Now, apart from others, alone, and in secrecy, sinking in the
extremity of her sorrow before the shrine of her patroness, she
besought the protection of kindred purity for the defence of her
freedom and honour, and invoked vengeance on the wild and
treacherous chieftain who had slain her father, and was now
beleaguering her place of strength. Not only did she vow a large
donative in lands to the shrine of the protectress whose aid she
implored; but the oath passed her lips, (even though they
faltered, and though something within her remonstrated against the
vow,) that whatsoever favoured knight Our Lady of the Garde
Doloureuse might employ for her rescue, should obtain from her in
guerdon whatever boon she might honourably grant, were it that of
her virgin hand at the holy altar. Taught as she was to believe,
by the assurances of many a knight, that such a surrender was the
highest boon which Heaven could bestow, she felt as discharging a
debt of gratitude when she placed herself entirely at the disposal
of the pure and blessed patroness in whose aid she confided.
Perhaps there lurked in this devotion some earthly hope of which
she was herself scarce conscious, and which reconciled her to the
indefinite sacrifice thus freely offered. The Virgin, (this
flattering hope might insinuate,) kindest and most benevolent of
patronesses, will use compassionately the power resigned to her,
and _he_ will be the favoured champion of Maria, upon whom
her votaress would most willingly confer favour.

But if there was such a hope, as something selfish will often
mingle with our noblest and purest emotions, it arose unconscious
of Eveline herself, who, in the full assurance of implicit faith,
and fixing on the representative of her adoration, eyes in which
the most earnest supplication, the most humble confidence,
struggled with unbidden tears, was perhaps more beautiful than
when, young as she was, she was selected to bestow the prize of
chivalry in the lists of Chester. It was no wonder that, in such a
moment of high excitation, when prostrated in devotion before a
being of whose power to protect her, and to make her protection
assured by a visible sign, she doubted nothing, the Lady Eveline
conceived she saw with her own eyes the acceptance of her vow. As
she gazed on the picture with an over-strained eye, and an
imagination heated with enthusiasm, the expression seemed to alter
from the hard outline, fashioned by the Greek painter; the eyes
appeared to become animated, and to return with looks of
compassion the suppliant entreaties of the votaress, and the mouth
visibly arranged itself into a smile of inexpressible sweetness.
It even seemed to her that the head made a gentle inclination.

Overpowered by supernatural awe at appearances, of which her faith
permitted her not to question the reality, the Lady Eveline folded
her arms on her bosom, and prostrated her forehead on the
pavement, as the posture most fitting to listen to divine
communication.

But her vision went not so far; there was neither sound nor voice,
and when, after stealing her eyes all around the crypt in which
she knelt, she again raised them to the figure of Our Lady, the
features seemed to be in the form in which the limner had sketched
them, saving that, to Eveline's imagination, they still retained
an august and yet gracious expression, which she had not before
remarked upon the countenance. With awful reverence, almost
amounting to fear, yet comforted, and even elated, with the
visitation she had witnessed, the maiden repeated again and again
the orisons which she thought most grateful to the ear of her
benefactress; and rising at length, retired backwards, as from the
presence of a sovereign, until she attained the outer chapel.

Here one or two females still knelt before the saints which the
walls and niches presented for adoration; but the rest of the
terrified suppliants, too anxious to prolong their devotions, had
dispersed through the castle to learn tidings of their friends,
and to obtain some refreshment, or at least some place of repose
for themselves and their families.

Bowing her head, and muttering an ave to each saint as she passed
his image, (for impending danger makes men observant of the rites
of devotion,) the Lady Eveline had almost reached the door of the
chapel, when a man-at-arms, as he seemed, entered hastily; and,
with a louder voice than suited the holy place, unless when need
was most urgent, demanded the Lady Eveline. Impressed with the
feelings of veneration which the late scene had produced, she was
about to rebuke his military rudeness, when he spoke again, and in
anxious haste, "Daughter, we are betrayed!" and though the form,
and the coat-of-mail which covered it, were those of a soldier,
the voice was that of Father Aldrovand, who, eager and anxious at
the same time, disengaged himself from the mail hood, and showed
his countenance.

"Father," she said, "what means this? Have you forgotten the
confidence in Heaven which you are wont to recommend, that you
bear other arms than your order assigns to you?"

"It may come to that ere long," said Father Aldrovand; "for I was
a soldier ere I was a monk. But now I have donn'd this harness to
discover treachery, not to resist force. Ah! my beloved daughter--
we are dreadfully beset--foemen without--traitors within!--The
false Fleming, Wilkin Flammock, is treating for the surrender of
the castle!"

"Who dares say so?" said a veiled female, who had been kneeling
unnoticed in a sequestered corner of the chapel, but who now
started up and came boldly betwixt Lady Eveline and the monk.

"Go hence, thou saucy minion," said the monk, surprised at this
bold interruption; "this concerns not thee."

"But it _doth_ concern me," said the damsel, throwing back
her veil, and discovering the juvenile countenance of Rose, the
daughter of Wilkin Flammock, her eyes sparkling, and her cheeks
blushing with anger, the vehemence of which made a singular
contrast with the very fair complexion, and almost infantine
features of the speaker, whose whole form and figure was that of a
girl who has scarce emerged from childhood, and indeed whose
general manners were as gentle and bashful as they now seemed
bold, impassioned, and undaunted.--"Doth it not concern me," she
said, "that my father's honest name should be tainted with
treason? Doth it not concern the stream when the fountain is
troubled? It _doth_ concern me, and I will know the author of
the calumny."

