CHAPTER XXVI.
"And she is in safety, Gilbert?" inquired the Princess Joan, the eveningof the day following the execution, lifting her eyes, swimming in tears,to her husband's face. They were sitting alone in their privateapartments, secured from all intruders by a page stationed in theante-room; and the earl had been relating some important particulars ofthe preceding day.
"I trust in heaven she is, and some miles ere now on her road toScotland," was his answer. "I fear for nothing save for the beautifulmind that fragile shell contains; alas! my Joan, I fear me that has goneforever!"
"Better, oh better, then, that fainting-fit had indeed been death," shesaid, "that the thread of life had snapped than twisted thus in madness.Yet thou sayest her purpose seemed firm, her intellect clear, in herintense desire to reach Scotland. Would this be, thinkest thou, werethey disordered?"
"I think yes; for hadst thou seen, as I, the expression of countenance,the unearthly calmness with which this desire was enforced, theconstant, though unconscious, repetition of words as these, 'to theking, to the king, my path lies there, he bade me seek him; perchance hewill be there to meet me,' thou too wouldst feel that, when that goal isgained, her husband's message given, sense must fail or life itselfdepart. But once for a few brief minutes I saw that calmness partlyfail, and I indulged in one faint hope she would be relieved by tears.She saw old Dermid gaze on her and weep; she clung to his neck, herfeatures worked convulsively, and her voice was choked and broken, asshe said, We must not tarry, Dermid, we must not wait to weep and moan;I must seek King Robert while I can. There is a fire on my brain andheart, which will soon scorch up all memory but one; I must not waittill it has reached _his_ words, and burned them up too--oh, let us onat once;' but the old man's kindly words had not the effect I hoped, sheonly shook her head, and then, as if the horrible recollection of thepast flashed back, a convulsive shuddering passed through her frame, andwhen she raised her face from her hand its marble rigidity hadreturned."
"Alas! alas! poor sufferer," exclaimed the princess, in heartfeltsorrow; "I fear indeed, if such things be, there is little hope ofreason. I would thou hadst conveyed her here, perchance the soothing andsympathy of one of her own sex had averted this evil."
"T doubt, my kind Joan," replied her husband; "thy words had suchbeneficial power before, because hope had still possession of herbreast, she hoped to the very last, aye, even when she so madly wentwith thee to Edward; now that is over; hope is crushed, when despair hasrisen. Thou couldst not have soothed; it would have been but wringingthy too kind heart, and exposing her to other and heightened evils." Theprincess looked up inquiringly. "Knowest thou not Buchan hath discoveredthat his daughter remained with Nigel Bruce, as his engaged bride, atKildrummie, and is even now seeking her retreat, vowing she shall repentwith tears of blood her connection with a Bruce?"
"I did not indeed; how came this?"
"How, I know not, save that it was reported Buchan had left the court,on a mission to the convent where the Countess of Carrick and herattendants are immured, and in all probability learnt this importantfact from them. I only know that at the instant I entered the prisoner'sdungeon, Buchan was demanding, at the sword's point, the place of herretreat, incited to the deadliest fury at Nigel's daring avowal thatAgnes was his wife."
"Merciful heaven! and Agnes, what did she?"
"I know not, for I dared not, absolutely dared not look upon her face.Her husband's self-control saved her, for he stood and answered ascalmly and collectedly as if indeed she were in the safety he declared;her father brushed by, nay, well-nigh stumbled over her, as he furiouslyquitted the dungeon, glared full at her, but knew her not. But I darednot again bring her here, it was in too close vicinity with the king andher cruel father, for her present state of mind must have betrayed everydisguise."
"And thinkest thou he could have the heart to injure her, separated asshe is by death from the husband of her love?"
"Aye, persecute her as he hath his wife and son. Joan, I would ratherlose my own right hand than that unhappy girl should fall into herfather's power. Confinement, indeed, though it would add but little realmisery to her present lot, yet I feel that with her present wildyearnings to rejoin the Bruce, to fulfil to the very utmost herhusband's will, it would increase tenfold the darkness round her; thevery dread of her father would unhinge the last remaining link ofintellect."
