CHAPTER XIV.
The lighted brand which Chartley carried in his hand hardly remainedunextinguished till he and Iola had passed through the deep gatewayinto the large hall; but there they found much more light than theyhad expected, for the fire in the courtyard threw a broad glare overthe two large windows, and served, in some degree, to illuminate theinterior. It was one of those vast old halls, of which but few are nowremaining, though at that time no great baronial residence was withoutone of them. Some indeed were of greater extent than the one I nowspeak of; but few, if any, had a bolder sweep of arch than wasdisplayed by the vaulted roof which now covered the young nobleman andhis companion. Time had spared it; and ruin had not as yet laid anyhand upon it, so that the eye could roam through the framework ofrichly carved oaken beams above, without detecting any flaw in theslating which overspread the whole. No columns or obstructions of anykind interrupted the sight from one end to the other; and, by theflickering of the fire-light, Chartley could perceive two doorsopening out of the opposite end of the hall, one upon the right handand another upon the left. To the door upon the right, two or threestone steps led up from the pavement; and he inquired at once,remembering that Iola had boasted a thorough knowledge of thebuilding, if she could tell him whither that entrance led.
"To the great square tower," she replied, "by a staircase in thelittle turret that you might see at the side of the keep. It is verynarrow, but quite good and perfect still."
"If the door be still there and sound," replied Chartley, "it will beas good a place of refuge as any; for the mouth of a narrow staircaseis no bad spot for defence."
"I think the door is there," replied Iola; "but we can soon see."
"Thanks to the fire without, we can, sweet Iola," replied Chartley,walking forward by her side; but, as he did so, his foot struckagainst something lying on the pavement, which he sent rattling to theother side of the hall. "Why, what is here?" he exclaimed, stoopingdown. "Some one has been lighting a fire here, not very long ago. Andon my life here is a lamp too, seemingly not very long extinguished;at all events, there is oil in it."
"Oh yes, it is long ago," answered Iola, "as long ago as Christmas. Iremember all about it now. The nuns come up here every year, on themorrow of Christmas, for there is still a mass kept up once a-year inthe chapel; and, the last time, sister Bridget left her lamp behindher, which she brought to light the tapers on the altar. It may nowserve us in good stead; and I do not see why we should not light afire here too; for they do so every Christmas day, and heat a flagonof Malvoisie, for the priest who says the mass."
"Would to Heaven we had a flagon of Malvoisie to heat," replied LordChartley, laughing. "I know few things better, on a cold night or in adoubtful hour. Strange, sweet Iola, that so spiritual a thing as hopeshould go up and down, burn more faintly or more brightly, for thewant or the possession of a few drops of grape juice."
"It may be so with men," answered Iola; "but I do not think it is sowith women. Hope with me never burns brighter than in a fine clearsummer morning, when I hear the birds sing. There seems, in the sweetsounds and in the sweet sights, a world of promises from a voice thatnever lies."
"Oh yes, but Malvoisie is good too," answered Chartley gaily,"especially when summer mornings are not here, when no sweet birdgives music, unless it be the hooting owl; and even Iola's eyes do notafford light enough to show one this great thick door, the hinges ofwhich seem somewhat rusty."
As he thus spoke, with his foot upon the second step, he swung theheavy door backwards and forwards, with a grating sound, which seemed,to make the old hall shake.
"Come," he continued, "I will go light sister Bridget's lamp at thefire, and see what good Ibn Ayoub is about. His watch has beenundisturbed, or we should have had his Arabic gutturals finding theirway into the hall, and echoing round and round as harshly as thisrusty hinge. You shall stay near the other door, till I return; butmind, if there should be anything like a fray, you run up here andshut yourself in. I am bound by knightly courtesy to take you back tothe abbey safe and sound; and so if I am killed you must take the taskupon yourself, in justice to my reputation."
"Killed! Oh do not talk of such a thing!" exclaimed Iola. "I beseechyou, my noble lord, think not of risking life in such a case."
