THE RED MAN OF THE GIBBET TELLS HIS STORY—WHO FOUNDED THE SKELETON
CREW, AND HOW—THE RIVALS.
“Who speaks of the Red Man of the Gibbet?” said a sepulchral voice,
just as Death-wing had finished his story.
All turned round, and saw entering at the door a most alarming figure.
Whether it was human or otherwise, no one could tell.
Suffice it to say that Redgill sank into his chair again in amazement.
The Skeleton Crew made away for the new-comer, who, advancing to the
head of the table, stood and looked fixedly at Death-wing.
The unknown object was clothed in a loose, red cloak.
His face was fleshless, and his grisly hair stood bolt upright, and
was grey.
His two eye-sockets emitted a bluish flame, and his hands were long,
bony, and fleshless.
“Who speaks of the Red Man of the Gibbet?” he said.
He turned round and looked contemptuously at the Skeleton Crew, as he
said,
“You have listened to Death-wing’s story; but he has not told you the
origin of the famous Skeleton Crew.
“It dates farther back than to the period of which he has spoken. No
one knows it but myself.”
“Then, ghastly object, speak!” said Death-wing. “Tell to me and my
followers how it came to pass that thou, the tenant of a lonely
gibbet, should walk the earth like mortal.”
The Red Man grinned in a most ghastly manner as he said, “Peace, and
listen.”
All were as silent as the grave as the Red Man began:—
“The Skeleton Crew was founded centuries ago.
“Their deadliest enemies have been the Warbecks.
“Their greatest friends have been found in the Redgill family, and
since as I know that this night Phillip, the last of the Redgills,
has formally joined your band, and will ultimately command it——”
“Command it?” said Death-wing, with a sudden start.
“Yes, command it ere long—it is but proper that all should know who
and what were the founders of the Skeleton Crew, and the cause of its
origin.”
“Then speak!” said Phillip, looking in amazement at the ghostly,
ghastly figure of the Red Man of the Gibbet.
“I will speak, but let each and all listen; aye, to every word.
“Many, many years, aye, centuries ago,” the Red Man began, “there
lived an old lord, who had no children nor wife, for they had all
died young.
“This noble was named Warbeck, or, as he was called, ‘Lord of the
Lakes.’
“Unknown to any one, he adopted two male children, and brought them
up as his own, just like, at the present day, old Sir Richard Warbeck
adopted Charley and Ned.
“Of this, however, no one knew anything; but the children were not of
equal age, nor of the same parents, although they always passed as
brothers, and bore the family name of Warbeck.
“The elder one was tall, pale, thoughtful, and studious, with black
hair, and a martial aspect. His name was Edward.
“The other, who was three or four years younger, was of a different
aspect, and not so tall.
“He was fair-haired and rosy-cheeked, with bright blue eyes, and very
passionate.
“All went on happily in the family of Lord Warbeck until the children
grew up to be men.
“But from the moment that Lord Warbeck adopted these children, an
enemy began to work against the welfare of the boys.
“This enemy, Phillip,” said the Red Man to him, “was your great
ancestor, and the next of kin to Lord Warbeck.
“The lads were supposed by every one to be the real sons of Lord
Warbeck.
“But Redgill doubted it, although he was unable to prove to the
contrary.
“If they had died, therefore, Redgill himself would have come into
the possession of the Warbeck estate.
“It was his constant aim and object to kill these two boys, but old
Warbeck had them so well guarded, both night and day, that it was
impossible to carry out his deep design.
“When they grew up to manhood, this Redgill was about ten years their
senior, and went abroad to travel.
“But whither he went, or what he did, nobody knew nor cared to know.
“It was in the month of June, and on the greenest turf beneath an old
oak tree there sat three persons.
“Two of the three were the adopted sons, and the third a most lovely
maiden, whose parents, when dying, had left her to the care of old
Warbeck.
“They were conversing most merrily, when the elder one, who was
called Edward, said, playfully,
“‘You have twined a chaplet for my brother, dearest Leoline; have you
not a flower for me?’
“The beautiful maid blushed deeply, and culling from her flowers the
freshest of the roses, began to weave them into a chaplet for him.
“At this moment a servant came up to them, saying that my lord
desired to see Leoline immediately.
“The maiden rose, and hastened to the old lord, her guardian, leaving
the two young men alone.
“For a moment they spoke not, but maintained a dead silence.
“Charley braced on his sword, which he had carelessly thrown on the
grass; but Ned gathered up the flowers that had been plucked by the
fair hands of Leoline.
“This action annoyed Charley.
“He bit his lip, and changed colour.
“At length he said, with a forced laugh,
“‘I must confess, brother, that you carry out your affection for
our fair cousin, Leoline, to a degree that even relationship cannot
warrant.’
“‘True,’ said Ned, calmly, ‘I love her with an affection surpassing
that of blood.’
“‘How?’ said Charley, fiercely, with blood mounting to his temples.
‘Do you dare to think of Leoline as a bride, then?’
“‘Dare?’ said Ned, turning pale, and drawing himself up to his
greatest height.
“‘Yes, I have said the word,’ Charley remarked, boldly. ‘You must
know that I also love Leoline. I, too, claim her as my bride, and
never, while I can wield a sword, will I surrender my claim to any
living rival. Even,’ he added, sinking his voice, ‘though that rival
be my own brother.’
“Ned answered not.
“His very soul seemed stunned.
“He gazed long and wistfully upon Charley.
“Then turning his face away, left the spot without uttering a word.
“The silence startled Charley.
