CHAPTER XXIV.
It would be useless to linger on the trial of Nigel Bruce, in itself amockery of justice, as were all those which had proceeded, and all thatfollowed it. The native nobility of Scotland were no subjects of theKing of England; they owed him homage, perchance, for lands held inEngland, but on flocking to the standard of the Bruce these had at oncebeen voluntarily forfeited, and they fought but as Scottish mendetermined to throw off the yoke of a tyrant whose arms had overrun aland to which he had no claim. They fought for the freedom of a country,for their own liberty, and therefore were no traitors; but these factsavailed not with the ruthless sovereign, to whom opposition was treason.The mockery of justice proceeded, it gave a deeper impression, a graversolemnity to their execution, and therefore for not one of his prisonerswas the ceremony dispensed with. Sir Christopher Seaton had beenconveyed to the Tower, with his wife, under pretence of there waitingtill his wounds were cured, to abide his trial, and in that awful hourSir Nigel stood alone. Yet he was undaunted, for he feared not deatheven at the hangman's hand; his spirit was at peace, for he was innocentof sin; unbowed, for he was no traitor--he was a patriot warrior still.Pale he was, indeed, ashy pale, but it told a tale of intense bodilyanguish. They had put him to the torture, to force from his lips theplace of his brother's retreat, that being the only pretence on whichthe rage of Edward and the malice of Berwick could rest for theinfliction of their cruelty. They could drag naught from his lips; theycould not crush that exalted soul, or compel it to utter more than afaint, scarcely articulate groan, as proof that he suffered, that thebeautiful frame was well-nigh shattered unto death. And now he stoodupright, unshrinking; and there were hearts amid those peers inwardlygrieving at their fell task, gazing on him with unfeigned admiration;while others gloried that another obstacle to their sovereign's schemesof ambition would be removed, finding, perchance, in his youth, beauty,and noble bearing, from their contrast with themselves, but freshincentives to the doom of death, and determining, even as they sate andscowled on him, to aggravate the bitterness of that doom with all theignominy that cruelty could devise.
He had listened in stern silence to the indictment, and evinced no signof emotion even when, in the virulence of some witnesses against him,the most degrading epithets were lavished on himself, his family, andfriends. Only once had his eye flashed fire and his cheek burned, andhis right hand unconsciously sought where his weapon should have hung,when his noble brother was termed a ribald assassin, an excommunicatedmurderer; but quickly he checked that natural emotion, and remainedcollected as before. He was silent till the usual question was asked,"If he had any thing to say why sentence of death should not bepronounced upon him?" and then he made a step forward, looked boldly andsternly around him, and spoke, in a rich, musical voice, the followingbrief, though emphatic words:
"Ye ask me if I could say aught why sentence of death should not bepronounced. Nobles of England, in denying the charge of treason withwhich ye have indicted me, I have said enough. Before ye, aye, beforeyour sovereign, I have done nothing to merit death, save that deathwhich a conqueror bestows on his captive, when he deems him too powerfulto live. The death of a traitor I protest against; for to the King ofEngland I am no subject, and in consequence no traitor! I have but donethat which every true and honorable man must justify, and in justifyingrespect. I have sought with my whole heart the liberty of my country,the interest of my lawful sovereign, and will die asserting the honorand justice of my cause, even as I have lived. I plead not for mercy,for were it offered, on condition of doing homage unto Edward, I wouldrefuse it, and choose death; protesting to the last that Robert Bruce,and he alone, is rightful king of Scotland. My lords, in condemning meto death as a captive taken in war, ye may be justified by the law ofbattles, I dispute not the justice of your doom; but an ye sentence meas traitor, I do deny the charge, and say my condemnation is unjust andfoul, and ye are perjured in its utterance. I have said. Now let yourwork proceed."
