by John Bowling
CHAPTER XXIII.
A VILLAIN DEMANDS HIS WAGES.
"Oh pilot! 'tis a fearful night; There's danger on the deep."
_The Pilot._
Count De Montfort strolled leisurely to and fro on the rising ground infront of the castle, rapt in admiration of the fine scenery and noblewoods which environed it on all its sides. Then he turned to take aleisurely survey of the massive proportions of the castle, and, with aveteran soldier's instincts, fell to a planning of additionalfortifications, so as to increase its impregnability. Whilst thusengaged, a figure seen in the distance, caused the complacent smile tovanish from his countenance, and his visage grew dark with a frown. Theintruder was none other than Baron Vigneau, who, after salutations,said,--
"When may I expect the fulfilment of the promise made to me at York,Count? Lady Alice has now had some months of preparation, and now thetime has come when our nuptials should be celebrated."
"Well, what says the lady, Baron? If you have her consent there need beno further delay. I have no opposition to offer, though, as Alice'sfather, and wishing her happiness, I am bound to say I wish you wouldeschew the wine-cup. I note with pain and concern this most unwholesomehabit grows apace."
"Tut, tut, Count! Many thanks for your homily! But to the point in hand.I have no recollection that the lady's consent had aught to do with thebargain. Soldiers usually dispense with ceremonies of that description,and, by your consent, we will still consider it apart from herladyship's wishes or whims. 'Twas, I think, a part of the wages ofservices rendered."
"But, as a soldier and a knight, making professions of gallantry and therest of it, you would not think of forcing a lady's hand? Surely youhave opportunities of winning her as a soldier should. I have expresslystated that such are my wishes. What more can you expect of me?"
"Finely spoken no doubt! But I would remind you of a matter which youknow well enough without a reminder, that I have not the manners of asimpering gallant, nor am I used to chanting love-songs beneath mylady's window. I am a soldier, a blunt and unpolished one maybe. Alicehas been thoroughly well spoiled, that is plain enough, by prating nunsand her convent life. Her head has been filled with their silly notionsof romance, and religious scruples. My rough life does not fit me forplaying the part of a dangling fop, or uttering canting lies aboutreligion. Bah!"
"I cannot force my daughter into this marriage, Baron. Win her if youcan," said the Count peremptorily.
"A bargain is a bargain, force or no force, and I'll have it kept. Anycanting parade of virtue will not go down with me; I'm too familiar withyour antecedents. If this promise is not ratified promptly, I'llstraight away to the king and expose your foul conspiracy, and I shallhave the pleasure of seeing your head dangling from the gate within aweek. Then the haughty wench, your daughter, will rue the day she ventedher scorn on me."
"Cowardly villain!" said the Count. "Come with me to yonder copse, andI'll measure steel with you."
"Not quite so fast, master. I keep my mettle for other purposes. We'lltry steel as a last resort. But in the meantime, I'd rather have yourdaughter than your blood; and nothing prevents but the lack of yourcommands. Let these be forthcoming, and all is well; but I'll not betrifled with, mark me!"
So saying, he strode away, leaving De Montfort beside himself with rageand fear.
The same evening, as he and Alice sat together, he said,--
"Alice, I told you some time ago that I had betrothed you to BaronVigneau, and I told you some other matters connected therewith, which Itrust you have not forgotten. He has been claiming the fulfilment of mypromise, and becomes very wroth and threatening. I trust you areprepared now to accept him at once."
"I cannot say that I am, father; the acquaintance I had with him inNormandy before the wars caused me to form but a poor opinion of him. Ifind that the life he has been leading since the wars began hasbrutalised him. His sottish habits, also, have become most outrageous.If you wish me to marry, let me make my choice. Or, better still, let mestay with you in singleness. You need some one to keep house for you,I'm sure."
"Alice, I told you I had betrothed you to Vigneau, which is a matterbinding upon my honour; and 'tis a debt you must discharge. The Baron isnot worse than many others whose life has been cast in these troubloustimes. He is also famous at the joust; his deeds of arms, also, and hispersonal prowess, are known throughout the land. Pray what would youhave in a husband?"
"Father, I have no feelings but of abhorrence for him. If I may, I wouldvery much prefer retiring to a convent, as I have said before, tospending my life with one so besotted and utterly lost to human feeling.If this will relieve you of your bond, pray give me permission, and Iwill prefer no other request."
"Alice, it does not suit me that you should retire to a convent, or doanything but _obey me_. Let me tell you, once for all, these mockheroics, these school-girl sentiments and bookish whims, cannot betolerated. Your mother was betrothed to me by her parents, who neverthought of asking her consent. I tell you once for all, this marriageshall be consummated this day three months. So let this suffice."
Alice retired to her room well-nigh heart-broken at her father'sharshness and the hateful prospect of a union with Vigneau. She laid herface in her hands and sobbed most distressingly, defying Jeannette'sutmost efforts to console her.
