ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.
"O woman! lovely woman! nature made thee
To temper man; we had been brutes without you."
Otway.
It was only by the exercise of the utmost energy that the soldiery and
camp followers of the Normans were prevented from looting the castle.
They were somewhat appeased by an unlimited supply of ale from the
cellars, and promises of money. Bonfires were lit in the enclosure, and
carcasses of sheep and oxen roasted thereat, the whole resolving itself
into a grand carousal of drinking, singing, and rough jollity. A certain
number of the better class were admitted to the castle, where the same
kind of thing was repeated in much the same fashion.
In the large hall the leaders feasted and drank with little more of
refinement and seemliness than the vulgar people, except that they drank
wine and mead.
"Well, Captain Reynard!" said the Count. "Is all well?"
"All well, sire; the gates secured, the place explored, and, I think I
may add, the Saxons so thoroughly routed and cowed that they will have
little stomach for more fighting yet awhile."
"That may be; but I fancy we should be found very unprepared if they
dared venture an attempt to rescue their leader."
"You may depend upon me, Count, to keep a sharp look-out; I shall not
close my eyes in sleep until the sun rises to-morrow. But I have no fear
the Saxons will attempt a rescue. As I said, they are so thoroughly
beaten, and the remnant so glad to be able to escape with their lives,
that they will venture no more."
An exceedingly busy and anxious time was spent by Alice and her maids in
their efforts to protect the domestics left in charge from the drunken
frolics of both officers and men-at-arms. This would have been a task
utterly beyond their powers but for the watchful eye and stern
discipline of the Count, who, despising the drunken excesses of his
lieutenants, with ceaseless care and watchfulness kept watch and ward
within and without the castle.
Alice and Jeannette, too, with the curiosity of their sex, and with
ever-increasing interest, explored the rooms of the castle, marvelling
greatly at the many tokens of taste and refinement manifested therein,
and which they little expected to find in the castle of a Saxon
chieftain.
Said Alice, "My interest grows strangely from day to day, Jeannette, in
this Saxon chieftain. I see no evidence of the boorishness I have always
associated with the lives of the Barons of England. Now also that he is
in such sore distress, and hath so sad a fate before him, my heart
grieves sorely for him."
"Yes, my lady, I cannot help thinking that these Saxons would despise
the beastly orgies proceeding under this roof, and outside."
"Yes, Jeannette; but what will it be on the morrow, when this Saxon is
given over to their cruelty? It makes my blood curdle! Would I knew how
to set him free! My heart tells me it would be an act of mercy done to
my own people as well as to him; for to spare my people the humiliation
and degradation of the morrow's inhumanity were indeed a good deed,
whether they would appreciate it or not."
"My lady, if you wish it, I warrant we can do it. I know how to set
about it. Paul Lazaire mounts guard, and I can coax the simpleton into
obeying me. I declare if I had to bid him stand on his head he would do
it."
"But, Jeannette, that would probably get Paul into trouble. Perhaps it
would cost him his life. That would not do."
"Well, if you will not let me manage Paul, I cannot tell how to help
you."
"But cannot we manage it without implicating Paul. I could make a
sleeping draught which would put him to rest speedily."
"Oh, that would be fine, my lady! Just the very thing! Put it in some
mulled ale, and I will dose him."
"But how then, Jeannette? Have we courage to open the prison doors? I am
afraid our nerves would fail us down in those damp and ghostly cells."
"Not at all, my lady. I will go; my heart will not fail me, for it would
just suit me to do it."
"Well, it sounds strange we should thus plot to deceive our people; but
my heart prompts me to do this deed, come what may."
"Yes, let us do it; but, as I said, let it be mulled ale, for I declare
ale is never too muddy for them, and they will drink it, no matter what
stuff you put in it."
"But how shall we convey it to him when it is made? That is our next
difficulty, Jeannette."
"Oh, I'll convey it, never fear for me, lady. The little soft is fool
enough to think I admire him. It will be such fun! I shall almost burst
with laughter when he gulps it down. I'll take him a tit-bit also, for
his supper. The simpleton will be overjoyed, and I expect he'll begin
maundering something about love," and Jeannette clapped her hands and
skipped about gleefully. This was a matter that just jumped with her
madcap humour, and her high spirits could any time carry her through a
frolic of this sort; but when fairly cornered, her nerves were subject
to complete collapse, and she became as helpless as any bird before the
swoop of a hawk, unable to do anything but cower and helplessly flutter.