Joan shuddered. "God in mercy forefend such ill!" she said, fervently;"I would I could have seen her once again, for she has strangely twinedherself about my heart; but thou hast judged wisely, my Gilbert, hersafety is too precious to be thus idly risked; and this old man, canstthou so trust him--will he guide her tenderly and well?"
"Aye, I would stake my life upon his truth; he is the seer and minstrelof the house of Bruce, and that would be all-sufficient to guarantee hisunwavering fidelity and skill. He has wandered on foot from Scotland, tolook on his beloved master once again; to watch over, as a guardianspirit, the fate of that master's devoted wife, and he will do this, Idoubt not, and discover Carrick's place of retreat, were it at theutmost boundaries of the earth. I only dread pursuit."
"Pursuit! and by whom?"
"By her father. Men said he was close beside me during that horriblehour, though I saw him not; if he observed her, traced to her lips thatmaddening shriek, it would excite his curiosity quite sufficiently forhim to trace my steps, and discovery were then inevitable."
"But did he do this--hast seen him since?"
"No, he has avoided me; but still, for her sake, I fear him. I know nothow or when, but there are boding whispers within me that all will notbe well. Now I would have news from thee. Is Hereford released?"
"Yes; coupled with the condition that he enters not my father's presenceuntil Easter. He is deeply and justly hurt; but more grieved at thechange in his sovereign than angered at the treatment of himself."
"No marvel; for if ever there were a perfect son of chivalry, one mostfeelingly alive to its smallest point of honor, it is Humphrey Bohun."
So spoke Gilbert de Clare, Earl of Gloucester, unconscious that hehimself had equal right to a character so exalted; that both Scottishand English historians would emulate each other in handing his name downto posterity, surrounded by that lucid halo of real worth, on which theeye turns again and again to rest for relief from the darker minds andruder hearts which formed the multitude of the age in which he lived.The duties of friendship were performed in his preservation of theperson, and constant and bold defence of the character of the Bruce; theduties of a subject, in dying on the battle-field in service for hisking.
The boding prognostics of the Earl of Gloucester were verified ere thatday closed. While still in earnest converse with his countess, amessenger came from the king, demanding their instant presence in hiscloset. The summons was so unusual, that in itself it was alarming, nordid the sight of the Earl of Buchan in close conference with the monarchdecrease their fears. As soon as a cessation of his pains permitted theexertion, Buchan had been sent for by the king; the issue of hisinquiries after his daughter demanded, and all narrated; his interviewwith Sir Nigel dwelt upon with all the rancor of hate. Edward hadlistened without making any observation; a twinkle of his still brighteye, an expression about the lips alone betraying that he not only heardbut was forming his own conclusions from the tale.
"And you have no clue, no thought of her retreat?" he asked, at length,abruptly, when the earl ceased.
"Not the very faintest, your grace. Had not that interfering Gloucestercome between me and my foe, I had forced it from him at the sharpsword's point."
"Gloucester--humph!" muttered the king. "Yet an so bloody was thypurpose, my good lord, his interference did thee no ill. How was theearl accompanied--was he alone?"
"If I remember rightly, alone, your grace. No, by my faith, there was apage with him!"
"A page--ha! and what manner of man was he?"
"Man! your highness, say rather a puny stripling, with far more of thewoman a
bout him than the man."
"Ha!" again uttered the king; "looked he so weakly--did thy fury permitsuch keen remark?"
"Not at that time, your highness; but he was, with Gloucester, compelledto witness the execution of this black traitor, and he looked white,statue-like, and uttered a shriek, forsooth, likely to scare back thevillain's soul even as it took flight. Gloucester cared for the daintybrat, as if he had been a son of your highness, not a page in hishousehold, for he lifted him up in his arms, and bore him out of thecrowd."
"Humph!" said Edward again, in a tone likely to have excited curiosityin any mind less obtuse on such matters than that of the Scottish earl."And thou sayest," he added, after some few minutes pause, "this daringtraitor, so lately a man, would tell thee no more than that thy daughterwas his wife, and in safety--out of thy reach?"
Buchan answered in the affirmative.
"And thou hast not the most distant idea where he hath concealed her?"
"None, your highness."