He folded his arms on his breast, and awaited in unbroken silence hisdoom. A brief pause had followed his words. The Earl of Gloucester, who,from his rank and near connection with the king, occupied one of theseats of honor at the upper end of the large hall, and had, during thetrial, vainly sought to catch the prisoner's eye, now reclined back onhis seat, his brow resting on his hand, his features completelyconcealed by the dark drapery of his cloak. In that position heremained, not only during the pause, but while the fatal sentence waspronounced.
"By the laws of your country, and the sentence of your peers," so itran, "you, Nigel Bruce, by manifold acts of rebellion, disaffection, andraising up arms against your lawful king, Edward, the sovereign ofEngland and Scotland, and all the realms, castles, and lordships theretopertaining, are proved guilty of high treason and _lese majeste_, andare thereby condemned to be divested of all symbols of nobility andknighthood, which you have disgraced; to be dragged on a hurdle to thecommon gibbet, and there hung by the neck till you are dead; your headto be cut off; your body quartered and exposed at the principal towns asa warning to the disaffected and the traitorous of all ranks in eithernation, and this is to be done at whatsoever time the good pleasure ofour sovereign lord the king may please to appoint. God save King Edward,and so perish all his foes!"
Not a muscle of the prisoner's face had moved during the utterance ofthis awful sentence. He had glanced fearlessly around him to the last,his eye resting on the figure of the Earl of Gloucester with anexpression of pitying commiseration for a moment, as if he felt for him,for his deep regret in his country's shame, infinitely more than forhimself. Proudly erect he held himself, as they led him in solemn pompfrom the great hall of the castle, across the court to the dungeons ofthe condemned, gazing calmly and unflinchingly on the axe, which carriedwith its edge towards him proclaimed him condemned, though his doom wasmore ignominious than the axe bestowed. There was a time when he hadshrunk from the anticipated agony of a degradation so complete asthis--but not now; his spirit was already lifted up above the honors andhumiliations of earth. But one dream of this world remained--one sad,sweet dream clung to his heart, and bound it with silver chains below.Where was that gentle being? He fondly hoped she had sought the friendsof his boyhood, as he had implored her, should they be parted; he stroveto realize comfort in the thought they would protect and save her theagony of a final parting; but he strove in vain. One wild yearningpossessed him, to gaze upon her face, to fold her to his heart once, butonce again: it was the last lingering remnant of mortality; he had notanother thought of life but this, and this grew stronger as its hopeseemed vain. But there was one near to give him comfort, when heexpected it not.
Wrapped so closely in his dark, shrouding mantle that naught but thedrooping feather of his cap could be distinguished, the Earl ofGloucester drew near the prisoner, and as he paused, ere the gates andbars of the prison entrance could be drawn back, whispered hurriedly yetemphatically--
"A loved one is safe and shall be so. Would to God I could do more!"
Suppressing with extreme difficulty a start of relief and surprise, theyoung nobleman glanced once on Gloucester's face, pressed his handstogether, and answered, in the same tone--
"God in heaven bless thee! I would see her once, only once more, if itcan be without danger to her; it is life's last link, I cannot snapit--parted thus." They hurried him through the entrance with the lastword lingering on his lips, and before Gloucester could make even a signof reply.
Early in the evening of the same day, King Edward was reclining on hiscouch, in the chamber we have before described, and, surrounded by somefew of his favorite noblemen, appeared so animated by a new cause ofexcitement as to be almost unconscious of the internal pains which evenat that moment were more than usually intense. His courtiers looked onunconcernedly while, literally shaking with disease and weakness, hecoolly and deliberately traced those letters which gave a base andignominious death to one of the best, the noblest, loveliest spiritsthat ever walked the earth, and signed the doom o
f misery and madness toanother; and yet no avenging hand stretched forth between him and hisvictim, no pang was on his heart to bid him pause, be merciful, andspare. Oh, what would this earth be were it all in all, and what werelife if ending in the grave? Faith, thou art the crystal key opening tothe spirit the glorious vision of immortality, bidding the trustingheart, when sick and weary of the dark deeds and ruthless spoilers ofthis lovely earth, rest on thy downy wings, and seek for peace andcomfort there.
"Who waits?" demanded the king, as his pen ceased in its task.
