overjoyed to see Helen, and to learn that they were to start forth upon
the morrow. Helen arranged that she and the old woman should occupy the
Queen's room that night, whilst the other maidens took the one
adjoining. It seemed long to her impatience ere they had got their
packings done; and their chatter sounded meaningless as it fell upon her
strained and anxious ears. Pan Vilga came in and out to help and hasten
matters, exchanging gay salutations with the merry girls, but striving
always to hasten proceedings, and warning them to retire early, as they
must be off betimes. Ever and anon he would give Helen a quick look of
sympathy, and once he contrived to whisper as he passed:
"Have a care that we have candles enough and to spare!"
At last the girls had made their preparations and were ready to retire.
The old woman had brought many tapers, as Helen had spoken of keeping a
vigil in the adjoining chapel, and praying for the Queen's health and
safety. This accounted to the old crone for the fact that her lady did
not undress; but she had no mind to share the vigil, and was quickly
snoring loudly in her bed in the corner.
With a beating heart Helen peered through the darkness into the chapel
where Pan Vilga and his servant were awaiting her signal; and together
they crept to the door of the vault, which the seneschal had carefully
sealed up. But Helen was possessed of the Queen's signet, and they could
remake or renew the seals in such a fashion as to defy detection; and
soon the men plunged down into the vault, whilst Helen was left to keep
guard above, and, if possible, give warning of any approach from
without.
It was an eerie task that had been assigned to her. From the vault
beneath she soon began to hear the sounds of file and hammer; and her
heart beat fast and furiously as she listened, so that the echoes of the
whole castle seemed to wake at last into awful life. In terror she
raised herself up from her crouching position, and stepped within the
gloomy chapel. What was that noise at the outer door? She thought she
heard the tread of mailed feet and the sound of approaching voices.
Flinging herself upon her knees before the shrine, Helen besought the
protection of all the saints of the calendar; every moment she looked to
see the door flung open to admit a band of soldiers, and was rehearsing
by what strategic device she could keep them from penetrating farther.
But the moments went by and they did not come; and at last she gathered
courage to go forward and open the door herself, and peer forth into the
darkness beyond.
[Illustration: The men plunged down into the vault.
_Page 218._]
All was silent as the grave; and Helen clasped her hands in an ecstasy
of relief.
"It was a spirit!" she said, as she turned back; "surely it is true what
we have read of the care they take of those who seek their aid. There be
more that are with us than they that be against us. Now I will fear no
more!"
And yet Helen had scarce gone back to her prayers, and to vow herself to
a pious pilgrimage should this thing come to a safe issue, ere her
nerves were all set tingling again by some sound from the room of the
Queen's maidens, to the door of which she instantly rushed.
It was only a girl crying out in her sleep; but as Helen crossed to her
side to soothe her, and caution her against waking the others, it seemed
to her that the room was ringing with the sound of the muffled blows
that were being struck in the vault below. So soon as she was assured
that all were slumbering again, she could contain her anxiety no longer,
but stole down into the vault herself, to find out what was passing
there.
The great chest was open; but the little chest inside containing the
sacred crown still defied their efforts to open it. They dared not carry
it away as it stood; it was too heavy and cumbersome, and would
certainly be recognised.
"We must burn the fastening away from the chest," said Konrad; "shut
all the doors fast, Lady Helen, for it will smell. But 'tis the only
thing to be done. And when we have the holy crown, where can we hide
it?"
"I have thought of that," answered Helen, "I have a place for it when we
have it."
Quickly ascending the steps once more, she shut all the doors behind
her, and again made the round of all the apartments, to make sure that
all was still and silent. Then, being satisfied on this score, she
possessed herself of a very large crimson cushion from the chapel,
carefully unripped a seam, and took out a considerable quantity of the
stuffing which she burnt upon her fire in the stove. This, to be sure,
made an unpleasant smell, but Helen was glad of it, for should any of
the girls awake or the guards of the castle come to inquire what was
being burnt she could point to the wool and hair in the stove, and tell
some story of how she was burning up some old oddments of the Queen's.
Then with her velvet cushion in her arms she stole down to the vault
once more.
There lay the sacred crown that Helen had seen once upon the brow of the
late King Albert! Pan Vilga and his servant were carefully removing all
trace of their work, replacing filed chains and bars and broken padlocks
by new ones brought for the purpose, and renewing all the seals with the
Queen's own signet.