“Accustomed as he was to give full vent to his own passions and
anger, he could not comprehend or solve the forbearance of his
brother.
“He knew that Ned’s nature was too brave and noble to give way to
fear.
“‘Might it not be contempt?’ he thought.
“As this suspicion crossed his mind, he followed his brother, and
placing one hand upon his shoulder, said.
“‘Where are you going? Do you consent to surrender Leoline?’
“‘Does she love you?’ Ned replied.
“His voice quivered with emotion.
“Even the hot-headed Charley felt a pang for his brother’s sudden
pain, and he did not answer.
“‘Does she love you?’ said Ned again, calmly, ‘and have her own lips
confessed it?’
“‘I believe that she loves me,’ Charley replied; ‘but she is too
modest a maiden to confess it.’
“‘Enough,’ said Ned, as he was about to walk away.
“‘Stay,’ said Charley, fiercely. ‘Though she hath not confessed her
love, let me tell you this, brother—dare not cross my path in love,
if you do, by my soul, and hope of heaven, one of us two must die.’
“‘How little canst thou read the heart of one who truly loves,’ said
Ned, with a smile. ‘Think thou I would wed her if she loved thee,
brother. Out upon the thought!’
“And Ned walked away, leaving Charley red with rage.
“Pale with thought, Edward, the elder brother, took a lonely walk in
a retired part of the castle grounds, and, while musing on what had
happened, he encountered Leoline alone, and they began to converse
together like brother and sister.
“‘Let us rest here for a moment, dear Leoline,’ he said; ‘I am sick
at heart, and have much to say to you.’
“He spoke these words so solemnly, that the fair girl looked up to
him in great surprise.
“‘Have I ever offended you?’ she said, tenderly. ‘No, no, you have
been too good and kind; forgive me if I have.’
“‘No, Leoline, you have not, you could not offend me. But I have a
task, a severe task to perform, and, though it pains me, it must be
done. Listen, fair Leoline, listen: once on a time,’ Edward began,
‘there lived among these hills and lakes a certain old lord who had
two sons, and an orphan like thyself also dwelt at the cattle with
them. The eldest son—but no matter, let us not waste words on _him_.
The younger son, then, dearly loved the orphan girl, not for her
immense wealth, but for herself alone, and he prayed that his elder
brother would urge his suit, for he much feared a refusal. Leoline,
my task is done; tell me, tell me truly, dost thou love my brother?’
“Gazing down upon the fair one’s drooping eyes he saw that she
trembled violently, and her cheek was suffused with blushes.
“‘Say,’ continued Edward, mastering his own feelings, ‘say, Leoline.
Tell me, are not they my brother’s flowers you now wear in your
breast and hair?’
“Leoline blushed, as she said—
“‘Do not deem me ungrateful because I wear not yours also, but——’
“‘Hush!’ said Ned Warbeck. ‘I am but as thy friend; is not my brother
more to thee than simply friend? He is young, brave, and handsome;
Heaven grant that he may deserve thee if thou givest him so rich a
gift as thy affections.’
“Leoline spoke not, but tear-drops trickled down her cheeks.
“‘Wilt thou be his bride then, Leoline? Tell me truly.’
“‘Yes; and, Edward, I will be thy _sister_!’
“He hastily kissed her marble forehead, and plunged into an adjacent
thicket to hide his own feelings.
“When he had recovered his self-possession, he went in search of his
brother.
“He found him alone in the wood leaning, with folded arms, against a
tree, and gazing on the ground.
“Edward felt for his brother’s dejection.
“‘Cheer thee, Charley, cheer thee,’ said he; ‘I bring thee most
excellent tidings. I have seen and spoken to the divine Leoline. Nay,
start not, brother, she loves thee! She is thine!’
“‘Generous, brave-hearted brother,’ said Charley, with a sudden flush
of pride upon his brow, and he threw himself upon his brother’s neck,
and could have wept, as he said,
“‘No, no, brother Edward, this must not be; thou art the elder
brother, and hast the best claim to the fair one’s hand. I resign her
to you with all my heart; but forgive my angry words this morning.’
“‘Think of the past no more,’ said Edward; ‘the love of Leoline is
an excuse for greater offences than thine; and now be kind to her;
her nature is soft and keen; _I_ know her well, for _I_ have studied
her faintest wish. Thou, Charley, art quick and hasty of ire; but
remember a word wounds where love is deep. For my sake, as for hers,
think more of her happiness than thy own. Now seek her; she waits to
hear from thy own lips the tale that sounded cold upon mine.’
“With these words the two brothers parted, and, once more entering
the castle, Edward went into the grand old baronial hall.
“The old lord still slept in his easy chair.
“Edward put his hand upon the old man’s grey hair, and blessed him.
“Then stealing up to his chamber, he braced on his helmet and armour,
and, thrice kissing the hilt of his sword, said, with a flushed cheek.
“‘Come, good sword; henceforth be _thou_ my only bride.’
“Then, passing unobserved from the castle he mounted his horse, and
galloped away towards London.
“He safely arrived, and offered his services to the king, who was, at
that time, engaged in a heavy war with France.
“His behaviour was so noble at court, and so handsome did he appear,
that more than one fair maid fell in love with him.
“Temptations were many around him.
“He was courted and feasted on every hand.
“But still he remained true to his purpose, and never forgot his own
deep love for Leoline.
“After spending some time at Court among the rich and gay, he started
for Dover with a great number of troops.
“They set sail, and safely landed in France, and, ere many weeks, Ned
Warbeck’s name resounded through all the camps both of friend and foe
for deeds of chivalry.
