CHAPTER II. SHARP IS THE KISS OF THE FALCON'S BEAR.
Hastings stood in the presence of the girl to whom he had pledged histruth. They were alone; but in the next chamber might be heard thepeculiar sound made by the mechanism of the Eureka. Happy and lifelessmechanism, which moves, and toils, and strives on, to change the destinyof millions, but hath neither ear nor eye, nor sense nor heart,--theavenues of pain to man! She had--yes, literally--she had recognized herlover's step upon the stair, she had awakened at once from that dull andicy lethargy with which the words of Alwyn had chained life and soul.She sprang forward as Hastings entered; she threw herself in deliriousjoy upon his bosom. "Thou art come, thou art! It is not true, not true.Heaven bless thee! thou art come!" But sudden as the movement was therecoil. Drawing herself back, she gazed steadily on his face, and said,"Lord Hastings, they tell me thy hand is another's. Is it true?"
"Hear me!" answered the nobleman. "When first I--"
"O God! O God! he answers not, he falters! Speak! Is it true?"
"It is true. I am wedded to another."
Sibyll did not fall to the ground, nor faint, nor give vent to noisypassion. But the rich colour, which before had been varying and fitful,deserted her cheek, and left it of an ashen whiteness; the lips, too,grew tightly compressed, and her small fingers, interlaced, were claspedwith strained and convulsive energy, so that the quivering of the veryarms was perceptible. In all else she seemed composed, as she said,"I thank you, my lord, for the simple truth; no more is needed. Heavenbless you and yours! Farewell!"
"Stay! you shall--you must hear me on. Thou knowest how dearly in youthI loved Katherine Nevile. In manhood the memory of that love haunted me,but beneath thy sweet smile I deemed it at last effaced; I left theeto seek the king, and demand his assent to our union. I speak not ofobstacles that then arose; in the midst of them I learned Katherine waslone and widowed,--was free. At her own summons I sought herpresence, and learned that she had loved me ever,--loved me still. Theintoxication of my early dream returned; reverse and exile followedclose; Katherine left her state, her fortunes, her native land, andfollowed the banished man; and so memory and gratitude and destinyconcurred, and the mistress of my youth became my wife. None other couldhave replaced thy image; none other have made me forget the faith Ipledged thee. The thought of thee has still pursued me,--will pursue meto the last. I dare not say now that I love thee still, but yet--" Hepaused, but rapidly resumed, "Enough, enough! dear art thou to me, andhonoured,--dearer, more honoured than a sister. Thank Heaven, at least,and thine own virtue, my falsehood leaves thee pure and stainless. Thyhand may yet bless a worthier man. If our cause triumphs, thy fortunes,thy father's fate, shall be my fondest care. Never, never will my sleepbe sweet, and my conscience laid to rest, till I hear thee say, ashonoured wife--perchance, as blessed and blessing mother--'False one, Iam happy!'"
A cold smile, at these last words, flitted over the girl's face,--thesmile of a broken heart; but it vanished, and with that strange mixtureof sweetness and pride,--mild and forgiving, yet still spirited andfirm,--which belonged to her character, she nerved herself to the lastand saddest effort to preserve dignity and conceal despair. "Fartherwords, my lord, are idle; I am rightly punished for a proud folly. Letnot woman love above her state. Think no more of my destiny."
"No, no," interrupted the remorseful lord, "thy destiny must haunt metill thou hast chosen one with a better right to protect thee."
