"And you, sir," said she, turning to the Englishman, "give me yours."
"Marry! 'tis yours already," said he, handing it up. "Mine was shivered
by a blow from the young McDonnell, and I am his prisoner. But, by your
leave," added he, looking hard at me, "did you call this honest lad
Humphrey Dexter? Why, may I perish if it is not the same swashbuckling
ruffler I once knew in London town! I thought I had seen his gallows
face before! Why, Humphrey, my lad, dost thou remember how I cracked
thy skull at quarter-staff a year since in Finsbury Fields, and how thy
Jack 'prentices groaned to see thee bite the dust? I liked thee none
the less for it, though I beat thee. For 'twas a fair fight! Come,
since 'tis thou, give us thy hand, and tell me how thou comest here
amongst the enemies--"
"Ay, ay, I'll tell you," said I, not wanting to hear the end of the
sentence.
Sure enough, this was a brawling soldier lad I had once met in the
fields--Jack Gedge, by name--with whom I had had a bout at the quarter-
staff. But he lied vilely when he said he beat me thereat; for,
although he felled me once, I had him down three times, and the last
time so that he had to be carried from the place by his legs and arms.
Howbeit, 'twas strange enough to see him here; and when, after the
maiden had left us (having restored us our swords under promise of
peace), I told him my story, he took my hand, and said, had he been in
my shoes, he had been a traitor too. Yet he thanked his God he stood in
his own.
And now, it may have been ten o'clock, there came a great shouting and
noise of guns from the outer walls, and presently Ludar came into the
hold, sword in hand, and told us that Captain Merriman and his soldiers
had arrived from Castleroe, and were preparing to assault the place.
"Humphrey," said he, "whate'er betide, I commit the maiden to your care,
till this fighting be over. This prisoner of mine," added he, pointing
to the soldier, "will also stand by you, unless I mistake him."
"Marry! so will I," said the man; "for a maiden in distress is no alien
to a true servant of the maiden Queen. Count on me for so much,
Captain."
"I do. Humphrey, I must go out and meet my enemy. He is in force, and
must be scattered before he can blockade our ill-provisioned hold.
Capture it he cannot; but he may starve it."
"Go then," said I. "Yet, will you not see the maiden first? She would
be sorry not to bid you god-speed."
He seemed for a moment as though he would refuse. Then a look of great
longing came into his face as he glanced up at the turret window.
While he debated, a messenger arrived with news that Alexander McDonnell
and his men were at hand, and that the English--seeing their constable
hang from the walls on one side (for we had found his body, and
displayed it thus as a signal of our triumph), and hearing the shouts of
the McDonnells on the other--were falling back, and making ready to turn
tail.
It was even so. While he spoke, we could see on the cliffs eastward the
McDonnell standard, and hear the shouts of Alexander's company as they
bore down upon the English, who for a moment ceased their assault on the
castle, and turned doubtfully to face them.
Ludar laughed.
"If Alexander be there," said he, "our minds may be easy. Call in our
men, and keep them within the walls. For he who yielded me the glory of
taking Dunluce, shall not be robbed by me of the glory of sending these
knaves packing. It needs not two McDonnells to do that. Humphrey see
to this, keep a watch how the battle goes, and come again presently.
You know where to find me."
And he went, with a light heart, into the maiden's tower.
I know not why, I grudged to see him go in. 'Twas not jealousy--I was
beyond that now. Nor was it that his help was needed without. For
Alexander, I guessed, would have easy work with the foe; and 'twas like
Ludar's nobleness to leave this new glory to his brother. 'Twas not
that he did not deserve the rest and comfort, for he had worked like a
lion that night, and denied himself till now the greeting the maiden
owed to her preserver. Yet, for all that, I know not why, I had sooner
he had remained, sword in hand, on the walls with us.
I scorned myself for my silly qualms, and hastened to call in our men,
and bid them give fair field to Alexander and his company. They obeyed
with difficulty; yet, when they heard that it was Ludar's order that no
man should baulk his brother, they came in, and lined the walls to view
the combat.
