interest of the game.
Elizabeth sat alone with her face hidden in her hands, thinking,
thinking, thinking, till it seemed as though her brain would scarcely
stand the strain of the mental conflict going on within her. She was
roused from her reverie at last by little Henry, who came and pulled
impatiently at her dress.
"Come and help me to find Jamie," he begged. "He has hidden so well we
can none of us find him. You come and try!"
Elizabeth rose quickly to her feet; she suddenly felt as though some
inspiration had darted into her heart. At the moment she did not pause
to examine it. She felt that when night came, and she was alone in the
darkness, she must take out this thing that had forced itself with
lightning rapidity into her being, and examine it at leisure. Might it
be that already the clue was in her hands?
The Royal children were, at this time, under the care of Algernon Percy,
the Earl of Northumberland, and his Countess, and it was the desire of
both to make the captivity of the Princess and her brothers as little
irksome and trying as possible. At the same time, since they were held
responsible for their safe-keeping by the Parliament, they dared not but
use every precaution; and it was no easy matter for any of the children
to escape the vigilance of their guardians.