At the repetition of that implied desire to transfer her also toanother, a noble indignation came to mar the calm for which she hadhitherto not vainly struggled. "Oh, man!" she exclaimed, withpassion, "does thy deceit give me the right to deceive another? I--Iwed!--I--I--vow at the altar--a love dead, dead forever--dead as my ownheart! Why dost thou mock me with the hollow phrase, 'Thou art pure andstainless?' Is the virginity of the soul still left? Do the tears I haveshed for thee; doth the thrill of my heart when I heard thy voice;doth the plighted kiss that burns, burns now into my brow, and on mylips,--do these, these leave me free to carry to a new affection thecinders and ashes of a soul thou hast ravaged and deflowered? Oh, coarseand rude belief of men, that naught is lost if the mere form be pure!The freshness of the first feelings, the bloom of the sinless thought,the sigh, the blush of the devotion--never, never felt but once! these,these make the true dower a maiden should bring to the hearth to whichshe comes as wife. Oh, taunt! Oh, insult! to speak to me of happiness,of the altar! Thou never knewest, lord, how I really loved thee!" Andfor the first time, a violent gush of tears came to relieve her heart.
Hastings was almost equally overcome. Well experienced as he was inthose partings when maids reproach and gallants pray for pardon, butstill sigh, "Farewell,"--he had now no words to answer that burst ofuncontrollable agony; and he felt at once humbled and relieved, whenSibyll again, with one of those struggles which exhaust years oflife, and almost leave us callous to all after-trial, pressed back thescalding tears, and said, with unnatural sweetness: "Pardon me, my lord,I meant not to reproach; the words escaped me,--think of them no more. Iwould fain, at least, part from you now as I had once hoped to partfrom you at the last hour of life,--without one memory of bitterness andanger, so that my conscience, whatever its other griefs, might say, 'Mylips never belied my heart, my words never pained him!' And now then,Lord Hastings, in all charity, we part. Farewell forever, and forever!Thou hast wedded one who loves thee, doubtless, as tenderly as I haddone. Ah, cherish that affection! There are times even in thy careerwhen a little love is sweeter than much fame. If thou thinkest I haveaught to pardon thee, now with my whole heart I pray, as while life ismine that prayer shall be murmured, 'Heaven forgive this man, as I do!Heaven make his home the home of peace, and breathe into those now nearand dear to him, the love and the faith that I once--'" She stopped, forthe words choked her, and, hiding her face, held out her hand, in signof charity and of farewell.
"Ah, if I dared pray like thee," murmured Hastings, pressing hislips upon that burning hand, "how should I weary Heaven to repair,by countless blessings, the wrong which I have done thee! And Heavenwill--oh, it surely will!" He pressed the hand to his heart, dropped it,and was gone.
In the courtyard he was accosted by Alwyn--
"Thou hast been frank, my lord?"
"I have."
"And she bears it, and--"
"See how she forgives, and how I suffer!" said Hastings, turning hisface towards his rival; and Alwyn saw that the tears were rollingdown his cheeks--"Question me no more." There was a long silence.They quitted the precincts of the Tower, and were at the river-side.Hastings, waving his hand to Alwyn, was about to enter the boat whichwas to bear him to the war council assembled at Baynard's Castle, whenthe trader stopped him, and said anxiously,--
"Think you not, for the present, the Tower is the safest asylumfor Sibyll and her father? If we fail and Warwick returns, they areprotected by the earl; if we triumph, thou wilt insure their safety fromall foes?"
"Surely; in either case, their present home is the most secure."
The two men then parted. And not long afterwards, Hastings, who led theon-guard, was on his way towards Barnet; with him also went the footvolunteers under Alwyn. The army of York was on its march. Gloucester,to whose vigilance and energy were left the final preparations, wasnecessarily the last of the generals to quit the city. And suddenly,while his steed was at the gate of Baynard's Castle, he entered, armedcap-a-pie, into the chamber where the Duchess of Bedford sat with hergrandchildren.
"Madame," said he, "I have a grace to demand from you, which will,methinks, not be displeasing. My lieutenants report to me that an alarmhas spread amongst my men,--a religious horror of some fearful bombardsand guns which have been devised by a sorcerer in Lord Warwick's pay.Your famous Friar Bungey has been piously amongst them, promising,however, that the mists which now creep over the earth shall lastthrough the night and the early morrow; and if he deceive us not, we maypost our men so as to elude the hostile artillery. But, sith the friaris so n
oted and influential, and sith there is a strong fancy that thewinds which have driven back Margaret obeyed his charm, the soldiersclamour out for him to attend us, and, on the very field itself,counteract the spells of the Lancastrian nigromancer. The good friar,more accustomed to fight with fiends than men, is daunted, and resists.As much may depend on his showing us good will, and making our fellowssuppose we have the best of the witchcraft, I pray you to command hisattendance, and cheer up his courage. He waits without."