* * * * *
“But how fared Leoline at the castle?
“One night a minstrel sought shelter from the storm in the halls of
Warbeck Castle.
“His visit was welcomed by the aged lord, and he repaid the
hospitality he had received by the exercise of his art.
“He sung of the chase, and the gaunt hound started from the hearth.
“He sung of love, and Charles, forgetting his restless dreams,
approached to Leoline, and laid himself at her feet.
“Louder, then, and louder rose the strain.
“The minstrel sung of her.
“He plunged into the thickest of the battle.
“The steed neighed.
“The trumpet sounded.
“And, in imagination, you might have heard the ringing of the steel.
“But when he came to signalise the names of the boldest knights, high
among the loftiest sounded the name of Edward Warbeck.
“Thrice had he saved the king’s royal banner.
“Two chargers had been slain beneath him.
“He had covered their bodies with the fiercest of the foe.
“The old lord started from his seat, and clasped the minstrel’s hand,
“‘Speak—you have seen him, then—he lives—he is honoured?’ said the
old lord, excited.
“‘I myself am but just from war, brave Warbeck, and, noble maiden, I
saw the gallant Edward at the right hand of the king.
“‘And he, Lady Leoline, was the only one whom admiration shone upon
without the shadow of envy.
“‘Who, then, would remain inglorious in the hall?
“‘Shall not the banners of his sires reproach him as they have, and
shall not every voice strike shame into his soul?’
“‘Right,’ cried Charley, suddenly, and flinging himself at the feet
of Lord Warbeck.
“‘Thou hearest what my brother has done, and thine aged eyes weep
tears of joy. Shall I be the only one to dishonour thy name with a
rusted sword? No! grant me, like my brother, to go forth to France
with the heroes of the King’s Court.’
“‘Noble youth,’ cried the harper. ‘Therein speaks the voice of a true
Warbeck; hear him, my lord, hear the noble youth.’
“‘The voice of heaven cries aloud in his voice,’ said Charles,
solemnly.
“‘My son, I cannot chide thine ardour,’ said the old lord, raising
him with trembling hands. ‘But Leoline, thy betrothed, what of her,
my son?’
“Pale as a statue, with ears that doubted their sense as they drank
in the cruel words of her lover, stood the orphan girl.
“She did not speak.
“She scarcely breathed.
“She sank into her seat and gazed, till, at the speech of the old
lord, her guardian, both maiden pride and tenderness restored her
consciousness, and she said,
“‘I, my lord, shall I bid him stay when his wishes bid him depart?’
“‘He will return to you, noble lady, covered with glory,’ said the
minstrel.
“The touching voice of Leoline went to his soul.
“He resumed his seat in silence. Leoline going up to Charles,
whispered gently,
“‘Act as though I were not.’
“And she left the hall, to commune with her heart, and to weep alone.
“‘I can wed her before I go,’ said Charles, suddenly, as he sat that
night in his chamber conversing with my lord.
“‘Why, that is true! and leave thy bride in the first week——a hard
trial.’
“‘Better that, than incur the chance of never calling her mine.’
“‘Assuredly she deserves all from thee, and, indeed, it is no small
sacrifice at thy young age, and with thy gallant mien, to renounce
her for a time; but a bridegroom without a bride! Nay, man, much as
they want warriors, I am forced to tell thee if thou weddest, stay
peaceably at home, and forget in the chase the valours of war, from
which thou wouldst strip the ambition of love.’
“‘I would I knew what were best,’ said Charles, irresolutely. ‘My
brother, ha! shall he for ever outshine me? But poor Leoline, how
will she grieve? she who left him for me.’
“‘Was that thy fault?’ said the old lord, gaily. ‘It may many times
chance to thee again to be preferred to another. Troth, it is a sin
that the conscience may walk lightly under. But sleep on it, Charles,
my old eyes grow weary.’
“The next day Charley sought Leoline, and proposed that their wedding
should precede his parting, but so embarrassed was he, so divided
between two wishes, that Leoline hurt, offended, stung by his
coldness, refused the proposal at once. She left him, lest he should
see her weep, and then, then she repented of her just pride.
“But Charles, striving to appease his conscience with the belief that
hers was now the sole fault, busied himself in preparation for his
departure.
“Anxious to outshine his brother, he departed, not as Edward had
done, alone and unattended, but levying all the horses, men, and
money that the old lord could afford, Charles embarked for France at
the head of a glittering troop of horsemen.
“The aged minstrel still remained at the castle, and, affecting
sickness, tarried behind, and promised to join Charles in France.
“Meanwhile, he devoted his whole powers of pleasing to console
Leoline.
“The force of her simple love was, however, stronger than all his
arts.
“In vain he insinuated doubts of Charles’s fidelity; she refused to
hear them.
“In vain he poured, with the softest accents, into the witchery of
flattery and song; she turned heedlessly away, and was pained at the
remembrance of how coldly Charles had treated her before departing
for the wars.
“She shut herself up in her chamber, and pined in solitude for her
absent lover.
“The old minstrel, who was none other than Redgill in disguise, now
resolved to attempt darker arts to obtain power over her.
“But from some cause he suddenly left the castle on some secret
mission, of so high import, that it could not be resisted by a
passion stronger in his breast than love—the passion of ambition and
hate.
“Meanwhile, though, ever and anon, the fame of Edward reached their
ears, it came unaccompanied with that of Charles.
“Of him they heard no tidings.
“And thus the love of the tender orphan was kept alive by the
perpetual restlessness of fear.