"Damsel," said Eveline, "restrain thy useless passion; the good
father, though he cannot intentionally calumniate thy father,
speaks, it may be, from false report."

"As I am an unworthy priest," said the father, "I speak from the
report of my own ears. Upon the oath of my order, myself heard
this Wilkin Flammock chaffering with the Welshman for the
surrender of the Garde Doloureuse. By help of this hauberk and
mail hood, I gained admittance to a conference where he thought
there were no English ears. They spoke Flemish too, but I knew the
jargon of old."

"The Flemish," said the angry maiden, whose headstrong passion led
her to speak first in answer to the last insult offered, "is no
jargon like your piebald English, half Norman, half Saxon, but a
noble Gothic tongue, spoken by the brave warriors who fought
against the Roman Kaisars, when Britain bent the neck to them--and
as for this he has said of Wilkin Flammock," she continued,
collecting her ideas into more order as she went on, "believe it
not, my dearest lady; but, as you value the honour of your own
noble father, confide, as in the Evangelists, in the honesty of
mine!" This she spoke with an imploring tone of voice, mingled
with sobs, as if her heart had been breaking.

Eveline endeavoured to soothe her attendant. "Rose," she said, "in
this evil time suspicions will light on the best men, and
misunderstandings will arise among the best friends.--Let us hear
the good father state what he hath to charge upon your parent.
Fear not but that Wilkin shall be heard in his defence. Thou wert
wont to be quiet and reasonable."

"I am neither quiet nor reasonable on this matter," said Rose,
with redoubled indignation; "and it is ill of you, lady, to listen
to the falsehoods of that reverend mummer, who is neither true
priest nor true soldier. But I will fetch one who shall confront
him either in casque or cowl." So saying, she went hastily out of
the chapel, while the monk, after some pedantic circumlocution,
acquainted the Lady Eveline with what he had overheard betwixt
Jorworth and Wilkin; and proposed to her to draw together the few
English who were in the castle, and take possession of the
innermost square tower; a keep which, as usual in Gothic
fortresses of the Norman period, was situated so as to make
considerable defence, even after the exterior works of the castle,
which it commanded, were in the hand of the enemy.

"Father," said Eveline, still confident in the vision she had
lately witnessed, "this were good counsel in extremity; but
otherwise, it were to create the very evil we fear, by seating our
garrison at odds amongst themselves. I have a strong, and not
unwarranted confidence, good father, in our blessed Lady of the
Garde Doloureuse, that we shall attain at once vengeance on our
barbarous enemies, and escape from our present jeopardy; and I
call you to witness the vow I have made, that to him whom Our Lady
should employ to work us succour, I will refuse nothing, were it
my father's inheritance, or the hand of his daughter."

"_Ave Maria! Ave Regina Coeli!_" said the priest; "on a rock
more sure you could not have founded your trust.--But, daughter,"
he continued after the proper ejaculation had been made, "have you
never heard, even by a hint, that there was a treaty for your hand
betwixt our much honoured lord, of whom we are cruelly bereft,
(may God assoilzie his soul!) and the great house of Lacy?"

"Something I may have heard," said Eveline, dropping her eyes,
while a slight tinge suffused her cheek; "but I refer me to the
disposal of our Lady of Succour and Consolation."

As she spoke, Rose entered the chapel with the same vivacity she
had shown in leaving it, leading by the hand her father, whose
sluggish though firm step, vacant countenance, and heavy
demeanour, formed the strongest contrast to the rapidity of her
motions, and the anxious animation of her address. Her task of
dragging him forward might have reminded the spectator of some of
those ancient monuments, on which a small cherub, singularly
inadequate to the task, is often represented as hoisting upward
towards the empyrean the fleshy bulk of some ponderous tenant of
the tomb, whose disproportioned weight bids fair to render
ineffectual the benevolent and spirited exertions of its
fluttering guide and assistant.

"Roschen--my child--what grieves thee?" said the Netherlander, as
he yielded to his daughter's violence with a smile, which, being
on the countenance of a father, had more of expression and feeling
than those which seemed to have made their constant dwelling upon
his lips.

"Here stands my father," said the impatient maiden; "impeach him
with treason, who can or dare! There stands Wilkin Flammock, son
of Dieterick, the Cramer of Antwerp,--let those accuse him to his
face who slandered him behind his back!"

"Speak, Father Aldrovand," said the Lady Eveline; "we are young in
our lordship, and, alas! the duty hath descended upon us in an
evil hour; yet we will, so may God and Our Lady help us, hear and
judge of your accusation to the utmost of our power."

"This Wilkin Flammock," said the monk, "however bold he hath made
himself in villany, dares not deny that I heard him with my own
ears treat for the surrender of the castle."

"Strike him, father!" said the indignant Rose,--"strike the
disguised mummer! The steel hauberk may be struck, though not the
monk's frock--strike him, or tell him that he lies foully!"

"Peace, Roschen, thou art mad," said her father, angrily; "the
monk hath more truth than sense about him, and I would his ears
had been farther off when he thrust them into what concerned him
not."

Rose's countenance fell when she heard her father bluntly avow the
treasonable communication of which she had thought him incapable--
she dropt the hand by which she had dragged him into the chapel,
and stared on the Lady Eveline, with eyes which seemed starting
from their sockets, and a countenance from which the blood, with
which it was so lately highly coloured, had retreated to garrison
the heart.