"Really, Jeannette, I think you treat this poor fellow rather too
badly," said Alice.
"It's only a joke, my lady. I like to tease him, he amuses me so!"
"Well, get him some supper, then, and I will make him some mulled ale.
For this once, at least, we must ignore our consciences; but indeed, I
almost think the end will justify the means, for this worthy Saxon
deserves some better fate than the one awaiting him, and I care not if I
permit the claims of humanity and of chivalry to triumph, even though it
be at the expense of my own people, of whose cruelty and greed I am
heartily ashamed."
The evening hours were advancing rapidly towards the twelfth. Much of
the clamour of the early hours of the night was effectually hushed in
the drunken slumbers of both officers and men, and at the dread hour the
attempt at rescue was to be made; so Jeannette, fortifying herself for
her humorous but somewhat daring feat, tripped boldly along the
corridors, torch in hand, bearing the repast prepared for her would-be
lover.
"There, you false man, that is a great deal too good for you!" she said,
accosting Paul Lazaire, who was mounting guard over the cell in which
Oswald was confined, and who, in great trepidation and fear, shrank
before the ghostly advent of an unknown and muffled visitant at the
dread hour of night.
"Oh! goodness me, my pretty Jeannette, is it you? I was quite startled.
I thought it was a ghost, and I declare it's an angel."
"You thought it was that ugly Saxon wench I caught you kissing, you
false man! That is what you thought."
"Tush, tush, Jeannette! Whenever will you forget that? You know I love
only you. Give me a kiss, and let us be friends. I vow I will never look
at another Saxon wench as long as I live."
"Now, get off with you, if you please. You make a mistake if you think I
am going to be kissed by you, when you are so fond of kissing any dirty
hussy you meet."
"Now, don't, my fiery little wife! This is too bad--too bad for
anything, Jeannette! You never have done with it."
"Don't you imagine you will have me for a wife unless you mend your
manners very greatly. You shall have that dirty hussy of a Saxon for a
wife, and I will have Jaques Leroux. He is a smarter man than you are,
any day; and if I but put up my finger to him, he will run after me."
"You don't mean it, Jeannette! Now, don't be cruel! You might just as
well say that you love me, for I know you do at heart, and you are only
teasing me, as usual. I know you wouldn't have brought me this nice
supper if you hadn't thought something of me. Now, isn't it so,
Jeannette? Just give me a kiss, and say you forgive me for that Saxon
wench, and then I shall be happy;" and Paul endeavoured gallantly to
plant a kiss on Jeannette's rosy cheek.
"Here, get off, will you, or else I'll scratch you!" said Jeannette,
violently pushing Paul away. "I'm not going to go shares with a dirty
Saxon. Mark that, Paul Lazaire! You will have to mend your manners
before you kiss me, I can tell you that much!"
"There you go again, Jeannette. You never will forget about that Saxon
wench, I do believe; and you know it was only a joke."
"Now, just get your supper, and give up fooling, will you? or your ale
will be cold, and I shall go away and leave you," was the very
irresponsive reply of the dame.
Paul was really madly in love with Jeannette, but still he had to spare
a considerable amount of affection for the steaming tankard of mulled
ale and the victuals, which she had brought him. So he raised the
tankard to his lips, and gave a hearty drink.
"Bravo, Jeannette!" said he, smacking his lips. "What a lovely brew it
is to be sure! How it warms the pit of my stomach! You'll make me a
happy man some day, I do declare, Jeannette."
"Now you are fooling again!" said Jeannette, giggling most immoderately
at the gusto with which, unsuspectingly, he swallowed the potion. "Now,
get your supper. I cannot spend the whole night with you here. So be
quick, or I shall be missed."
Thus exhorted, Paul fell on the victuals with right good will, and
drained to the dregs the tankard of spiced ale, all the while
interspersing his feeding by casting pitiful glances at Jeannette, which
made that mercurial young damsel giggle more immoderately still.
"Don't go, Jeannette," said he beseechingly, as Jeannette was about to
turn away. "It is a long time to the next watch, and you can't imagine
how creepy I feel in this passage, with that fearful Saxon inside
clanking his irons, and tearing about, and not a soul within call if he
should break loose."
"Is that the cell in which he is confined?"
