Love Among the Ruins

by Warwick Deeping

  XXXIII

  So Fulviac with his host passed northwards from Gambrevault, leavingColgran and his ten thousand to guard the trenches. Flavian saw theblack columns curl away over the green slopes, their pikes glitteringagainst the blue fringe of the horizon, their banners blowing to thebreeze. The red pavilion stood no longer in the meadows; the man on theblack horse rode no more behind the barricades. Ominous was the marchingof the host over the hills, a prophecy of many battles before the King'smen could succour Gambrevault.

  The gate-house stood in ruins, a shattered pile of masonry barrieringthe causeway from the meadows. The outer curtain wall on the north hadbeen pierced between two towers; the stone-work crumbled fast, opening agradual breach to the rebel sea dammed behind the trenches. Thebattlements were rent and ruinous; many a turret gaped and tottered.Still the bombards thundered, hurling their salvos of shot against theplace, belching flame even through the night, while the arms of thegreat slings toiled like giant hands in the dark.

  As for the girl Yeoland, her joy was dim and flickering, mocked withconstant prophecies of woe. The sounds of the siege haunted herperpetually. Shafts wailed and whistled, bombards roared, the wallsreeked and cracked. A corner in the garden under the yew walk was thesingle nook left her open to the blue hope of heaven. The clamour ofthe leaguer woke a hundred echoes in her heart. Above all shone theman's strong face and passionate eyes; above the moon, the stars, theblue vault of day, death spread his sable wings, a cloud of gloom.

  On the sixteenth day of the siege, Colgran made an assault in force uponthe ruins of the gate-house. Despite its chaotic state, Flavian clungto the ruin, and held the stormers at bay. Thrice Colgran's rebelsadvanced to the attack, and came hand-to-hand with the defenders overthe crumbling piles of stone; thrice they were beaten back and driven toretreat upon their trenches. Colgran renounced the gate-house asimpregnable; the slings and bombards were turned upon the outer wall towiden the breach already made therein.

  It was plain enough even to Yeoland that the siege was bearing slowlyyet surely against Gambrevault. More than half a month had passed, andstill no succouring spears shone upon the hills, no sail upon the sea.Poor food and summer heat, the crowding of the garrison had opened agate to fever and disease. She saw the stern and moody faces of thesoldiery, their loyalty that took fresh and hectic fire from the courageof their lord. She saw the broken walls and ruined battlements, andheard the rebels shouting in their trenches.

  As the man's peril grew more real and significant, a fear more vehemententered into her heart. Sleep left her; she began to look white andweary, with dark shadows under her eyes. The man's warm youth accusedher like a tree that should soon be smitten by the axe. His fine heroismwas a veritable scourge, making the future full of discords, acharnel-house glimmering with bleached bones. She began to know howclosely their lives were mingled, even as wine in a cup of gold. He waslord and husband to her in the spirit. Her red heart quaked for himlike the shivering petals of an autumn rose.

  On the day of the assault upon the gate-house, he came back to herwounded in the arm and shoulder. He was faint, but brave and evenmerry. She would suffer none to come in to him, as he sat in a carvedchair in her room that opened on the garden. The sight of blood whenharness and gamboison were taken from the caked wounds quickened herfears into a fever of self-torture. She bathed the wounds and dressedthem with fragrant oil and linen. Twilight filled the room, and it wasnot till her tears fell upon his hand that the man found that she wasweeping.

  He drew her towards him with sudden great tenderness, as she knelt andlooked into his face. Her eyes swam with tears, her lips quivered.

  "My life, why do you weep?"

  She started away from him with sudden strength, and stood by the window,trembling.

  "Give me my armour and my banner," she said; "let me ride to thetrenches and barter terms by my surrender. Sire, let me go, let me go."

  He looked at her sadly under his brows, with forehead wrinkled.

  "You would leave me?"

  "Ah yes, to save you from the sword. Is it easy for me to ask youthis?"

  "You crave more than I can give."

  "No, no."

  "I cannot surrender you."

  "And for love, you would doom all Gambrevault!"

  "Ah!" he cried, "I am wounded, and you would wound me the more."

  She gave a whimper of pain, ran to him, and crept into his arms. As hersobs shook her, he bent many times and kissed her hair.

  "Weep not for me," he said; "even when the end comes no harm can touchyou. I cannot parley with these wolves; there are women and childrenunder my roof; should I open my gates to a savage mob?"

  "This is your doom," she said to him.

  "I take it, child, from heaven."

  She wept no more, for a richer heroism took fire within her heart. Sheknelt to the man while he held her face betwixt his hands, bent overher, and kissed her forehead.

  "Courage, courage, what is death!"

  "My God, to lose you."

  "There, am I not flesh and blood? God knows, I would rather have deaththan give you to these vultures."

  She knelt before him with her face transfigured.

  "And death, death can touch me also."