As for Helen, she rushed at the crown and fairly clasped it in her arms,
crying out in her heart: "Ah, my Mistress, my dear, dear Mistress--you
are safe for a time from the menaced peril!" Then, whilst the men
completed their task, and set the vault in order, completely
obliterating the traces of their work, Helen carefully placed the crown
within the ample cushion, arranging the stuffing so as to keep it from
injury, and finally sewing up the ripped seam.
What a journey that was upon the next day; when Helen with her precious
cushion in the sledge behind her travelled back to her Royal Mistress at
the castle of Komorn! A thousand times her heart was in her mouth; for
every time the cushion was touched or moved she could scarce refrain
from crying out; once crown and lady, knight and all were in deadly
danger of perishing in the deep and treacherous Danube, which they had
to cross upon the ice. For the spring was at hand, and the frost was
yielding; and the ice cracked so ominously beneath their horses' feet,
that the terrified driver lashed them into a gallop, and they saw a
chasm yawning behind them as they fled.
But there was commotion and joy in the castle of Kormorn when Helen
entered, carrying with her a big cushion that she declined to entrust to
any servant. For a little son had been born that very day to the Queen;
and she had said that when the Lady Helen returned she was to come
instantly to see her.
Cushion in hand, brave Helen entered the Royal presence, and, going up
to the bedside, saw the Queen with the tiny babe beside her. The light
sprang into her eyes at the sight.
"I have brought my little King his crown," she said; and, sinking on her
knees beside the bed, she told the whole tale to the Queen.
* * * * *
When a few weeks later the little King Wladislas was solemnly anointed
and crowned by the Archbishop of Gran, it was Helen who held the babe in
her arms, whilst the sacred crown of St. Stephen was placed upon his
brow.
MAID LILLYARD
"What!" she cried, the indignant blood leaping to her cheek, "hast thou
taken the Red Cross? Why, shame upon thee! Shame upon thee! Thou art not
worthy the name thou dost bear!"
The young fellow stood before her twisting his bonnet between his hands
in somewhat shamefaced fashion. From the likeness between them it was
plain that they were brother and sister: but there was a courage and
loftiness of purpose in the aspect of the girl which bespoke a higher
nature than that of the stalwart lad, who looked half-afraid to face
her.
"Others have done it before. They are all doing it," he argued. "They
say 'tis the only way of safety now that the English King is so mighty
in wrath, and will win by force what he cannot get by friendship. They
say he will come himself, and carry away our young Queen to England, to
wed her to his son; and that all who seek to withstand him will be
slain."
Lillyard's lip curled; her eyes shot forth fire.
"England's Kings have tried ere this to conquer Bonny Scotland. Let
them come again, and see the welcome they will get!"
"It is all very fine for thee to talk!" grumbled the lad; "thou art a
woman. Thou dost sit at home at ease. It is us men who have to go forth
and take all the hard blows. Thou knowest the fate that has befallen
hundreds of us Border men at the hands of the English. Why should we
suffer it? What care I who gets the best of this quarrel? We are
well-nigh as much English as Scotch. What matters it on which side we
fight? Thou needst not glower like that at me. Others say the same. It
is better to take the Red Cross and serve with Sir Ralph Evers or Sir
Brian Latoun, than to be slaughtered like sheep by their trained bands."
The girl was looking away from him over the smiling landscape. The
expression of her face was one her brother could scarcely read aright.
He cowered a little before it; and yet her voice was quiet enough when
she spoke; quiet and almost dreamy.
"It is better to die a soldier's death on the field of battle, than to
turn a traitor to one's home and country, and sell one's sword to an
alien King!"
"Oh, ay, you talk--you talk!" answered Gregory in a tone of offence;
"women can always talk. But if it came to fighting, then they would sing
to a very different tune!"
The girl's eyes flashed; she turned their light full upon her brother,
who moved uneasily beneath the gaze.
"Then let the men don women's attire and take the distaff and spindle in
their hands!" she cried; "and let us women go forth and fight the foe! I
trow we should make the better soldiers, if thou art a specimen of the
lads of the Border!"
