"Why does not Ralph come? Why does he not come?" exclaimed Emma, covering her face with her slender hands, which had grown so thin that she could scarce keep on her wedding ring. "My heart is full of fears, Eadgyth. I dreamt of him last night, ill and sorrowful, tossing on a bed of fever. He was ill when he went away, his wounds half-healed. It is all doubt and dread--and horror!"
"Ah, Christ have mercy upon us!" said Eadgyth, who was kneeling beside the bed.
"I dare not ask for mercy," said Emma piteously. "I am fighting in a wrong cause! Thy Sir Aimand said it. I have brought all this woe and suffering on the man who loved me, and on those who love him and follow him, like leal knights and true!"
"Oh, do not torment yourself with such thoughts, sweet heart! Surely it was no wrong cause to strive with the oppressor of this wretched land,--he whose minions were killing the heart out of his victims with every species of wrong and outrage!"
The tears were running swiftly enough down Eadgyth"s cheeks now.
"Alas!" said Emma, "I fear we thought less of that than of our own revenge and ambition."
"But how couldst thou have helped it?"
"I might have helped it. I might have refused to marry against the king"s command, and gone into a convent, and then the bride-ale would never have been, nor its direful following."
"Perchance it had been better," said Eadgyth thoughtfully.
"No, it would not have been better!" cried Emma, starting up, impatient at Eadgyth"s acquiescence; she had given her scruples voice that they might be combated, not confirmed. "I would go through it all again and more to be Ralph"s wife, and I am a contemptible coward, a _noding_, to be puling here because my roses are not thornless, when I might be helping to keep my hero"s castle for him!"
She sprang from the bed, and insisted on going to the spital to leech the day"s wounded, though Eadgyth told her that she needed leeching far more sorely herself.
Yet in all her self-abandonment she had spared Eadgyth, and had not told her that they were to be imprisoned in the keep from that day forth, nor that her cousin Leofric Ealdredsson was dead or in the hands of the enemy.
CHAPTER XXIV.
FAMINE.
When the besiegers attacked the walls of Blauncheflour on the morning following, they found them undefended, and took possession with shouts and jubilation.
The besieged, sheltered behind the strong ramparts of the keep, felt much as shipwrecked mariners, who, from the present safety of some rocky islet, watch the rising of the tide, knowing that their lives depend upon the height to which the shining water will attain,--unless indeed some friendly vessel come to the rescue and carry them off.
The hope of the imprisoned garrison was in the coming of the earl, and as Earl Warrenne and Robert Malet rode round the keep, and saw how strong and flawless was the masonry, they had a shrewd fear that De Guader would yet bring the Danes and Bretons upon them before they had time to complete their victory, and that, after all their hard fighting and expenditure of lives and time and money, the quarry would escape them.
So they determined to call a parley, and endeavour to cajole the countess into resigning the fortress.
Needless to say, their summons was eagerly responded to by the garrison.
Emma trembled with hope that was almost pain, as she inquired what terms the envoy was empowered to grant.
"Safe-conduct to herself, her ladies, and a reasonable escort, if she would give her parole to leave the country within a month--no more."
She realised then that her hope had been despair; that she had not had courage to hope at all.
"Safe-conduct for myself, my ladies, and every soul in the garrison,"
replied the countess proudly. "I will yield for no less."
The envoy was not empowered to grant it.
"Dear lady, it were better to accept the terms. We cannot insure the safety even of thyself and thy ladies in the end," advised Sir Hoel privately. "Nought lies before us but quick starvation; the provisions are very short."
"Desert you and all who have fought so n.o.bly for us, and braved every peril for us, to insure our own safety? Never! Remember Stephen le Hareau! They would deal with you likewise," cried Emma. "I have given my answer. Convey it to thy lords!" she told the envoy.
Then the messenger said there was a further matter. It was understood that a loyal knight, Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, was in the castle, a prisoner, and, the gallant Childe Leofric Ealdredsson having fallen into their hands on the previous day, they proposed an exchange.
