 | CHAPTER THE THIRD.
THE EMBRACE OF A BROTHER. The Ladye Annabel, or, The doom of the poisoner |  |
ALDARIN, THE SCHOLAR, AND ROBIN, THE
SOLDIER.
The Signior drew back, trembling in every
limb, and pale as death. It was a moment ere he
recovered his speech, when, assuming a haughty
air, he exclaimed:
“Slave, what do you here? Is it thus you intrude
upon my privacy? Speak, sir—your excuse!”
The stout yeoman replied in his usual manner,
speaking in the Italian, but with a sharp English
accent:
“Why, most worshipful Signior, you will please
to bear in mind that for twenty long years have I
followed my lord, he who now lies cold and senseless,
to the wars. That withered arm have I
seen bearing down upon the foe in the thickest of
the fight; that sunken eye have I beheld glance
with the stern look of command. By his side
have I fought and bled; for him did I leave my
own native land—merrie, merrie England,—and
I will say, a more generous, true-hearted, and valiant
knight, never wore spurs, or broke a lance,
than my lord, the noble Count Julian Di Albarone.”
The yeoman passed the sleeve of his blue doublet
across his eyes.
“Well, sirrah,” cried the Signior, “to what
tends all this?”
“Marry, to this does it tend: that wishing to
behold that noble face yet once more, I stole silently
to this chamber, thinking to be a little
while alone with my brave lord. I did not discover
your presence, till I looked through the curtains
and saw—”
The stout Englishman suddenly stopped; there
was a curious twitch in his left eye, and a grim
smile upon his lip.
“Saw what, sirrah?” hurriedly asked the scholar
Aldarin.
“Marry, I saw thee, worshipful Signior, in the
act of embracing the Count; and such a warm,
kind, brotherly embrace as it was! By St. Withold!
it did me more good than a hundred of Father
Antonio's homilies—by my faith, it did!”
The thin visage of Aldarin became white as
snow and red as crimson by turns. Making an
effort to conceal his agitation, he replied;
“Well, well, Robin, thou art a good fellow, after
all, though, to be sure, thy manners are somewhat
rough. I tell thee, brave yeoman, I have
long had it in my mind to advance thy condition.
Follow me to the Round Room, good Robin, where
I will speak further to thee of this matter.”
“The Round Room!” murmured Robin, as he
followed the scholar Aldarin from the Red Chamber.
“Ha! 'tis the secret chamber o' th' scholar;
many, many have been seen entering its confines
—never a single man has been seen emerging
from its narrow door, save the scholar Aldarin!
I'll beware the serpent's pangs! I'll drink no
goblets o' wine, touch no food or dainty viands
while in this Round Room; or else, by St. Withold,
Rough Robin's place may be vacant in the
hall, forever and a day!”
With these thoughts traversing his mind, the
yeoman followed the scholar over the floor of the
ante-chamber, and as they entered the confines of
a gloomy corridor, a spectacle was visible, which,
to say the least, was marked by curious and singular
features.
Imagine the solemn scholar striding slowly
along the corridor with measured and gliding foot-steps,
while behind him walks Robin the Rough,
describing various eccentric figures in the air
with his clenched hands; now brandishing them
above the Signior's head, now exhibiting a remarkable
display of muscular vigor at the very
back of Aldarin; and again, making a pass with
all his strength apparently at the body of the alchymist,
but in reality at the intangible atmosphere.
These demonstrations did not appear to
give the stout yeoman much pain, for his cheeks
were very much agitated, and from his eyes were
rolling thick, large tears of laughter.
The corridor terminated in a long, dark gallery
hung with pictures colored by age, and framed in
massive oak. Traversing this gallery, they ascended
a staircase of stone, and passed along another
corridor, terminated by a winding staircase. This
the scholar and the yeoman descended, and then
came another gallery, another ascending stairway,
and then various labyrinthine passages traversed,
Rough Robin at last found himself standing side
by side with Aldarin, in front of the dark panels
of the narrow door leading into the Round Room.
This room was scarce ever visited by any living
being in the castle save Aldarin, and strange legends
concerning its mysterious secrets were current
among the servitors of Albarone.
Many had been seen entering its confines with
the Signior, but never was any one, save Aldarin,
seen to emerge from its gloomy door.
| CHAPTER THE THIRD.
THE EMBRACE OF A BROTHER. The Ladye Annabel, or, The doom of the poisoner | |