"Go to, for a sharp-tongued shrew!" cried Gregory angrily; "I am none
worse than others. Duncan has taken the Red Cross too. Small peace would
there have been at home had I refused it. And have a care how thou dost
talk to him, Lillyard. He will have thee to the cucking-stool for a
scold, an' thou treat him to such words as thou hast treated me!"
Lillyard's hands dropped to her sides, and her eyes dilated. She had not
perhaps a very exalted opinion of her half-brother, Duncan; but at least
she gave him credit for personal courage.
"Duncan has taken the Red Cross!" she repeated at last. "Art sure of
that, Gregory?"
"I saw it pinned upon his arm myself," answered the big lad; "'twas he
who called me up and bid me do the same. He told me how the English were
mustering, and that there would be another great raid; and that he had
no mind to have his house burned about his ears, and all his crops
carried off, with the cattle and horses, and nothing left us save bare
life, even if we escape with that. And I don't see but what he's in the
right," added the youth defiantly, "for all thy black looks, Maid
Lillyard."
"Duncan taken the Red Cross," breathed the girl softly, as she stood
looking out straight before her with that inscrutable look of hers.
"Then this place is no longer a home for me."
"What meanest thou?" cried Gregory angrily. "Thou dost talk like a silly
wench, not like our wise Lillyard. What other home couldst thou find?
And, as I tell thee, we shall be safe here now; for the English are not
to harry the homestead of any of those who have taken the Red Cross."
She did not seem to hear him. She had turned back into the house and was
putting together a few of her private belongings. Her brother watched
her uneasily, shifting from foot to foot.
"Lillyard, be not so rash. Duncan will never forgive. He will never take
thee back if thou dost go now."
"I shall not ask him," responded Lillyard quietly; and then, looking
fixedly at Gregory, she said half sadly: "I would that thou wouldst come
with me, and tear that badge from off thine arm. Better a thousand times
death than dishonour--if that be the choice."
"Women cannot judge of these things," answered Gregory, with masculine
arrogance of sex. Lillyard gave a little smile, and urged him no more.
The sun was setting over Ancram Moor as the girl stepped forth with her
modest possessions in a bundle. She had no wish to encounter the
half-brother, with whom she and Gregory had made a home ever since their
father's death. He had been a more autocratic ruler at home than ever
the father was. Lillyard did not greatly love him; but she had never
before doubted his personal courage or his loyalty to Scotland's cause.
Those were evil days for the dwellers upon the Border; and it cannot be
wondered at, if many in that region sought to trim their sails to the
favouring breeze of the moment. There had been sufficient admixture of
the two races here to lessen somewhat the passionate loyalty to country
that ruled in more distant parts. When the Scotch ravaged the English
borders, the inhabitants sometimes preferred to make terms with them
than to fight, and to bribe them to retire; and when the English forces
invaded Scotland, burning, plundering, and butchering through the
devastated land, it was scarcely to be wondered at that some willingly
temporised. If it were true that the little Queen was to marry the King
of England's son, and unite the two countries in one, what need to
cherish such strong hatred and angry feeling?
But the war was felt to be unjust and unprovoked, and much irritation
was aroused. Henry VIII. of England had shown his intolerant and
impatient temper in a fashion which brought about the defeat of his
cherished plan. He angered the Scots by his demand to have the little
Queen in his own keeping; and, by his persistence and autocratic
conduct, he drove the adverse party into the arms of France, and caused
a rupture in those very negotiations by which he had set such store.
Even then had he shown moderation and patience, he might still have won
a diplomatic victory, when the proposed scheme had so much to recommend
it; but the haughty monarch had never learned the meaning of that word,
and in his ripening years was losing the self-control which in his
younger days he had sometimes exercised over himself. Upon hearing the
news of the negotiations with France, he had declared instant war, and
had sent two bold knights to start a Border raid, whilst his ships
should convey an army to their aid by way of the Frith of Forth.
All the Border country was in a tumult of alarm. Help was promised them
from the Scottish army; but meantime this terrible raid had been made,
in which above a thousand men had been either slain or made prisoners,
nearly two hundred houses and towers destroyed, and such quantities of
sheep and cattle slaughtered or driven away as to render the area of
country completely desolate.
