ALICE DE MONTFORT AND THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.
"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."
Shakespeare.
The boat containing Oswald and Alice, impelled by the strong arms of the
Saxon chieftain, sped along swiftly through the magnificent scenery.
"Now, lady, what think you? Did I speak truly when I praised the
scenery?"
"Yes. Truly it would be an earthly paradise if it were not for the greed
and cruelty of man. I think it richer and grander in these leafy
solitudes than anything I have seen; or else it is because it fits my
taste so wondrously."
"Yes. I cannot say, lady, that I hope you and your people will long
enjoy the new home you have found, for I confess to you I cherish most
ardent desires to be its lord again; though I think I can renounce my
hopes, and well-nigh welcome exile if you are to be its mistress, and I
may be permitted to look with unsinning eyes upon a form which has
become even dearer to me than freedom and home. I doubt me, however,
this latter wish may not be, for I hear some Norman knight claims your
hand."
"My father has affianced me to one of the knights of his retinue; but
this betrothal is without my consent, if I may be so bold as to confess
it to a stranger. Indeed, I care not to disguise the fact that it is a
most hateful alliance, and most abhorrent to me. I shall much prefer, if
I may be permitted, to retire to a convent in my native land, rather
than wed a man so incapable of inspiring either my love or my respect as
this Baron Vigneau."
"I am afraid it is I who am too bold, in intruding in so delicate a
matter, and one so remote from my concerns. But I would fain think, and
hope, that the Count will not press a loveless marriage upon you; to do
such violence to your affections would be cruel."
"My father is a soldier, Sir Knight, seared and blunted by his calling,
and sentiment has little place in his nature. Latterly, also, I have
noticed moroseness of disposition creeping over him; and upon this
question he is more stern and peremptory than ever he was wont to be,
and I lose heart and hope. Indeed, I am in sore straits. And your
intrusion--if intrusion it be--I recognise is dictated by sympathy; and
I stand much in need of this."
"I would I could convey to you, lady, in adequate terms--terms in which
I should not be presumptuous--how honoured I should be if I could serve
you in any way whatever. My resources, my men--nay, believe me, lady,
for exaggeration would be most gross--my life is at your disposal, fully
and unreservedly."
"I would fain accept of you as an ally and a friend, for I stand alone,
and have not even a confidante, saving my maid, and I find the iron
wills of my father and Vigneau completely bear me down; and if I escape
from the toils of Vigneau, some stronger arm will have to interpose a
rescue."
"I am but a Saxon outlaw, lady, a wolfshead, landless, penniless, and
hunted; but if you can bethink you how I may serve you, my arm is
strong, and my sword's edge unblunted. If time but tarry a while, I am
confident something may be done to set you free from the life-long
misery of a union with Vigneau; and I know enough of him to convince me
that there is no community of taste or of disposition between you. I
dare not say more, for my presumptuous heart runs riot with my
understanding, and I may say things most unbefitting my present
desperate estate."
"Make no apology, worthy knight," said Alice, blushing scarlet, then
pale and trembling, "for your worldly misfortunes. A knight despoiled,
but not disgraced, has no need to humble himself to me. Gold and lands
are at best but an accident, but virtue and nobility of character are
the slow growth of virtuous thinking and noble endeavour. And which,
think you, valiant Saxon, are most highly valued by a simple maiden like
myself? You are my debtor, you say; then here is an enterprise will tax
your wisdom--I fear your prowess also. Doughty knights have in past
times, it is said, effected wonderful deliverances for maidens in
distress. Is it only the language of romance? I will not affectedly
profess that I do not understand your language; but there is a challenge
for you. If lightly won, Sir Knight, I may be lightly worn."
Now this high-born maiden was cultured, virtuous, womanly, and,
moreover, she was young--a matter to be taken note of, for maidens then
do not often dilute the gift of the heart with worldly considerations;
but only few men are capable of winning such love. Does it require great
tact, address, astuteness--such as men employ to catch some young colt,
unbroken, shy, and suspicious? No. Whenever such love is won, it is won
easily, without laying of siege, or clever generalship; in fact,
astuteness, or tactics of any sort, are fatal to success. It is not a
bargain, a huckstering _quid pro quo_. It is an inspiration, an
intuition. It is a rush of all that is holiest, truest, tenderest, and
trustful in woman towards the man who is capable of inspiring it, and of
setting free the abounding wealth of a woman's heart. What conditions
does it demand? Well, these are essentials: it asks for broad and ample
strength to lean upon without misgiving. It demands an integrity that
may be trusted to the uttermost, beyond the bounds where prudence,
discretion, and kindred virtues cry halt. It asks the frankness and
transparency of soul where nothing is hidden, and where there are no
dark corners, suspicious and unreadable, suggestive of things to be
disguised with care. When these qualities are present, they are
luminously visible to a woman's intuitions, and the citadel of her heart
is won easily and without capitulation terms. There are more hearts won
at short notice than cynics would allow; but it is the spontaneous
embrace of the divine that is in us, and alas! there is little of the
divine in most mortals.
