At such moments she would often have the ta.s.sel-gentle on her wrist, and the bird seemed almost human, so intelligent and tame was he.

She needed some comfort, for she had one great sorrow. The gentle and loving Dame Amicia de Reviers, who had watched over her from her cradle, was stricken down by paralysis, and a few days later died. It was really but the natural end of a long and happy life; but Emma, in the mood for self-torture, blamed herself for having dragged the aged dame into tumult and terror, and shed tears that were beyond the usual bitterness of grief. She was buried in the holy precincts of St. Martin at Bayle, which stood before the castle gate, the besiegers granting a truce for the occasion, with that chivalrous courtesy that was so oddly mixed with the ferocity of the times.

So the king's men and the earl's met in friendly sympathy one day, and prepared for bitter contest on the morrow, when the besiegers planned to make a.s.sault upon the walls themselves.

Within the castle all was bustle and business. Harness was mended and bullets were moulded, bows restrung and arrows feathered, axes and swords whirred on the grindstone, huge cauldrons were prepared wherein to heat water to pour upon besiegers' heads; and even the countess and her ladies helped to carry stones with their own fair hands, and pile them ready for the use of the slingers.

Meanwhile the swallows wheeled and twittered overhead as they wheel and twitter now; and down in the woods the merles and mavises sang on undisturbed by the tumult, while swans were marshalling green-grey cygnets across the pools in the marshes of the Cowholme.

CHAPTER XXII.

A SUBTERRANEAN CONFLICT.

The besiegers on their part had not been idle. They had established quite a _menagery_ of mechanical contrivances, rejoicing in the zoological names of tortoises, sows, and cats, to protect their approaches to the white walls of Blauncheflour, and under cover of these they had cut a channel to the castle ditch and drained the water from it, so that it was as dry as at present, though, instead of growing fair greenery of bushes and flowers, it showed a bottom of parched, foetid mud under the hot summer sun.

They had thrown up large mounds of earth at intervals around the ballium, and upon these had built up towers of wood overtopping the walls. These were furnished with drawbridges which could be let down at pleasure upon the merlons of the battlements, so to give ingress to their men-at-arms; their upper storeys serving to shelter archers and slingers, while from the lower, battering-rams were st.u.r.dily plied, and the warrewolves flung their stones and b.a.l.l.s of lead.

These towers had cost them many good lives, for not one had been established without a fierce struggle. Sally after sally had been made from the castle, but, in the end, numbers prevailed, and at last their impertinent wooden crests were reared above the Caen stone of Blauncheflour.

Those within were, however, more troubled by the mines which their a.s.sailants had run from the bottom of the moat beneath the foundations of the castle; for although these had been met by countermines, and many a furious combat had taken place in these uncanny lists, each mine meant a point to be guarded with jealous care, and was a source of weakness and anxiety; demanding exhausting sentry duty from the already over-burdened garrison.

The countess found her office of Castellan no sinecure. The motley garrison were anything but h.o.m.ogeneous. All manner of petty jealousies, personal and national, raged among them. The Normans were jealous of the Bretons, and the Bretons bl.u.s.tered about independence, boasting that they were 'no man's men;' while the Saxons hated them both, and regarded their refinements as dandyisms and their courtesies as cant; and the Normans and the Bretons both looked down upon the Saxons as savages, and gibed at their priest-bestowed knighthood; so that, on the whole, they were as much inclined to fight against each other as against the king's forces outside the walls, and sometimes actually came to blows.

However, the countess set her woman's wit to weigh these quarrelsome gentlemen against each other, and managed to do it, owing to the three-sidedness of the situation.

After all, their want of unity had its advantages, as they never 'went solid' in any direction, except under the self-evident necessity of defending their lives and the castle.

Still, at times, Emma grew very weary, and almost failed under the burden she had taken upon her slender shoulders, feeling terribly feeble and lonely and out of her depth.

Sir Hoel de St. Brice was her chiefest comfort and princ.i.p.al counsellor. The old knight had come to regard her with absolute veneration and the deepest affection, and in him she felt that she had a true and sincere friend.

His zeal for the earl's cause nearly equalled her own. To say that he would have given his life for it would express little, for all in the garrison were formally pledged to do that; but he had no other object in life.

Emma had sought the earliest opportunity to tell him the circ.u.mstances under which she had discovered the imprisonment of Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, and to repeat his account of the foul treatment he had met with from De Gourin.

'Unknightly!' he had said,--'from first to last unknightly. But what would you have? Can a man who sells his lance to the first bidder, without inquiry into the justice of his cause, be a true knight?'

Altogether he gave evidence of shrewd indignation, but no keen surprise.

'I love not the mercenary,' he answered, 'and wish that he had not so high a command in the garrison. I know well that he had no great liking for the young Norman _prudhomme_, whose boyish enthusiasms were stronger than his prudence, and led him to throw taunts at Sir Alain's thick head, all the more galling that they were barbed with truth.'

But he agreed that, under the circ.u.mstances, it was best to let matters stand; De Gourin was evidently of the same opinion, and, save for a few veiled gibes at the magnanimity of the countess, made no reference to the freeing of the young knight.

Sir Aimand, for his part, had a dismal time of it, and almost wished himself back in his dungeon, securely chained by the leg.

As soon as his health began to mend, which was speedily enough, under the combined influences of good food, good air, and the sight of his lady's face, Eadgyth withdrew that last and sweetest influence.