It was therefore perhaps no great wonder that those of the Border folk
who did not feel very keenly with regard to this war, should gladly
avail themselves of the offer made by the English commanders, and
promise to befriend them and to fight on their side if their persons and
goods might be saved from hurt. Those who made this concession were
decorated with a Red Cross, which they undertook to wear in battle, to
distinguish them, and which they were glad enough to have on at other
times, as it was impossible to know at what moment a band of raiders
might not appear, and how soon it might not be needful to display the
badge of friendship.
But to the high spirit of Lillyard this kind of compromise was odious.
As is sometimes the case in families, she seemed to have inherited
everything that was distinctively and vehemently Scotch. The admixture
of English blood seemed not to have touched her. To think of making such
a compromise with the English was to her mind an act of black treachery.
Perhaps her feelings on this point had been unconsciously strengthened
by her attachment to a young Highlander, whose mother had somewhat
recently come to live in this Border country, where a little property
had unexpectedly come to her.
Young Gordon was a Scotchman to the very marrow of his bones, and his
mother was full of the legends and traditions of the Highland home they
had quitted, to which Lillyard would sit and listen by the hour
together. And so close a bond of sympathy had sprung up between the two,
that when Gordon spoke openly of his love, and begged Lillyard to look
upon herself as his promised bride, his mother was almost as eager as
the son for her consent.
It was natural that Lillyard, in her trouble and dismay, should bend her
steps towards that humble homestead, where the widow, Madge Gordon, had
been settled by her son, ere he went forth to join one of those bands of
soldiers that fought sometimes here, sometimes there, as occasion
demanded, and helped to keep in seething life and activity those terrors
and those enthusiasms of patriotism which were the life and soul of the
struggle.
The old woman looked up with a smile as Lillyard entered her cottage;
but she spoke no word, for something in the girl's face restrained her.
"Duncan and Gregory have ta'en the Red Cross," said Lillyard, in a low,
hard tone.
"The deil fly away with all cowards who would sell their country to the
usurper!" breathed the fierce old woman.
"So I have come to thee, mother," added Lillyard simply.
Madge rose and folded her in her arms.
"Thou hast come to thine own home, lassie," she said. "Alan will be braw
and glad when he comes and finds thee here."
A quick flush mantled Lillyard's cheek. Her troth plight to Alan Gordon
was a very recent thing. She could not think of it without a thrill.
Would he come to the Border country in aid of the struggling Scotch,
writhing beneath the savage raids of the English? Surely the leaders of
the many bands of soldiers, regular and irregular, would fly to the aid
of their brethren when they heard what things were being done! Ah, yes,
she would see her Alan before long! And he would not chide her for
seeking a home with his mother!
"I could not stay," said Lillyard, as the two women sat at their frugal
supper together; "it was like a knife in my heart to see that traitor
badge. I could not stay with those who had taken it. And to be told that
were I a man I should do the same!--that it was easy for women who sat
safe at home to talk of courage and devotion!--that were women called
upon to face the foe like men, in battle array, they would be glad to
save their skins by any chance that offered!" And Lillyard threw back
her head and drew a deep breath of anger and scorn, whilst the eyes of
the old woman flashed in the firelight.
"Said he so--the coward callant! Much does he know of the lot of the
woman, left alone and unprotected in her cabin, whilst lawless hordes of
brutal soldiers harry the land, and slay and outrage! Do we not say,
'Would Heaven I had been born a man, that I might go forth to the
battle? Better a thousand times to die sword in hand upon the
battle-field, than to be butchered in cold blood like the dumb brute
beasts!'"
"Ah, yes, ah, yes!" cried Lillyard, "that is what my heart is always
saying! Would that I might go and strike one blow for my country, though
I laid down my life in the doing of it!"
"Other maids have felt like that, and have done the deed!" cried the old
woman, firing up, as she was wont to do when that subject came to the
front. And almost without prompting on the girl's part, she plunged into
the legends and stories of which she had an endless supply on hand,
telling how women and maidens, and even tender children, had done deeds
of heroism and devotion, had fought beside their fathers, their
brothers, their husbands, and had shamed into courage those who were
growing faint-hearted.
Lillyard's eyes glowed brighter and ever more bright as she listened.
She sprang to her feet at last, and paced the darkening cabin to and fro
with hurried steps.
"What one has done, another may do. Oh, mother, mother, why may not I
fight even as those of whom thou hast sung to-night?"
