The Truce of God Part 3

"You are not responsible, my child," rejoined her companion, "for the blind violence of a crazy woman. I am confident that the wound is not dangerous. Perhaps the accident, apparently so untoward, may in the end be productive of good. We are too apt to receive as good what should be avoided as evil, and to deem that a curse which should be considered a blessing."

The young lady made no reply, but advanced to Gilbert's bedside.

"Believe me, sir," she began with dignity but in some confusion, "that I sincerely regret the accident which has confined you here, and that I desire and will pray for your speedy recovery. You cannot suspect the house of Stramen of conniving at such a cowardly a.s.sault; they are too powerful in the field to resort to such a pitiful stratagem. Our effort shall now be to secure you from further violence."

The blood returned to Gilbert's cheek as she spoke. Feeble with pain and the loss of blood, he with difficulty replied:

"I little expected ever to receive such kindness as you have shown me from the daughter of my father's foes; but come what may, kind lady, I shall never forget your services. I feel a.s.sured that the kinsmen of her whom I address, could never be guilty of so ign.o.ble an action."

It was not without pleasure that the n.o.ble maiden heard an answer so flattering to her pride, and so earnestly p.r.o.nounced. Her cheek became brighter than Gilbert's as she bowed and left the apartment, attended by the old woman servant.

We will leave Gilbert, for the present, in the care of Father Omehr, to follow the footsteps of the fair lady of Stramen.

Margaret led the way rapidly to the border of the forest, where she had left a groom with horses. She sprang lightly upon her spirited palfrey, and exchanging a few words with the old woman, dismissed both domestics to the castle, and galloped off alone in an opposite direction. As she rode along, she was greeted with smiles and blessings by all who met her; yet she seemed to heed but little the frequent reverence and heartfelt salutation.

After proceeding about three miles, she struck into a deep, dark ravine, through which there rushed a slender stream, whose waters, seldom gladdened by a sunbeam, seemed to groan and murmur like an angry captive. The way, thickly strewn with moss-bound stones and the mouldering skeletons of trees, required all the maiden's horsemanship.

But she struggled on, until she reached something midway between a grotto and a hut, projecting from the side of the gully, and looking as though by some fantastic freak of nature it had grown there, so admirably was it in keeping with the character of the place.

From the time she had mounted her horse, the maiden's face expressed great anxiety, which increased as she alighted and entered the singular excrescence we have mentioned. A blazing pine-knot driven in the ground, shed a fierce, and flickering light over the interior of this gloomy abode, for it was an abode--and more, a home--the home of Bertha! The maniac was sitting upon a rude bench, close to the firebrand which gave a fearful l.u.s.tre to her haggard features, while with a species of exultation she gazed upon the knife stained with Gilbert's blood, still clenched in her hand.

The husband of this unfortunate woman had, about a year before, been mortally wounded in a chance affray between the partisans of the lords of Hers and Stramen. He was brought home only to die in the arms of his wife. The shock had reduced her to this miserable extremity. She could not be prevailed upon to remain in the cottage she had occupied in the hour of her joy; and though repeatedly offered a home by Father Omehr and the Baron of Stramen, she had built for herself this wild nest, and obstinately refused to leave it except to wander to the church or to the grave-yard. She was maintained by the Lady Margaret princ.i.p.ally, and by the charities of the peasantry. Up to the present time, she had been perfectly harmless, and was rather loved than feared by the children of the country. She had always manifested an extreme affection for the Lady Margaret, to whom she would sing her sweetest songs, and whose hand she would almost devour with kisses.

Margaret, though somewhat appalled at Bertha's frightful appearance, yet confiding in the power she had over her, advanced and silently sat down upon the bench. For some minutes Bertha seemed unconscious of the presence of her visitor, but suddenly removing her eyes from the knife, she bent them upon Margaret. In an instant a smile of strange sweetness stole over the poor creature's wasted face: every trace of anger disappeared as she fell upon her knees and raised the hem of the maiden's garment to her lips. Without rising she sang one of those simple ballads which even insanity could not make her forget. The lady of Stramen patiently permitted her to proceed without interruption. But the moment her strange companion was silent, she minted to the knife, exclaiming:

"Is this blood, Bertha?"

Still kneeling, the woman began:

The chieftain swore on bended knee, That blood for blood should flow-- Then leaped upon his coal-black steed, And spurred against the foe.

"Has anyone hurt you?" continued Margaret.

But Bertha only replied:

Sir Arthur swung his falchion keen-- The serf implored in vain;-- The knight is galloping away-- The serf lies on the plain!

"Bertha! Bertha! this is wrong: I hope you have committed no violence?"

But the answer, as before, was given in rude, indefinite verse.

It may be unnecessary to say that the object of the lady's visit was to discover if the knife had been poisoned. Finding that all question would be useless, she had recourse to an artifice to effect her purpose, suggested by the discovery of a splinter buried in Bertha's thumb.

"Let me remove this--it must give you pain," she said, examining the hand she had taken in hers, and reaching after the knife. Bertha pa.s.sively resigned the weapon, but rapidly withdrew her hand, just as her mistress feigned to prepare for the incision. Margaret shuddered, for she naturally saw in that quick gesture a confirmation of her worst fears. For some moments they gazed at each other in mute anxiety. Bertha was the first to break the silence, and her words revived a gleam of hope in the bosom of her companion.

"No! no!" she exclaimed, slowly and sternly, "his blood must not mix with mine!"

"Is there poison here?" pursued the lady, in a low searching tone.

She received in reply:

There was no poison on the steel That robbed Sir James of breath; There was no poison on the blade That well avenged his death.

Greatly relieved, but still unsatisfied, the high-born damsel sprang to her feet.

"It is the blood of Hers!" she cried, exultingly.