“At length the old lord died, and Leoline was left entirely alone.
“One evening, as she sat with her maidens, the ringing of a horse’s
hoofs were heard in the outer court of the castle.
“A horn sounded.
“The heavy gates were unbarred, and a handsome soldier entered the
hall.
“He stopped for one moment at the entrance, as if overpowered by his
emotions.
“In the next instant he had clasped Leoline to his breast.
“‘Dost thou not recognise me, Leoline?’ he said, tenderly.
“He doffed his helmet, and she saw that majestic brow, which, unlike
that of Charles, her lover, had never changed or been clouded in its
aspect to her.
“‘The war is suspended for the present,’ said he. ‘I learnt my
father’s death, and I have returned home to hang up my banner in the
hall, and spend my days in peace.’
“Time and the life of camps had worked their change upon Edward’s
face.
“His hair, deepened in its shade, was now worn from the temples, and
disclosed a battle-scar which rather heightened the beauty of his
countenance.
“He had apparently conquered a love that was so early crossed, but
not that fidelity of remembrance which made Leoline dearer to him
than all others, and forbade him to replace the image he had graven
upon his soul.
“Leoline’s lips trembled with the name of her absent lover, Charles.
“But a certain recollection of his coldness stifled even her anxiety.
“Edward hastened to forestall her question.
“‘My brother is well,’ he said, ‘and is now sojourning at Calais;
he lingered there so long that the war terminated without his aid.
Doubtless he will soon return; a week, nay, a day might restore him
to you, fair Leoline.’
“Leoline was much consoled.
“Yet something seemed untold.
“‘Why was he so eager for the strife, and to serve the king against
the French, if Charles had thus tarried at Calais so long?’ she
thought.
“She wondered at this, but did not dare to search farther into her
heart.
“The generous Edward concealed from her that his brother led a life
of the most reckless and indolent dissipation, wasting his wealth
in the pleasures of the reckless and gay, and only occupying his
ambition with travelling and gambling, and whatever else that was
useless and inglorious.
“Edward and Leoline resumed their old friendship, and Leoline
believed that it was friendship alone.
“They walked again among the gardens in which their childhood had
strayed.
“They looked down on the eternal mirror of the lakes.
“Ah! could it have reflected the same unawakened freshness of their
life’s early spring!
“The grave and contemplative mind of Lord Edward had not been so
contented with the horrors of war but that it had sought also those
calmer sources of emotion which were yet found among the sages of the
east.
“He therefore had little in common with the ruder lords around him.
“He summoned them not to his board, nor attended their noisy
wassails.
“Often late at night, in yon shattered tower, his lonely lamp shone
still o’er the mighty stream, and his only relief to loneliness was
the presence and song of Leoline.
“He recounted to her his trials and troubles during the war.
“And she listened to him like a child, still thinking of her absent
lover, who, at that moment, had entirely forgotten her.
“Paler and paler she grew day by day.
“And the more afflicted she was, the more the gallant young lord
comforted her.
“His amusements were varied.
“He did all he possibly could to dispel the terrible gloom which
possessed her; but all to no purpose.
“Her heart was gradually becoming petrified.
“From her lonely window she gazed for hours and hours at night.
“The song of nightingale borne upon the breeze, soothed her troubled
soul, and tears flowed down her pallid cheek.
“Yet no murmur came from her.
“She believed that Charles—now Sir Charles—would prove faithful to
her as she had been to him.
“Her hopes were doomed to be blasted.
“Months rolled by, and still Charles did not return.
“Indeed, no tidings of any kind had been received from him for a long
time.
“He seemed to have forgotten poor Leoline, and she pined alone in
deep sorrow.
“It was whispered abroad that, with the money which old Lord
Warbeck had left him, Charley intended to buy up the estates of a
neighbouring castle.
“This rumour proved to be true, and Edward thought that his brother
intended it as the future residence of Leoline—his bride.
“The estates which Charles had purchased was in full view of
Warbeck Castle, and the whole country around were astonished at the
magnificence with which it had been furnished.
“Everything that money could do was done to render this new residence
worthy of those who were to occupy it.
“Six months rolled on, and Charles returned not, nor did any one hear
a single word of his doings, or whereabouts.
“At the end of a twelvemonth, and when the new castle was fit for
habitation, a startling rumour reached the ears of Edward (now Lord)
Warbeck, and the fair orphan, Leoline.
“Charles had returned, and brought back with him a French bride, of
amazing beauty, and fabulous wealth!
“Leoline was the first to disbelieve the rumour, but the only one.
“Bright, in the summer noon, flashed the array of horsemen: for
up the steep hill wound the gorgeous cavalcade towards the grand
residence of Charles Warbeck.
“The bells rung loudly, and the French bride, with her husband,
entered their princely abode.
“That same night there was a grand banquet given by Charles Warbeck
to his friends; but Edward and Leoline were forgotten.
“The lights shone from every casement, and music swelled loud and
ceaselessly within.
“By the side of her husband sat the fair French bride, glittering in
jewels.
“Her dark locks, her flashing eye, the false colour of her complexion
dazzled the eyes of all his guests.
“In the banquet hall, among the guests, sat Phillip Redgill.
“Not dressed as a minstrel on this occasion; but in the uniform of an
English officer.
“For he had played his part so well that even Charles did not suspect
him to be one and the same person, for when Redgill left Warbeck
Castle so suddenly, he went to Calais, and then under an assumed
name, made the acquaintance of Charles Warbeck, and led him on to
ruin.
