by M. M. Blake
CHAPTER VII.
DELILAH SHEARS SAMSON.
On the morning following the bride-ale, Waltheof should have been earlyastir, to the end that he might be present at the bride-chamber towitness the presentation of the 'morning gift' from the bridegroom tothe bride, according to the fashion of the times.
But alas! the recreant hero lay stretched upon his cushions in theoblivion of slumber, his gigantic limbs outspread in the most completerepose, and his heavy breathing witnessing to the depth of thepotations of the night before.
By his couch watched Judith, niece to the man against whom the Englishhero had raged so potently, when the generous wine had stolen away thecaution that was wont to ward his speech.
Her magnificent attire of the previous day was laid aside, and she wasdressed in a simple travelling gown of grey cloth.
Her face wore a strange expression of triumphant malice, as she stoopedover the sleeping giant, and whenever he stirred or showed any signs ofwaking, she passed her cool and slender fingers over his heatedforehead, and stroked back the thick golden curls that clustered on hisbrow, mesmerising him to sleep again with her gentle touches.
The day wore on, and the sun was high in the heavens, and Judith'ssharp, cold face grew more and more triumphant.
A time came at last, however, when even her deft fingers could nolonger bind the wings of sleep, and the earl opened his blue eyes witha mighty yawn, springing into consciousness with an uneasy sense ofhaving undertaken heavy responsibilities. For Waltheof, like mostgiants, was lazy, and though terrible when roused, had a strongpreference for quietness and peace.
Therefore he gave a great sigh when he remembered the vows of the nightbefore, and wished he were well out of his hazardous undertaking.Ambition had small hold of his nature, and he had far rather be an earlin peace, than a monarch who had to fight for his throne. Moreover, hisreligious sentiments were strong, and inclined to an asceticrenunciation. Judith swept back the curtain from the lattice, and let aflood of noonday light into the hitherto carefully darkened chamber.
Waltheof started.
'It is noon!' he said. 'Why didst thou not wake me? By St. John ofBeverley! it was meet that I should have attended the presentation ofthe morning gift.'
Judith watches her sleeping Spouse.]
Judith knew that her lord was deeply moved, by his invocation of theNorthumbrian saint, whose name was connected with all the wrongs thathe preferred to forget when he was in an amiable mood. Yet she answeredcalmly, and with scorn in her voice, 'Who can wake a drunken man?'
And the champion who had struck off the heads of the Norman warriors,one after another, with a single blow of his terrible seax, at thegates of York, was so ignominiously under the rule of his Norman wife,that he swallowed his wrath and made no reply.
Judith made haste to improve her advantage, and to carry the war intothe enemy's camp.
'How I hate these Saxon excesses!' she continued; 'only befittingbarbarians, lowering men below the level of the brutes, who eat whenthey are hungry, and drink when they are thirsty, and abstain when wantis satisfied. Thou madest not a fair picture, Waltheof, lying sprawledout and insensible in thy tipsy sleep, a prey to any evil creature whohad chanced to come thy way. Cyning of the Saxons, indeed! Learn firstto be king of thine own appetites!'
Waltheof started, and his brows knitted over his still heavy eyes.
'How knewest thou that, witch of Endor?' he demanded.
'Nay, thou hast experience that the spirits of the air are at my beck,and that my power serves me to gain knowledge of all that concerns mydearly-beloved spouse,' returned Judith, with a sneer.
'Sorceress! I believe, in sooth, thou art leagued with the devil!'quoth Waltheof furiously, and his expression was no metaphor. He wassuperstitious by nature, and his sharp-witted wife had done her utmostto impress him with the notion that her intellectual gifts werereplenished from supernatural sources. Hence her power over him. 'But Itell thee, thou hadst better never have been born than meddle in thisconcern of thy husband's. For this concern, is the concern not of mypoor unworthy self, but of my country, of my people! And I tell thee,foreign harridan, I had liefer strangle thee with mine own hands thanbe frustrated!'
''Tis pity,' quoth Judith calmly, 'since the matter is marred already.'
'What meanest thou, viper?' shouted Waltheof, fully aroused andspringing to his feet, and advancing towards Judith with a threateninggesture, his mighty fist, which could have struck the life from herfrail body at a blow, clenched into an iron ball, and the knots in hismassive throat working with nervous excitement.
But Judith faced him unmoved, her proud face flashing with scorn. Forthe blood of Robert the Devil and Arlete of Falaise was hot in herveins, and perhaps she opined, also, that even in his wrath her heroiclord was too generous to hurt her. She did not quail before him butstood looking at him with her defiant, steadfast eyes.
'Slay me if thou wilt,' she said, without a falter in her tone. 'Thatwhich is done cannot be undone. My death will not hinder the stoutmessenger that sped through the night, ere thou hadst reeled from thebanquet to thy chamber, from bearing the news of thy treason toLanfranc. In vain wilt thou seek to overtake him, for he hath nigh atwelve hours' start, and he is mounted on thine own Spanish destrier,the swiftest steed in England--William's gift!'