"Then I will tell thee, sir earl; and if thou dost not feel inclined todash out thine own brains with vexation at letting thy prey so slip outof thy grasp, thou art not the man I took thee for," and Edward fixedhis eyes on his startled companion with a glance at once keen andmalicious.
"The white and statue-looking page, with more of woman about him thanthe man, was the _wife_ of this rank villain, Sir Nigel Bruce, and thydaughter, my Lord of Buchan. The Earl of Gloucester may, perchance, tellthee more."
The earl started from his seat with an oath, which the presence ofmajesty itself could not restrain. The dulness of his brain wasdissolved as by a flash of lightning; the ghastly appearance, themaddening shriek, the death-like faint, all of which he had witnessed inGloucester's supposed page, nay, the very disturbed and anxious look ofthe earl himself, gave truth and life to Edward's words, and he struckhis clenched fist against his brow, and strode up and down the royalcloset, in a condition as frantically disturbed as the monarch couldpossibly have desired; and then, hastily and almost incoherently,besought the king's aid in sifting the matter to the very bottom, andobtaining repossession of his daughter, entreating leave of absence toseek out Gloucester and tax him with the fact.
Edward, whose fury against the house of Bruce--whether man, woman, orchild, noble or serf, belonging to them--had been somewhat soothed bythe ignominious execution of Nigel, had felt almost as much amused asangered at the earl's tale, and enjoyed the idea of a man, whom in hisinmost heart he most thoroughly despised, having been so completelyoutwitted, and for the time so foiled. The feud between the Comyn andthe Bruce was nothing to him, except where it forwarded his owninterests. He had incited Buchan to inquire about his daughter, simplybecause the occupation would remove that earl out of his way for a shorttime, and perhaps, if the rumor of her engagement with one of thebrothers of the Bruce were true, set another engine at work to discoverthe place of their concealment. The moment Buchan informed him it was toNigel she had been engaged, with Nigel last seen, his acute penetrationrecalled the page who had accompanied the princess when she supplicatedmercy, and had he heard no more, would have pointed there for thesolution of the mystery. Incensed he was and deeply, at the fraudpractised upon him at the Karl and Countess of Gloucester daring toharbor, nay, protect and conceal the wife of a traitor; but his angerwas subdued in part by the belief that now it was almost impossible shecould escape the wardance of her father, and _his_ vengeance would bemore than sufficient to satisfy him; nay, when he recalled the face andthe voice, it was so like madness and death, and he was, moreover, soconvinced that now her husband was dead she could do him no manner ofharm, that he inwardly and almost unconsciously hoped she mighteventually escape her father's power, although he composedly promisedthe earl to exercise his authority, and give him the royal warrant forthe search and committal of her person wherever she might be. Anger,that Gloucester and his wife should so have dared his sovereign power,was now the prevailing feeling, and therefore was it he commanded theirpresence, determined to question them himself, rather than through thestill enraged Buchan.
Calmly and collectedly the noble pair received alike the displeasure oftheir sovereign and the ill-concealed fury of Buchan. They neitherdenied the charge against them nor equivocated in their motives fortheir conduct; alarmed they were, indeed, for the unhappy Agnes; but asdenial and concealment were now alike impossible, and could avail hernothing, they boldly, nay, proudly acknowledged that which they haddone, and openly rejoiced it had been theirs to give one gleam ofcomfort to the dying Nigel, by extending protection to his wife.
"And are ye not traitors--bold, presuming traitors--deserving thechastisement of such, bearding me thus in my very palace?" wrathfullyexclaimed Edward. "Know ye not both are liable to the charge of treason,aye, treason--and fear ye to brave us thus?"
"My liege, we are no traitors, amenable to no such charge," calmlyanswered Gloucester; "far, far more truly, faithfully, devotedly yourgrace's subjects than many of those who had shrunk from an act as this.That in so doing we were likely to incur your royal displeasure, weacknowledge with deep regret and sorrow, and I take it no shame thus onmy knee to beseech your highness's indulgence for the fault; but if youdeem it worthy of chastisement, we are ready to submit to it, denying,however, all graver charge, than that of failing in proper deference toyour grace."
"All other charge! By St. Edward, is not that enough?" answered theking, but in a mollified tone. "And thou, minion, thou whom we deemedthe very paragon of integrity and honor, hast thou aught to say? Did notthy lips frame falsehood, and thy bold looks confirm it?"