"Sir Stephen Fitzjohn, my liege, sent by the Earl of Berwick with thewarrant, for which he waits."
"He need wait no longer then, for it is there. Two hours before noon thetraitor dies; we give him grace till then, that our good subjects ofBerwick may take warning by his fate, and our bird in the cage witnessthe end of the gallant so devoted to her cause. Bid the knight begone,my Lord of Arundel; he hath too long waited our pleasure. Ha! whom havewe here? who craves admittance thus loudly?" he added, observing, as theearl lifted the hangings to depart, some bustle in the ante-room. "Whois it so boldly demanding speech with us?"
"Her Highness the Princess Joan, Countess of Gloucester, please you, myliege," replied the chamberlain; "she will not take denial."
"Is it so hard a thing for a daughter to gain admittance to a father,even though he be a sovereign?" interrupted the princess, who, attendedonly by a single page bearing her train, advanced within the chamber,her firm and graceful deportment causing the lords to fall back oneither side, and give her passage, though the expression of theirmonarch's countenance denoted the visit was unwelcome.
"Humbly and earnestly I do beseech your grace's pardon for thisover-bold intrusion," she said, bending one knee before him; "but indeedmy business could not be delayed. My liege and father, grant me but afew brief minutes. Oh, for the sake of one that loved us both, thesainted one now gone to heaven, for the memory of whom thou didst oncebless me with fonder love than thou gavest to my sisters, because myfeatures bore her stamp, my king, my father, pardon me and let mespeak!"
"Speak on," muttered the king, passing his hand over his features, andturning slightly from her, if there were emotion, to conceal it. "Thouhast, in truth, been over-bold, yet as thou art here, speak on. Whatwouldst thou?"
"A boon, a mighty boon, most gracious father; one only thou canst grant,one that in former years thou wouldst have loved me for the asking, andblessed me by fulfilment," she said, as she continued to kneel; and byher beseeching voice and visible emotion effectually confining theattention of the courtiers, now assembled in a knot at the farther endof the apartment, and preventing their noticing the deportment of thepage who had accompanied her; he was leaning against a marble pillarwhich supported the canopy raised over the king's couch, his head benton his breast, the short, thick curls which fell over his foreheadconcealing his features; his hands, too, crossed on his breast,convulsively clenched the sleeves of his doublet, as if to restrain thetrembling which, had any one been sufficiently near, or even imaginedhim worthy of a distant glance, must have been observable pervading hiswhole frame.
"A boon," repeated the king, as the princess paused, almost breathlesswith her own emotion; "a mighty boon! What can the Countess ofGloucester have to ask of me, that it moves her thus? Are we grown soterrible that even our own children tremble ere they speak? What is thismighty boon? we grant not without hearing."
"'Tis the boon of life, my liege, of life thou canst bestow. Oh, whilein this world thou rulest, viceregent of the King of kings on high,combining like Him justice and mercy, in the government of hiscreatures, oh! like, Him, let mercy predominate over justice; deprivenot of life, in the bloom, the loveliness of youth! Be merciful, myfather, oh, be merciful! forgive as thou wouldst be forgiven--grant methe life I crave!"
Urged on by emotion, the princess had scarcely heard the suppressedinterjection of the king which her first words had occasioned, and shescarcely saw the withering sternness which gathered on his brow.
"Thou hast in truth learnt oratory, most sapient daughter," he said,bitterly; "thou pleadest well and flowingly, yet thou hast said not forwhom thou bearest this marvellous interest--it can scarce be for atraitor? Methinks the enemies of Edward should be even such unto hischildren."