The maniac's face a.s.sumed a look of savage triumph.

"Then will I keep this blood-stained instrument as a precious jewel.

Farewell, Bertha; you shall hear from me soon."

She pa.s.sed rapidly through the narrow aperture by which she had entered, leaving Bertha in blank amazement, utterly unable to comprehend what had pa.s.sed.

Emerging from the dark ravine, the Lady Margaret rode straight toward the old castle of Stramen, whose gray towers retained their sombre majesty, which the merry sun could not entirely dispel. It was not long before she pa.s.sed the drawbridge, sped through the ma.s.sive gate, and reined in her palfrey upon the ample terrace; when, having thrown her bridle to an attendant, she proceeded at once to her chamber, and summoned Linda, the old domestic, to her side.

"You are skilled in such matters, Linda," she said, producing the knife, before the faithful neif had finished her salutation; "is there poison on this blade?"

Linda took the knife, and having examined it attentively, returned it to her mistress; after which she left the room, making a signal that she would soon return. After the lapse of a few minutes, she reappeared with a vessel of boiling water, which she placed upon a marble slab. Then taking from her pocket a piece of polished silver, and at the same time receiving the knife, she plunged them both into the hissing liquid. As the lady of Stramen, eagerly watching the experiment, stood bending over the water with her back to the door, she was not aware of her father's presence. He had entered unperceived, and was contemplating in some surprise the mysterious operation going on before him. He could scarce repress a laugh, for there was something ludicrous in Linda's very wise and consequential manner, as she knelt over the kettle, while his daughter, equally absorbed, her hat yet untied, continued in an att.i.tude of profound attention beside her.

When the water had cooled, the old woman with a trembling hand drew out the silver--it was bright as ever!

"It is venomless as the bill of the turtle-dove," she exclaimed, with the importance of an oracle, looking up at her mistress.

"May I ask the meaning of all this, without being referred to the prince of magic for an answer?" said the Baron of Stramen, stepping forward; and he added, addressing Linda, who in her surprise had nearly overturned the vessel: "Do you wish to be hung for a witch?"

The old woman slunk terrified into a corner, but Margaret hastily replied:

"You are already informed, sir, of the violation of the truce of G.o.d, which occurred this morning. Our magic consisted only in the discovery that there was no poison upon the knife which inflicted the wound."

"I cannot but think," rejoined her father, "that you have displayed an unnecessary interest about the result. That young stripling has cost me more lives than he numbers years; and though I could not connive at Bertha's attempt to a.s.sa.s.sinate, I certainly do not see much reason to rejoice at his escape."

It may have been that Margaret quailed a little beneath her father's rigid scrutiny, but without embarra.s.sment she returned:

"If I had been born and bred to arms, if my breast were accustomed to the coat of mail, if my hand could wield the battle-axe, I might anxiously crave, or coldly behold the murder of a foe confiding in our generosity and in our plighted faith to the Church; but I have never worn the gauntlet, or drawn the sword; my heart has never exulted at the gladsome sight of an enemy's blood, and I scorn to ascribe the interest I may have shown, to a wish of having the sweet a.s.surance that a scion of Hers would perish like a dog, when in reality I hoped to find the weapon venomless."

"Spoken like a woman, as you are," muttered the knight. "I would have you feel otherwise, but G.o.d has given you your s.e.x; I cannot change its nature."

The Baron of Stramen was a tall, powerful man, whose vigor fifty years had not impaired. His face was stern, though not repulsive, and free from any approach to vulgarity. A man of strong pa.s.sions, yet the strongest of all was an unvarying love for his daughter, on whom seemed to have centered all the tenderness of which he was capable. On the present occasion, he put an end to further controversy by drawing Margaret to his side, and giving her an exquisitely wrought head of Gregory VII.

"Treasure it, my child," he said, "it is the faithful likeness of a wonderful man--a man who may one day, with a few stout hearts to second his energy, chastise the impious tyranny of the house of Franconia!" He spoke with deep feeling, and, after pacing the room, with his arms folded upon his broad breast, abruptly stalked through the door, apparently absorbed in some momentous question.

No sooner had he gone, than Margaret turned to Linda, who still occupied the corner, and dismissed her with a message to Father Omehr. When alone, she knelt down before an ivory image of the Blessed Virgin and prayed--not to the polished ivory--but to the Mother of purity whose intercession it suggested, with a fervency and constancy which only they venture to ridicule who cannot record the virtues of Mary without a sneer.

Though not apprehensive, Father Omehr was pleased to learn from Linda that the knife had not been poisoned. Gilbert's eye brightened at the intelligence, though he had not given utterance to his fears--_fears_ they were--for even the young and brave recoil in terror from death, when it a.s.sumes a form and hovers near in a detested shape. Having informed the youth that a messenger had been despatched to his father, the priest left Gilbert in charge of the sacristan, and proceeded on his daily errand of mercy through the neighborhood. By men like him, fervent, fearless, faithful, the rude Northern hordes were induced to abandon their idolatry, and embrace the faith of the Church of Rome.

These n.o.ble missionaries slowly but surely prepared the canvas on which were afterward laid, in colors of enduring brightness, the features of Christian civilization.

When Father Omehr returned, Gilbert was asleep. The sacristan put in his hands a letter from a distinguished prelate, informing him of the nomination of Henry, canon of Verdun, by Henry IV.

"O G.o.d, protect Thy holy Church!" exclaimed the missionary, crushing the paper in his excitement. "If the ministers of G.o.d become the creatures of the king, despotism and irreligion must inevitably ensue. How long will virtue be accounted a crime? Shall every faithful shepherd be supplanted, to make room for the wolf of lay invest.i.ture, the instrument of a l.u.s.tful tyrant, raised by simony, and upheld by royal favor?"