The McDonnells on the cliff, when they saw the constable hang over the
castle walls, and perceived the great bunch of heather on our topmost
tower, stopped a moment to cheer and wave their bonnets. Then Alexander
shouted to them in a voice we could hear half-a-mile away, and they
broke into a run.
Meanwhile, Captain Merriman's party was, as I said, taken aback by this
new danger, and threatened to draw off. But when they saw our party
retire into the castle, and understood that the battle was between them
and Alexander only, they stood their ground again, and wheeled round to
meet him. They were some five hundred men against the McDonnells' three
hundred, and contained not a few of O'Neill's men in their number.
From where we stood we could see but little of the fight, except that
within a few yards of the enemy Alexander halted his men, and then,
stepping forward sword in hand, boldly dared the English leader, whoever
he might be, to single combat. I marvelled to see if Captain Merriman
would accept the challenge. For a while, amid the shouting and
threatening on either side, I could not discern what followed, but
presently, as Alexander, brandishing his sword, stepped up and repeated
his challenge, there sprang out upon him, without warning, a huge
gallowglass of the O'Neill's men, who with a club smote the young chief
to the earth. The blow was so sudden and unexpected (for Alexander was
not even looking that way), that the McDonnell was reeling back in the
arms of his men before friend or foe knew what had happened. Then, with
a terrible yell, the Scots seized their weapons and closed on the enemy.
But Alexander, staggering to his feet, his head streaming blood, called
to them once more to halt, as he leapt forward, half stunned, on his
assailant. The duel was short and swift. For at the first onset the
great gallowglass, amazed to see his man yet living, and ashamed,
perchance, of his foul stroke, missed his mark and tumbled in a heap
upon his foeman's sword. Then with a mighty shout (for all thought this
was the English leader slain), the two bands closed in, and a deadly
fight began.
But I kept my eye on Alexander, whom, despite his prowess, I could see
to be wounded hard. Gradually, as his men fell on the enemy and the
battle roared off eastward, he himself drooped, and drew out of the
fray. I could see him stand a moment, waving his sword, but his body
swayed like that of a drunken man, and he leaned at last against a rock
to keep from falling.
Then it was, before I could determine whether to warn Ludar of this
accident or no, that a horrible deed was done.
For I was not the only one who had kept his eyes on the wounded chief.
While he stood there fainting, yet still shouting his men forward,
Captain Merriman (an Englishman!) who had lagged behind his host, crept
stealthily round the hill to where he stood, and suddenly fronting him,
dared the dying man to single combat! From where I stood I could mark
the curl of scorn on the young chief's lips, as he drew himself up and
strove to lift his drooping arm. Next moment the English captain's
weapon flashed between, and as Alexander fell the coward's blade plunged
through him twice.
Instantly a mighty cry went up from the enemy, for Captain Merriman,
waving his bloody sword above his head, ran through the ranks yelling,
"Victory! McDonnell is slain!" and the McDonnells, when they heard the
shout, reeled under it in a panic and were slain by the score.
As for me, I had stood there like a lump of stone, not able to stir or
shout. But at last, by a huge effort, I sprang to the ground, and with
a cry of horror rushed to find Ludar.
I found him standing on the cliff-edge, grave and happy, with the maiden
beside him, looking down at the great Atlantic waves as they flung their
eternal surge up at the castle rock. His sword lay on the ground at her
feet. She was fixing a tuft of flowers in his cap, singing softly as
she did so. And he, as he gazed now at her, now at the sea below,
looked as if cloud could never come more between the sun and his noble
face.
Alack! that I myself must bring the cloud.
"Ludar to the front! Something is wrong. Your brother--"
May I never hear again the cry with which he snatched up his sword and
rushed to the gate!
I followed close to his heels, only bidding the maiden get to her tower
whither I would send her English squire to guard her. But Ludar, as we
reached the gate, turned and ordered me back.
"Stay," said he, hoarsely, and white as a sheet, "stay here!"