Eveline looked upon the culprit with a countenance in which
sweetness and dignity were mingled with sorrow. "Wilkin," she
said, "I could not have believed this. What! on the very day of
thy confiding benefactor's death, canst thou have been tampering
with his murderers, to deliver up the castle, and betray thy
trust!--But I will not upbraid thee--I deprive thee of the trust
reposed in so unworthy a person, and appoint thee to be kept in
ward in the western tower, till God send us relief; when, it may
be, thy daughter's merits shall atone for thy offences, and save
farther punishment.--See that our commands be presently obeyed."

"Yes--yes--yes!" exclaimed Rose, hurrying one word on the other as
fast and vehemently as she could articulate--"Let us go--let us go
to the darkest dungeon--darkness befits us better than light."

The monk, on the other hand, perceiving that the Fleming made no
motion to obey the mandate of arrest, came forward, in a manner
more suiting his ancient profession, and present disguise, than
his spiritual character; and with the words, "I attach thee,
Wilkin Flammock, of acknowledged treason to your liege lady,"
would have laid hand upon him, had not the Fleming stepped back
and warned him off, with a menacing and determined gesture, while
he said,--"Ye are mad!--all of you English are mad when the moon
is full, and my silly girl hath caught the malady.--Lady, your
honoured father gave me a charge, which I propose to execute to
the best for all parties, and you cannot, being a minor, deprive
me of it at your idle pleasure.--Father Aldrovand, a monk makes no
lawful arrests.--Daughter Roschen, hold your peace and dry your
eyes--you are a fool."

"I am, I am," said Rose, drying her eyes and regaining her
elasticity of manner--"I am indeed a fool, and worse than a fool,
for a moment to doubt my father's probity.--Confide in him,
dearest lady; he is wise though he is grave, and kind though he is
plain and homely in his speech. Should he prove false he will fare
the worse! for I will plunge myself from the pinnacle of the
Warder's Tower to the bottom of the moat, and he shall lose his
own daughter for betraying his master's."

"This is all frenzy," said the monk--"Who trusts avowed traitors?
--Here, Normans, English, to the rescue of your liege lady--Bows
and bills--bows and bills!"

"You may spare your throat for your next homily, good father,"
said the Netherlander, "or call in good Flemish, since you
understand it, for to no other language will those within hearing
reply."

He then approached the Lady Eveline with a real or affected air of
clumsy kindness, and something as nearly approaching to courtesy
as his manners and features could assume. He bade her good-night,
and assuring her that he would act for the best, left the chapel.
The monk was about to break forth into revilings, but Eveline,
with more prudence, checked his zeal.

"I cannot," she said, "but hope that this man's intentions are
honest--"

"Now, God's blessing on you, lady, for that very word!" said Rose,
eagerly interrupting her, and kissing her hand.

"But if unhappily they are doubtful," continued Eveline, "it is
not by reproach that we can bring him to a better purpose. Good
father, give an eye to the preparations for resistance, and see
nought omitted that our means furnish for the defence of the
castle."

"Fear nothing, my dearest daughter," said Aldrovand; "there are
still some English hearts amongst us, and we will rather kill and
eat the Flemings themselves, than surrender the castle."

"That were food as dangerous to come by as bear's venison,
father," answered Rose, bitterly, still on fire with the idea that
the monk treated her nation with suspicion and contumely.

On these terms they separated--the women to indulge their fears
and sorrows in private grief, or alleviate them by private
devotion; the monk to try to discover what were the real purposes
of Wilkin Flammock, and to counteract them if possible, should
they seem to indicate treachery. His eye, however, though
sharpened by strong suspicion, saw nothing to strengthen his
fears, excepting that the Fleming had, with considerable military
skill, placed the principal posts of the castle in the charge of
his own countrymen which must make any attempt to dispossess him
of his present authority both difficult and dangerous. The monk at
length retired, summoned by the duties of the evening service, and
with the determination to be stirring with the light the next
morning.




CHAPTER THE SEVENTH


  Oh, sadly shines the morning sun
  On leaguer'd castle wall,
  When bastion, tower, and battlement,
  Seemed nodding to their fall.
      OLD BALLAD.


True to his resolution, and telling his beads as he went, that he
might lose no time, Father Aldrovand began his rounds in the
castle so soon as daylight had touched the top of the eastern
horizon. A natural instinct led him first to those stalls which,
had the fortress been properly victualled for a siege, ought to
have been tenanted by cattle; and great was his delight to see
more than a score of fat kine and bullocks in the place which had
last night been empty! One of them had already been carried to the
shambles, and a Fleming or two, who played butchers on the
occasion, were dividing the carcass for the cook's use. The good
father had well-nigh cried out, a miracle; but, not to be too
precipitate, he limited his transport to a private exclamation in
honour of Our Lady of the Garde Doloureuse.

"Who talks of lack of provender?--who speaks of surrender now?" he
said. "Here is enough to maintain us till Hugo de Lacy arrives,
were he to sail back from Cyprus to our relief. I did purpose to
have fasted this morning, as well to save victuals as on a
religious score; but the blessings of the saints must not be
slighted.--Sir Cook, let me have half a yard or so of broiled beef
presently; bid the pantler send me a manchet, and the butler a cup
of wine. I will take a running breakfast on the western
battlements." [Footnote: Old Henry Jenkins, in his Recollections
of the Abbacies before their dissolution, has preserved the fact
that roast-beef was delivered out to the guests not by weight, but
by measure.]