"A most notable, a most wise advice, beloved Richard!" cried theduchess. "Friar Bungey is, indeed, a potent man. I will win him at onceto your will;" and the duchess hurried from the room.
The friar's bodily fears, quieted at last by assurances that he shouldbe posted in a place of perfect safety during the battle, and hisavarice excited by promises of the amplest rewards, he consented toaccompany the troops, upon one stipulation,--namely, that the atrociouswizard, who had so often baffled his best spells,--the very wizard whohad superintended the accursed bombards, and predicted Edward's previousdefeat and flight (together with the diabolical invention, in which allthe malice and strength of his sorcery were centred),--might, accordingto Jacquetta's former promise, be delivered forthwith to his mercy, andaccompany him to the very spot where he was to dispel and counteractthe Lancastrian nigromancer's enchantments. The duchess, too glad topurchase the friar's acquiescence on such cheap terms, and to whosesuperstitious horror for Adam's lore in the black art was now added apurely political motive for desiring him to be made away with,--inasmuchas in the Sanctuary she had at last extorted from Elizabeth the darksecret which might make him a very dangerous witness against theinterests and honour of Edward,--readily and joyfully consented to thisproposition.
A strong guard was at once despatched to the Tower with the friarhimself, followed by a covered wagon, which was to serve for conveyanceto Bungey and his victim.
In the mean while, Sibyll, after remaining for some time in the chamberwhich Hastings had abandoned to her solitary woe, had passed to the roomin which her father held mute commune with his Eureka.
The machine was now thoroughly completed,--improved and perfected,to the utmost art the inventor ever could attain. Thinking that theprejudice against it might have arisen from its uncouth appearance,the poor philosopher had sought now to give it a gracious and imposingappearance. He had painted and gilt it with his own hands; it lookedbright and gaudy in its gay hues; its outward form was worthy of theprecious and propitious jewel which lay hidden in its centre.
"See, child, see!" said Adam; "is it not beautiful and comely?"
"My dear father, yes!" answered the poor girl, as still she sought tosmile; then, after a short silence, she continued, "Father, of late,methinks, I have too much forgotten thee; pardon me, if so. Henceforth,I have no care in life but thee; henceforth let me ever, when thoutoilest, come and sit by thy side. I would not be alone,--I dare not!Father, Father! God shield thy harmless life! I have nothing to loveunder heaven but thee!"
The good man turned wistfully, and raised, with tremulous hands, the sadface that had pressed itself on his bosom. Gazing thereon mournfully, hesaid, "Some new grief hath chanced to thee, my child. Methought I heardanother voice besides thine in yonder room. Ah, has Lord Hastings--"
"Father, spare me! Thou wert too right; thou didst judge too wisely.Lord Hastings is wedded to another! But see, I can smile still, I amcalm. My heart will not break so long as it hath thee to love and prayfor!"
She wound her arms round him as she spoke, and he roused himself fromhis world out of earth again. Though he could bring no comfort, therewas something, at least, to the forlorn one, in his words of love, inhis tears of pity.
They sat down together, side by side, as the evening darkened,--theEureka forgotten in the hour of its perfection! They noted not thetorches which flashed below, reddened at intervals the walls of theirchamber, and gave a glow to the gay gilding and bright hues of the gaudymodel. Yet those torches flickered round the litter that was to conveyHenry the Peaceful to the battlefield, which was to decide the dynastyof his realm! The torches vanished, and forth from the dark fortresswent the captive king.
