Heroines That Every Child Should Know Part 16

And our wail, O G.o.d! is long.

But the song's end was all of his love; And well his heart was grac'd With her smiling lips and her tear-bright eyes As his arm went round her waist.

And on the swell of her long fair throat Close clung the necklet-chain As he bent her pearl-tir'd head aside, And in the warmth of his love and pride He kissed her lips full fain.

And her true face was a rosy red, The very red of the rose That, couched on the happy garden-bed, In the summer sunlight glows.

And all the wondrous things of love That sang so sweet through the song Were in the look that met in their eyes, And the look was deep and long.

'T was then a knock came at the outer gate, And the usher sought the King.

"The woman you met by the Scotish Sea, My Liege, would tell you a thing; And she says that her present need for speech Will bear no gainsaying."

And the King said: "The hour is late; To-morrow will serve, I ween."

Then he charged the usher strictly, and said: "No word of this to the Queen."

But the usher came again to the King.

"Shall I call her back?" quoth he: "For as she went on her way, she cried, 'Woe! Woe! then the thing must be!'"

And the King paused, but he did not speak.

Then he called for the Voidee-cup: And as we heard the twelfth hour strike, There by true lips and false lips alike Was the draught of trust drained up.

So with reverence meet to King and Queen To bed went all from the board; And the last to leave the courtly train Was Robert Stuart the chamberlain Who had sold his sovereign lord.

And all the locks of the chamber-door Had the traitor riven and brast; And that Fate might win sure way from afar, He had drawn out every bolt and bar That made the entrance fast.

And now at midnight he stole his way To the moat of the outer wall, And laid strong hurdles closely across Where the traitors' tread should fall.

But we that were the Queen's bower-maids Alone were left behind; And with heed we drew the curtains close Against the winter wind.

And now that all was still through the hall, More clearly we heard the rain That clamoured ever against the gla.s.s And the boughs that beat on the pane

But the fire was bright in the ingle-nook, And through empty s.p.a.ce around The shadows cast on the arras'd wall 'Mid the pictured kings stood sudden and tall Like spectres sprung from the ground.

And the bed was dight in a deep alcove; And as he stood by the fire The King was still in talk with the Queen While he doffed his goodly attire.

And the song had brought the image back Of many a bygone year; And many a loving word they said With hand in hand and head laid to head; And none of us went anear.

But Love was weeping outside the house, A child in the piteous rain; And as he watched the arrow of Death, He wailed for his own shafts close in the sheath That never should fly again.

And now beneath the window arose A wild voice suddenly: And the King reared straight, but the Queen fell back As for bitter dule to dree; And all of us knew the woman's voice Who spoke by the Scotish Sea.

"O King," she cried, "in an evil hour They drove me from thy gate; And yet my voice must rise to thine ears; But alas! it comes too late!

"Last night at mid-watch, by Aberdour, When the moon was dead in the skies, O King, in a death-light of thine own I saw thy shape arise.

"And in full season, as erst I said, The doom had gained its growth; And the shroud had risen above thy neck And covered thine eyes and mouth.

"And no moon woke, but the pale dawn broke, And still thy soul stood there; And I thought its silence cried to my soul As the first rays crowned its hair.

"Since then have I journeyed fast and fain In very despite of Fate, Lest Hope might still be found in G.o.d's will: But they drove me from thy gate.

"For every man on G.o.d's ground, O King, His death grows up from his birth In the shadow-plant perpetually; And thine towers high, a black yew-tree, O'er the Charterhouse of Perth!"

That room was built far out from the house; And none but we in the room Might hear the voice that rose beneath, Nor the tread of the coming doom.

For now there came a torchlight-glare, And a clang of arms there came; And not a soul in that s.p.a.ce but thought Of the foe Sir Robert Graeme.

Yea, from the country of the Wild Scots, O'er mountain, valley, and glen, He had brought with him in murderous league Three hundred armed men.

The King knew all in an instant's flash, And like a King did he stand; But there was no armour in all the room, Nor weapon lay to his hand.

And all we women flew to the door And thought to have made it fast; But the bolts were gone and the bars were gone And the locks were riven and brast.

And he caught the pale pale Queen in his arms As the iron footsteps fell, Then loosed her, standing alone, and said, "Our bliss was our farewell!"

And 'twixt his lips he murmured a prayer, And he crossed his brow and breast; And proudly in royal hardihood Even so with folded arms he stood-- The prize of the b.l.o.o.d.y quest.

Then on me leaped the Queen like a deer: "O Catherine, help!" she cried.

And low at his feet we clasped his knees Together side by side.

"Oh! even a King, for his people's sake, From treasonous death must hide!"

"For _her_ sake most!" I cried, and I marked The pang that my words could wring.

And the iron tongs from the chimney-nook I s.n.a.t.c.hed and held to the King: "Wrench up the plank! and the vault beneath Shall yield safe harbouring."

With brows low-bent, from my eager hand The heavy heft did he take; And the plank at his feet he wrenched and tore; And as he frowned through the open floor, Again I said, "For her sake!"

Then he cried to the Queen, "G.o.d's will be done!"

For her hands were clasped in prayer.

And down he sprang to the inner crypt; And straight we closed the plank he had ripp'd And toiled to smoothe it fair.

(Alas! in that vault a gap once was Wherethro' the King might have fled; But three days since close-walled had it been By his will; for the ball would roll therein When without at the palm he play'd.)

Then the Queen cried, "Catherine, keep the door, And I to this will suffice!"

At her word I rose all dazed to my feet, And my heart was fire and ice.

And louder ever the voices grew, And the tramp of men in mail; Until to my brain it seemed to be As though I tossed on a s.h.i.+p at sea In the teeth of a cras.h.i.+ng gale.

Then back I flew to the rest; and hard We strove with sinews knit To force the table against the door But we might not compa.s.s it.

Then my wild gaze sped far down the hall To the place of the hearthstone-sill; And the Queen bent ever above the floor, For the plank was rising still.

And now the rush was heard on the stair, And "G.o.d, what help?" was our cry.

And was I frenzied or was I bold?

I looked at each empty stanchion-hold, And no bar but my arm had I!

Like iron felt my arm, as through The staple I made it pa.s.s: Alack! it was flesh and bone--no more!

'T was Catherine Douglas sprang to the door, But I fell back Kate Barla.s.s.

With that they all thronged into the hall, Half dim to my failing ken; And the s.p.a.ce that was but a void before Was a crowd of wrathful men.