This was, of course, accepted, and Sir Aimand was sent for.
Eadgyth had begged to attend the countess to the council-chamber, and Emma turned to her. "I am glad, Eadgyth. I feared a worse fate for thy kinsman." The poor girl turned to her with a white face, well knowing that the words were spoken to cover her agitation. She tried to smile.
"It is a happy thing for him," she said.
"Thy presence here is no longer needed," said the countess. "Let Sir Aimand wait upon me in my bower before he goes."
"Poor child, thou shalt have a comfortable leave-taking at least!" she said, as Eadgyth followed to her private chamber. "It is good for him to go, donzelle; he is eating his heart out in misery here."
"Good for him to go that he may be free to slay my people!" cried Eadgyth bitterly. "Ah, wretched me! that I should love my country"s foe!"
Emma had no time to answer, for De Sourdeval"s mailed step was clanking up the pa.s.sage. A moment later he entered the bower. His eyes were shining and his cheeks flushed. He threw himself on his knee before the countess.
"Ah, n.o.ble lady," he exclaimed, "would that thy cause were one with that of my liege-lord William, so I might fight for thee, and show my grat.i.tude for all thy kindness and generosity! I will seek service far from here; my sword shall not be against thee!"
"The generosity has not been all on my side, Sir Knight!" replied the countess, with moistening eyes. "I would indeed that my cause were one with that of William of Normandy; that all this turmoil was at an end, and that no more brave lives were to be sacrificed for me and mine." A deep, quivering sigh followed her speech.
"Lady Eadgyth," said Sir Aimand, with a voice not quite so steady as before, as he turned to the Saxon maiden, "I am glad thy kinsman profits by my freedom. It will comfort me that if I cannot myself labour in thy defence, my poor life has served to restore one who can to the garrison--far more valiantly and worthily than I."
He forced out the words. He himself tried to believe that he was glad, but, in truth, the bitterest sting of parting lay for him in the thought that the man whom he regarded as his rival should be in the castle, favoured by daily and hourly intercourse under circ.u.mstances that must needs draw the hardest-hearted together. He remembered with renewed anguish all the tortures of Tantalus he had endured during his enforced inactivity; burning to distinguish himself before his lady"s eyes, and forced to remain a drone in the hive, while Leofric had been free to show himself the hero he was, and would now have still fairer opportunity.
His eyes sought hers, therefore, full of a sadness which belied his words.
Eadgyth longed to tear a favour from her dress, and bid him wear it in his helm against all comers, for that no other knight, stranger or kin, should ever carry it. But she thought, "Who knows that we shall ever meet again? Why should I bind him?" So she answered, bowing her head to hide the springing tears, "Mary Mother have thee in her keeping!"
She gave him her hand, which he kissed reverently, and so departed, and half-an-hour later Leofric Ealdredsson was borne into the keep on a litter.
When Eadgyth saw her kinsman, her heart smote her that his fate had moved her so little; for his brow was damp with pain, and his brawny arms dropped feebly by his side, and all his strength was fled from him. She pansed and bound his wounds with tender care, and washed the clotted blood from his long yellow curls, wondering if indeed it were true that he was Sir Aimand"s rival, or if it were only a figment of love"s self-torturing jealousy.
From time to time Leofric moaned as she ministered to him, but scarcely opened his eyes. Did he know who it was, she wondered, or, if he knew, did he care?
When the last bandage was fastened, and she stood for a moment to see if aught more could be done for her patient, Leofric raised his weary head and looked in her face.
He did not speak, he had scarce strength for that; his eyes were full of grat.i.tude, and spoke his thanks, but they told her something more.
Then Eadgyth knew that Sir Aimand had said sooth, and her heart smote her, and her breath caught with an inward sob.
Leofric lifted his hand feebly and held it for hers. Had she given it, he would have pressed it to his lips; she could not,--but an hour before Aimand de Sourdeval had kissed it!