At this place, which was rather the weakest point of the Garde
Doloureuse, the good father found Wilkin Flammock anxiously
superintending the necessary measures of defence. He greeted him
courteously, congratulated him on the stock of provisions with
which the castle had been supplied during the night, and was
inquiring how they had been so happily introduced through the
Welsh besiegers, when Wilkin took the first occasion to interrupt
him.

"Of all this another time, good father; but I wish at present, and
before other discourse, to consult thee on a matter which presses
my conscience, and moreover deeply concerns my worldly estate."

"Speak on, my excellent son," said the father, conceiving that he
should thus gain the key to Wilkin's real intentions. "Oh, a
tender conscience is a jewel! and he that will not listen when it
saith, 'Pour out thy doubts into the ear of the priest,' shall one
day have his own dolorous outcries choked with fire and brimstone.
Thou wert ever of a tender conscience, son Wilkin, though thou
hast but a rough and borrel bearing."

"Well, then," said Wilkin, "you are to know, good father, that I
have had some dealings with my neighbour, Jan Vanwelt, concerning
my daughter Rose, and that he has paid me certain gilders on
condition I will match her to him."

"Pshaw, pshaw! my good son," said the disappointed confessor,
"this gear can lie over--this is no time for marrying or giving in
marriage, when we are all like to be murdered."

"Nay, but hear me, good father," said the Fleming, "for this point
of conscience concerns the present case more nearly than you wot
of.--You must know I have no will to bestow Rose on this same Jan
Vanwelt, who is old, and of ill conditions; and I would know of
you whether I may, in conscience, refuse him my consent?"

"Truly," said Father Aldrovand, "Rose is a pretty lass, though
somewhat hasty; and I think you may honestly withdraw your
consent, always on paying back the gilders you have received."

"But there lies the pinch, good father," said the Fleming--"the
refunding this money will reduce me to utter poverty. The Welsh
have destroyed my substance; and this handful of money is all, God
help me! on which I must begin the world again."

"Nevertheless, son Wilkin," said Aldrovand, "thou must keep thy
word, or pay the forfeit; for what saith the text? _Quis
habitabit in tabernaculo, quis requiescet in monte sancta?_--
Who shall ascend to the tabernacle, and dwell in the holy
mountain? Is it not answered again, _Qui jurat proximo et non
decipit?_--Go to, my son--break not thy plighted word for a
little filthy lucre--better is an empty stomach and an hungry
heart with a clear conscience, than a fatted ox with iniquity and
wordbreaking.--Sawest thou not our late noble lord, who (may his
soul be happy!) chose rather to die in unequal battle, like a true
knight, than live a perjured man, though he had but spoken a rash
word to a Welshman over a wine flask?"

"Alas! then," said the Fleming, "this is even what I feared! We
must e'en render up the castle, or restore to the Welshman,
Jorworth, the cattle, by means of which I had schemed to victual
and defend it."

"How--wherefore--what dost thou mean?" said the monk, in
astonishment. "I speak to thee of Rose Flammock, and Jan Van-
devil, or whatever you call him, and you reply with talk about
cattle and castles, and I wot not what!"

"So please you, holy father, I did but speak in parables. This
castle was the daughter I had promised to deliver over--the
Welshman is Jan Vanwelt, and the gilders were the cattle he has
sent in, as a part-payment beforehand of my guerdon."

"Parables!" said the monk, colouring with anger at the trick put
on him; "what has a boor like thee to do with parables?--But I
forgive thee--I forgive thee."

"I am therefore to yield the castle to the Welshman, or restore
him his cattle?" said the impenetrable Dutchman.

"Sooner yield thy soul to Satan!" replied the monk.

"I fear it must be the alternative," said the Fleming; "for the
example of thy honourable lord--"

"The example of an honourable fool"--answered the monk; then
presently subjoined, "Our Lady be with her servant!--This Belgic-
brained boor makes me forget what I would say."

"Nay, but the holy text which your reverence cited to me even
now," continued the Fleming.

"Go to," said the monk; "what hast thou to do to presume to think
of texts?--knowest thou not the letter of the Scripture slayeth,
and that it is the exposition which maketh to live?--Art thou not
like one who, coming to a physician, conceals from him half the
symptoms of the disease?--I tell thee, thou foolish Fleming, the
text speaketh but of promises made unto Christians, and there is
in the Rubric a special exception of such as are made to
Welshmen." At this commentary the Fleming grinned so broadly as to
show his whole case of broad strong white teeth. Father Aldrovand
himself grinned in sympathy, and then proceeded to say,--"Come,
come, I see how it is. Thou hast studied some small revenge on me
for doubting of thy truth; and, in verity, I think thou hast taken
it wittily enough. But wherefore didst thou not let me into the
secret from the beginning? I promise thee I had foul suspicions of
thee.

"What!" said the Fleming, "is it possible I could ever think of
involving your reverence in a little matter of deceit? Surely
Heaven hath sent me more grace and manners.--Hark, I hear
Jorworth's horn at the gate."

"He blows like a town swineherd," said Aldrovand, in disdain.

"It is not your reverence's pleasure that I should restore the
cattle unto them, then?" said Flammock.

"Yes, thus far. Prithee, deliver him straightway over the walls
such a tub of boiling water as shall scald the hair from his
goatskin cloak. And, hark thee, do thou, in the first place, try
the temperature of the kettle with thy forefinger, and that shall
be thy penance for the trick thou hast played me."