"To protect and serve you," answered Chartley, "I would risk more thanlife, sweet girl, if I had any thing more than life to lose. A man'slife is worth very little in these days; for there is so littlecertainty of its continuing from one hour to another, that, goodfaith, I am fain to shake my head every morning when I rise, to seethat it is upon my shoulders. Buckingham and Hastings, Vaughan, Grey,and others, besides some hundreds more, would have done better to havedied in the field, or in defence of some fair lady, than to havewaited for the headsman's axe. I trust, whenever my hour comes, thatit will find me sword in hand. It is the only way I ever could make upmy mind to look upon death complacently. I suppose I am a sad coward,for the thought of a sick bed, and feverish pillow, and lamentablefriends, and the grave doctor with a potion in his hand, frightens meimmensely. Nor is the axe much better for it usually has its dullantecedents of trial, condemnation, gaping fools, and blocks andscaffolds; whereas, on the battle field, or in the lists, lance tolance, for a lady's honour, with stroke for stroke, and clangingtrumpets, and charging horse, and shouts of victory, the spiritsprings forth triumphant through the wounds of the flesh, and soarsaway to glory, with the light of renown upon its wings."
Iola sighed, she knew not why; but still the enthusiasm touched her,and she felt a thrill run through her veins at his high words, whichmade her almost fearful of the sensations which were creeping over herheart.
"You do not make me brave," she said; "and therefore I will come withyou under the arch, for I shall feel frightened if I lose sight ofyou."
"Oh, I will willingly live ever in your eyes," answered Chartley; "andhe who reaches you must first pass over my corpse."
Iola started; for it is not to be supposed that, in that age, she, orany one, was without superstition; and she read a sort of double sensein his words, which seemed to her almost to have the force ofprophecy. She followed him closely, however, and only paused when sheagain got sight of the courtyard, with the Arab still standing quietlyby the fire, upon which he had piled some more wood.
"Has no one come?" demanded Chartley. "Have you heard the stepsagain?"
"I have heard the steps," answered the Arab; "but no one has come.They seem to wander round and round the court; but the eye sees notthe walker. 'Tis most likely an Afrit, watching this old castle. Theremay be treasures buried here."
"There is a treasure hidden here," replied the young nobleman,speaking to himself but thinking of Iola. "As to Afrits, they nevercross the sea. However, good Ibn Ayoub, as we have not men enough inthe garrison to man all the walls or guard all the gates, we willwithdraw into the great hall, light our fire there, and close thedoor, though we cannot drop the portcullis. Bring as much of theembers in as you can contrive to carry, without burning your garments,and a quantity of wood, of which there seems a great store there inthe corner."
"'Tis an old gate broken to pieces," said the Arab. "'Twill soon burn,for it is as dry as camel's dung."
Chartley waited and listened, while his slave performed the task hehad set him about; and then returning to Iola, after he had lightedthe lamp, he said--
"I can hear no sound. It was good Ibn Ayoub's fancy, I suppose, thoughhis ears are as sharp as those of a page in a fairy tale. He traced methrough the forest to-night, by the sound of my horse's feet, assurely as a hound traces the deer by the scent.--Nay, cheer up, sweetIola, or we shall both grow sad and fanciful in this old pile. Whatthough we have no Malvoisie, there is better wine than ever flowedfrom the grape, or was imprisoned in a bottle--the wine of the heart,dear lady, of the heart unconscious of evil, the bright gay spirit,the cheerful contentment with the event of the hour, the fearlesstrust of the morrow. 'Tis but a little time weaken be together. Let usmake the moments pl
easant as they fly; for to me they will fly all toosoon. Come, let us look round the hall, and see what it contains;" andhe held the lamp high up above his head, gazing round, but unable tosee the whole of the vast extent of the chamber.
"Oh, there is nothing here," answered Iola. "It has been stripped ofevery thing, long, long ago. But there are some things in the chambersabove, which the plunderers did not think it worth while to bringdown, I suppose--settles and stools, and a huge bed, which they saywas made in the room where it stands, and cannot pass the door."
