*CHAPTER XXII.*
_*RALPH TO THE RESCUE.*_
As William de Breaute was being marched to his fate, Ralph hurried upthe winding turret stair, half choked by the blinding smoke which pouredfrom the burning wood-work, and much impeded in his impetuous course bythe chain of soldiers engaged in passing up water to extinguish theconflagration.
Even in the heat and din of the final assault his keen lover's eye hadfound time to look for and to note the signal promised by Aliva. Highup from one of the windows hung her scarf. But when Ralph and his menhad toiled thither they found the room empty.
Ralph experienced a painful tightening of the heart. Whither had thebird flown?
But it was the smoke which had driven the ladies from their apartment,and Ralph, exploring higher still, up a rude stone stair, found themcollected on the flat wooden roof covering the inner space between thelofty parapets and the four corner turrets.
Aliva, standing out tall and slim against the August twilight, wasassisting Beatrice Mertoun to support the Lady Margaret, who was quiteovercome with all that was taking place.
Ralph fell on his knee before Aliva, and kissed her hand with a rapturetoo deep for words. But Aliva bent over him, and throwing up his visor,kissed his face.
A voice sounded behind them. "Tut, children! this is neither time norplace to tarry to make love.--Ladies, haste you, and get you gone to aplace of safety. We have conquered our enemies, but not yet subdued thefire.--Lady Margaret, permit that I assist thee down thesestairs.--Nephew Ralph, bring the Lady Aliva."
And the whole party, guided by De Beauchamp, hurried down into the hall,and thence into the _debris_ and confusion which reigned in the baileyyards. The fast-falling darkness added to the weirdness of thescene--the ruins, the dead and dying, the shouts and cries of thevictors, the crackling of the flames, and the crash of the charred beamsas they fell.
Somehow or other in the tumult Ralph and Aliva got separated from therest, and found themselves, when once clear of the fortifications,obliged for a few moments to stand aside on the river-bank to let acompany of men-at-arms pass by with wounded and prisoners.
Suddenly, from behind some dark corner, a figure rushed at them in thegloom, and fell on his knees before Aliva. She started violently, andRalph drew his sword.
"Misericorde, misericorde! for the love of Heaven and our Lady!" whineda familiar voice, that of Bertram de Concours. "Fair lady, as you hopefor mercy, show some to me, and mind you how I succoured you in thechapel, when De Breaute and his men might have--ah!"
He never finished. A trampling of armed feet was heard behind, and heturned his head to see a guard advancing upon him.
"Better a watery grave than a living tomb!" he shrieked, and, beforeRalph could stop him, plunged into the stream.
"Plague take the traitor priest! We have lost him," growled the veteranman-at-arms in command.
"Old Ouse will have naught of such foul spawn, I trow," corrected Ralph."There are but two feet of water 'neath this bank at harvest-time. Fishhim out; he sticketh in the mud, and is set fast.--But come, sweetAliva," he added, turning to the maiden at his side; "let us hasten.The Lady Margaret hath without doubt ere now gained the house of goodMaster Gilbert the Clothier, who bade me offer thee his hospitality."
Aliva moved on, clinging to her lover's arm. Behind them, into thedarkness, the guard marched off the bedraggled priest. As regards thelatter's ultimate fate the chronicler is silent, beyond relating thefact that he was committed for trial in the court of the archbishop, anddoubtless the ambitious Bertram de Concours fretted away the remainderof his days a prisoner in the cell of some austere order. But thelittle episode had awakened another memory in Aliva's breast.
"My Ralph," she exclaimed, "and what of the other, the Benedictinelay-brother, the Bletsoe youth, who did in all truth and fidelitysuccour me and strive to bring me aid?"
Sir Ralph looked down on the fair face resting on his arm, and then upto the purple sky of the summer night--
"The azure gloom, When the deep skies assume Hues which have words, and speak to ye of heaven."
"God rest his soul!" he answered, in a low voice. "I owe it to hisstrong arm and ready wit, as he parried with his mace the blow DeBreaute aimed at me, that I am here to-night with thee."
Ralph only waited to see the ladies safely bestowed in the worthyburgess's abode ere he hurried back again to the castle. There was norest for him that night. Not the least onerous part of a commander'sduty in those rough times was to restore order and discipline among hismen after the capture of a fortress which had held out against them. Itwas a melancholy sight to the young knight this sacking and firing ofhis ancestral castle, the home of his boyhood. It stood there withruined walls and a huge rift in the side of the great keep like alightning-stricken oak.
And morning light brought more work. Hubert de Burgh, the king'sjusticiary, opened a court of justice in his sovereign's name, andbefore it were brought William de Breaute and eighty of his men.
Late in the afternoon Beatrice Mertoun, devoured with curiosity as towhat was happening, and chafing at her restraint in Master Gilbert'shouse, persuaded one of Lady Margaret's women to come with her towardsthe castle, intending, under cover of the twilight, to secure such oftheir possessions as the fire and the plunderers should have spared.But they returned quicker than they went, and empty-handed, driven backby horror; for in the bailey yard they came suddenly upon a rude gallowson which, grim and stark in the dim twilight, hung William de Breauteand seventy-three of his men.
The Robber Baron of Bedford Castle Page 22
