Part 16 (1/2)

Wilfred's answer was in that low, tremulous voice, which would have hinted to a more experienced listener that his sympathies were deeply stirred by the story he was telling.

”She climbed up on the great wheel, lad, and sat upon the rim of it; and she did off her fur cloak, and laid it over her dying lord; and when that served not, so strong was the s.h.i.+vering which had seized him, she stripped off her gown, and spread that over him likewise. And when in his death-thirst he craved for water, she clomb down again, and drew from the well in her shoe, for she had nought else:--and there sat she, all that woeful night, giving him to drink, bathing his brows, covering his wounds, whispering holy and loving words. And when the morrow brake, there below were the throng, mocking her all they might, and calling her by every evil name their tongues might utter.”

”How could she hear it, and abide?” [bear] broke forth Bertram.

”Did she hear it?” answered Wilfred in the same low voice. ”Ah, child!

love is stronger than death. So, when all was over--when Count Rudolph's eyes had looked their last upon her--when his voice had whispered the last loving word--'Gertrude, thou hast been faithful until death!'--and it was not till high noon,--then she laid her hand upon his eyes, and clomb down from the wheel, and went back to her void and lonely home. Boy, I never heard of any woman greater than Gertrude von der Wart.” [Note 2.]

”I marvel how she bare it!” said Bertram, under his breath.

”And to worsen her sorrow,” added Wilfred, ”when day brake, came the Duke's Grace of Austria, and his sister, Queen Agnes of Hungary, and all their following, to behold the scene--men and women amongst whom she had dwelt, that had touched hand or lip with her many a time--all mocking and jibing. Methinks that were not the least bitter thing for her to see--if by that time she could see anything, save Rudolph in his agony, and G.o.d in His Heaven.”

”And after that--she died, of force?” said Bertram, clinging still to the proper and conventional close of the tale.

”She was alive thirty years thereafter,” replied Wilfred quietly, turning his attention to a bunch of leaves which ended a bough of his tree.

Bertram privately thought this a lame and impotent conclusion. For a few minutes he sat thinking deeply, while Wilfred sketched in silence.

”Father Wilfred!” the boy broke forth at last, ”why letteth G.o.d such things be?”

”If thou canst perceive the answer to that, lad, thou hast sharper sight than I. G.o.d knoweth. But what He doth, we know not now. Pa.s.sing that word, none other response cometh unto us from Him unto whose eyes alone is present the eternal future.”

”Must we then never know it?” asked Bertram drearily.

”Ay--'thou shalt know hereafter.' Yet this behest [promise] is given alonely unto them that sue the Lamb whithersoever He goeth above; and they which begin not that suing through the mire of the base court, shall never end it in the golden banquet hall.”

”But what is it to sue the Lamb?” replied Bertram almost impatiently.

Wilfred laid down his pen, and looked up into the boy's face, with one of his sweet smiles flitting across his lips. The sketch was finished at last.

”Dear lad!” he said lovingly, ”Bertram Lyngern, ask the Lamb to show thee.”

Note 1. A t.i.tle at this time restricted to the Emperor of Germany. The first English King to whom it was applied, was Richard the Second. It is often said that Henry the Eighth was the first to a.s.sume it, but this is an error.

Note 2. It is surely not the least interesting a.s.sociation with the Castle of the Wartburg, whose best-known memories are connected with Luther, to remember that it was the home of Rudolph and Gertrude von der Wart.

CHAPTER FIVE.

CHANGES AND CHANCES OF THIS MORTAL LIFE.

”Now is done thy long day's work; Fold thy palms across thy breast, Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest, Let them rave.”

_Tennyson_.

The Earl and Countess were away from home, during the whole spring of the next year; but Constance stayed at Langley, and so did Alvena and Maude. There was a grand gala day in the following August, when the Lord of Langley was raised from the dignity of Earl of Cambridge to the higher t.i.tle of Duke of York: but three days later, the cloth of gold was changed for mourning serge. A royal courier, on his way from Reading to London, stayed a few hours at Langley; and he brought word that the mother of the King, ”the Lady Princess,” was lying dead at Wallingford.

The blow was in reality far heavier than it appeared on the surface, and to the infant Church of the Lollards the loss was irreparable. For the Princess was a Lollard; and being a woman of most able and energetic character, she had been until now the _de facto_ Queen of England. She must have been possessed of consummate tact and prudence, for she contrived to live on excellent terms with half-a-dozen people of completely incompatible tempers. When the reins dropped from her dead hand a struggle ensued among these incompatible persons, who should pick them up. The struggle was sharp, but short. The elder brothers retired from the contest, and the reins were left in the Duke of Gloucester's hand. And woe to the infant Church of the Lollards, when Gloucester held the reins!

He began his reign--for henceforward he was virtually King--by buying over his brother of York. Edmund, already the pa.s.sive servant of Gloucester, was bribed to active adherence by a grant of a thousand pounds. The Duke of Lancaster, who was not his brother's tool, was quietly disposed of for the moment, by making him so exceedingly uncomfortable, that with the miserable _laisser-aller_, which was the bane of his fine character, he went home to enjoy himself as a country gentleman, leaving politics to take care of themselves.