The Days of Bruce Vol 1

by Grace Aguilar

  CHAPTER XXII.

  Leaving the goodly town of Berwick and its busy citizens, its castle andits prisoners, for a brief space, we must now transport our readers toa pleasant chamber overlooking the Eden, in the castle of Carlisle, nowa royal residence; a fact which, from its numerous noble inmates, itsconcourse of pages, esquires, guards, and various other retainers of aroyal establishment, the constant ingress and egress of richly-attiredcourtiers, the somewhat bustling, yet deferential aspect of the scene, avery cursory glance would have been all-sufficient to prove.

  It had been with a full determination to set all obstacles, even diseaseitself, at defiance, King Edward, some months before, had quittedWinchester, and directed his march towards the North, vowing vengeanceon the rebellious and disaffected Scots, and swearing death alone shouldprevent the complete and terrible extermination of the traitors. He hadproceeded in this spirit to Carlisle, disregarding the threateningviolence of disease, so sustained by the spirit of disappointed ambitionwithin as scarcely to be conscious of an almost prostrating increase ofweakness and exhaustion. He had determined to make a halt of some weeksat Carlisle, to wait the effect of the large armies he had sent forwardto overrun Scotland, and to receive intelligence of the measures theyhad already taken. Here, then, disease, as if enraged that he shouldhave borne up so long, that his spirit had mastered even her, convenedthe whole powers of suffering, and compelled him not alone toacknowledge, but to writhe beneath her sway. His whole frame was shaken;intolerable pains took possession of him, and though the virulence ofthe complaint was at length so far abated as to permit him a shortcontinuance of life, he could never sit his horse again, or even hope tocarry on in his own person his plans for the total reduction ofScotland. But as his frame weakened, as he became the victim of almostcontinual pain, all the darker and fiercer passions of his nature gainedyet more fearful ascendency. The change had been some time gathering,but within the last twelve months its effects were such, that hisnoblest, most devoted knights, blind as their affection for his personrendered them, could scarce recognize in the bloodthirsty, ambitioustyrant they now beheld their gallant, generous, humane, and mostchivalric sovereign, who had won golden opinions from all sorts andconditions of men; who had performed the duties of a son and husband soas to fix the eyes of all Europe on him in admiration; who had swayedthe sceptre of his mighty kingdom with such a powerful and fearlesshand, it had been long since England had acquired such weight in thescale of kingdoms. Wise, moderate, merciful even in strict justice as hehad been, could it be that ambition had wrought such change; thatdisease had banished every feeling from his breast, save this one dark,fiend-like passion, for the furtherance of which, or in revenge of itsdisappointment, noble blood flowed like water--the brave, the good, theyoung, the old, the noble and his follower, alike fell before the axe orthe cord of the executioner? Could it indeed be that Edward, once such aperfect, glorious scion of chivalry, had now shut up his heart againstits every whisper, lest it should interfere with his brooding visions ofrevenge; forgot each feeling, lest he should involuntarily sympathizewith the noble and knightly spirit of the patriots of Scotland, whom hehad sworn to crush? Alas! it was even so; ruthless and tyrannical, thenobles he had once favored, once loved, now became odious to him, fortheir presence made him painfully conscious of the change withinhimself; and he now associated but with spirits dark, fierce, cruel ashis own--men he would once have shunned, have banished from his court,as utterly unworthy of his favor.

  It was, then, in a royally-furnished chamber, pleasantly overlooking theriver Eden and the adjoining country, that about a week after the eventsnarrated in the preceding chapter, King Edward reclined. His couch wassoftly and luxuriously cushioned, and not a little art had been expendedin the endeavor to lighten his sufferings, and enable him to rest atease. The repeated contraction of his countenance, however, betrayed howimpotent was even luxury when brought in contact with disease. Therichly-furred and wadded crimson velvet robe could not conceal theattenuation of his once peculiarly fine and noble form; his great lengthof limb, which had gained him, and handed down to posterity, theinelegant surname of Longshanks, rendered his appearance yet more gauntand meagre; while his features, which once, from the benignity andnobleness of his character, had been eminently handsome, now pale, thin,and pointed, seemed to express but the one passion of his soul--itsgratification of revenge. His expansive brow was now contracted andstern, rendered more so perhaps by the lack of hair about the temples;he wore a black velvet cap, circled coronet-wise with large diamondsfrom which a white feather drooped to his shoulder. There was a slight,scarcely visible, sneer resting on his features that morning, calledforth perhaps by his internal scorn of the noble with whom he haddeigned a secret conference; but the Earl of Buchan had done him goodservice, had ably forwarded his revenge, and he would not thereforelisten to that still voice of scorn.