“As he was such a gay fellow, then, and had become so much linked in
with young Warbeck, he was looked upon by all almost as one of the
family.
“‘By the fates,’ said he, as he whispered to the bride and
bridegroom, ‘we shall scare the owls to-night in the grim towers of
Warbeck Castle. Thy grave brother, Sir Charles, will have much to do
to comfort thy old flame, Leoline, when she learns what a gallant
life you are leading here with your fair French bride.’
“‘Poor damsel,’ said the bride, with a light laugh of scorn, ‘poor
damsel; doubtless she will now be reconciled to the pale-faced
rejected one; for I understand that my Lord Warbeck, your brother,
Sir Charles, is a gentleman, handsome, and of gallant mien.’
“‘Peace!’ said Sir Charles, sternly, and quaffing a large goblet of
wine.
“The bride bit her lip, and glanced meaningly at Redgill, who
returned the glance.
“‘Nought but a beauty such as thine can win my pardon,’ said Sir
Charles, turning to his bride, and gazing passionately in her face.
“The bride smiled.
“Well sped the feast, the laugh deepened, the wine circled, when Sir
Charles’s eye rested on a guest at the bottom of the board, whose
figure was mantled from head to foot, and whose face was covered by a
dark veil.
“‘Beshrew me,’ said he, aloud, ‘but this is scarce courteous at our
revel; will the stranger vouchsafe to unmask?’
“These words turned all eyes to the figure. It rose and walked
slowly, but with grace, to the fair bride, and laid beside her a
wreath of flowers.
“‘It is a simple gift, lady,’ said the stranger, in a voice of much
sweetness; ‘but it is all I can offer, and the bride of Sir Charles
should not be without a gift at my hands. May you both be happy!’
“With these words the stranger left the hall like a shadow.
“‘Bring her back—bring her back,’ said the French bride, hastily.
“‘No, no!’ said Sir Charles, waving his hand impatiently; ‘touch her
not, heed her not, at your peril.’
“The bride bent her head over the flowers to conceal her anger, and
from amongst them dropped the broken half of a ring.
“Sir Charles recognised it at once.
“It was the half of that ring which he had broken with his betrothed
Leoline.
“He required not such a sign to convince him that the figure so full
of ineffable grace, that touching voice, that simple action, so
tender in its sentiment, that gift, that blessing, came only from the
heart-broken and forgiving Leoline.
“But Lord Warbeck, alone in his solitary tower, passed to and fro
with agitated steps.
“Deep, undying wrath at his brother’s baseness mingled with one
burning, delicious hope.
“He confessed now that he had deceived himself when he thought his
passion was no more; was there any longer a bar to his union with
Leoline?
“In that delicacy which was breathed into him by his love, he had
forborne to seek, or to offer her the insult of, consolation.
“He felt that the shock should be borne alone, and yet he pined, he
thirsted, to throw himself at her feet.
“Nursing these contending thoughts, he was aroused by a knock at his
door.
“He opened it.
“The passage was thronged by Leoline’s maidens—pale, anxious, weeping.
“Leoline had left the castle, but with one female attendant, none
know whither.
“They knew too soon.
“From the hall of Warbeck Castle she had passed over in the dark and
inclement night, to the valley in which the convent offered to the
weary of spirit and the broken of heart, a refuge.
“At daybreak, the next morning, Lord Edward Warbeck was at the
convent gate.
“He saw Leoline.
“What a change one night of suffering had made in that face, which
was the fountain of all loveliness to him.
“He clasped her in his arms.
“He urged all that love could urge.
“He besought her to accept that heart, which had never wronged her
memory by a thought.
“In vain Warbeck pleaded; in vain he urged all that passion and truth
could urge.
“The springs of earthly love were for ever dried up in the orphan’s
heart, and her resolution was immovable.
“She tore herself from his arms, and the gate of the convent creaked
harshly on his ear.
“A new and stern emotion now wholly possessed him.
“Naturally mild and gentle, when once aroused to anger, he cherished
it with the strength of a calm mind.
“Leoline’s tears, her sufferings, her wrongs, her uncomplaining
spirit, the change already stamped upon her face, all cried aloud to
him for vengeance!
“‘She is an orphan,’ said he, bitterly; ‘she hath none to protect, to
redress her, save me alone.
“‘My father’s charge over her forlorn youth descends of right to me.
“‘What matters it whether her forsaker be my brother? He is _her_ foe.
“‘Hath he not crushed her heart?
“‘Hath he not consigned her to sorrow till the grave? And with what
insult. No warning, no excuse. With lewd wassailers keeping revel for
his new bridals in the hearing—before the sight—of his betrothed.
Enough! the time hath come when, to use his own words, “One of us two
must fall!”’
“He half drew his glaive as he spoke, and thrusting it back violently
into the sheath, strode home to his solitary castle.
“The sound of steeds and of the hunting horn met him at his portal;
the bridal train of his brother Sir Charles, all mirth and gladness,
were panting for the chase.
“That evening, a knight in complete armour entered the banquet-hall,
and defied Sir Charles, on the part of Lord Warbeck, to mortal combat.
“Even Redgill was startled by so unnatural a challenge.
“But Sir Charles, reddening, took up the gage, and the day and spot
were fixed.
“Discontented, wroth with himself, a savage gladness seized him.
“He longed to wreak his desperate feelings even on his brother.
“Nor had he ever, in his jealous heart, forgiven that brother his
virtues and his renown.
“At the appointed hour the brothers met as foes.