"Come, we will go and see them," cried Chartley. "Sitting on thesecold stones is not made for those delicate limbs; and perchance we mayfind something which we can bring down. But first let the Arab lightthe fire here; and then we will try and close the great door."
No great difficulty occurred in either process; for the Arabcontrived, on two broad pieces of wood, to bring in a sufficientquantity of embers speedily to kindle a large fire on the wide hearthof the old hall, and the ponderous door, though it had one or twolarge holes in it, and groaned most desperately at being forced toturn upon its hinges--a process which it probably had not undergonefor more than half a century--nevertheless swung to easily enough, andthe heavy bolt was forced into the deep hole made for its reception inthe stone-work.
When the young lord turned round, after aiding the Arab in this work,the aspect that the hall presented was cheerful enough. The pile ofwood on the hearth had caught fire at once; and, mingled with thesmoke which was rushing up the wide chimney, were thick columns ofmany coloured flame, which cast a warm and flickering glow over theancient stone walls and upon the painted glass of the windows, whereknights, and priests, and angels, and apostles, were grouped insomewhat strange confusion. In the bright blaze of the fire, on theopposite side of the hearth, stood the fair form of Iola, wrappedindeed in the earl's surcoat, which veiled, without altogetherconcealing, the beautiful outline of the figure. The long sable-linedsleeves, trailing upon the ground, seemed to form a sort of trainbehind her as she stood, while the beautiful neck and shoulders rosefrom the furred collar, lightly fastened over her chest, and the fairand speaking countenance, turned towards those who were closing thedoor, was now shown in bright light, now cast into shadowyindistinctness as the flame rose and fell.
Chartley gazed at her, and thought it was the fairest sight he hadever seen; and sensations rose up in his breast, which he took nopains to master. He was young, free, trustful, full of happyconfidence in the future, and he said to himself--"Why not? Roam theworld over, can I find anything more lovely than she _is_, moregentle, more sweet, more full of noble feelings and bright thoughts,than she _seems_. In marriage one always cuts one's fate upon a die,the fall of which is uncertain,--Why not?--But not now, not now," hecontinued, the spirit of gentlemanly courtesy coming to guide himinstantly; "I must wait till she is free from danger, and then seekher when she is safe and in the midst of her friends again. I must notagitate or alarm her now."
Though the resolution was a strong one, as well as a good one, it wasdifficult to keep the feelings which were busy at his heart frominfluencing his manner in some degree. Nor, to say truth, did he keepthem in such subjection. He would have liked very much to make her sitbeside him, and, with his arm cast around her, pillow her beautifulhead upon his bosom, while she took the repose so needful to her. Hewould have liked to stand before that open hearth, with her handclasped in his, and their eyes fixed upon the faces and landscapes inthe fire, talking of love and dreaming of happy days. He did none ofthese things; but yet there was a softness and a tenderness in hismanner and his tone, every now and then, which went thrilling throughIola's young fresh heart, and creating dreads for herself and for him,which might have shaken her terribly, had it not been for the gay andsparkling spirit which broke forth in his conversation from time totime, and carried away all heavier thoughts upon its wings.
"Now come," he said, taking up the lamp after he had paused by herside for a moment, "let us go up to these chambers above, and see ifwe can find some seat or another, that we can bring down. You havebeen walking and standing a long long while; and those beautifullittle feet will be sadly tired, unless we can discover some means ofresting them. I would rather walk a hundred miles than stand an hour.I have always thought that a bird's life must be a sad wearisome one,except when it is on the wing, to stand all day on a bare bough withthose thin shanks of its, and nothing to do but trim its feathers."
"And sing its songs," said Iola, following him. "It must have itsconsolation there."