  "Soh! she is secure, and your desires on that head accomplished, sirearl," he said, in continuance of some subject they had been discussing."Thou hast done us good service, and by mine honor, it would seem wehave done your lordship the same."

  "Aye," muttered the earl, whose dark features had not grown a whit moreamiable since we last beheld him; "aye, we are both avenged."

  "How, sir I darest thou place thyself on a par with me?" angrilyretorted Edward; "thinkest thou the sovereign of England can have aughtin common with such as thee? Isabella of Buchan, or of Fife, an thoulikest that better, is debased, imprisoned, because she hath daredinsult our person, defy our authority, to act treasonably andmischievously, and sow dissension and rebellion amid our Scottishsubjects--for this she is chastised; an it gratify your matrimonialrevenge, I am glad on't; but Edward of England brooks no equality withComyn of Buchan, though it be but equality in revenge."

  Buchan bent his knee, and humbly apologized.

  "Well, well, let it be; thou hast served us too faithfully to bequarrelled with, for perchance unintentional irreverence. The impositionof her child's murder, when he lives and is well, is the coinage ofthine own brain, sir earl, and thou must reconcile it to thine ownconscience. We hold ourselves exempt from all such peculiar mercy, forwe scarce see its wisdom." There was a slight bitterness in Edward'stone.

  "Wisdom, my sovereign liege, deemest thou there is no wisdom inrevenge?" and the brow of the earl grew dark with passion, as he spoke."Have I naught to punish, naught to avenge in this foultraitress--naught, that her black treachery has extended to my son, myheir, even to his tender years? I would not have her death; no, let herlive and feed on the belief that her example, her counsels have killedher own child; that had it not been for her, he might have lived, beenprosperous, aye, and happy now. Is there no wisdom in such revenge? andif there be none, save that which my own heart feels, I could give yourgrace another and a better reason for this proceeding."

  "Speak it, in St. George's name," replied the king; "of a truth thou artof most clear conception in all schemes of vengeance. I might havethought long enough, ere I could have lighted on such as this. Whatmore?"

  "Simply, your grace, that by encouraging a little while the report ofhis death, his friends in Scotland will forget that he ever existed, andmake no effort for his rescue; which belief, wild and unfounded as itis, I imagine supports him in his strenuous determination to live anddie a traitor to your highness. I have no hatred to the boy; nay, an hewould let me, could love and be proud of him, now his mother cannotcross my path, and would gladly see him devoted, as myself, to theinterests of your grace. Nor do I despair of this; he is very young, andhis character cannot be entirely formed. He will tire in time of darkand solitary confinement, and gladly accept any conditions I may offer."

  "Gives he any proof as yet of this yielding mood?"

  "By mine honor, no, your highness; he is firm and steadfast as the oceanrock."

  "Then wherefore thinkest thou he will change in time?"

  "Because as yet, my gracious liege, the foul, treacherous principles ofhis mother have not ceased to work.
An entire cessation of intercoursebetween them will show him his mistake at last, and this could never be,did she know he lived. Imprisoned, guarded as she is, she would yet findsome means of communication with him, and all my efforts would be of noavail. Let a year roll by, and I will stake my right hand that Alan ofBuchan becomes as firm a supporter and follower of King Edward as everhis father was. Is the boy more than mortal, and does your grace thinklife, liberty, riches, honors, will not weigh against perpetualimprisonment and daily thoughts of death?"

  So spoke the Earl of Buchan, judging, as most men, others by himself,utterly unable to comprehend the high, glorious, self-devoted, patrioticspirit of his noble son. He persevered in his course of fiend-likecruelty, excusing it to his own conscience, if he had any, by thebelief it would end but in his son's good--an end, indeed, he seldomthought of attaining; but there was something in the idea of a son, anheir, and one so prepossessing in appearance as Alan of Buchan, thattouched his pride, the only point on which his flinty heart wasvulnerable.

  "So thou thinkest, sir earl?" resumed the king, who perhaps in his ownsecret soul did not entirely think with him. "Meanwhile the striplingmay laugh thy parental care to scorn, by escaping from iron chains andstone walls, and seeking out the arch rebel Bruce, make up at thesword's point for lost time. Beware, sir earl, an he be taken again thusin arms against us, even thy loyal services will not save his head!"

  "I should not even ask your grace's clemency," replied the earl, hisfeatures assuming a fearful expression as he spoke. "An he thus turnedtraitor again to his father's house, spurning mine and your grace'sfavor, to join the base murderer of his kinsman, he shall be no more tome than others, whose treason hath cost their heads; but I have no fearof this. He cannot escape, guarded as he is, by alike the most ruthlessand the most faithful of my followers; and while there, if all elsefail, I will publish that he lives, but so poison the ears of his rebelScottish friends against him, he will not, dare not join them, and inhis own despite, will be compelled to act as befitting his father's son.Trust me, my liege. To thy royal clemency I owe his life; be it my duty,then, to instil into him other principles than those which actuated himbefore."