"Daughter, what wouldst thou?" asked Madge, with glistening eyes. She
was excited, and uplifted by the cadence of her own words.
"Let me go forth and fight. They say that a battle must soon be fought,
and that Ancram Moor is like enough to be the place where the hostile
forces will meet. Alan will be there! I feel in all my being that he is
coming--that he is near! He will fight, and why not I beside him? Let me
but don the kilt and trappings of that young Norman whom thou didst
lose, and I will show to those who scoff at woman's courage, what one
girl can achieve! Let Gregory and Duncan fight against their brethren if
they will; I will strike my blow for the honour of our name! Their
treachery and cowardice shall be atoned by the valour of the sister.
Maid Lillyard will uphold the honour of her father's name, which they
have forgotten and smirched!"
The old woman kindled into enthusiasm as the words were spoken. She had
been born and bred amid the clash of arms, the struggles of petty
chieftains one with another, the perils of war from brother or from
foeman. The blood of a wild race was in her veins, and neither time nor
age had cooled it. She understood the mood which had come upon Lillyard,
as few of her own kin or neighbours would have understood it. She rose
to her feet, laid her hands upon the girl's shoulders, and, after gazing
steadfastly into her eyes for several long seconds, led her into the
inner room, and opened a great chest.
Next day Alan came; he rode in the three hundred horse under dauntless
young Norman Leslie. Gallant and brave, did this band appear in the eyes
of all beholders; and cheering was the news they brought, that Lord
Buccleuch was on his way with all speed to join them; that other
reinforcements had started from various points, and would all converge
here; and that the astute Earl of Angus was narrowly watching the
English, and was advising the Scotch leaders as to their best course of
action in repelling this threatened attack; whilst that he himself would
be with them before the day of battle.
It was splendid news for the loyal Borderers, and some who had taken the
Red Cross in their hour of fear, were ready to tear it off now that they
believed help was at hand. But others, like Duncan and Gregory, were too
cautious to be easily persuaded. They feared to lose their comfortable
homestead, and to suffer at the hands of the English. Moreover, it was
known that the renegades who had taken the Cross and then flung it away,
were the especial mark of English vengeance and cruelty.
Great was the joy of Alan Gordon to find Lillyard beneath his mother's
roof; and eager was the interest with which he heard her tale. No love
had ever been lost between him and the brothers of the maid he loved;
and little recked he that, since they knew whither she had betaken
herself, they had cast her off utterly.
"'Tis all in a piece with their coward treachery!" he cried. "But what
matter, since thou art mine? and when the battle has been fought and
won, we two will wed, sweet Lillyard, and thou shalt never lack a home."
She looked up into her lover's eyes, and smiled; but there was something
in that smile which he did not fully understand.
Busy and stirring were the days that followed, and full of seething
hopes and fears. The forces on both sides were mustering apace, and it
was known that the threatened battle could not be long delayed. Both
sides were eagerly anxious to come to blows.
The day arrived. No cloud dimmed the brightness of the sky. The two
armies were drawn up in battle array; and Alan had but a moment in which
to dash in and kiss his mother and his betrothed.
"A glorious victory will be ours!" he cried, "something in my heart
tells me so! Thou wilt see somewhat of the fight, even from here,
mother. Lillyard, beloved, one more kiss. We shall meet again with
hearts full of gladness!"
She smiled a strange smile as she kissed him farewell, and watched the
tall figure swinging away over the broken ground. The air seemed full of
the blare of trumpets, the stamping of horses, the clangour of steel
trappings. The girl's eyes kindled. She drew her breath in sharp,
excited gasps.
"Now, mother," she said, wheeling round to where the old woman stood,
her gaze resting so earnestly upon her that it might almost have
scorched her by its fiery intensity.
"Thou hast no fear, daughter?"
"I know not the meaning of the word!" cried Lillyard. "My heart is
yonder. Where my heart is, there would my arm be!"
"Then come, child, come. Thou art of the right stuff; and I will never
hold thee back. Go, and may the God of battles be with thee, and give
thee part in the glory of victory!"
A short time later there emerged from that cottage a goodly youth in the
Gordon kilt, and with all the weapons that a Highland lad carries with
him into the battle. The bonnet was set upon a mass of tawny floating
curls, and the great grey eyes were full of fire and light.