The Fleming answered this with another broad grin of intelligence,
and they proceeded to the outer gate, to which Jorworth had come
alone. Placing himself at the wicket, which, however, he kept
carefully barred, and speaking through a small opening, contrived
for such purpose, Wilkin Flammock demanded of the Welshman his
business.

"To receive rendition of the castle, agreeable to promise," said
Jorworth.

"Ay? and art thou come on such errand alone?" said Wilkin.

"No, truly," answered Jorworth; "I have some two score of men
concealed among yonder bushes."

"Then thou hadst best lead them away quickly," answered Wilkin,
"before our archers let fly a sheaf of arrows among them."

"How, villain! Dost thou not mean to keep thy promise?" said the
Welshman.

"I gave thee none," said the Fleming; "I promised but to think on
what thou didst say. I have done so, and have communicated with my
ghostly father, who will in no respect hear of my listening to thy
proposal."

"And wilt thou," said Jorworth, "keep the cattle, which I simply
sent into the castle on the faith of our agreement?"

"I will excommunicate and deliver him over to Satan," said the
monk, unable to wait the phlegmatic and lingering answer of the
Fleming, "if he give horn, hoof, or hair of them, to such an
uncircumcised Philistine as thou or thy master."

"It is well, shorn priest," answered Jorworth in great anger. "But
mark me--reckon not on your frock for ransom. When Gwenwyn hath
taken this castle, as it shall not longer shelter such a pair of
faithless traitors, I will have you sewed up each into the carcass
of one of these kine, for which your penitent has forsworn
himself, and lay you where wolf and eagle shall be your only
companions."

"Thou wilt work thy will when it is matched with thy power," said
the sedate Netherlander.

"False Welshman, we defy thee to thy teeth!" answered, in the same
breath, the more irascible monk. "I trust to see hounds gnaw thy
joints ere that day come that ye talk of so proudly."

By way of answer to both, Jorworth drew back his arm with his
levelled javelin, and shaking the shaft till it acquired a
vibratory motion, he hurled it with equal strength and dexterity
right against the aperture in the wicket. It whizzed through the
opening at which it was aimed, and flew (harmlessly, however)
between the heads of the monk and the Fleming; the former of whom
started back, while the latter only said, as he looked at the
javelin, which stood quivering in the door of the guard-room,
"That was well aimed, and happily baulked."

Jorworth, the instant he had flung his dart, hastened to the
ambush which he had prepared, and gave them at once the signal and
the example of a rapid retreat down the hill. Father Aldrovand
would willingly have followed them with a volley of arrows, but
the Fleming observed that ammunition was too precious with them to
be wasted on a few runaways. Perhaps the honest man remembered
that they had come within the danger of such a salutation, in some
measure, on his own assurance. When the noise of the hasty retreat
of Jorworth and his followers had died away, there ensued a dead
silence, well corresponding with the coolness and calmness of that
early hour in the morning.

"This will not last long," said Wilkin to the monk, in a tone of
foreboding seriousness, which found an echo in the good father's
bosom.

"It will not, and it cannot," answered Aldrovand; "and we must
expect a shrewd attack, which I should mind little, but that their
numbers are great, ours few; the extent of the walls considerable,
and the obstinacy of these Welsh fiends almost equal to their
fury. But we will do the best. I will to the Lady Eveline--She
must show herself upon the battlements--She is fairer in feature
than becometh a man of my order to speak of; and she has withal a
breathing of her father's lofty spirit. The look and the word of
such a lady will give a man double strength in the hour of need."

"It may be," said the Fleming; "and I will go see that the good
breakfast which I have appointed be presently served forth; it
will give my Flemings more strength than the sight of the ten
thousand virgins--may their help be with us!--were they all
arranged on a fair field."




CHAPTER THE EIGHTH


  'Twas when ye raised,' mid sap and siege,
  The banner of your rightful liege
  At your she captain's call,
  Who, miracle of womankind,
  Lent mettle to the meanest hind
  That mann'd her castle wall.
     WILLIAM STEWART ROSE.


The morning light was scarce fully spread abroad, when Eveline
Berenger, in compliance with her confessor's advice, commenced her
progress around the walls and battlements of the beleaguered
castle, to confirm, by her personal entreaties, the minds of the
valiant, and to rouse the more timid to hope and to exertion. She
wore a rich collar and bracelets, as ornaments which indicated her
rank--and high descent; and her under tunic, in the manner of the
times, was gathered around her slender waist by a girdle,
embroidered with precious stones, and secured by a large buckle of
gold. From one side of the girdle was suspended a pouch or purse,
splendidly adorned with needle-work, and on the left side it
sustained a small dagger of exquisite workmanship. A dark-coloured
mantle, chosen as emblematic of her clouded fortunes, was flung
loosely around her; and its hood was brought forward, so as to
shadow, but not hide, her beautiful countenance. Her looks had
lost the high and ecstatic expression which had been inspired by
supposed revelation, but they retained a sorrowful and mild, yet
determined character--and, in addressing the soldiers, she used a
mixture of entreaty and command--now throwing herself upon their
protection--now demanding in her aid the just tribute of their
allegiance.

The garrison was divided, as military skill dictated, in groups,
on the points most liable to attack, or from which an assailing
enemy might be best annoyed; and it was this unavoidable
separation of their force into small detachments, which showed to
disadvantage the extent of walls, compared with the number of the
defenders; and though Wilkin Flammock had contrived several means
of concealing this deficiency of force from the enemy, he could
not disguise it from the defenders of the castle, who cast
mournful glances on the length of battlements which were
unoccupied save by sentinels, and then looked out to the fatal
field of battle, loaded with the bodies of those who ought to have
been their comrades in this hour of peril.

