Now we leave the royal revels, and return to Saint Hilda and her maids.
As they sailed back to Whitby, their galley was captured on the high
seas by the Scotch, and the ladies were held at Edinburgh until James
should decide their fate.
Soon, however, they were informed that they must prepare to journey to
England, under the escort of Lord Marmion. At this, terror seized the
heart of the Abbess and of Clara. The aged, saintly lady knew the fate
of Constance, and for this, feared Lord Marmion's wrath. She told her
beads, she implored heaven!
The Lady Clara knew the sword that hung from Marmion's belt had drawn
the blood of her lover, Ralph De Wilton! Unwittingly the King had given
these defenceless women into the care of the man they most dreaded. To
protest was hopeless. In the bustle of war, who would listen to the tale
of a woman and a nun?
The maids and the Abbess were assigned lodgings joining those of
Marmion, their guardian. While there, the unhappy, but alert, holy woman
caught sight of the Palmer. His dress made her feel that she would here
find a friend. Secretly she conveyed to him a message, saying she had a
secret to reveal immediately concerning the welfare of the church, and
of a sinner's soul.
With great secrecy she named as a meeting place, an open balcony, that
hung high above the street.
Night fell; the moon rose high among the clouds; the busy hum of the
city ceased; the din of war and warriors' roar was hushed. The music of
the cricket, the whirr of the owlets, might easily have been heard, when
the holy Dame and the Palmer met. The Abbess had chosen a solemn hour,
to disclose a solemn secret.
"O holy Palmer!" she began,--"for surely he must be holy whose feet have
trod the ground made sacred by a Redeemer's tomb,--I come here in this
dread hour, for the dear sake of our Holy Church. Yet I must first
speak, in explanation of a worldly love." Here was related by unwilling
lips, the story of Constance's fall, of De Wilton's death or exile after
being proved a traitor, of Lady Clara's faithfulness to the memory of De
Wilton, and of her desire to enter the convent of the Abbess.
"'A purer heart, a lovelier maid,
Ne'er shelter'd her in Whitby's shade.'
"Yet, King Henry declares she shall be torn from us, and given to this
false Lord Marmion. I am helpless, a prisoner, with these innocent
maidens, and I fear we have been betrayed by Henry, that Clara may fall
into the hands of his favorite. I claim thine aid.
"'By every step that thou hast trod
To holy shrine and grotto dim,
By every saint and seraphim,
And by the Church of God!
For mark: When Wilton was betrayed,'
"it was by means of forged letters,--letters written by Constance de
Beverley, at the command of Marmion, and placed, by De Wilton's squire,
where they could be used against that noble knight.
"I have in my possession letters proving all this and more. I must not
keep them. Who knows what may happen to me on my homeward journey? I now
give this packet to thy care, O saintly Palmer! Bring them safe to the
hands of Wolsey, that he may give them to the King, and for this deed
there will be prayers offered for thee while I live. Why! What ailest
thou? Speak!"
As he took the packet, he was shaken by strong emotion, but before he
could reply, the Abbess shrieked, "What is here? Look at yon City
Cross!"
"Then on its battlements they saw
A vision, passing Nature's law."
Figures seemed to rise and die, to advance and to flee, and from the
midst of the spectre throng this awful summons came:--"Prince, prelate,
potentate and peer, I summon one and all to answer at my tribunal."
"Then thunder'd forth a roll of names:
The first was thine, unhappy James!
Then all thy nobles came;
Crawford, Glencairn, Montrose, Argyle,
Ross, Bothwell, Forbes, Lennox, Lyle,
Why should I tell their separate style?
Each chief of birth and fame,
Of Lowland, Highland, Border, Isle,
Foredoomed to Flodden's carnage pile,
Was cited there by name;
And Marmion, Lord of Fontenaye.
"Prone on her face the Abbess fell,
And fast, and fast, her beads did tell;
She mark'd not, at the scene aghast,
What time, or how, the Palmer pass'd."
The following day, Marmion and the brave Douglas journeyed to fair
Tantallon. The Palmer still was with the band, as Angus commanded that
no one should roam at large. A wondrous change had come to the holy
Palmer. He freely spoke of war; he looked so high, and rode so fast,
that old Hubert said he never saw but one who could sit so proud, and
rein so well.
A half hour's march behind, came Fitz-Eustace, escorting the Abbess, the
fair Lady Clare, and all the nuns.