The oath with which Waltheof answered was too terrible for repetition.He sprang at his wife, and clutched her slender throat with his strongfingers, as if he were in very truth about to execute his threat andstrangle her.
She stood like a statue, though the weight of his hands upon hershoulders almost bore her to the ground.
'My people are as dear to me as thine to thee,' she said, expecting thedeath-grip to follow her bold speech. 'Thou hast sworn fealty toWilliam, nay, thou hast done him homage, and put thy hands between hisand vowed to be his man; thou hast married me, his niece! The struggleand the bloodshed are over, the Normans and Saxons should be one, andthou wouldst renew the strife and divide them again!'
With a moan like that of a wounded bull, the son of Siward cast thegrand-daughter of Robert the Devil from him, and, covering his facewith his hands, threw himself back on his couch in an agony of thwartedand impotent rage.
'Hadst thou been a man!' he muttered,--'hadst thou been a man, that Icould do battle with thee hand to hand!'
'Had I been a man, Waltheof,' said Judith softly kneeling on one kneebeside her prostrate warrior,--'had I been a man, Waltheof, I had notbeen here to save thee, and thy country, and thy people from theconsequences of thy drunken folly. Holy Mary be praised that made me awoman! Waltheof, what is thy love for thy people, if thou wouldstplunge them again in blood and fire for the vain hope of satisfying animpossible ambition? Was not the harrying of Northumberland enough,that thou wouldst have the whole country ravaged from north to south?'
No man of many words was the hero of York, and his only reply to thiseloquent appeal was to mutter an occasional curse in his beard, nor didhe raise his face from the pillows among which he had plunged it.
'I tell thee,' Judith went on, 'William would harry the land from Yorkto Hastings, as he harried it from Durham to York, rather than lose itfrom his grip. And thinkest thou that he whom Harold Godwinsson couldnot baulk nor drive from the land ere one Norman castle or strongholdwas built in it, though he had the full force of the Saxon chivalry athis back, could be so easily ousted from the saddle into which he hasclimbed, now the most part of the nation are dead, or ruined and tornby dissensions and rivalry? Thinkest thou I would not gladly be a queenif there were any hope of such an ending to thine exploit? But seeingit not, I have chosen rather to endeavour to save thy life.'
'Save my life? Thou hast rather lost it! Say'st thou not that thou hastbetrayed me to Lanfranc?' He raised his head at last, and looked her inthe face.
'Nay, Waltheof!' answered Judith, softly laying her slender hand uponhis huge shoulder. 'The foreign harridan loves her husband! I wouldsave thee, not destroy thee. The letter wa
s couched in thy name andsealed with thy seal, and so writ as though thou hadst but seemed tojoin the plot the better to discomfit the king's enemies.'
'Thou fiend infernal!' cried Waltheof, starting up again in an agony.'Hast thou so dared to sully my good name?--to paint me so black atraitor?'
'Softly, my husband! The vow that is first made counts most binding. Iwould save thy name from the foul stain of treachery to thy generousliege-lord, William of Normandy, to whom thou didst homage in person onthe banks of the Tees, coming of thine own free will to tender it, andaccepting his forgiveness, his friendship, and the hand of hiskinswoman. Yes--the hand of thy poor wife Judith, who would fain leadthee back to thy nobler self.'
The logic of this speech bore heavily on Waltheof, who threw himselfdown again upon the couch with a curse and a moan.
'Would that the sun had never risen on the day I first saw light!' hemuttered.
Judith stretched out her hand and raised the golden crucifix which wassuspended by a chain from her husband's neck, so that it was on a levelwith his eyes.
'Though we be of two nations, Waltheof,' she said gently, 'we areservants of one Lord. The abbot who bade thee plunge thy country afreshin blood and fire is no true priest of God. And for my countryman,Roger of Hereford, thinkest thou Lanfranc excommunicated him fornought?--Lanfranc, who loved him as a son. Wouldst thou associate withone accursed? What motive can he have in this save the slaking of hisover-weening pride? As for the Breton, or the Englishman, or whatsoeverhe be called, Ralph of Guader, he who fought against his people atHastings can have little spur save his own ambition. Wilt thou be thetool of such as these? I tell thee, Waltheof, if thou by timely returnto thy sober senses dost frustrate the plottings of these men, thymemory will be green in the pages of the chroniclers, but if thou doststrengthen them in their folly, the ages will curse thee. Without theethey are powerless. It is thy name they conjure with, son of Siward.What Saxon would fight for Roger of Hereford, the son of theirmightiest foe, or for the renegade, half-bred Ralph de Guader? Go nowto Lanfranc, throw thyself at his feet, and all bloodshed will bestopped.'
And Waltheof groaned, and kissed the crucifix as she held it to hislips, for he was deeply religious after the wild manner of his times;humble in his faith, and little dreaming that the Saxon Church he lovedso well would one day account him a martyr, and accord the power ofmiracle-working to the tomb in which his headless corse would repose,the trysting-place of countless pilgrims.
'I would not willingly bring further suffering on my unhappy country,'he said thoughtfully.
A gleam of triumph passed over the face of Judith, for the fury wasgone from his voice, and she knew that she had conquered.