Then, as he waited for the portcullis to open, I hastily told him what I
had witnessed, and where he would find his brother.
"My brother!" he groaned, "my brother! Humphrey, if I ever return here
it shall be with this dog's blood on my sword. Farewell."
And in a moment he had passed the bridge and was rushing headlong on the
foe. My heart sank as I saw him go thus; and, whether it vexed him or
not, I shouted aloud: "Who follows Ludar? Follow! follow!" Instantly a
hundred McDonnells started at the call, and leapt over the bridge. Then
with my own hand I let down the gate, and bade the rest, in their
chief's name, stand and guard the walls.
Alexander's party were already in retreat, half-a-mile away, for they
had no leader; and the English, flushed with victory, and strong in
numbers, were pushing them back at the sword's point. Nor did this new
company help them much, for Ludar, when he saw who followed him, angrily
ordered them to stand, while he went alone to the place I had told him
of, in search of his brother.
But brother there was none. I could see my friend from where I stood
stalk round the place, now deserted of friend and foe, shouting and
calling like a man possessed. Perhaps the murderer had taken off the
body as a trophy; or perhaps--perhaps Alexander yet lived, and was safe.
But sign of him there was none. For a weary hour Ludar called and
searched; then, weary and sick at heart, I saw him call his men, and
march off in pursuit of the enemy.
Thus all that day we stood and waited in Dunluce, and not a man spoke to
his fellow. For the joy of our victory was turned into mourning. The
Clan had lost one hero; and who should say whether the Banshee's warning
was not to be fulfilled on another?
The only man who kept up heart was the Englishman.
"These McDonnells," said he, "have the lives of cats. You shall see
your lordling back yet. He oweth me a bout, and is too honest a man to
rob even an enemy. But, Humphrey lad," added he, "I pray you see to
these women. There is sore distress in their camp, and I durst not put
in my head. Besides, I know not if they have so much as a crust of
bread to eat."
The honest fellow was right. When I went in, the maiden was in strange
woe, pacing up and down her chamber with pale face and heaving breast.
"Humphrey," said she, and her voice was dry and hoarse, "this is my
fault, my fault! He will love me no more! I tempted him to stay when
he should have been at his brother's side. I, for my own comfort, made
a woman of him, who should have helped make him a hero."
"Nay," said I, "you are wrong, maiden. Had he been there he could not
have helped this. It was in nature he should--"
"Humphrey!" she exclaimed, in a voice which staggered me, "talk not like
a fool. I have forfeited his love. He did well to leave me without a
word! I have been worse to him than his worst enemy. I dare not see
him again, for he will loathe me. You must take me hence, or, truly, I
will go without leave."
"Maiden," said I, "have patience. This is the act of God, not of man;
and Ludar when he returns may need your comfort sorely."
She laughed bitterly.
"I know Ludar," she said; "you know him not. Think you the sight of me
will not drive him mad when he comes back, brotherless?"
"At least," said I, "be content to wait here till to-morrow. I should
be a traitor to him and myself were I to let you depart unattended; and
I may not leave, here till he or the old chief comes."
"Will Sorley Boy be here to-morrow?" asked she.
"He will; he has said so."
"Then," said she, "I stay on this condition. Tell him naught of me but
that I am an O'Neill, a prisoner here, who demand to be restored to my
father, Turlogh Luinech O'Neill. Ludar will not return yet. When he
does, he shall find me gone. Go back to the wall, Humphrey. No man
shall say again I stood between him and his duty."
I returned sadly enough to my post; and all that night we kept weary
watch on the walls, straining our ears for Ludar's call or news of the
battle.
But neither Ludar nor news of him came.
At daybreak, however, as the sun rose over the headlands, there came a
noise of pipes and shouting, and a flutter of pennons on the hill-tops.
Then we knew Sorley Boy had come.
Before him fled scattered parties of the enemy, yet far enough beyond
our range; nor, when they sped away into the hills westward, did the
chief allow his men to continue the chase. The McDonnells gave a wild,
mighty cheer, when they saw the heather of the clan flying aloft on
their ancient castle; and in the silence that followed I could see the
old chief stand a moment to pass his hand across his eyes, as if to make
sure he saw aright.