"What shall I do, Jeannette? I shall never wed Vigneau! I shall besweetly sleeping in that still pool beneath the hazel trees, where wemet the Saxon the other day, on the morning that Vigneau claims me forhis bride."
"Hush, my lady! don't say that. Let us go again in the morning. Perhapswe may meet those Saxons again, and they will advise us what to do."
Jeannette dared not give utterance to the thing that was uppermost inher own mind. But as a simple matter of fact, the well-developed manhoodof Wulfhere the Saxon had never been wholly absent from the wakingthoughts of this coquettish damsel since that romantic interview she hadhad with him, when her ears tingled with a newborn delight, as shelistened to his flattery in the wood by the riverside. She was, as amatter of fact, ready for any desperate enterprise or expedient thatwould result in another interview.
"We will, Jeannette. Perhaps we shall see the Saxon knight again. I hadbeen taught to believe these Saxon chieftains were loutish boors. But Ican assure you I found him anything but that."
"Yes, lady; and the other chieftain, who was with me, was a veryhandsome man, and spoke so pleasantly to me. I have heard, too, lady,they have built a fortress on the mountains. He asked me to be his wife,but I thought we should have to run wild in the woods, and sleep incaves; but if they have a fortress to live in, I would run away and behis wife, if you would run away with the other chieftain."
Alice smiled, in spite of herself, at Jeannette's willingness,evidently, to take Wulfhere pretty much on trust. But, nevertheless, themorrow found them wending their way to the river, where, getting out theboat, they pulled away up stream.
"I wonder if the Saxon, will see us, Jeannette?"
"If he should come, he will be sure to have his comrade with him. Don'tyou think he will?"
"I think you are in love with that tall bondman of the Saxonchieftain's, Jeannette."
"He is not a bondman of any one's my lady, for he told me so himself. Heis a Saxon freeman."
"A 'freeman,' Jeannette. What does that mean, prithee?"
"A freeman is next to a knight, I believe; at least, they have lands oftheir own."
"Oh, is that so? Well, we shall soon reach the spot where we landedbefore. Shall we get out of the boat, think you?"
"I think we had better not, my lady, until we see them. What should wedo if that fierce Saxon should catch us?"
"The Saxon earl told me his people would not harm us--any of them; butwe must not be overbold. We are now completely out of sight of thecastle; let us pull gently, and keep a sharp look-out."
So steadily they glided underneath the long arms of the trees, sendingthe water-hens scurrying away into the thick recesses of
foliage, ordiving beneath the surface, and coming up again on the other side with aplash; whilst the snipe and lovely kingfishers, on fleet wing, skimmedover the surface into the solitudes ahead.
"Surely," said Alice, "this is a slice out of Paradise."
"Yes," said Jeannette; "it is lovely. And that's the fallen tree wherethe Saxon and I sat together."
"Not the Saxon, Jeannette; his follower, you mean."
"Oh, but I don't think he is merely a follower, my lady. I believe theyare equal; leastways, he is only a little lower in rank."
It is, perhaps, needless to say that since Oswald's recovery, scarcelyhad a sunny day passed when the placid bosom of the river had not beenanxiously scanned by the other two persons most interested in a secondmeeting with these fair Norman women. It is scarcely necessary to sayalso that two stalwart individuals had seen the slim boat gliding slowlyup the stream, and, for the last quarter of an hour, had been rapidlyclearing the distance which separated them from it. We may also say,without exaggeration, that these frail women met these stalwart Saxonswith much less of perturbation than when they last met; though if wewere to say that there were no fluttering of hearts, and no crimsonblushes mounting to the face and neck, and no trembling of limbs, asthey reached out their hands to be helped on to the embankment; or if wewere to say that Jeannette did not utter a little scream, and clutchWulfhere most tenaciously, as the boat gave a treacherous lurch as shestepped from it; we should not be faithful chroniclers. Again Wulfhereand Jeannette sat on the fallen tree and watched by the boat; whilstOswald and Alice sauntered by the river's side, and Alice told her taleof coming disaster. We know she did not resist as Oswald's arm lovinglyencircled her, and he bade her be of good cheer. In low, earnest tonesthey talked of all that lay in their hearts; and Oswald was able toconvince her that the dark cloud ahead would be found to have a silverlining. It was truly passing strange that this high-born lady shouldyield herself so unreservedly to this Saxon. There was no reason, orprudence, or wisdom in it possibly. But the divine instinct of love,which is born in--not acquired--but born in and indigenous to every pureand unsullied woman's heart, ventured, with sheer and utter abandonment,to give her heart to him. The same instinct which revolted in utterabhorrence at the thought of contact with the brutal Norman, drove herirresistibly to the sheltering arms of the pure-minded and valorousSaxon. They laid their plans for further interviews, all the whileunconscious that eyes, glistening with fury, were peering through thebrushwood, and mad hate was rankling in the breast of an unseen foe, whoscarce could forbear to rush in and execute vengeance on the spot.