CHAPTER LVIII
THE WHITE TOWER OF MACHECOUL
So at the command of the Marshal de Retz they sent to bring forthMargaret of Douglas and Maud Lindesay out of the White Tower, wherethey had been abiding. Margaret had gone to bed, and, as was hercustom, Maud Lindesay sat awhile by her side. For so far as they couldthey kept to the good and kindly traditions of Castle Thrieve. Itseemed somehow to bring them nearer home in that horrible place wherethey were doomed to abide.
"Give me your hand, Maud, and tell on," said little Margaret, nestlingcloser to her friend, and laying her head against her arm as sheleaned on the low bedstead beside her.
Margaret was gowned in a white linen night-rail, made long ago for themarshal's daughter, little Marie de Retz, in the brighter days beforethe setting up of the iron altar. Catherine, his deserted wife, hadbeen kind to the girls at Pouzages, and had given to both of them sucharticles of garmenture as they were sorely in need of.
"Tell on--haste you," commanded little Margaret, with theimperiousness of loving childhood, nestling yet closer as she spoke."It helps me to forget. I can almost think when you are speaking thatwe are again at Thrieve, and that if we looked out at the window weshould see the Dee running by and Screet and Ben Gairn--and hearSholto MacKim drilling his men out in the courtyard. Why, Maudie, whatis the matter? I did not mean to make you cry. But it is all so sweetto think upon in this place. Oh, Maudie, Maudie, what would you giveto hear a whaup whistle?"
Then drawing herself into a sitting posture, with her hands aboutMaud's neck, she took a kerchief from under the pillow and dried herfriend's tears, murmuring the while, "Ah, do not cry, Maud, my visionwill yet come true, and you shall indeed see Ben Gairn andThrieve--and everything. I was dreaming about it last night. Shall Itell you about it, sweet Maud?"
Maud Lindesay did not reply, not having recovered power over hervoice. So the little Maid of Galloway went on unbidden.
"Yes, I dreamed a glad dream yester-even. Shall I tell it you all andall? I will--though you can tell stories far better than I.
"Methought that I and you--I mean, dear Maud, you and I, were sittingtogether in the gloaming at the door of a little house up on the edgesof the moorland, where the heather is prettiest, and reddest, andlongest. And we were happy. We were waiting for some one. I shall nottell you who, Maudie, but if you are good, and stop crying, you canguess. And there was a ring on your finger, Maud. No, not like the oldones--not a pretty ring like those in your box, yet you loved it morethan them all, and never stopped turning it about between your fingerand thumb.
"They had let me come up to stay with you, and the men who hadaccompanied me were drinking in the clachan. As we sat I seemed tohear their loud chorus, sounding up from the change-house.
"And you listened and said: 'I wish he would come. He is very long. Itis always long when he is away.' But you never said who it was thatwas long away. And I shall not tell you, though I know. Perhaps it wasold Jock Lacklands, who used to be captain of the guard, and perhapsgrouting Peter, from the gate-house by the ford. But somehow I do notthink so. Ah, that is better! Now do not cry again. But listen, else Iwill not tell you any more, but go off to sleep instead.
"Perhaps you do not want to hear the rest. Yet--it was such a prettydream, and of good omen.
"You _do_ want to hear? Well, then, be good!
"As we sat there we could hear the bumblebees scurrying home, andevery now and then one of the big boom-beetles would sail whirringpast us. We could hear the sheep crying below in the little greenmeadows so lonesomely, and the snipe bleating an answer away up in thesky above their heads, and you said, '_It is all so empty, wantinghim!_'
"Then the maids brought in the cows, and milked them standing at thegable end, and we could smell the smell of their breath, sweet likethe scent of the flowers they had been eating all day long. Then,after a while, they were driven out of the yard again, and went in astring, one after the other, back to their pastures, doucely andsedately, just like folk going to holy kirk on Sabbath days when it issummer time in Galloway.
"Then you said, 'I am weary of waiting for him!' And I answered,'Why,--he has not been gone more than a day. Sometimes I do not seehim for weeks, and _I_ never fret like that!'
"Then you answered (it has all come so clear into my mind), 'Some dayyou will know, little one!' And you patted me on the head, and went tothe house end to look into the sunset. You looked many minutes underyour hand, and when you came back you said, as if you had never saidit before, 'He is long a-coming! I wonder what can be keeping him.'
"Then the maidens told us that the supper was ready to put on thetable, whereat you scolded them, telling them that it was too early,and that they must keep it hot against their master's coming. And tome you said, 'You are not hungry, are you?' And I answered, 'No,'though I was indeed very hungry--(in my dream, that is). Then you saidagain, sighing: 'It is strange that he should not come home! I cannoteat till he comes! Perhaps he has fallen into a ditch, or some eaglemay have pecked out his eyes!'
"Then all the while it grew darker, and still no one came. Whereat youcried a little softly, and said: 'He might have come--I know rightwell he could have been here by this time if he had tried. But he doesnot love me any more.' And you were patting the ground with your footas you used to do when--well, when he went away from Thrieve withoutcoming out upon the leads to say 'Good-night.' Then, all at once,there was a noise of quick feet brushing eagerly through the heather,and some one (no, not Landless Jock) leaped the wall and caughtme--_me_--in his arms."