“Lord Edward Warbeck’s visor was up, and all the settled sternness of
his soul was stamped upon his brow.
“But Sir Charles, more willing to brave the arm than to face the
front of his brother, kept his visor down.
“Redgill stood by him with folded arms.
“It was a study in human passions to his mocking mind.
“Scarce had the first trumpet sounded to this dread conflict, when a
new actor entered on the scene.
“The rumour of so unprecedented an event had not failed to reach the
convent wherein Leoline had sought refuge.
“And now, two by two, came the sisters of the holy shrine, and the
armed men made way as, with trailing garments and veiled faces, they
swept along into the very lists.
“At that moment one from among them left her sisters, and, with a
slow, majestic pace, paused not till she stood right between the
brother foes.
“‘Lord Edward Warbeck,’ she said in a hollow voice, that curdled up
his dark spirit as she spoke, ‘is it thus thou wouldst prove thy
love, and maintain thy trust over the fatherless orphan that thy sire
bequeathed to thy care? Shall I have murder on my soul?’
“At that question she paused, and those who heard it were struck
dumb, and shuddered.
“‘The murder of one man by the hand of his own brother! Away,
Warbeck!—_I command!_’
“‘Shall I forget thy wrongs, Leoline?’ said Warbeck.
“‘Wrongs! they are forgiven, they are no more. And thou, Sir
Charles—(here her voice faltered)—thou, does thy conscience smite
thee not—wouldst thou atone for robbing me of hope by barring against
me the future? Wretch that I should be, could I dream of mercy—could
I dream of comfort—if thy brother fell by thy sword in my cause? Sir
Charles, I have pardoned thee, and blessed thee and thine. Once,
perhaps, thou didst love me; remember how I loved thee—cast down
thine arms.’
“Sir Charles gazed at the veiled form before him.
“Where had the soft Leoline learned to command?
“He turned to his brother.
“He felt all that he had inflicted upon both; and casting his sword
upon the ground, he knelt at the feet of Leoline, and kissed her
garment with a devotion that votary never lavished on a holier saint.
“The spell that lay over the warriors around was broken.
“There was one loud cry of congratulation and joy.
“‘And thou, Lord Edward Warbeck!’ said Leoline, turning to the spot
where, still motionless and haughty, Warbeck stood.
“‘Have I ever rebelled against thy will?’ said he, softly, and buried
the point of his sword in the earth. ‘Yet, Leoline—yet,’ added he,
looking at his kneeling brother, ‘yet art thou already better avenged
than by this steel!’
“‘Thou art! thou art!’ cried Sir Charles, smiting his breast; and
slowly, and scarce noting the crowd that fell back from his path,
Lord Edward Warbeck left the lists.
“Leoline said no more.
“Her divine errand was fulfilled; she looked long and wistfully after
the stately form of Lord Edward, and then, with a slight sigh, she
turned to Sir Charles.
“‘This is the last time we shall meet on earth. Peace be with us
all.’
“She then, with the same majestic and collected bearing, passed on
towards the sisterhood.
“And as, in the same solemn procession, they glided back towards
the convent, there was not a man present, no, not even the hardened
Redgill, who would not, like Sir Charles, have bent his knee to
Leoline.
“Once more, Sir Charles plunged into the wild revelry of the age.
“His castle was thronged with guests.
“Night after night the lighted halls shone down athwart the tranquil
lake.
“The beauty of his French bride, and the wealth of Sir Charles,
attracted all the chivalry from far and near.
“Yet gloom seized him in the midst of gladness, and the revel was
welcome only as the escape from remorse.
“The voice of scandal, however, soon began to mingle with that of
envy at the pomp of Sir Charles.
“The fair bride, it was said, weary of her lord, lavished her smiles
on others.
“The young and the fair were always most acceptable at the castle.
“And above all, her guilty love for Redgill scarcely affected
disguise.
“Sir Charles alone appeared unconscious of the rumour; and though he
had begun to neglect his bride, he relaxed not in his intimacy with
Redgill.
“It was noon, and the bride was sitting in her bower alone with her
suspected lover.
“Rich perfumes mingled with the fragrance of flowers, and various
luxuries, unknown till then in English climes, gave a soft and
effeminate character to the room.
“‘I tell thee,’ said the bride, petulantly, ‘that he begins to
suspect; that I have seen him watch thee, and mutter as he watched,
and play with the hilt of his dagger. Better let us fly ere it is
too late, for his vengeance would be terrible were it once roused
against us. Ah! why did I ever forsake my own sweet land for these
bleak shores! There, love is not considered eternal, and inconstancy
a crime worthy death.’
“‘Peace, pretty one,’ said Redgill, carelessly; ‘thou knowest not
the laws of our foolish chivalry. Thinkest thou I could fly from a
knight’s halls like a thief in the night? Why verily, even the red
cross would not cover such dishonour. If thou fearest that thy dull
lord suspects, why let us part. The king hath sent to me. Ere evening
I might be on my way thither.’
“‘And I left to brave the barbarian’s rage alone? Is this thy
courage?’
“‘Nay, prate not so wildly,’ answered Redgill. ‘Surely, when the
object of his suspicion is gone, thy woman’s art and thy French wiles
can easily allay the jealous fiend. Do I not know thee? Why thou
wouldst fool all men—save Redgill.’
“‘And thou, cruel, wouldst thou leave me?’ said the bride, weeping;
‘how shall I live without thee?’
“Redgill laughed slightly.
“‘Can such eyes ever weep without a comforter? But farewell; I must
not be found with thee. To-morrow I depart for London; we shall meet
again.’