The presence of Eveline did much to rouse the garrison from this
state of discouragement. She glided from post to post, from tower
to tower of the old gray fortress, as a gleam of light passes over
a clouded landscape, and touching its various points in
succession, calls them out to beauty and effect. Sorrow and fear
sometimes make sufferers eloquent. She addressed the various
nations who composed her little garrison, each in appropriate
language. To the English, she spoke as children of the soil--to
the Flemings, as men who had become denizens by the right of
hospitality--to the Normans, as descendants of that victorious
race, whose sword had made them the nobles and sovereigns of every
land where its edge had been tried. To them she used the language
of chivalry, by whose rules the meanest of that nation regulated,
or affected to regulate, his actions. The English she reminded of
their good faith and honesty of heart; and to the Flemings she
spoke of the destruction of their property, the fruits of their
honest industry. To all she proposed vengeance for the death of
their leader and his followers--to all she recommended confidence
in God and Our Lady of the Garde Doloureuse; and she ventured to
assure all, of the strong and victorious bands that were already
in march to their relief.

"Will the gallant champions of the cross," she said, "think of
leaving their native land, while the wail of women and of orphans
is in their ears?--it were to convert their pious purpose into
mortal sin, and to derogate from the high fame they have so well
won. Yes--fight but valiantly, and perhaps, before the very sun
that is now slowly rising shall sink in the sea, you will see it
shining on the ranks of Shrewsbury and Chester. When did the
Welshmen wait to hear the clangour of their trumpets, or the
rustling of their silken banners? Fight bravely--fight freely but
awhile!--our castle is strong--our munition ample--your hearts are
good--your arms are powerful--God is nigh to us, and our friends
are not far distant. Fight, then, in the name of all that is good
and holy--fight for yourselves, for your wives, for your children,
and for your property--and oh! fight for an orphan maiden, who
hath no other defenders but what a sense of her sorrows, and the
remembrance of her father, may raise up among you."

Such speeches as these made a powerful impression on the men to
whom they were addressed, already hardened, by habits and
sentiments, against a sense of danger. The chivalrous Normans
swore, on the cross of their swords, they would die to a man ere
they would surrender their posts--the blunter Anglo-Saxons cried,
"Shame on him who would render up such a lamb as Eveline to a
Welsh wolf, while he could make her a bulwark with his body!"--
Even the cold Flemings caught a spark of the enthusiasm with which
the others were animated, and muttered to each other praises of
the young lady's beauty, and short but honest resolves to do the
best they might in her defence.

Rose Flammock, who accompanied her lady with one or two attendants
upon her circuit around the castle, seemed to have relapsed into
her natural character of a shy and timid girl, out of the excited
state into which she had been brought by the suspicions which in
the evening before had attached to her father's character. She
tripped closely but respectfully after Eveline, and listened to
what she said from time to time, with the awe and admiration of a
child listening to its tutor, while only her moistened eye
expressed how far she felt or comprehended the extent of the
danger, or the force of the exhortations. There was, however, a
moment when the youthful maiden's eye became more bright, her step
more confident, her looks more elevated. This was when they
approached the spot where her father, having discharged the duties
of commander of the garrison, was now exercising those of
engineer, and displaying great skill, as well as wonderful
personal strength, in directing and assisting the establishment of
a large mangonel, (a military engine used for casting stones,)
upon a station commanding an exposed postern gate, which led from
the western side of the castle down to the plain; and where a
severe assault was naturally to be expected. The greater part of
his armour lay beside him, but covered with his cassock to screen
it from morning dew; while in his leathern doublet, with arms bare
to the shoulder, and a huge sledge-hammer in his hand, he set an
example to the mechanics who worked under his direction.

In slow and solid natures there is usually a touch of
shamefacedness, and a sensitiveness to the breach of petty
observances. Wilkin Flammock had been unmoved even to
insensibility at the imputation of treason so lately cast upon
him; but he coloured high, and was confused, while, hastily
throwing on his cassock, he endeavoured, to conceal the dishabille
in which he had been surprised by the Lady Eveline. Not so his
daughter. Proud of her father's zeal, her eye gleamed from him to
her mistress with a look of triumph, which seemed to say, "And
this faithful follower is he who was suspected of treachery!"

Eveline's own bosom made her the same reproach; and anxious to
atone for her momentary doubt of his fidelity, she offered for his
acceptance a ring of value; "in small amends," she said, "of a
momentary misconstruction." "It needs not, lady," said Flammock,
with his usual bluntness, "unless I have the freedom to bestow the
gaud on Rose; for I think she was grieved enough at that which
moved me little,--as why should it?"

"Dispose of it as thou wilt," said Eveline; "the stone it bears is
as true as thine own faith."

Here Eveline paused, and looking on the broad expanded plain which
extended between the site of the castle and the river, observed
how silent and still the morning was rising over what had so
lately been a scene of such extensive slaughter.

"It will not be so long," answered Flammock; "we shall have noise
enough, and that nearer to our ears than yesterday."

"Which way lie the enemy?" said Eveline; "methinks I can spy
neither tents nor pavilions."