  "But your own character, my lord, meanwhile, care ye naught for thestain supposed to rest upon it? Thy plans sound wise, and we thank theefor thy loyalty; but we would not ye burdened your name with a deed notits own, an ye cared for the world's applause."

  "Not a whit, not a whit, your highness; countenanced by your grace'sfavor, absolved in your opinion from the barbarity others charge mewith, I care not for them, I have been too long mine ownconscience-keeper to heed the whispers of the world," he added, his darkbrows knitting closer as he spoke.

  Edward smiled grimly. "Be it so, then," he said; "my Lord of Buchan, weunderstand each other. An that boy escapes and rejoins the traitors, andis taken, his head answers for it. An ye succeed in making him loyal asyourself, as eager a pursuer of the murderous traitor, Bruce, we willgive thee the palm for policy and wisdom in our court, ourself notexcepted. And now another question; it was reported Isabella of Buchanjoined the rebel's court with her _two_ children. Who and where is thesecond? we have heard but of one."

  "A puny, spiritless wench, as I have heard, my liege; one little likelyto affect your highness, and not worth the seeking."

  "Nay, an she hath her mother's influence, we differ from thee, sir earl,and would rather see her within the walls of our court than in thetraitor's train. I remember not her name amid those taken with theBruce's wife. Hast inquired aught concerning her?"

  "Not I, your grace," carelessly replied the earl; "of a truth, I hadweightier thoughts than the detention or interest of a simple wench,who, if her mother has taught to forget me as her father, is not worthmy remembering as a child."

  "I give you joy of your most fatherly indifference, sir earl," answeredthe king, with an ill-suppressed sneer. "It would concern you little ifshe takes unto herself a husband midst your foes; the rebel Robert hathgoodly brothers, and the feud between thy house and theirs may butimpart a double enjoyment to the union."

  The earl started, as if an adder had stung him. "She dare not do thisthing," he said, fiercely; "she will not--she dare not. A thousandcurses light upon her head even if she dreams it!"

  "Nay, waste not thy breath in curses, good my lord, but up an preventthe very possibility of such a thing, an it move thee so deeply. I saynot it is, but some such floating rumor has reached my ears, I canscarce trace how, save through the medium of our numerous prisoners."

  "But how obtain information--where seek her? I pray you pardon me, yourgrace, but there are a thousand furies in the thought!" and scarcelycould the consciousness of the royal presence restrain the rage whichgathered on the swarthy features of the earl from finding vent in words.

  "Nay, nay, my lord, let not your marvellous wisdom and sage indifferencebe so speedily at fault. An she be not in Margaret Bruce's train, thatgoodly dame may give thee some information. Seek her, and may be thouwilt learn more of this wench than thou hast since her birth. In pity tothis sudden interest, we grant thee permission to visit these partnersof treason in their respective convents, and learn what thou canst; anshe be within thy reach, be advised, and find her a husband thyself, thebest find most speedy means of eradicating her mother's counsels."

  Buchan's reply was arrested on his lips by the entrance of the royalchamberlain, announcing that the Earl of Berwick had arrived in allhaste from Berwick, and earnestly besought a few minutes' audience withhis sovereign.

  "Berwick!" repeated Edward, half raising himself in his surprise fromhis reclining posture. "Berwick! what the foul fiend brings him from hispost at such a time? Bid him enter; haste, I charge thee."

  His impatient command was speedily obeyed, The Earl of Berwick was closeon the heels of the chamberlain, and now appeared, his lowly obeisancenot concealing from the quick eye of his master that wrath, black as athunder-cloud, was resting on his brow.

  "How now," said the king, "what means this unseemly gear, sir earl? thoumust have neither rested spur nor slackened rein, methinks, an thy garbtell truth; and wherefore seekest thou our presence in such fiery haste?Wouldst thou be private? My Lord of Buchan, thou hadst best follow ourcounsel ere thy interest cools."

  "Nay, your grace, bid not yon noble earl depart to grant me hearing; Iwould speak before him, aye, and the whole court, were it needed. 'Tisbut to lay the sword and mantle, with which your highness invested me asgovernor of the citadel of Berwick, at your grace's feet, and beseechyou to accept my resignation of the same." With well-affected humilitythe Earl of Berwick unclasped his jewelled mantle, and kneeling down,laid it with his sheathed sword at King Edward's feet, remaining on hisknee.