“As soon as the door closed on Redgill, the bride rose, and pacing
the room, said—
“‘Selfish, selfish; how could I ever trust him? Yet I dare not brave
Sir Charles alone. Surely it was his step that disturbed us in our
yesterday’s interview. Nay, I will fly, I can never want a companion.’
“She clapped her hands.
“A young page appeared.
“She threw herself on her seat and wept bitterly.
“The page approached.
“And love was mingled with his compassion.
“‘Why weepest thou, dearest lady?’ said he; ‘is there aught in which
Conrade’s services—services—ah! thou hast read his heart—his devotion
may avail?’
“Sir Charles had wandered out the whole day alone.
“His vassals had observed that his brow was more gloomy than was its
wont, for he usually concealed whatever might prey within.
“Some of the most confidential of his servitors he had conferred
with, and the conference had deepened the shadow of his countenance.
“He returned at twilight; his young wife did not honour the repast
with her presence.
“She was unwell, and not to be disturbed. The gay Redgill was the
life of the board.
“‘Thou carriest a sad brow to-day, Sir Charles,’ said he. ‘Good
faith! thou hast caught it from the dull air.’
“‘I have something troubles me,’ answered Sir Charles, forcing a
smile, ‘which I would fain impart to thy friendly bosom. The night is
clear, and the moon is up, let us go forth alone into the garden.’
“Redgill rose.
“And he forgot not to gird on his sword as he followed the knight.
“Sir Charles led the way to one of the most distant terraces that
overhung the lakes.
“‘Redgill,’ said he, pausing, ‘answer me one question on thy honour.
Was it thy step that left my lady’s bower yester eve at vesper?’
“Startled by so sudden a query, the wily Redgill faltered in his
reply.
“The red blood mounted to Sir Charles’s brow.
“‘Nay, lie not. These eyes have not witnessed, but these ears have
heard from others of my dishonour.’
“As Sir Charles spoke, Redgill’s eye resting on the water, perceived
a boat rowing fast over the lake.
“The distance forbade him to see more than the outline of two figures
within it.
“‘She was right,’ thought he; ‘perhaps that boat already bears her
from the danger.’
“Drawing himself up to the full height of his tall stature, Redgill
replied, haughtily,
“‘Sir Charles, if thou hast deigned to question thy vassals, obtain
from them only an answer.’
“‘Enough,’ cried Sir Charles, losing patience, and striking Redgill
with his clenched hand. ‘Draw, traitor, draw!’
* * * * *
“Alone in his lofty tower, Lord Edward Warbeck watched the night
deepen over the heavens, and communed mournfully with himself.
“‘To what end,’ thought he, ‘have these strong affections, these
capacities of love, this yearning after sympathy, been given me?
Unloved and unknown, I walk to my grave, and all the nobler mysteries
of my heart are for ever to be untold.’
“Thus musing, he heard not the challenge of the warder on the wall,
or the unbarring of the gate below, or the tread of footsteps along
the winding stair.
“The door was thrown suddenly open, and Sir Charles stood before him.
“‘Come,’ he said, in a low voice, trembling with passion, ‘come, I
will show thee that which shall gladden thy heart. Twofold is Leoline
avenged.’
“Lord Edward Warbeck looked in amazement on a brother he had not met
since they stood in arms each against the other’s life.
“And he now saw that the arm that Sir Charles extended to him dripped
with blood, trickling drop by drop upon the floor.
“‘Come,’ said Sir Charles, ‘follow me! It is my last prayer. Come,
for Leoline’s sake, come.’
“At that name, Lord Edward Warbeck hesitated no longer; he girded on
his sword, and followed his brother down the stairs, and through the
castle gate.’
“The porter scarcely believed his eyes when he saw the two brothers,
so long divided, go forth at that hour alone, and seemingly in
friendship.
“Lord Warbeck, arrived at that epoch in the feelings when nothing
stuns, followed with silent steps the rapid strides of his brother.
“The two castles, as I have told you, were not far from each other.
“In a few minutes Sir Charles paused at an open space in one of the
terraces on which the moon shone bright and steady.
“‘Behold!’ he said, in a ghastly voice, ‘behold!’
“And Lord Warbeck saw on the sward the corpse of Redgill bathed with
the blood that even still poured fast and warm from his heart.
“‘Hark!’ said Sir Charles. ‘He it was who first made me waver in
my vows to Leoline. He persuaded me to wed yon whited falsehood.
Hark! He, who had thus wronged my real love, dishonoured me with
my faithless bride, and thus—thus—thus’ as, grinding his teeth, he
spurned again and again the dead body of Redgill, ‘thus Leoline and
myself are avenged!’
“‘And thy wife?’ said Lord Warbeck, pityingly.
“‘Fled—fled with a hireling page! It is well! She was not worth the
sword that was once belted on—by Leoline!’
“On the very night of his revenge a long delirious illness seized Sir
Charles.
“The generous Lord Warbeck forgave, forgot all, save that he had been
once consecrated by Leoline’s love.
“He tended him through his sickness, and, when he recovered, Sir
Charles was an altered man.
“He foreswore the comrades he had once courted, the revels he had
once led.
“His halls were desolate.
“The only companion Sir Charles sought was Lord Warbeck; and Lord
Warbeck bore with him.
“They had no subject in common, for on one subject Lord Warbeck at
least felt too deeply ever to trust himself to speak.
“Yet did a strange and secret sympathy re-unite them.
“They had at least a common sorrow.