"My father, my noble father, pardon me that in this I erred," answeredJoan, kneeling by his side, and, despite his efforts to prevent it,clasping his hand and covering it with kisses; "yet I spoke nofalsehood, uttered naught which was not truth. She _was_ ill and weakly;she was well-nigh maddened from scenes and sounds of blood. I hadbesought her not to attend me, but a wife's agony could not berestrained, and if we had refused her the protection she so wildlycraved, had discovered her person to your highness, would it haveavailed thee aught? a being young, scarce past her childhood--miserable,maddened well-nigh to death, her life wrapt up in her husband's, whichwas forfeited to thee."
"The wife of a traitor, the offspring of a traitress, connected on everyside with treason, and canst ask if her detention would have availed usaught? Joan, Joan, thy defence is but a weak one," answered the king,sternly, but he called her "Joan," and that simple word thrilled to herheart as the voice of former years, and her father felt a sudden gushof tears fall on the hand he had not withdrawn, and vainly he struggledagainst the softening feelings those tears had brought. It was strangethat, angered as he really was, the better feelings of Edward should insuch a moment have so completely gained the ascendency. Perhaps he wasnot proof against the contrast before him, presented in the persons ofBuchan and Gloucester; the base villainy of the one, the exaltednobility of the other, alike shone forth the clearer from theirunusually close contact. In general, Edward was wont to deem thesesoftening emotions foolish weaknesses, which he would banish by shunningthe society of all those who could call them forth. Their candidacknowledgment of having deserved his displeasure, and submission to hiswill, however, so soothed his self-love, his fondness for absolutepower, that he permitted them to have vent with but little restraint.Agnes might have been the wife of a traitor, but he was out of Edward'sway; the daughter of a traitress, but she was equally powerless; linkedwith treason, but too much crashed by her own misery to be sensible ofaught else. Surely she was too insignificant for him to persevere inwrath, and alienate by unmerited severity yet more the hearts which atsuch moments he felt he valued, despite his every effort to thecontrary.
So powerfully was he worked upon, that had it not been for theill-restrained fury of Buchan, it was possible the subject would havebeen in the end peaceably dismissed; but on that earl's reminding him ofhis royal word, the king commanded Gloucester to deliver up his chargeto her rightful guardian, and all
the past should be forgiven. The earlquietly and respectfully replied he could not, for he knew not where shewas. Wrath gathered on Edward's brow, and Buchan laid his hand on hissword; but neither the royal commands nor Buchan's muttered threats andoaths of vengeance could elicit from Gloucester more than that she hadset off to return to Scotland with an aged man, not three hours afterthe execution had taken place. He had purposely avoided all inquiries asto their intended route, and therefore not any cross-questioning on thepart of the king caused him to waver in the smallest point from hisoriginal tale, or afforded any evidence that he knew more than he said.
"Get thee to Sir Edward Cunningham, my Lord of Buchan, and bid him drawup a warrant for the detention and committal of these two personswherever they may be," the king said, "and away with thee, and a trustytroop, with all speed to Berwick. Make inquiries of all who at thatparticular hour passed the gates, and be assured thou wilt find someclue. Take men enough to scour the country in all directions; providethem with an exact description of the prisoners they seek, and tarrynot, and thou wilt yet gain thy prize; living or dead, we resign all ourright over her person to thee, and give thee power, as her father, to dowith her what may please thee best. Away with thee, my lord, and heavenspeed thee!"
"My liege and father, oh, why hast thou done this?" exclaimed theprincess, imploringly, as, with a low obeisance to the king and agesture of triumph at the Earl of Gloucester, Buchan departed. "Hath shenot borne misery enough!"
"Nay, we do but our duty to our subjects in aiding fathers to repressrebellious children," replied the king. "Of a truth, fair dame ofGloucester, thy principles of filial duty seem somewhat as loose andlight as those which counselled abetting, protecting, and concealing thepartner of a traitor. Wouldst have us refuse Buchan's most fatherlydesire? Surely thou wouldst not part him from his child?"
"Forever and forever!" exclaimed the princess, fervently. "Great God inheaven, that such a being should call that monster father, and owe himthe duty of a child! But, oh, thou dost but jest, my father; in mercyrecall that warrant--expose her not to wretchedness as this!"