Then, erect, with a proud step, he advanced at the head of his men and
crossed the bridge. Our men, waving their hats aloft, answered back the
cheers, and, as the gate swung up to let them in, all else seemed
forgotten in the triumph of this home-coming of the grand old chief.
But when, a moment after, he halted and looked round him, the shouting
suddenly ceased and there fell a dead silence.
"My sons," said he, "where are they?"
No one seemed ready to answer, so that I was fain to step forward.
"Sir," said I, saluting, "Sir Ludar, your son, renders you your castle,
which he won by his own arm two nights ago. He is not here to salute
himself, as he is tending his brother who was traitorously wounded in
the battle yesterday."
The old man said nothing, but blazed on me with his eyes as though he
would blast me where I stood. Had I been the murderer myself, I could
not have trembled more. At length:
"Alexander, where is he?" he demanded in a hollow voice.
I said I had seen him last near the hill, but that Ludar, not finding
him there, had gone to seek him, I know not whither.
Then the old man handed his great sword to his esquire, and flinging off
his cloak, walked into the hall of the castle, where none durst follow
him. I longed to ask his permission to follow Ludar, besides making the
maiden's petition. But his look that day was too terrible to be faced.
So we stood to our guard, as we had stood all day long.
When at evening no sign came yet of Ludar, I braced myself up with a
great courage, and entered the hall.
The old warrior was sitting at the head of the empty table, immovable,
like a man stunned, looking straight before him. But when he saw me, he
seemed to recover himself and said:
"What news?"
"None," said I, "but as his servant, I pray you let me go and seek Sir
Ludar."
"You shall not go," said he. And there was naught left to say after
that.
"I obey you, sire," said I. "There is, by your leave, a maiden in this
castle, a prisoner, and daughter to the O'Neill. She craves your
permission to return to her father; and hath bidden me ask it of you."
He nodded his head, as if the petition were too trifling to be heeded;
and, having got what I was in need of, I withdrew, thankful.
Next day, at daybreak, the maiden, white as a sheet, and with lips
close-pressed to hinder their trembling, walked slowly across the bridge
to the castle gate. I had got her two horses, one for her and one for
the old nurse; and a trusty escort of six McDonnells and the English
soldier to conduct her to Toome.
At parting she held out her hand.
"Humphrey," said she, "tell him of this; and may she who loves you never
lose you as I have lost him."
"All is not lost," said I, "we shall meet again, and all will be happy
yet." And I lifted her to her horse.
"Now, sirrah," said the old nurse, as I did the like service for her,
"be happy for a year and a day! You have broken a sweet heart among
you, and what matters it to you, so you be rid of us? Mark my word;
some heads shall ache for this! What is to become of us, do you
suppose, in this O'Neill's house? Little trouble to you to send us from
one cruel fate to a worse! Be proud that you, a soldier, forsooth, and
calling yourself an honest man, thus betray my poor maiden to her step-
dame and your English Captain."
"He is dead by now," said I.
"Not he," said she. "What is to become of us, dost thou hear? Who is
to help us now?"
"Dame," said I, "is there no God in heaven that you chide thus?
Farewell, we shall meet again, I think, in a happier season."
Then I stepped once more to the maiden and said:
"Lady, that maiden's name we spoke of is young Mistress Walgrave, the
printer's daughter in London. Should chance bring you thither, she will
be your friend for my sake. If it be possible, pray send us word
presently of your welfare by this English fellow."
Thus that maiden left Dunluce; and still the days passed and no tidings
of Ludar.
But one evening, as I watched at the gate, a haggard figure crossed the
bridge, scarce dragging one foot after another for weariness.
"Ludar!" said I, as I admitted him. "What news?"
"No news!" said he between his teeth, and he flung his sword with what
little strength was left him to the earth. Then he himself fell beside
it; and, when we carried him within, he was in a fever and raving.