“Often they were seen wandering together by the solitary banks of the
river, or amidst the woods, without apparently interchanging word or
sign.
“Lord Warbeck was now companionless.
“In vain the king’s court wooed him to its pleasures.
“In vain the camp proffered him the oblivion of renown.
“Ah! could he tear himself from a spot where morning and night he
could see afar, amidst the valley, the roof that sheltered Leoline,
and on which every copse, every turf, reminded him of former days?
“His solitary life, his midnight vigils, strange scrolls about his
chamber, obtained him by degrees the repute of cultivating the darker
arts; and, shunning, he became shunned by all.
“One night, when Lord Warbeck sat lonely in his chamber, dreaming of
the past, the bell at the outer gate began to toll.
“He listened.
“Again and again its solemn sounds struck ominously upon his ear.
“He had never before in all his life heard such a dismal, mournful
sound.
“The gate-keeper went out to ascertain the cause, but could see no
one about.
“He even went up into the bell-tower.
“But just as he got there the bell ceased tolling; but even then
shook to and fro.
“He was about to leave when again it tolled.
“The old porter was struck almost dumb with surprise.
“The bell was not touched by anything that he could see, and yet its
harsh grating sound thrilled him.
“‘Ghosts!’ he cried, and hurried away to inform his master of the
strange occurrence.
“‘What means this noise at such an unseemly hour of the night?’ said
Lord Edward, sternly.
“‘I know not my lord,’ was the answer; ‘but all in the castle are in
commotion and fear.’
“‘Get you gone, knave,’ said Warbeck, ‘and let’s hear no more of such
silly nonsense.’
“The porter went his way, and Lord Edward walked about his room in a
state of mental excitement.
“‘What means this tolling of the bells?’ said he, half-aloud.
“‘_I_ can explain,’ said a voice near to him.
“Lord Edward turned suddenly around, and to his horror, he saw
standing before him a ghastly skeleton form.
“‘Who art thou?’ said Lord Edward, in a firm tone.
“‘I am Redgill, whom thy brother slew.’
“‘Ha! the spirit of the dead!’ said Lord Edward.
“‘No, not dead; through the agency of potent spirits, I have been
restored to life.’
“‘Impossible!’
“‘No; I roam the earth with but one sole object.’
“‘Name it!’
“‘To destroy every one who bears the name of Warbeck.’
“‘Be you spirit or mortal, thou liest!’ said Lord Edward.
“And at the same moment he drew his sword, and made a pass at the
grim visitor.
“In an instant, however, the blade was shivered into halves, and the
skeleton laughed loudly and grimly.
“‘My life is charmed. Thy steel to me is useless. They hung me on a
gibbet, and called me the Red Man from the mass of gore which flowed
from the wounds inflicted by thy brother; but, as I have said, my
life is renewed through mystic charms and spells, and at certain
times of night, during certain seasons of the year, I can go abroad
wherever I will.
“‘See,’ said the intruder, ‘I come not alone.’
“He stamped his foot.
“In a moment, Lord Edward was astonished to find that the room was
filled with skeleton men.
“‘You see I come not alone,’ said the intruder again; ‘this is my
band, the Skeleton Crew; we are the scourge both of the sea and land;
fear us, Warbeck, for never, until the last of thy name shall have
ceased to live, will I, or my crew, cease to follow, and thwart you
in all your designs.’
“‘Unholy fiend,’ Lord Edward exclaimed; ‘if even it be that all of
you are endowed with life anew, heaven hath its counter spells for
all your charms.’
[Illustration: THE MEETING IN THE WOOD.—(_See No. 23._)]
“‘True,’ said the grisly visitor; ‘heaven had one on earth who, until
to-night, preserved you and yours, but that one has departed, hence
our hour of triumph has come.’
‘At that same moment Lord Edward’s ears were startled by the distant
tolling of the convent bell.
“‘Listen,’ said the grim chief; ‘listen to the funeral knell of her
you loved.’
“‘Leoline?’ gasped Lord Edward.
“‘Yes, Leoline is no more.’
“‘I cannot, I will not believe it.’
“‘’Tis true, her spirit has left earth, and with it thy only
protector, Lord of Warbeck.’
“These words were scarcely uttered, when the Skeleton Band were in
turn struck with awe.
“There, in the midst of them stood the spirit form of Leoline, who,
in white robes, as light as air, held her hand aloft, and pronounced
a solemn malediction on those who would have injured the gallant
knight.
“‘Begone, spirits of evil—vanish to the utmost corners of the earth;
but never, while heaven hath a protecting arm, can the Red Man of the
Gibbet harm or injure the noble race of Warbeck.’
“Such was the potency of the spirit presence that the Skeletons
vanished; yet, since that day, and since that solemn hour, have the
Skeleton Crew and the Warbecks been at deadly feud; and never,” said
the Red Man, “until the last of the race shall have succumbed to my
awful power will I rest in peace in my gibbet chains.”
The Red Man concluded his narrative, and vanished as he had came—how,
or where, none knew whither.
For some time Death-wing and the rest remained as if spellbound.
Never until then had any ever heard how the Skeleton Crew was
founded; but now that its origin was unmistakably traced to a deadly
hate to the family of the Warbecks, Death-wing, Redgill, and the rest
rose in great anger, and swore, in the language of the Red Man, never
to rest until the last descendants of the bold Warbecks were numbered
with the dead.
With sword upraised, and amid great applause of the Crew, Phillip
Redgill swore an awful oath to slay Ned Warbeck the first moment they
met, whether publicly, privately, in night or day.