"Peace," replied the king, sternly. "As thou valuest thine own and thyhusband's liberty and life, breathe not another syllable, speak notanother word for her, or double misery shall be her portion. We haveshown enough of mercy in demanding no further punishment for that whichye have done, than that for ten days ye remain prisoners in your ownapartments. Answer not; we will have no more of this."
The Earl of Buchan, meanwhile, had made no delay in gaining thenecessary aids to his plan. Ere two hours passed, he was on his road toBerwick, backed with a stout body of his own retainers, and bearing acommission to the Earl of Berwick to provide him with as many more as hedesired. He went first to the hostelry near the outskirts of the town,where he remembered Gloucester had borne the supposed page. There heobtained much desirable information, an exact description of the dress,features, and appearance of both the page and his companion; of theformer, indeed, he recollected all-sufficient, even had the descriptionbeen less exact. The old minstrel had attracted the attention of manywithin the hostel, and consequently enabled Buchan to obtain informationfrom various sources, all of which agreed so well that he felt sure ofsuccess.
Backed by the warrant of Edward, he went to the civil authorities of thetown, obtained four or five technically drawn-up descriptions of theprisoners, and intrusted them to the different officers, who, with bandsof fifty men, he commanded to search every nook and corner of thecountry round Berwick, in various directions. He himself discoveringthey had passed through the Scotch gate and appeared directing theircourse in a westerly direction, took with him one hundred men, andfollowed that track, buoyed up by the hope not only of gainingpossession of his daughter, but perhaps of falling in with the retreateven of the detested Bruce, against whom he had solemnly recorded a vownever to let the sword rest in the scabbard till he had revenged themurder of his kinsman, the Red Comyn. Some words caught by a curiouslistener, passing between the page and minstrel, and eagerly reported tohim, convinced him it was Robert Bruce they sought, and urged him tocontinue the search with threefold vigor.
Slowly and sadly meanwhile had the hours of their weary pilgrimagepassed for the poor wanderers, and little did they imagine, as theythreaded the most intricate paths of the borders of Scotland, that theywere objects of persecution and pursuit. Though the bodily strength ofAgnes had well-nigh waned, though the burning cheek and wandering, toobrightly flashing eye denoted how fearfully did fever rage internally,she would not pause save when absolutely compelled. She could neithersleep nor eat: her only cry was, "To the king--bring me but to KingRobert while I may yet speak!" her only consciousness, that she had amission to perform, that she was intrusted with a message from the dead;all else was a void, dark, shapeless, in which thought framed no image;mind, not a wish. Insensibility it was not, alas! no, that void was woe,all woe, which folded up heart and brain as with a cloak of fire,scorching up thought, memory, hope--all that could recall the past,vivify the present, or vision forth the future. She breathed indeed andspoke, and clung to that aged man with all the clinging helplessness ofher sex, but scarce could she be said to live; all that was real of lifehad twined round her husband's soul, and with it fled.
The old man felt not his advanced age, the consciousness of the manydangers hovering on their way; his whole thought was for her, to bringher to the soothing care and protection of the king, and then he carednot how soon his sand run out. When wandering in the districts ofAnnandale and Carrick, before he had arrived at Berwick, he had learnedthe secret but most important intelligence that King Robert had passedthe winter off the coast of Ireland, and was supposed to be only waitinga favorable opportunity to return to Scotland, and once more upraise hisstandard. This news had been most religiously and strictly preserved asecret amid the few faithful adherents of the Bruce, who perhaps spokeyet more as they hoped than as a fact well founded.