As the foregoing words fell from the lips of Alice, Oswald started
forward as though electrified, and laid his hand on the hilt of his
sword.
"Believe me, lady," said he, "I never dared to dream such a cup of
blessedness would be held to my lips; and I assure you I needed no other
stimulus than the debt of gratitude I owe to you for my deliverance from
death, in order to brave anything and everything for you. But if there
be hope, however remote, of winning a place in your affections, as my
desperate estate has already moved your compassion, and that some day,
in happier circumstances, I may even dare to ask you to be my bride,
such an inpiration will nerve my arm and brace my energies, so that
difficulties shall be most desperate if I overcome them not."
"I fear me, Sir Knight, if you undertake so desperate an enterprise as
this, with success, it will require matchless skill and daring, coupled
with deadliest peril. I fear, also, it will have to be a sharp sword
that severs so unholy and hated a bond."
Alice hesitated a moment, as though feelings of delicacy forbade farther
advances; then, although the blushes on her countenance deepened, she
said,--
"Having confided so much of the story of my sorrows--I fear at the peril
of my modesty--may I venture farther confidence?"
"I dare not ask you for confidences you hesitate to give, fair lady, for
I am deeply conscious my worthiness to receive them has not been put to
the proof. Consult your own heart in this, for it is your best and
safest guide."
"I think I may safely venture everything, and trust you, Saxon, even to
the uttermost and with all my heart. This involves my father's secret,
and his deadly peril also, for this Vigneau has obtained a fatal
ascendency over him. He holds documents most compromising to my father,
in addition to the promise given long ago; and which my father might
possibly have revoked with impunity had not Vigneau obtained possession
of these treasonable documents. These he uses with brutal terrorism to
enforce his claim to my hand. In an unhappy moment my father entered
into negotiations with the leaders of the late Saxon rebellion, and he
made use of Baron Vigneau as his intermediary. The Baron never delivered
those letters, but with brutal cunning he still holds them, and he uses
them with deadly effect to enforce his claims."
"Ah! I have a distinct remembrance of this," said Oswald, as the
memorable scene at the Council, in York, presented itself to his mind.
"I remember too well this traitor entering our assembly, under pretext
of joining our ranks in opposition to the king; and I remember well,
also, I met him face to face in combat next day, and 'tis a quarrel
still unsettled, but which may be fought to the bitter end some day.
Take heart, lady; some means will assuredly be devised for circumventing
the purposes of this unscrupulous braggart, Vigneau. But if this should
not be accomplished by human agency, I would fain think and hope, if the
wisdom and the valour of man should fail, a kindly Providence has in
store a happier lot for one so fair, so virtuous, and so good. Let us
foster hopes of brighter days; these are troublous times, and one
revolution of Fortune's wheel may bring momentous changes. Perhaps the
asperities and hatreds of race, engendered by these cruel wars, may be
soothed and healed again, and Saxon and Norman may be blended in one
united people."
"Alas! can this ever be? My people seem drunk with greed and blood, and
thy people given to fierce reprisals."
"This reconciliation does not seem as though it were near, truly, lady.
Our peasantry have been massacred by scores. The more spirited of them
have taken to outlawry, and would as soon take the life of a Norman as
the life of a stag. We have also chieftains amongst us who have lost
all, and live only for revenge; fierce and implacable, they cherish mad
schemes of re-conquest, which are utterly futile. But all the same, it
will be woe to the man who argues for peace in the Saxon witan in the
presence of these implacable men."
"Is there anything I can do to soothe these hatreds?"
"You have begun well, and it seems marvellous to report, your deeds of
mercy and kindness are being talked about through the countryside where
Saxons meet together. These acts of kindness make for peace with
mightier force than deeds of arms or years of a rule of force."
"But what is to be the solution of this race difficulty? Some of our
people speak and act as though there were no solution but the
extermination of all those who offer any resistance to their being
reduced to villeinage the most abject."
"In a policy of force there is no other conclusion. If you were to take
yonder sapling and tie its head down to earth, there would be unceasing
resistance to the ignoble bond. And why? Because the Creator made it to
be free, to rear its head aloft, contemporaneous with its fellows. The
human spirit loves its freedom even better than yon sapling, and its
resistance to all tyranny is eternal. Force may fetter it, but perpetual
force will be necessary to keep it fettered. Mark me, lady, it is easier
to talk of extermination than to effect it. I command at present a band
of men who are the pick of my race for valour, who will defy thy people
with impunity, and are capable of striking fierce blows of revenge in
every unguarded moment. If ever the hour of thy nation's weakness should
come, terrible will be the revenge, if some strong hand curb not the
wild spirit."
"This unholy strife between our peoples is madness. How may we avert
it?" said Alice.
