The Last of the Vikings Part 10

"Well, we will see about that; but we had better get ready, for the draught will soon take effect upon this sweetheart of yours."

"Stuff, my lady! He is a little finikin fellow, and simple to boot. I do but tease him. He amuses me so much I really cannot help joking him."

Ere long these two frail women stole along the lonesome pa.s.sages, having fortified themselves as best they could for their task. Alice was dreadfully nervous, but determined of purpose. Jeannette, however, was jaunty enough at starting, and had it been the congenial task of tricking poor Paul Lazaire, her volatile temperament would have carried her through; but she soon began to manifest, by many hysterical starts, that this dramatic adventure, which might become a tragedy, was telling powerfully upon her nerves.

They soon reached the place, however, where, as they antic.i.p.ated, Paul was found in a state of blissful insensibility to either friend or foe.

He had speedily felt the soothing effect of the drug, and had sat down with his back to the wall. But he had quickly slidden from that position and was now lying flat along, in a sound sleep, and breathing heavily.

"Oh, dear!" almost shrieked Jeannette, as she witnessed Paul's insensible condition. "He's not dead, is he, my lady?"

"No, he is not, you simpleton! Now let us be quick, Jeannette! Reach the keys from his girdle. May Heaven help us!" said Alice, devoutly crossing herself. But she dared not give utterance to her fears in presence of her maid, whose condition was plainly visible to her.

Jeannette s.n.a.t.c.hed the keys from Paul's girdle, and Alice thrust the clumsy piece of metal into the door; but she had to apply her utmost strength ere the rusty bolt shot back with a loud snap. Then, applying her strength to the heavy oaken door, it recoiled slowly on its rusty hinges, with a horrid, creaking noise which grated fearfully on the excited nerves of the pair. Immediately, as the torch's flickering light fell dimly across the cell, their eyes fell upon the captive chief, who was chained to the wall by heavy chains, but nevertheless stood erect, with distended nostrils, clenched hands, and threatening att.i.tude. He was evidently expecting a midnight a.s.sa.s.sin, and though manacled and bound hand and foot, he would fight it out to the end. Alice started back, trembling violently, as she beheld the fierce att.i.tude of Oswald; and the last spark of Jeannette's courage disappeared, for, with a shriek, she clutched the arm of her mistress and tried to drag her away.

"Hush, Jeannette! Be still," cried Alice beseechingly; "we shall be discovered if you do not be quiet."

The scene was a graphic one truly. The two timid women stood on the threshold of the cell, cowed by the savage att.i.tude of the captive, and afraid to advance a step, though bent on doing a deed of mercy. Oswald also was strangely bewildered at the sight of such gentle visitors; for, as the torch was held aloft, the uncertain light revealed to him the forms of two timid and graceful women, and one of them, at least, bearing evidence of gentle blood and gentle manners. His muscles relaxed and his manacled hands fell to his side, and the heavy irons clanked horribly in the vaulted cell. This still further terrified the visitors, and Jeannette, whose nerves were at their utmost tension, with a shriek involuntarily bounded over the sleeping form of Paul Lazaire, and fled like the wind along the corridors, leaving her mistress alone with the captive chieftain. The awful silence was broken by Oswald, who said, "Be not afraid, gentle lady. I was expecting some red-handed murderer and the cold steel; but methinks so fair a messenger should bear a message of mercy."

"We have at least a merciful intent, Saxon. We saw your brave defence of the castle, and we would fain set you free if we can, for we know the brutal designs of some of our people, and we would save our own people from dishonour, and you from a cruel death."

"Ah! then pity still exists in the breast of woman! I thought the world was emptied of such things."

"This can never be, sir knight, whilst honour and chivalry inspire the deeds of knights and warriors; for such can never fail to inspire the sympathies of us weak women."

"Will you dare, then, fair lady, to carry out your beneficent purpose, and give me my liberty again, enemy though I be to thy people?"

"I have counted all costs, sir knight; and I dare, if so be that my woman's strength can effect it."

"Here is my right hand, then. Ten thousand blessings on your woman's heart if you can set it free once more!"

As he spoke he stretched out his right arm, loaded with the heavy and rusty fetters.