For some days their way had been more fatiguing than dangerous, forthough the country was overrun with English, a minstrel and a page wereobjects far too insignificant, in the present state of excitement, tomeet with either detention or notice. Not a week had passed, however,before rumors of Buchan's parties reached the old man's ears, and filledhim with anxiety and dread. The feverish restlessness of Agnes toadvance yet quicker on their way, precluded all idea of halting, save inwoods and caverns, till the danger had passed. Without informing her ofall he had heard, and the danger he apprehended, he endeavored to avoidall towns and villages; but the heavy rains which had set in renderedtheir path through the country yet more precarious and uncertain, andoften compelled him most unwillingly to seek other and better shelter.At Strathaven he became conscious that their dress and appearance werestrictly scrutinized, and some remarks that he distinguished convincedhim that Buchan had either passed through that town, or was lingering inits neighborhood still. Turning sick with apprehension, the old manhastily retraced his steps to the hostel, where he had left Agnes, andfound her, for the first time since their departure, sunk into a kind ofsleep or stupor from exhaustion, from which he could not bear to arouseher. Watching her for some little time in silence, his attention wasattracted by whispering voices, only separated from him by a thinpartition. They recounted and compared one by one the dress and peculiarcharacteristics of himself and his companion, seeming to compare it witha written list. Then followed an argument as to whether it would not bebetter to arrest their progress at once, or send on to the Earl ofBuchan, who was at a castle only five miles distant. How it wasdetermined Dermid knew not, for the voices faded in the distance; but hehad heard enough, and it seemed indeed as if detention and restraintwere at length at hand. What to do he knew not. Night had now some hoursadvanced, and to attempt leaving the hostel at such an unseasonable hourwould be of itself sufficient to confirm suspicion. All seemed at restwithin the establishment; there was no sound to announce that amessenger had been dispatched to the earl, and he determined to await ascalmly as migh
t be the dawn.
The first streak of light, however, was scarce visible in the eastbefore, openly and loudly, so as to elude all appearance of flight, hedeclared his intention of pursuing his journey, as the weather hadalready detained them too long. He called on the hostess to receive herreckoning, commanded the mules to be saddled, all of which was done, tohis surprise, without comment or question, and they departedunrestrained; the old man too much overjoyed at this unexpected escapeto note that they were followed by two Englishmen, the one on horseback,the other on foot. Anxiety indeed had still possession of him, for hecould not reconcile the words he had overheard with their quietdeparture; but as the day passed, and they plunged thicker and thickerin the woods of Carrick, and there was no sign of pursuit, or even of ahuman form, he hailed with joy a solitary house, and believed the dangerpassed.
The inmates received them with the utmost hospitality; the order fortheir detention had evidently not reached them, and Dermid determined onwaiting quietly there till the exhausted strength of his companionshould be recruited, and permit them to proceed. An hour and more passedin cheerful converse with the aged couple who owned the house, and who,with the exception of one or two servants, were its sole inhabitants.The tales of the minstrel were called for and received with a glee whichseemed to make all his listeners feel young again. Agnes alone sateapart; her delicate frame and evident exhaustion concealing deepersufferings from her hosts, who vied with each other in seeking toalleviate her fatigue and give bodily comfort, if they could offer noother consolation. Leaning back in a large settle in the chimney corner,she had seemed unconscious of the cheerful sociability around her, whensuddenly she arose, and advancing to Dermid, laid a trembling hand onhis arm. He looked up surprised.
"Hist!" she murmured, throwing back the hair from her damp brow. "Hearye no sound?"
All listened for a time in vain.
"Again," she said; "'tis nearer, more distinct. Who comes with a troopof soldiers here?"
It was indeed the heavy trampling of many horse, at first so distant asscarcely to be distinguished, save by ears anxious and startled as oldDermid's; but nearer and nearer they came, till even the inmates of thehouse all huddled, together in alarm. Agnes remained standing, her handon Dermid's arm, her head thrown back, her features bearing anexpression scarce to be defined. The horses' hoofs, mingled with theclang of armor, rung sharp and clear on the stones of the courtyard.They halted: the pommel of a sword was struck against the oaken door,and a night's lodging courteously demanded. The terror of the owners ofthe house subsided, for the voice they heard was Scotch.
The door was thrown open, the request granted, with the same hospitalityas had been extended to the minstrel and the page. On the instant therewas a confused sound of warriors dismounting, of horses eager forstabling and forage; and one tall and stately figure, clad from head tofoot in mail, entered the house, and removing his helmet, addressed somewords of courteous greeting and acknowledgment to its inmates. A loudexclamation burst from the minstrel's lips; but Agnes uttered no sound,she made one bound forward, and dropped senseless at the warrior's feet.
The Days of Bruce Vol 1 Page 26