Chartley went first, lighting her by the way; and the stairs, narrowand worn with many feet, soon afforded a fair excuse for taking herhand to lead her up. When once it was in his, it was not easy to partwith it; and, as he held it neither very loosely nor very tightly,there seemed no plea for withdrawing it, so that it remained where itwas, even after they had reached the top of the stairs, and hadentered a low-roofed stone corridor, and a large old-fashioned vaultedchamber, which had probably been the state bedroom of the formerpossessors of the castle. There, still, remained the great bedsteadwhich Iola had mentioned, probably of the reign of Edward III., formedof dark black wood, apparently ebony, richly carved and inlaid withivory upon the lower cornices. The rich hangings, with which it hadbeen at one time adorned, had all been torn down and carried off withthe bedding; but the framework was so artificially joined, that nomeans of removing it were apparent, without breaking it all to pieces;and it is probable that the rude soldiers, who had sacked the castle,were not disposed to burden themselves with any heavy booty. Marks onthe floor showed where three truckle beds had stood, but not one nowremained; and the only seat to be seen was a large chair, of the samematerials as the bed, with a footstool, from which the embroidery thatonce covered it had been ripped.
"These will do," cried Chartley. "The chair must have come up, and soit can go down the stairs. Then we will set it by the fire; and itshall be your throne, queen of the May, while I sit on the footstoolat your feet, and Ibn Ayoub crouches, as is his wont, upon the dryhearth. But you must be my lamp-bearer, or I shall never get themdown;" and; giving the light to Iola, he raised the chair in hisstrong arms. "It is as heavy as iron," he said, "but it shall comedown, if it were made of adamant."
As he spoke, an extraordinary sort of sound, like a low groan, echoedthrough the room, so clear and distinct, that there could be no doubttheir ears deceived them not. Iola started, and well, nigh dropped thelamp, while Chartley set down the chair, and laid his hand upon hissword.
"It is some door, moving on its rusty hinges," he said, afterlistening for a moment. "The wind is blowing it backwards andforwards;" and taking up the chair again, he bore it into thecorridor, while Iola went before with the light, gazing timidlyaround.
Nothing occurred to disturb them however; and at length, though notwithout difficulty, Chartley got the cumbrous seat down the narrowstairs. The Arab was now standing in the midst of the hall, gazingtowards the door, with his naked scimitar in his hand.
"What is the matter, son of Ayoub?" asked Chartley. "What have youheard?"
"Feet, and a groan," answered the Arab, with his dark eyes glaring inthe fire light.
"Pooh, 'tis some rusty hinge," said Chartley, "and the feet of rats ormartins, driven to take shelter here by this long continued wintryweather.--Seat yourself here, sweet Iola. Put your feet to the fire,and dream of pleasant things, while I go up again and bring thestool."
Thus saying, he took the lamp from her hand, and re-ascended. He wasnot long absent; but Iola listened anxiously for his returning step.She felt safe while he was near her, but fearful the moment he wasaway.
Chartley was soon at her side again, and placing the stool close toher feet, he seated himself thereon, and, leaning upon the arm of herchair, gazed up into her face with a gay smile.
"Now this is comfortable," he said. "We may pass the remaining hoursof night cheerfully enough here; and if you doze, sweet Iola, yourlittle head will but fall upon Chartley's shoulder, where i
t may restas securely, though not so softly, as on your own pillow in the abbey.There, seat yourself there, Ibn Ayoub, in the nook of the chimney, oryour southern blood will be frozen in this cold northern night. Thinkno more of groans and footfalls. These are all tricks of theimagination--It is wonderful," he continued, turning to Iola, "whatwild fancies superstition will beget, ay, and sad as well aswonderful, when one thinks of the horrible cruelties which reasonablemen will commit upon the strength of stories that a child should bewhipped for believing. When I was in Flanders a few years ago, a poorwoman was burned alive, in the public market place; and what do youthink was the crime of which she was accused?"
"Nay, I know not," answered Iola; "but, it should be a terrible crimeindeed to draw down so terrible a punishment."