"Yes, but he is very quiet just now. Perhaps he hears us talking; but I
can hear him tugging at the chains sometimes as though he would tear the
place down. He makes me feel as if next moment he'd burst open the door,
and murder me. He is a most desperate fellow. You should have seen how
he fought on that wall; and there was another one who escaped, a fearful
man, too, at his weapons."
"Oh, I saw them, and I noticed how frightened you all were into the
bargain. But are those the keys you have at your girdle?"
"Yes; this is the one for the door, and this other one for the
manacles," said Paul, holding up a pair of rusty keys to Jeannette's
view. "I wish the watch was over," he added, shuddering, "or I had _un
bon camarade_."
"Eh, bien! bon nuit, mon bonhomme," said Jeannette, gathering up the
empty tankard, and flitting along the lonesome corridors back again to
her mistress, who was waiting with feverish impatience for her return.
"What news have you, Jeannette? Did all go well?"
"Beautiful, my lady. He drank the ale, and praised it finely. I knew he
would do that, for those horrid men always praise ale. But the wonder to
me is that the beastly stuff did not turn his stomach."
"Did you see the cell, then, in which the Saxon is confined?"
"Yes; and Paul showed me which is the key for the door, and which is for
the manacles; for he is chained fast to the wall, it appears."
"Oh, dear, I wish it was over, for I tremble from head to foot. It is a
desperate enterprise, and would be both rash and indelicate if the
mercifulness of it did not demand the sacrifice. Dost thou fear to
venture it, Jeannette?"
"Not a bit, my lady; I like to outwit those men folk, for they count us
nothing, and it will be such a joke to see their blank looks in the
morning! And won't the Baron rage and swear at the men-at-arms?"
"Oh, do hush, you foolish child, it is far too serious to jest about. I
wish your courage and lightheartedness may not fail you before our task
is accomplished! If a merciful Heaven do not help us, I fear me we shall
never accomplish our purpose."
"Let us make vow to Notre Dame, before we venture, that we will repeat
fifty Aves and Credos if she help us, and give twenty silver pennies to
the holy Father at the next gathering of the Romescot."[1]
[Footnote 1: Peter's pence.]
"Well, we will see about that; but we had better get ready, for the
draught will soon take effect upon this sweetheart of yours."
"Stuff, my lady! He is a little finikin fellow, and simple to boot. I do
but tease him. He amuses me so much I really cannot help joking him."
Ere long these two frail women stole along the lonesome passages, having
fortified themselves as best they could for their task. Alice was
dreadfully nervous, but determined of purpose. Jeannette, however, was
jaunty enough at starting, and had it been the congenial task of
tricking poor Paul Lazaire, her volatile temperament would have carried
her through; but she soon began to manifest, by many hysterical starts,
that this dramatic adventure, which might become a tragedy, was telling
powerfully upon her nerves.
They soon reached the place, however, where, as they anticipated, Paul
was found in a state of blissful insensibility to either friend or foe.
He had speedily felt the soothing effect of the drug, and had sat down
with his back to the wall. But he had quickly slidden from that position
and was now lying flat along, in a sound sleep, and breathing heavily.
"Oh, dear!" almost shrieked Jeannette, as she witnessed Paul's
insensible condition. "He's not dead, is he, my lady?"
"No, he is not, you simpleton! Now let us be quick, Jeannette! Reach the
keys from his girdle. May Heaven help us!" said Alice, devoutly crossing
herself. But she dared not give utterance to her fears in presence of
her maid, whose condition was plainly visible to her.
Jeannette snatched the keys from Paul's girdle, and Alice thrust the
clumsy piece of metal into the door; but she had to apply her utmost
strength ere the rusty bolt shot back with a loud snap. Then, applying
her strength to the heavy oaken door, it recoiled slowly on its rusty
hinges, with a horrid, creaking noise which grated fearfully on the
excited nerves of the pair. Immediately, as the torch's flickering light
fell dimly across the cell, their eyes fell upon the captive chief, who
was chained to the wall by heavy chains, but nevertheless stood erect,
with distended nostrils, clenched hands, and threatening attitude. He
was evidently expecting a midnight assassin, and though manacled and
bound hand and foot, he would fight it out to the end. Alice started
back, trembling violently, as she beheld the fierce attitude of Oswald;
and the last spark of Jeannette's courage disappeared, for, with a
shriek, she clutched the arm of her mistress and tried to drag her away.
"Hush, Jeannette! Be still," cried Alice beseechingly; "we shall be
discovered if you do not be quiet."