"They use none, lady," answered Wilkin Flammock. "Heaven has
denied them the grace and knowledge to weave linen enough for such
a purpose--Yonder they lie on both sides of the river, covered
with nought but their white mantles. Would one think that a host
of thieves and cut-throats could look so like the finest object in
nature--a well-spread bleaching-field!--Hark!--hark--the wasps are
beginning to buzz; they will soon be plying their stings."

In fact, there was heard among the Welsh army a low and indistinct
murmur, like that of

  "Bees alarmed and arming in their hives."

Terrified at the hollow menacing sound, which grew louder every
moment, Rose, who had all the irritability of a sensitive
temperament, clung to her father's arm, saying, in a terrified
whisper, "It is like the sound of the sea the night before the
great inundation."

"And it betokens too rough weather for woman to be abroad in,"
said Flammock. "Go to your chamber, Lady Eveline, if it be your
will--and go you too, Roschen--God bless you both--ye do but keep
us idle here."

And, indeed, conscious that she had done all that was incumbent
upon her, and fearful lest the chill which she felt creeping over
her own heart should infect others, Eveline took her vassal's
advice, and withdrew slowly to her own apartment, often casting
back her eye to the place where the Welsh, now drawn out and under
arms, were advancing their ridgy battalions, like the waves of an
approaching tide.

The Prince of Powys had, with considerable military skill, adopted
a plan of attack suitable to the fiery genius of his followers,
and calculated to alarm on every point the feeble garrison.

The three sides of the castle which were defended by the river,
were watched each by a numerous body of the British, with
instructions to confine themselves to the discharge of arrows,
unless they should observe that some favourable opportunity of
close attack should occur. But far the greater part of Gwenwyn's
forces, consisting of three columns of great strength, advanced
along the plain on the western side of the castle, and menaced,
with a desperate assault, the walls, which, in that direction,
were deprived of the defence of the river. The first of these
formidable bodies consisted entirely of archers, who dispersed
themselves in front of the beleaguered place, and took advantage
of every bush and rising ground which could afford them shelter;
and then began to bend their bows and shower their arrows on the
battlements and loop-holes, suffering, however, a great deal more
damage than they were able to inflict, as the garrison returned
their shot in comparative safety, and with more secure and
deliberate aim. [Footnote: The Welsh were excellent bowmen; but,
under favour of Lord Lyttleton, they probably did not use the long
bow, the formidable weapon of the Normans, and afterwards of the
English yeomen. That of the Welsh most likely rather resembled the
bow of the cognate Celtic tribes of Ireland, and of the
Highlanders of Scotland. It was shorter than the Norman long bow,
as being drawn to the breast, not to the ear, more loosely strung,
and the arrow having a heavy iron head; altogether, in short, a
less effective weapon. It appears, from the following anecdote,
that there was a difference between the Welsh arrow and those of
the English.

In 1122, Henry the II., marching into Powys-Land to chastise
Meredith ap Blethyn and certain rebels, in passing a defile, was
struck by an arrow on the breast. Repelled by the excellence of
his breast-plate, the shaft fell to the ground. When the King felt
the blow, and saw the shaft, he swore his usual oath, by the death
of our Lord, that the arrow came not from a Welsh but an English
bow; and, influenced by this belief hastily put an end to the
war.] Under cover, however, of their discharge of arrows, two very
strong bodies of Welsh attempted to carry the outer defences of
the castle by storm. They had axes to destroy the palisades, then
called barriers; faggots to fill up the external ditches; torches
to set fire to aught combustible which they might find; and, above
all, ladders to scale the walls.

These detachments rushed with incredible fury towards the point of
attack, despite a most obstinate defence, and the great loss which
they sustained by missiles of every kind, and continued the
assault for nearly an hour, supplied by reinforcements which more
than recruited their diminished numbers. When they were at last
compelled to retreat, they seemed to adopt a new and yet more
harassing species of attack. A large body assaulted one exposed
point of the fortress with such fury as to draw thither as many of
the besieged as could possibly be spared from other defended
posts, and when there appeared a point less strongly manned than
was adequate to defence, that, in its turn, was furiously assailed
by a separate body of the enemy.

Thus the defenders of the Garde Doloureuse resembled the
embarrassed traveller, engaged in repelling a swarm of hornets,
which, while he brushes them, from one part, fix in swarms upon
another, and drive him to despair by their numbers, and the
boldness and multiplicity of their attacks. The postern being of
course a principal point of attack, Father Aldrovand, whose
anxiety would not permit him to be absent from the walls, and who,
indeed, where decency would permit, took an occasional share in
the active defence of the place, hasted thither, as the point
chiefly in danger.

Here he found the Fleming, like a second Ajax, grim with dust and
blood, working with his own hands the great engine which he had
lately helped to erect, and at the same time giving heedful eye to
all the exigencies around.

"How thinkest thou of this day's work?" said the monk in a
whisper.

"What skills it talking of it, father?" replied Flammock; "thou
art no soldier, and I have no time for words."

"Nay, take thy breath," said the monk, tucking up the sleeves of
his frock; "I will try to help thee the whilst--although, our Lady
pity me, I know nothing of these strange devices--not even the
names. But our rule commands us to labour; there can be no harm
therefore, in turning this winch--or in placing this steel-headed
piece of wood opposite to the chord, (suiting his actions to his
words,) nor see I aught uncanonical in adjusting the lever thus,
or in touching the spring."

The large bolt whizzed through the air as he spoke, and was so
successfully aimed, that it struck down a Welsh chief of eminence,
to which Gwenwyn himself was in the act of giving some important
charge.