Marmion had sought no audience, fearing to increase Clara's hatred. He
preferred to wait until she was removed from the convent and in her
uncle's care. He hoped then, with the influence of her kinsman and her
King, to gain her consent to be the Lady Marmion. He longed to command,
"O'er luckless Clara's ample land,"
yet he hated himself when he thought of the meanness to which he stooped
for conquest, when he remembered his own lost honor; for,
"If e'er he lov'd, 'twas her alone,
Who died within that vault of stone."
Near Berwick town they came upon a venerable convent pile, and halted at
its gate. In answer to the bell, a door opened, and an aged dame
appeared to ask St. Hilda's Abbess to rest here with her nuns until a
barque was provided to bear her back to Whitby.
The courtesy of the Scottish Prioress was most joyfully received, and
the delighted maidens gladly left their palfreys; but when Lady Clara
attempted to dismount, Fitz-Eustace gently refused, saying:
"I grieve, fair lady, to separate you from your friends. Think it no
discourtesy of mine, but lords' commands must be obeyed, and Marmion and
Douglas order that you shall return directly to your kinsman,
Lord Fitz-Clare."
The startled Abbess loud exclaimed, but Clara was speechless and deadly
pale.
"Cheer thee, my child!" the Abbess cried; "they dare not tear thee from
my care, to ride alone among soldiers."
"Nay, nay, holy mother," interrupted Fitz-Eustace, "the lovely lady,
while in Scotland, will be the immediate ward of Lady Angus Douglas, and
when she rides to England, female attendance will be provided befitting
the heir of Gloster. My Lord Marmion will not address Lady Clare by word
or look."
He blushed as he spoke, but truth and honor were painted in his face,
and the maiden's fear was relieved. The Abbess entreated, threatened,
wept, prayed to saint and to martyr, then called upon the Prioress for
aid. The grave Cistercian replied:
"The King and Douglas shall be obeyed. Dream not that harm can come to
woman, however helpless, who falls to the care of Douglas of Tantallon
Hall."
The Abbess, seeing strife was vain, assumed her wonted state, composed
her veil, raised her head, and began again,--but Blount now broke in:
"'Fitz-Eustace, we must march our band;
St. Anton fire thee! wilt thou stand
All day, with bonnet in thy hand,
To hear the lady preach?
By this good light! if thus we stay,
Lord Marmion, for our fond delay,
Will sharper sermon teach.
Come, don thy cap, and mount thy horse;
The dame must patience take perforce."
"Dear, holy Abbess," said Clare, "we must submit to the separation for
the present,
"'But let this barbarous lord despair
His purposed aim to win;
Let him take living, land, and life;
But to be Marmion's wedded wife
In me were deadly sin.'
"Mother, your blessing and your prayers are all I ask. Remember your
unhappy child! If it be the decree of the King that I return not to the
sanctuary with thee to dwell, yet one asylum remains--low, silent, and
lone, where kings have little power. One victim of Lord Marmion is
already there."
Weeping and wailing arose round patient Clare. Eustace hid his tears,
and even the rude Blount could scarce bear the sight. Gently the squire
took the rein and led the way, striving to cheer the poor fainting girl,
by courteous word and deed.
They had passed but a few miles, when from a height, they saw the vast
towers of Tantallon. The noble castle was enclosed on three sides by the
ocean, and on the fourth by walled battlements,
"And double mound and fosse,
By narrow drawbridge, outworks strong,
Through studded gates, and entrance long,
To the main court they cross.
It was a wide and stately square:
Around were lodgings, fit and fair,
And towers of various form."
Here they rested, receiving from the host cold, but princely attention.
By hurrying posts, daily there came varying tidings of war. At first
they heard of the victories of James at Wark, at Etall, and at Ford; and
then, that Norham castle had been taken; but later, news was whispered
that while King James was dallying the time away with the wily Lady
Heron, the army lay inactive. At length they heard the army had made
post on the ridge that frowns over the Millfield Plain, and that brave
Surrey, with a force from the South, had marched into Northumberland and
taken camp.
At this, Marmion exclaimed:
"'A sorry thing to hide my head
In castle, like a fearful maid,
When such a field is near!
Needs must I see this battle-day:
Death to my fame if such a fray
Were fought, and Marmion away!
The Douglas, too, I wot not why,
Hath 'bated of his courtesy:
No longer in his halls I'll stay."