"I confess, lady, that but a little while ago I had no feelings but
those of undying hatred to thy race. But as I lay in that dungeon
beneath the castle, an angel in human form, by an act of pure mercy,
gave me liberty and life. 'Twas wonderful! The cold, frozen blood at my
heart turned, at a stroke, to warmth. I felt that there is a passion of
the human heart more potent than hatred, and some obligations more
binding than an oath. Let those who do not love strife, but love mercy,
work for mercy and reconciliation; and I think I see the day when there
shall be such a blending of races that each shall be strengthened by the
other."
"I shall welcome the day, Sir Knight. But had we not better return?
Jeannette, I am afraid, will be in great trouble."
"I am not a knight, lady; we Saxons are slow at learning the language of
chivalry. If it be not presumptuous to ask it, call me Oswald; 'twill
bring us so much nearer."
"Then if you have not learnt the language of chivalry, you will be the
better able to call me Alice. Is it agreed?"
"With all my heart, Alice. It is a compact. Let me again assure you that
you and your maid are perfectly safe in the woods or anywhere, so far as
my followers and vassals are concerned. There is just one thing I would
caution you about," said he, with a twinkle in his eye. "One Saxon has a
very great admiration for the very spots which you are likely to choose;
and I warn you, if he see a certain light in his lady's eyes, never more
look for peace."
"Really this does sound like the language of our Norman gallants, after
all. But come, now, if you are really heart-hungry, just a crumb of
comfort will sustain you; for our Norman ballads declare very loudly
that valorous knights for their lady-loves will do and dare, or suffer
and wait,--well, really, without going through the list, it is wonderful
what valiant knights will do for love and chivalry--_in books_. I used
to see the said valiant knights in books, but latterly I have been face
to face with the reality; and alas! I find them most devoted to wine and
ale, and incontinence. So, Sir Knight,--for such I will call you once
more--he who wins Alice de Montfort will have a knightlier soul than
this."
"Well, I will not sound a trumpet before me, as the hypocrites do, so no
more of this. Let time declare it. But did you learn how I made my
escape from the castle that fateful night?"
"No. Pray tell me now? I am most curious to know it."
"Wait a little. But let me tell you I can enter the castle when I like.
If you wish an interview with me at any time, you need but make some
signal from the tower, and at nightfall I will meet you there whenever
you wish."
"But can you come with perfect safety?"
"With absolute safety."
"Then that shall be our trysting-place, to which I will summon my Saxon
ally when good news stirs--but I fear me more often when my sad heart
needs cheering. But I sorely fear your coming there will be full of
peril. Could I not meet you elsewhere?"
"Courage, dear one! and take no thought for me. Let your heart be stout,
for the future is luminous with hope."
As the boat rounded a bend in the river, Oswald beheld the fierce
struggle going on between the two Saxons, and, with an exclamation of
pain, he gave two or three lusty strokes which sent the boat flying
amongst the trees which lined the embankment. Hastily springing upon the
bank, he tore Sigurd from the prostrate form of Wulfhere.
"Jarl!" said he, "how is this? Making war upon your friends! This will
not do, mark me!"
"And how is this?" retorted Sigurd fiercely. "You and this
chicken-hearted slave making love to deadly enemies. This will not do,
_mark that_!"
"Enough, enough!" said Oswald, gathering up the prostrate form of
Jeannette, who was in a dead swoon. He lifted her into the boat and
dashed a few drops of cold water in her face. "There, now," said he,
"she is all right." And in a whisper he said to Alice, "Pull away,
dearest. Remember the tryst, and be not dismayed. This man is a scion of
the untamed Vikings who linger in the land. I shall know how to deal
with him."
Oswald watched the boat and its occupants glide away, and waving a last
adieu he turned to his companions, and said, "Let us go. Sigurd," he
continued, in tones of severity, "this fierce quarrel bodes no good to
the Saxon cause."
"Does this dawdling with Norman women bode some good to the Saxon cause?
I wot Viking, or Dane, or old-time Saxon would not have warred like
this. Are we going to avenge ourselves upon our enemies by simpering to
their women? My ancestors have conquered with the sword, and I will
thrust through any Norman I can--aye, and their women, too! To spare the
dam to suckle cubs will not do for me!"
"Sigurd, mark me, thy fierce, implacable temper will hurt the Saxon
cause more than ever thy sword will aid it. Kindly understand that I am
lord in these parts, and my will shall be law. If thou art not
satisfied, well, thou had better return to thy own domain of Lakesland,
and make war according to thy own notions. If thou succeed better than
us, well, then we may copy thy methods; but here we will have no slaying
of defenceless women and children. As for these two in particular, they
gave me my life, and whoever injures a hair of their heads is my mortal
foe. Let that suffice, Jarl."
"Tut, tut! Fine, no doubt; but I like not such modes of warfare, and if
I cannot be allowed to spill Norman blood whenever I can, I'll none of
it."
"I have my own plans for the protection of my people and for the
amelioration of their lot, and I think it is the best. As for thy
methods, and the hopes thou hast of driving out the Normans, I regard
them as worse than madness, and they will end in the annihilation of the
Saxon race. So be pleased to interfere no more with my plans," said
Oswald.