"Well driven, _trebuchet_--well flown, _quarrel!_" cried
the monk, unable to contain his delight, and giving in his
triumph, the true technical names to the engine, and the javelin
which it discharged.

"And well aimed, monk," added Wilkin Flammock; "I think thou
knowest more than is in thy breviary."

"Care not thou for that," said the father; "and now that thou
seest I can work an engine, and that the Welsh knaves seem
something low in stomach, what think'st thou of our estate?"

"Well enough--for a bad one--if we may hope for speedy succour;
but men's bodies are of flesh, not of iron, and we may be at last
wearied out by numbers. Only one soldier to four yards of wall, is
a fearful odds; and the villains are aware of it, and keep us to
sharp work."

The renewal of the assault here broke off their conversation, nor
did the active enemy permit them to enjoy much repose until
sunset; for, alarming them with repeated menaces of attack upon
different points, besides making two or three formidable and
furious assaults, they left them scarce time to breathe, or to
take a moment's refreshment. Yet the Welsh paid a severe price for
their temerity; for, while nothing could exceed the bravery with
which their men repeatedly advanced to the attack, those which
were made latest in the day had less of animated desperation than
their first onset; and it is probable, that the sense of having
sustained great loss, and apprehension of its effects on the
spirits of his people, made nightfall, and the interruption of the
contest, as acceptable to Gwenwyn as to the exhausted garrison of
the Garde Doloureuse.

But in the camp or leaguer of the Welsh there was glee and
triumph, for the loss of the past day was forgotten in
recollection of the signal victory which had preceded this siege;
and the dispirited garrison could hear from their walls the laugh
and the song, the sound of harping and gaiety, which triumphed by
anticipation over their surrender.

The sun was for some time sunk, the twilight deepened, and night
closed with a blue and cloudless sky, in which the thousand
spangles that deck the firmament received double brilliancy from
some slight touch of frost, although the paler planet, their
mistress, was but in her first quarter. The necessities of the
garrison were considerably aggravated by that of keeping a very
strong and watchful guard, ill according with the weakness of
their numbers, at a time which appeared favourable to any sudden
nocturnal alarm; and, so urgent was this duty, that those who had
been more slightly wounded on the preceding day, were obliged to
take their share in it, notwithstanding their hurts. The monk and
Fleming, who now perfectly understood each other, went in company
around the walls at midnight, exhorting the warders to be
watchful, and examining with their own eyes the state of the
fortress. It was in the course of these rounds, and as they were
ascending an elevated platform by a range of narrow and uneven
steps, something galling to the monk's tread, that they perceived
on the summit to which they were ascending, instead of the black
corslet of the Flemish sentinel who had been placed there, two
white forms, the appearance of which struck Wilkin Flammock with
more dismay than he had shown during any of the doubtful events of
the preceding day's fight.

"Father," he said, "betake yourself to your tools--_es
spuckt_--there are hobgoblins here."

The good father had not learned as a priest to defy the spiritual
host, whom, as a soldier, he had dreaded more than any mortal
enemy; but he began to recite, with chattering teeth, the exorcism
of the church, _"Conjuro vos omnes, spiritus maligni, magni,
atque parvi,"_--when he was interrupted by the voice of
Eveline, who called out, "Is it you, Father Aldrovand?"

Much lightened at heart by finding they had no ghost to deal with,
Wilkin Flammock and the priest advanced hastily to the platform,
where they found the lady with her faithful Rose, the former with
a half-pike in her hand, like a sentinel on duty.

"How is this, daughter?" said the monk; "how came you here, and
thus armed? and where is the sentinel,--the lazy Flemish hound,
that should have kept the post?"

"May he not be a lazy hound, yet not a Flemish one, father?" said
Rose, who was ever awakened by anything which seemed a reflection
upon her country; "methinks I have heard of such curs of English
breed."

"Go to, Rose, you are too malapert for a young maiden," said her
father. "Once more, where is Peterkin Vorst, who should have kept
this post?"

"Let him not be blamed for my fault," said Eveline, pointing to a
place where the Flemish sentinel lay in the shade of the
battlement fast asleep--"He was overcome with toil--had fought
hard through the day, and when I saw him asleep as I came hither,
like a wandering spirit that cannot take slumber or repose, I
would not disturb the rest which I envied. As he had fought for
me, I might, I thought, watch an hour for him; so I took his
weapon with the purpose of remaining here till some one should
come to relieve him."

"I will relieve the schelm, with a vengeance!" said Wilkin
Flammock, and saluted the slumbering and prostrate warder with two
kicks, which made his corslet clatter. The man started to his feet
in no small alarm, which he would have communicated to the next
sentinels and to the whole garrison, by crying out that the Welsh
were upon the walls, had not the monk covered his broad mouth with
his hand just as the roar was issuing forth.--"Peace, and get thee
down to the under bayley," said he;--"thou deservest death, by all
the policies of war--but, look ye, varlet, and see who has saved
your worthless neck, by watching while you were dreaming of
swine's flesh and beer-pots."

The Fleming, although as yet but half awake, was sufficiently
conscious of his situation, to sneak off without reply, after two
or three awkward congees, as well to Eveline as to those by whom
his repose had been so unceremoniously interrupted.

"He deserves to be tied neck and heel, the houndsfoot," said
Wilkin. "But what would you have, lady? My countrymen cannot live
without rest or sleep." So saying, he gave a yawn so wide, as if
he had proposed to swallow one of the turrets at an angle of the
platform on which he stood, as if it had only garnished a
Christmas pasty.