Night succeeded to eve, when again the red glare shot upward on theEureka, playing with fantastic smile on its quaint aspect. Steps andvoices, and the clatter of arms, sounded in the yard, on the stairs,in the adjoining chamber; and suddenly the door was flung open, and,followed by some half score soldiers, strode in the terrible friar.
"Aha, Master Adam! who is the greater nigromancer now? Seize him! Away!And help you, Master Sergeant, to bear this piece of the foul fiend'scunning devising. Ho, ho! see you how it is tricked out and furbishedup,--all for the battle, I warrant ye!"
The soldiers had already seized upon Adam, who, stupefied byastonishment rather than fear, uttered no sound, and attempted nostruggle. But it was in vain they sought to tear from him Sibyll'sclinging and protecting arms. A supernatural strength, inspired by akind of superstition that no harm could chance to him while she wasby, animated her slight form; and fierce though the soldiers were, theyshrunk from actual and brutal violence to one thus young and fair. Thosesmall hands clung so firmly, that it seemed that nothing but the edge ofthe sword could sever the child's clasp from the father's neck.
"Harm him not, harm him at your peril, friar!" she cried, with flashingeyes. "Tear him from me, and if King Edward win the day, Lord Hastingsshall have thy life; if Lord Warwick, thy days are numbered, too.Beware, and avaunt!"
The friar was startled. He had forgotten Lord Hastings in the zest ofhis revenge. He feared that, if Sibyll were left behind, the tale shemight tell would indeed bring on him a powerful foe in the daughter'slover; on the other hand, should Lord Warwick get the better, whatvengeance would await her appeal to the great protector of her father!He resolved, therefore, on the instant, to take Sibyll as well as herfather; and if the fortune of the day allowed him to rid himself ofWarner, a good occasion might equally occur to dispose forever of thetestimony of Sibyll. He had already formed a cunning calculationin desiring Warner's company; for while, should Edward triumph, thesacrifice of the hated Warner was resolved upon, yet, should the earlget the better, he could make a merit to Warner that he (the friar) hadnot only spared, but saved, his life, in making him his companion. Itwas in harmony with this double policy that the friar mildly answered toSibyll,--
"Tusk, my daughter! Perhaps if your father be true to King Edward, andaid my skill instead of obstructing it, he may be none the worse for thejourney he must take; and if thou likest to go with him, there's room inthe vehicle, and the more the merrier. Harm them not, soldiers; no doubtthey will follow quietly."
As he said this, the men, after first crossing themselves, had alreadyhoisted up the Eureka; and when Adam saw it borne from the room, heinstinctively followed the bearers. Sibyll, relieved by the thoughtthat, for weal or for woe, she should, at least, share her father'sfate, and scarce foreboding much positive danger from the party whichcontained Hastings and Alwyn, attempted no further remonstrance.
The Eureka was placed in the enormous vehicle,--it served as a barrierbetween the friar and his prisoners.
The friar himself, as soon as the wagon was in motion, addressed himselfcivilly enough to his fellow-travellers, and assured them there wasnothing to fear, unless Adam thought fit to disturb his incantations.The captives answered not his address, but nestled close to each other,interchanging, at intervals, words of comfort, and recoiling as faras possible from the ex-tregetour, who, having taken with him a morecongenial companion in the shape of a great leathern bottle, finallysunk into the silent and complacent doze which usually rewards thelibations to the Bromian god.
The vehicle, with many other baggage-wagons in the rear of the army inthat memorable night-march, moved mournfully on; the night continuedwrapped in fog and mist, agreeably to the weatherwise predictions of thefriar. The rumbling groan of the vehicle, the tramp of the soldiers, thedull rattle of their arms, with now and then the neigh of some k
night'ssteed in the distance, were the only sounds that broke the silence, tillonce, as they neared their destination, Sibyll started from her father'sbosom, and shudderingly thought she recognized the hoarse chant and thetinkling bells of the ominous tymbesteres.
The Last of the Barons — Complete Page 91