Alice boldly advanced and thrust the key into the lock, but her utmost strength was insufficient to force back the catch, whilst Oswald's fetters prevented him from reaching one hand with the other. Alice unloosed from her shoulders a collarette of rich lace, and wrapped it round the rusty key, the angles of which hurt her hand. Then, applying again her utmost strength, happily she succeeded in forcing back the stubborn bolt, and thus liberating Oswald's right hand.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ALICE DE MONTFORT SETS FREE THE SAXON CHIEFTAIN.]

"Thank Heaven for a limb at liberty! My good right hand, too," said he, stretching it to its utmost length for very joy. "Give me the key, now, fair lady, for I can myself undo the rest." Soon, one by one, the fetters were stripped off from his cramped and lacerated limbs, and he bounded from them free. Falling on his knees before Alice, he seized her hand and pressed it to his lips, exclaiming, "Tell me the name of my benefactress, lady, for it shall be enshrined in my memory for ever."

"I am Alice de Montfort, and that was my maid," said Alice timidly, and blus.h.i.+ng crimson.

"Alice de Montfort!" said Oswald, starting to his feet as one bewildered at the avowal. Then, seizing the other trembling hand, he pa.s.sionately exclaimed, "Nay, never blush, lady! So n.o.ble a name, so fair a form, and so generous a deed are worthily a.s.sociated."

"Alas! I fear me, sir knight, some men, if they knew that I thus acted falsely to my father and to my people, would despise me; but I have learnt to despise the opinions of men, when the cause of humanity and of chivalry claims my feeble help. We noticed your brave defence of your home, and the evil fortune which befel you; and we two weak women were overtaken with pity, which is our woman's weakness. Thus we have ventured this deed. I would you should accept it as some atonement for the violence and greed of my people. But tarry not, sir knight, I beseech you, lest this act be marred ere it be accomplished."

"How can I express my grat.i.tude to you, gentle lady, for adventuring so much in order that you might give me my life! But I would that the curse of Heaven may be upon me as an ingrate, if I forget, even for an hour, the debt I owe to you, and, if opportunity serve, I return not with interest to thee and thine this act of mercy done to me in my extremity.

But the time is urgent, as you say. So adieu, lady."

"Stay, sir knight; there is one other point--how will you make good your escape? Had you not better go with us to our women's quarters? Then we may devise with greater leisure some further means to ensure your escape."

"If you will but lend me your cloak, lady, to disguise my form, I know this castle's resources, and I shall not fail to make my escape. As a token of this, I will leave the cloak at the foot of the stair leading to the tower. Adieu, lady! We shall meet again under happier auspices."

So saying, he bounded from the dungeon and disappeared in the darkness.

CHAPTER XIII.

BARON VIGNEAU BAULKED OF HIS REVENGE.

"Midnight brought on the dusky hour, Friendliest to sleep and silence."

Milton.

The pall of darkness is spread over the face of Nature, and the bold outlines of the mountains are shrouded in its embrace. Under cover of the darkness, a cordon of vigilant and daring sentinels are closing in upon the castle and its carousing inmates. One stealthy figure glides peeringly from tree to tree amongst the clump of towering chestnuts, until he reaches one near the wall, when, throwing his legs around it, and catching hold of the tough and sinewy shoots in the bole, he mounts aloft, and perches daringly amid the branches of the tree, watching the remnant of the Normans who still are able to keep up the orgie. But most of them are now fast in the arms of a sodden sleep.

Another figure, on hands and knees, with snake-like motion has left the thicket of laurel, hazels, and flowering currants at the foot of the slope in front, and wriggles his way up the rising ground on which the castle is built, until he comes daringly close to the wall; whilst the short, sharp scream of the night-owl, issuing from first one point and then another, tells that concerted action is afoot. The secret of it is, that Wulfhere has rallied a band of the hardiest Saxons, if needs be, to dare a desperate deed of rescue on behalf of their captive chieftain.

Many a fierce Saxon, with naked sword and eagerly listening ear, is lurking around, ready for any deed that may be required of him.

Wulfhere and a trusty comrade are standing together at the foot of a gigantic oak in an adjoining wood. The capacious trunk tells that for many centuries it has looked down upon its contemporaries. The decayed and verdureless branches, cl.u.s.tered around its centre, tell also that the process of decay has been progressing for a longer span of time than is permitted in the life of mortals. If we ascend it for a few yards we shall find that, just where its stout limbs divide themselves from the bole, a yawning cavern has taken the place of its once stout heart, into which a man would find no difficulty in descending.

