Part 14 (1/2)

'Emma,' he cried,'thou hast taken me for better or worse. I hoped to have made thee the second lady in the land. But alas! I must fight to hold mine own, nay, for dear life,--life which is precious for thy sake.'

'I do not regret my choice,' said Emma, meeting his gaze with her frank eyes, her proud Fitzosbern spirit rising to the test. 'Only I fear lest I have sinned in taking thee against the will of my king-lord and the voice of the Holy Church.'

'Say rather the voice of William's creature,--a Lombard upstart, without a drop of n.o.ble blood in his veins. Dost thou forget the holy men who blessed our union and gave it the sanction of the Church? They blessed thy brother for taking up the cause of an oppressed people.

Shall the curses of the wily Italian have more weight than their benedictions? Dost thou throw over thy brother so easily to his untender mercies?'

'Alas! I am bewildered amid so many conflicting counsels,' Emma sighed.

'This poor land and all who are in it are so bewildered, my sweet lady,' Ralph answered, kissing the hands he still held. 'None can see the right clearly. William--the Conqueror, as he proudly styles himself--hath gone mad with his success, and the luckless people groan under his tyranny. Would I had never helped him to leave his duchy of Normandy! But it is useless to groan over the past, nor can I stop to chop logic over the present. The point is this: The king's men are marching to attack me. My only course is to fight for it, and, if possible, make a junction with thy brother Roger, when it may be that the oppressed Saxons will strike a blow to regain their freedom, and, with my trusty Bretons, I may still gain the day.'

Emma clasped her hands in sore distress.

'Is it in good sooth come to this, that thou must go forth against the king? Alas! my foolish face tempted thee to wrong. 'Tis I that am to blame.'

Ralph caught her to him and kissed her. 'Nay, by the heart of Our Lady.

'Tis William's mad pride that is to blame, and that alone. Speak no slander against my wife, or it will go ill with thee, for I will not brook to hear it.'

Emma drooped her head against his shoulder, smiling through her tears.

'Oh, Ralph,' she said, 'if thou wert but going in a good cause, the parting would not be so bitter.'

Ralph, having no good argument to proffer in reply, lost his temper. He sprang up and paced the room, making his golden spurs jingle at each impatient stride.

'I thought when I wedded a Fitzosbern I should escape the lot of most men, to be wept and wailed over at every crinkle in the rose-leaves of fate. But it seems thou art but of the same stuff as other women, after all.'

Emma flushed over neck and brow. She drew herself proudly erect, and hastily wiped away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks.

'Naught but dread of guilt and a too fond love could have drawn tears from a Fitzosbern,' she answered haughtily. 'Thou shalt not need to complain again, my lord.'

'Nay, my sweet lady, pardon me,' pleaded the earl, turning to her with entreating eyes. 'In good sooth, I am well-nigh distracted, and the sight of thy tears makes me too bitterly conscious of my own lack of worth. But what wouldst thou have me do? If it were but a question of my own poor life, I would submit, and let William do his worst, if such a course would pleasure thee; but I cannot desert thy brother, nor my own poor Bretons, and the Saxons who have thrown in their lot with mine. Thou knowest William is not gentle with such as cross his will.

It would mean loss of lands and lifelong imprisonment to thy brother and myself, and the lopping off a hand and a foot for each of my Bretons, at the least, while hanging would be too mild a measure in his eyes for the Saxons.'

Emma's hands were tightly clenched together. The momentary flush had faded from her face, and it was pale as death, but she neither sobbed nor flinched.

'I have made my choice, and I will abide by it,' she said in a low, firm voice. 'Nor will I quail before the consequences of our deed. We have chosen each other against the whole world. Perhaps if thou hadst trusted me more fully, thou hadst not been vexed with tears. Thy announcement was somewhat sudden.'

'Let that ill-grained speech rest in its grave, dear love. Thou hast spoken like a Fitzosbern now,' said the earl, taking her hands again in his and drawing her back to his shoulder. 'I want thee to be of good courage, for I have treated thee as a hero's daughter, and appointed thee Castellan of Blauncheflour in my absence. I have vested in thee the supreme and sole command. Thine it shall be, in case of siege while I am away,--which G.o.d forfend,--to surrender or defend the castle on whatsoever terms may seem good to thee. Sir Alain de Gourin and Sir Hoel de St. Brice will act under thine orders and be thine advisers.

Wilt thou take the office?'

'Yes, I will take it,' answered Emma, without a moment's hesitation, although her whole soul trembled within her at the prospect of being left in her young feebleness to command the turbulent De Gourin, for whom she had a strong aversion, and the veteran Sir Hoel, who was a total stranger to her, albeit he had been so long in her husband's train.

'Thou art indeed a fit bride for a warrior,' cried Ralph, gazing with admiration at her determined face.

Emma longed to throw her arms around his neck and sob, but conquered the impulse, answering only with a smile.

'Thou saidest I was sudden, sweet,' resumed Ralph. 'Methinks an agony that must be sharp had best be short. To that end I would not poison for thee the brief time we had together with the shadow of parting.

That is why I told thee naught till now, upon the eve of my going forth.'