"The tale is simply this," replied Chartley. "There was a poor womanin one of the towns of Flanders, who gained her bread by the work ofher needle. One of those who employed her was the wife of the bailiffof the black monks of that town; but when her work was done, thebailiff and his wife refused to pay the wages promised, and, beingpoor and distressed for money, she was naturally importunate.Obtaining no redress, she applied to the curate of the village, whereshe was born; for advice and assistance. It happened, however, thatthe good man had been entangled in a lawsuit with the bailiff of themonks, and whatever was the advice he gave to the poor woman, theirconference resulted in evil to both. The woman sent her daughter todemand a part of that which was due, if she could not obtain thewhole; and the poor girl arriving, while the bailiff and his familywere at dinner, stood beside the table for some time, petitioning forpayment in vain. Several days after, one of the family was taken illand died. The disease, it would seem, was infectious; and before itsravages ceased, the bailiff and two others were dead. The rest of thefamily took it into their heads to accuse the poor woman, herdaughter, and the curate, of having bewitched them; and fools andknaves enough were found to relate, and to believe, that the curatehad baptized a toad, and had administered to it the blessed sacrament,at the instigation of the poor needlewoman. The toad, cut in fourpieces, was said to have been thrown under the table, where thebailiff dined, by the woman's daughter; and upon this fabricatedcharge, the unhappy creature was cast into prison, put to the torture,and afterwards burned to ashes."
Iola shuddered.
"It is very horrible," she said, "and one can hardly believe that suchcruelty can exist in the breasts of human creatures."
"Or such folly either," answered Chartley, "as to suppose that thequarters of a baptized toad could bewitch to the death three innocentpeople. If there be charms and periapts, they must be produced byother means than that."
"But do you doubt there are such things?" asked Iola. "We read of themcontinually."
"Ah, fair Iola," answered Chartley, "we read and hear of many a thingwhich, tried by the strong tests of reason and religion, vanish awaylike empty dreams. If we but ask ourselves, thinking for one moment ofthe goodness and majesty of the Almighty, is it probable, is itpossible, that God can suffer such things, there will be found ananswer in our own hearts, which will banish all such imaginations."
Iola mused; and Chartley, laughing at the grave subject he hadintroduced, was proceeding to change it for some lighter topic, whenthe Arab suddenly rose up from the spot where he had seated himself,and lifted up his finger as a warning to listen.
"I hear something move," he said, "and not far off. Hark! You willhear."
Even as he spoke, a strange kind of whining sound, and then a dullgroaning, came upon the air; and Chartley, starting up, exclaimed--
"This is indeed very strange."
The sounds had ceased almost instantly; but a sort of long-drawn sighseemed to follow, and then a heavy rattling fall, as if a part of thewall had rolled down.
"Whatever that is," exclaimed Chartley, "it is in the court-yard. Iwill go out and see."
"Nay, nay, I beseech you," cried Iola, clinging to his arm, "do not,dear lord, do not rush into needless danger. Let us go up to the roomsabove, and look forth from the windows there, as these are too high."
"Stay, I can reach them by the chair," said Chartley; and, placing theheavy seat underneath the window, the sill of which was a few inchesabove his eyes, he mounted upon it and looked out in silence, whileIola crept to his side, and raised her eyes towards his face. Aftergazing for a few moments, Chartley held out his hand to her,saying--"Come up hither beside me, sweet Iola, and see what is here.Be not afraid. There is no danger."
Iola gave him her hand, and, setting her light foot on the seat besidehim, rose till her eyes just came above the window sill.
Her first impulse, had she not repressed it, when she obtained a viewthrough the dim small pane into the ruinous court, would have been toutter a cry of terror and surprise; for certainly such were thesensations which she felt. The fire which she and her companion hadleft nearly extinguished had been relighted and piled up with freshwood, which was sending forth a volume of flame, higher than a man'shead; but the object which most struck the fair girl, as she gazedforth, was a dark black-looking figure, sitting between the window andthe fire, crouched up in the position often assumed by an ape, andseemingly holding its hands, to warm them at the blaze. The attire, asfar as it could be seen, which was very indistinctly, for the backbeing turned towards them was in deep shadow, appeared to be quaintand strange; and, rising straight up, though somewhat on the left sideof the head, appeared a long thin object like a horn. Chartleycontinued gazing on this apparition in silence; but one glance wasenough for Iola; and, springing down, she covered her face with herhand, saying in a low terrified voice--
"Oh, come down, come down!"