For she was determined by no word or look of hers to tempt him to be untrue to his high standard of honour, and she felt on her own part more Saxon than ever, and judged the gulf between them impa.s.sable, save by the wreckage of the ideals of both; and therefore she deemed that to bestow her company upon him would be but cruel kindness.

So the poor knight mooned about in solitary meditation, and his returning strength made inaction a veritable purgatory to him. To hear blows going, and have no hand in giving or taking them, was truly about the cruellest torture that could have been invented for one of his order and temper in those days when Christians still thirsted for the Valhalla of the old Nors.e.m.e.n, wherein the immortal heroes were healed of their wounds at night that they might slay each other over again in the morning.

Again and again he was on the point of throwing his scruples to the wind, and buckling on sword and helm in defence of the generous dame who had given him his freedom so unconditionally. Again and again he restrained himself, and did penance by fasting and prayer, wishing the while that she had left him in durance, so he had escaped such doubting and searching of heart.

Nor did he find much peace in Hall. Norman, Breton, and Saxon were all against him. Gibes and jeers were his portion. They called him the 'ladies' tame tiercel,' the 'gamec.o.c.k without spurs,' the 'dancing bear,' and a hundred other names suggestive of carpet-knight-errantry.

Then his fists would ball and his clear-cut, high-bred face grow white with anger, though he never made reply, as he felt it an evident point of honour that, being a prisoner on parole, he might neither risk his own person, which carried value for ransom, nor seek to injure any of the garrison.

But on the eve of the a.s.sault, when the countess was holding council with Sir Hoel de St. Brice, attended only by Eadgyth, the young Norman prayed audience of her, and on its being granted strode into the chamber with curiously flashing eyes.

'I beseech thee, n.o.ble Emma, to furnish me with an helm and an hauberk, and the sharpest sword thou canst spare out of thine armoury, and I will put them to a good use in thy service,' he said, with speech that was rather too hasty to be clear.

'Hast found thy senses at last, brave sir?' demanded Sir Hoel, smiling indulgently, for he had always liked the young knight.

But Eadgyth noticed his flushed cheek and excited mien with a chill dread at her heart. Was he about to be false to the n.o.ble ideals for which he had endured so much, or--saints in Heaven forfend!--did his exaggerated love to his suzerain lead him to contemplate a baser falseness still, and so confuse his mind that he should fancy it would be virtue to betray the castle? Her cousin Leofric had said more than once, that only a woman playing Castellan would be so imprudent as to allow one holding so invidious a position as did De Sourdeval, to be free of the castle and aware of all its secrets; and though at the time she had cried shame on his mean suspicions, the words had rested in her mind with the burr-like persistency characteristic of such suggestions of evil.

The countess, however, looked at him with her frank glad eyes, and rejoiced, for she had always hoped that the time would come when he would repay her generosity with complete allegiance, and she was about to reply unconditionally, 'Ay, that will I.'

But before she could speak, Sir Aimand continued, 'I ask thee more. I want not only arms for myself, but twenty men to back me.'

Sir Hoel looked grave, and lifted his bushy white eyebrows high in astonishment.

'Pick men of whose fidelity you are a.s.sured,' Sir Aimand cried. 'Let Leofric Ealdredsson go with me. Thou knowest he has no liking for me, and is in no way in collusion with me, sith there is race hatred between us and rivalry in love.'

'Rivalry in love!' exclaimed Emma, turning quickly to Eadgyth, and the cheeks of the Saxon maiden burned scarlet under her gaze, but not more redly than those of the knight, who had exposed his jealousy unawares.

'I should not have said rivalry,' he amended hastily, 'sith I have no claim.'

Eadgyth was in a difficult position. If she made the protest her heart urged, that Leofric was her cousin and nothing more, and never could be more, she would give Sir Aimand an encouragement which was cruel. If she did not make it, she let that be believed which she imagined had no foundation in fact.

Emma saved her from need of reply.

'Upon the honour of Leofric Ealdredsson I can rely,' she said, 'whether he have cause to like or mislike thy person, fair knight. What more hast thou to ask?'

'That he, with twenty of his stout Anglo-Danes, may be put under my guidance, with instructions to hew me in sunder if I in any way show token of treachery. I can serve thee best if none know of this matter, nor the end in view, save Leofric alone. But this I will say in explanation, there is a traitor in thy camp, and I would fain foil him.

I cannot fight under thy banner, n.o.ble countess, but it accords with my vow of chivalry to save thee from foul betrayal.'

'Let Leofric Ealdredsson be summoned, Sir Hoel,' said the countess.

And in the end De Sourdeval obtained his boon.

Knowing what had been granted to the Norman, and that Leofric and his stout carles would not have accepted service under him unless with some prospect of stiff work to follow, Sir Hoel was somewhat surprised to see the Anglo-Danes linger later than usual over the wa.s.sail bowl in Hall that even, seeing too that on the morrow it was certain that shrewd blows would be going, and all heads wanted clear.

Sir Alain de Gourin thought fit to rebuke them. 'For as thick skulls as your battle-axes there may boast, Childe Leofric,' he said, 'they had best have wakeful wits under them by dawn.' And he set a worthy example by leaving the revel.

His most important followers slipped after, first one and then another, but still the Vikings drank on, and Sir Hoel began to have queer doubts of the wisdom of granting the whimsical De Sourdeval control over such a crew, and determined to watch them out.