The scene was a graphic one truly. The two timid women stood on the
threshold of the cell, cowed by the savage attitude of the captive, and
afraid to advance a step, though bent on doing a deed of mercy. Oswald
also was strangely bewildered at the sight of such gentle visitors; for,
as the torch was held aloft, the uncertain light revealed to him the
forms of two timid and graceful women, and one of them, at least,
bearing evidence of gentle blood and gentle manners. His muscles relaxed
and his manacled hands fell to his side, and the heavy irons clanked
horribly in the vaulted cell. This still further terrified the visitors,
and Jeannette, whose nerves were at their utmost tension, with a shriek
involuntarily bounded over the sleeping form of Paul Lazaire, and fled
like the wind along the corridors, leaving her mistress alone with the
captive chieftain. The awful silence was broken by Oswald, who said, "Be
not afraid, gentle lady. I was expecting some red-handed murderer and
the cold steel; but methinks so fair a messenger should bear a message
of mercy."
"We have at least a merciful intent, Saxon. We saw your brave defence of
the castle, and we would fain set you free if we can, for we know the
brutal designs of some of our people, and we would save our own people
from dishonour, and you from a cruel death."
"Ah! then pity still exists in the breast of woman! I thought the world
was emptied of such things."
"This can never be, sir knight, whilst honour and chivalry inspire the
deeds of knights and warriors; for such can never fail to inspire the
sympathies of us weak women."
"Will you dare, then, fair lady, to carry out your beneficent purpose,
and give me my liberty again, enemy though I be to thy people?"
"I have counted all costs, sir knight; and I dare, if so be that my
woman's strength can effect it."
"Here is my right hand, then. Ten thousand blessings on your woman's
heart if you can set it free once more!"
As he spoke he stretched out his right arm, loaded with the heavy and
rusty fetters.
Alice boldly advanced and thrust the key into the lock, but her utmost
strength was insufficient to force back the catch, whilst Oswald's
fetters prevented him from reaching one hand with the other. Alice
unloosed from her shoulders a collarette of rich lace, and wrapped it
round the rusty key, the angles of which hurt her hand. Then, applying
again her utmost strength, happily she succeeded in forcing back the
stubborn bolt, and thus liberating Oswald's right hand.
[Illustration: ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.]
"Thank Heaven for a limb at liberty! My good right hand, too," said he,
stretching it to its utmost length for very joy. "Give me the key, now,
fair lady, for I can myself undo the rest." Soon, one by one, the
fetters were stripped off from his cramped and lacerated limbs, and he
bounded from them free. Falling on his knees before Alice, he seized her
hand and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, "Tell me the name of my
benefactress, lady, for it shall be enshrined in my memory for ever."
"I am Alice de Montfort, and that was my maid," said Alice timidly, and
blushing crimson.
"Alice de Montfort!" said Oswald, starting to his feet as one bewildered
at the avowal. Then, seizing the other trembling hand, he passionately
exclaimed, "Nay, never blush, lady! So noble a name, so fair a form, and
so generous a deed are worthily associated."
"Alas! I fear me, sir knight, some men, if they knew that I thus acted
falsely to my father and to my people, would despise me; but I have
learnt to despise the opinions of men, when the cause of humanity and of
chivalry claims my feeble help. We noticed your brave defence of your
home, and the evil fortune which befel you; and we two weak women were
overtaken with pity, which is our woman's weakness. Thus we have
ventured this deed. I would you should accept it as some atonement for
the violence and greed of my people. But tarry not, sir knight, I
beseech you, lest this act be marred ere it be accomplished."
"How can I express my gratitude to you, gentle lady, for adventuring so
much in order that you might give me my life! But I would that the curse
of Heaven may be upon me as an ingrate, if I forget, even for an hour,
the debt I owe to you, and, if opportunity serve, I return not with
interest to thee and thine this act of mercy done to me in my extremity.
But the time is urgent, as you say. So adieu, lady."
"Stay, sir knight; there is one other point--how will you make good your
escape? Had you not better go with us to our women's quarters? Then we
may devise with greater leisure some further means to ensure your
escape."
"If you will but lend me your cloak, lady, to disguise my form, I know
this castle's resources, and I shall not fail to make my escape. As a
token of this, I will leave the cloak at the foot of the stair leading
to the tower. Adieu, lady! We shall meet again under happier auspices."
So saying, he bounded from the dungeon and disappeared in the darkness.