"Yet 'tis for one of these mistaken men I plead, most gracioussovereign," resumed Joan, intimidated not by his sarcasm. "Oh, myfather, the conqueror's triumph consists not in the number of rebelliousheads that fall before him--not in the blood that overflows his way;magnanimity, mercy, will conquer yet more than his victorious sword.Traitor as he seem, have mercy on Nigel Bruce; oh, give--"
"Mercy on a Bruce! May the thunder of heaven blast me when I show it!"burst furiously from Edward's lips, as he started upon his couch andgazed on his suppliant child with eyes that seemed absolutely to blazein wrath. "Mercy on a branch of that house which has dared defy me,dared to insult my power, trample on my authority, upraised the standardof rebellion, and cost me the lives of thousands of my faithfulsubjects! Mercy on him, the daring traitor, who, even in his chains, hasflung redoubled insult and treason into our very teeth! Mercy--may theGod of heaven deny me all mercy when I show it unto him!"
"Oh, no, no, my father! My father, in mercy speak not such terriblewords!" implored the princess, clinging to his robe. "Call not the wrathof heaven on thy head; think of his youth, the temptations that havebeset him, the difficult task to remain faithful when all other of hishouse turned astray. Mistaken as he hath been, as he is, have mercy.Compel him to prove, to feel, to acknowledge thou art not the tyrant hehath been taught to deem thee; exile, imprisonment, all--any thing, butdeath. Oh, do not turn from me; be thyself, the good, the magnanimousEdward of former days, have mercy on thy foe!"
"I tell thee, never! by every saint in heaven, I tell thee, never!"shouted the king. "I will hear no more; begone, lest I deem my own childpart and parcel of the treasons formed against me. Trouble me not withthese vain prayers. I will not pardon, I have sworn it; begone, andlearn thy station better than to plead for traitors. Thy husband bravedme once; beware, lest in these pleadings I hear _his_ voice again. Itell him and thee that ere to-morrow's noon be passed the soul of NigelBruce shall stand in judgment; not another day, not another hour helives to blast me with the memory of his treason. The warrant hath beensigned, and is on its way to Berwick, to give his body to the hangmanand his soul to Satan--his death is sealed."
"Oh, no, no, no!" shrieked a voice of sudden anguish, startling all whoheard, and even Edward, by its piteous tones, and the form of a pagesuddenly fell prostrate before the monarch. "Mercy, mercy! for the loveof God, have mercy!" he struggled to articulate, but there was no soundsave a long and piercing shriek, and the boy lay senseless on theground.
"Ha! by St. George, beardest thou me with traitors in my very palace,before my very eyes?" exclaimed the angry monarch, as his astonishedcourtiers gathered round. "Put him in ward; away with him, I say!"
"Pardon me, your highness, but this is needless," interposed theprincess, with a calm majesty, that subdued even the irritation of herfather, and undauntedly waving back the courtiers, although perfectlysensible of the imminent danger in which she was placed. "If there beblame, let it be visited on me; this poor child has been ill and weaklyfrom many causes, terrified, almost maddened, by sounds, and sights ofblood. I deemed him perfectly recovered, or he had not attended me here.I pray your grace permit his removal to my apartments."
The king laid a heavy hand on his daughter's arm as she stood besidehim, and fixed a gaze on her face that would have terrified any lessnoble spirit into a betrayal of the truth; but firm in her ownintegrity, in her own generous purpose, she calmly and inquiringlyreturned his gaze.
"Go to, thou art a noble wench, though an over-bold and presuming one,"he said, in a much mollified tone, for there was that in the dauntlessbehavior of his daughter which found an echo in his heart even now,deadened as it was to aught of gentle feeling, and he was glad of thisinterruption to
entreaties which, resolved not to grant, had lashed himinto fury, while her presence made him feel strangely ashamed. "Do asthou wilt with thine own attendants; but be advised, tempt not thine ownsafety again; thou hast tried us sore with thy ill-advised entreaties,but we forgive thee, on condition they are never again renewed. Speaknot, we charge thee. What ho! Sir Edmund Stanley," he called aloud, andthe chamberlain appeared at the summons. "Here, let this boy becarefully raised and borne according to the pleasure of his mistress.See, too, that the Countess of Gloucester be conducted with due respectto her apartments. Begone!" he added, sternly, as the eyes of Joan stillseemed to beseech mercy; "I will hear no more--the traitor dies!"
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