"No, it was not you whom he caught in his arms!" cried Maud Lindesay,indignantly, and then stopped, abashed at her own folly. But thelittle maid laughed merrily.
"Aha!" she said, "_I_ caught you that time in my trap. You know who itwas in my dream, though I have never told you, nor so much as hinted.
"And he asked if you had missed him, and you made a sign for me not tospeak, just as you used to do at Castle Thrieve, and answered, 'No,not a little bit! Margaret and I were quite happy. We hoped you wouldnot come back at all this night, for then we could have slepttogether.'"
Maud Lindesay drew a long, soft breath, and looked out of the windowof the White Tower into the dark.
"That is a sweet dream," she murmured. "Ah, would that it were true,and that Sholto--!"
She broke off short again, for the maid clapped her hands gleefully."You said it! You said it!" she cried. "You called him Sholto. Now Iknow; and I am so glad, for he is nearly as good to play with as you.And I shall not mind him a bit."
Little Margaret stopped short in her turn, seeing something in herfriend's face.
"Why are you suddenly grown so sad, Maudie?" she asked.
"It came upon me, dear Margaret," said Maud, "how that we are but twohelpless maids in a dreadful place without a friend. Let us say aprayer to God to keep us!"
Then Margaret Douglas turned and knelt with her face to the pillow andher small hands clasped in front of her.
"Give me your silver cross," she said, "I lent the little gold onethat was William's to the Lady Sybilla, and she hath not returned itme again."
Maud gave her the cross and she took it and held it in the palm of herhand looking long at it. Then she repeated one by one the children'sorisons she had been taught, and after that she made a little prayerof her own. This is the prayer.
"Lord of mercy, be good to two maids who are lonely and weak, and shutup in this place of evil men. Keep our lives and our souls, and alsoour bodies from harm. Make us not afraid of the dark or of the devil.For Thou art the stronger. And do not forget to be near us this night,for we have no other friend and sorely do we need one to love anddeliver us. Amen."
It was true. More bitterly than any two in the whole world, thesemaidens needed a friend at that moment. For scarcely had the childishaccents been lost in the night silence, when the outer door of theWhite Tower was thrown open to the wall, and on the steps of theturret stair they heard the noise of men coming upwards to theirprison-room.<
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But first, though the inner door of their chamber was locked within,the bolts glided back apparently of their own accord. It opened, andthe hideous face of La Meffraye looked in upon them with a cackle offiendish laughter.
"Come, sweet maidens," she cried gleefully, as the frightened girlsclasped each other closer upon the bed, "come away. The Marshal deRetz calls for you. He hath need of your beauty to grace his feast.The lights of the banquet burn in his hall. See the fire of burningshine out upon the night. The very trees are red with it. The skiesare red. All is red. Come--up--make yourselves fair for the eyes ofthe great lord to behold!"
Then behind La Meffraye entered Gilles de Sille and Poitou, themarshal's servants.
"Make ready in haste--you are both to go instantly before my lord, whoabides your coming!" said Gilles de Sille. "Poitou and I will abidewithout the door, and La Meffraye here shall be your tirewoman and seethat you have that which you need. But hasten, for my lord is instantand cannot be kept waiting!"
* * * * *
So they brought the Scottish maidens down from the White Tower intothe night. They walked hand in hand. Their steps did not falter, and,as they went, they prayed to God to keep them from the dangers of theplace. Astarte, the she-wolf, who must have kept guard beneath,stalked before them, and behind them they seemed to hear the hobblingcrutch and cackling laughter of La Meffraye.
Across the wide courtyard of Machecoul they went. It also was filledwith the reflection of the red tide of light which ebbed and flowed,waxing and waning above. Saving for that window the whole castle waswrapped in gloom and silence, and if there were any awake within theprecincts they knew better than to spy upon the midnight doings oftheir dread lord.
The little party passed up the great staircase of the keep andpresently halted before the inscribed wooden door by which Laurencehad entered the Temple of Evil.
As Gilles de Sille opened it for the maids to precede him, the skirtof Maud Lindesay's robe, blown back by the draught of the chamber,fluttered against the cheek of Laurence MacKim as he lay on his facein the niche of the wall. At the light touch he came to himself, andlooked about with a strange and instant change in all the affectionsand movements of his heart.
With the coming in of the maidens, fear seemed utterly to forsake him.A clarity of purpose, an alertness of brain, a strength of heartunknown before, took the place of the trembling bath of horror inwhich he had swooned away.
It was like the sudden appearance of two white angels walking fearlessand unscathed through the grim dominions of the Lords of Hell.
Incarnate Good had somehow entered the house of the Demon, though itwas in the slender periphery of two maidens' bodies, and evil, strongand resistless before, seemed in the moment to lose half its power.
IT WAS LIKE THE SUDDEN APPEARANCE OF TWO WHITE ANGELSWALKING FEARLESS AND UNSCATHED THROUGH THE GRIM DOMINIONS OF THE LORDSOF HELL.]