"I think there are none of the enemy on the alert, and we may venture,"

said Wulfhere to his companion. So saying, he mounted the tree and disappeared in the recess, and, sliding down until he reached the ground, he quietly removed some leaves and other _debris_; then there was visible a trap-door, which he raised, revealing a flight of steps, which he descended, followed by his companion. Drawing forth a horn lantern, with tinder-box and flint, he struck a light, and the pair began slowly marching along in the direction of the castle. But they had not proceeded very far before they were saluted by a familiar voice.

"What ho, Wulfhere! what are you venturing?"

After the first violent consternation, Wulfhere found his tongue.

"We essayed a rescue, my lord, but you have saved us the trouble. How is this? We scarcely hoped to find you alive at this time, much less a free man."

"A miracle, Wulfhere! I account it a miracle, for I am as one given back from the dead. But more anon. Let us haste for the present, for I tremble lest it should turn out that it is but a dream, and that there will follow a horrid awakening."

The trio quickly retraced their steps, and stood together in the wood, Wulfhere uttering a series of peculiar calls well known to every Saxon comprising the band of rescuers. Quickly, one by one, they rallied to the spot; and when they saw their chieftain safe and well their demonstrations of joy were most exuberant--almost frantic--many of them dancing round him like satyrs in the dim light of the wood, each and all most anxiously demanding by what strange chance he had obtained his liberty. As they hastily retreated to the hills, Oswald briefly related to his followers the circ.u.mstances of his release by two Norman women, who at dead of night had boldly opened the prison door and unfettered him--Oswald carefully laying upon his followers the injunction that no harm should be done to the Norman women, and that special regard should be paid to the Norman lady, daughter of Count de Montfort. He also enjoined upon them the strictest secrecy as to the agents who had taken part in it.

Early on the morrow there was a grand muster of the Norman men-at-arms in the castle yard. Many of them who had taken part in the a.s.sault on the castle were not followers of the Count, but mercenaries, who were eager for further advance in quest of plunder. To this mult.i.tude who had fought for him, and stayed their hand from plunder and burning, at his request, a liberal donative of gold was distributed; and presently three-fourths of the soldiery shouldered arms and marched northwards to swell the ranks of the desolating host which carried fire and sword throughout the north of England, and to the borders of Scotland.

Blood-curdling were the dreadful scenes of slaughter that were enacted; not less than two hundred thousand Saxons peris.h.i.+ng in that ruthless ma.s.sacre.

Alice and Jeannette were astir betimes in the morning also; in fact, Alice had not closed her eyes during that night of suspense. With considerable daring, in the morning she and Jeannette pa.s.sed from room to room, from bas.e.m.e.nt to roof, in search of evidence that the Saxon had made good his escape, starting and trembling violently as the wild shouts of the men fell upon their ears, lest it should be but the herald of Oswald's recapture.

"There remains but the tower, Jeannette," said Alice, after they had explored, as best they could, the various rooms of the castle. So towards the dismal winding stair of the tower they hastened, and there in the semi-darkness they came across the cloak which Alice had lent the fugitive. Then Alice remembered the parting words of the Saxon,--that 'she would find the cloak at the bottom of the stair.' Slowly they scrambled up these stairs, often-times having literally to grope their way. When they reached the top they peered anxiously around, but no trace of Oswald was to be seen. Looking over the battlements, they beheld Vigneau, Pierre, and a number of men making preparation for what they considered a morning's sport. Some had fenced round a small enclosure, and others had kindled a large fire, in which were heating pincers and long iron spikes wherewith they purposed torturing the Saxon chieftain. Vigneau, casting a glance up at the castle, perceived Alice and Jeannette peering over the battlements and watching the fiendish preparations.

"Pierre," said Vigneau, "do you see _la grande dame_ watching us? We shall find her sport soon the mawkish damsel will sicken at, I warrant.

I would like to tie her to the spot and make her look on whether she will or no."

"You will win no gracious smiles by this work, I doubt, my lord; it would have been better done farther away," said Pierre.