  "Art craven, fool, or traitor?" demanded Edward, when his astonishmentpermitted words. "What means this? Speak out, and instantly; we are notwont to be thus trifled with. My Lord of Berwick, wherefore dost thou dothis?"

  "Not because I am a craven, good my liege," replied the nobleman, stillon his knee, "for had I been so, King Edward's penetration would havediscovered it ere he intrusted me with so great a charge--nor because Iam a witless fool, unconscious of the high honor I thus tamelyresign--and not because I am a traitor, gracious sovereign, for 'tisfrom insult and interruption in the arrest of a blasphemous traitor I amhere."

  "Insult--interruption!" fiercely exclaimed the king, starting up. "Whohas dared--who loves his life so little as to do this? But speak on,speak on, we listen."

  "Pardon me, your highness, I came to tender my resignation, not anaccusation," resumed the wily earl, cautiously lashing his sovereigninto fury, aware that it was much easier to gain what he wished in suchmoods than as he found him now. "I came but to beseech your highness toresume that which your own royal hands had given me. My authoritytrampled upon, my loyalty insulted, my zeal in your grace's servicederided, my very men compelled, perforce of arms, to disobey me, andthis by one high in your grace's estimation, nay, connected with yourroyal self. Surely, my gracious
liege, I do but right in resigning thehigh honor your highness bestowed. I can have little merit to retain it,and such things be."

  "But they shall not be, sir. As there is a God above us, they shall notbe!" exclaimed the king, in towering wrath, and striking his hand on asmall table of crystal near him with such violence as to shiver it topieces. "By heaven and hell! they shall repent this, be it mine own sonwho hath been thus insolent. Speak out, I tell thee, as thou lovest thylife, speak out; drive me not mad by this cautiously-worded tale. Whohath dared trample on authority mine own hand and seal hath given--whois the traitor? Speak out, I charge thee!" and strengthened by his ownpassion, the king sate upright on his couch, clenching his hand till theblood sprung, and fixing his dark, fiery eyes on the earl. It was themood he had tried for, and now artfully and speciously, with manyadditions, he narrated all that had passed the preceding day in thecastle-yard of Berwick. Fiercer and fiercer waxed the wrath of the king.

  "Fling him in the lowest dungeon, load him with the heaviest fettershands can forge!" were the words first distinguished, when passionpermitted articulation. "The villain, the black-faced traitor! it is notenough he hath dared raise arms against me, but he must beard me to thevery teeth, defy me in my very palace, throw scorn upon me, maltreat anofficer of mine own person! Is there no punishment but death for thisfoul insolence! As there is a God in heaven, he shall feel my vengeanceere he reach the scaffold--feel it, aye, till death be but too welcome!"He sunk back, exhausted by his own violence; but not a minute passed ereagain he burst forth. "And Hereford, the traitor Hereford, he dareddefend him! dared assault thee in the pursuance of thy duty, theaudacious insolent! Doth he think, forsooth, his work in Scotland willexempt him from the punishment of insolence, of treason? as an aider andabettor of treachery he shares its guilt, and shall know whom he hathinsulted. Back to thy citadel, my Lord of Berwick, see to the strictincarceration of this foul branch of treachery, aye, and look well aboutye, lest any seditious citizen or soldier hath, by look or word, givenaught of encouragement, or failed in due respect to our proclamation. AnHereford abet the traitor, others may be but too willing to do the like.By heaven, they shall share his fate! Bid Hereford hither on theinstant, say naught of having been beforehand with him; I would list theinsolent's own tale. Rest thee a brief while, my lord, and our greatseal shall insure thee prompt obedience. Bid Sir Edmund Stanley attendus, my Lord of Buchan. I need scarce warn a Comyn to be secret on whathas passed; I would not have the foul insolence cast into our teeth asyet proclaimed. Begone, both of ye; we would be a brief space alone."

  The deadly pallor which had usurped the flush of fury on the monarch'scheek afforded such strong evidence of a sharp renewal of his internalpains, that both noblemen hesitated to obey. The damp of agony stoodupon his forehead a moment in large drops, then absolutely poured downhis cheeks, while his gaunt frame shook with the effort to suppress thegroan which his throes wrung from him. Seizing a cordial near him,Buchan presented it on his knee, but Edward only waved them both away,angrily and impatiently pointing to the door. He loved not the weaknessof an appalling disease to be witnessed by his courtiers. When utterlyincapacitated from either the appearance or functions of the sovereign,he chose to be alone, his pride scarcely brooking even the cares of hisyoung and beautiful wife, or the yet wiser and truer affection of hisdaughters. The effects of this interview will be seen in a futurechapter.