University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Castle Hall.
Fitzwalter, Countess, Margaret, Bertha, Sir Paul, and Attendants.
MARGARET.
The bed were easier.

FITZWALTER.
I will tarry here:
Bed-time is not come yet: by then, perchance,
Our beds may change their tenants.

BERTHA.
Let me slack
The mail-plates from about thy neck.

FITZWALTER.
Be gone!
I pray the best I can against impatience.
Such wounds will do no harm to aught beside—
Skin-scars and chaps which scarce yield blood enough
For health hereafter: but with you to help,
Their smarting vexes me. I will bide here.
Sir Paul, a bachelor, is so far blessed,
His wife has never seen him down and beaten.

SIR PAUL.
She might have seen me slip.

FITZWALTER.
Ay many a time;
And beaten too, as mine has done to-day.
Thou wouldst have laid the fault upon thy legs,
The best of all thy servants. Geoffrey Builth
Was more to blame than mine. Slips, verily!—
Who rescued me? (enter Soldier)
What news, Bartholomew?
And whence? speak quick!

SOLDIER.
The river gate, my lord—
Sir Michael Brace is down. I come for aid:
These cross-bow pellets rain so thick amongst us,
We scarce may look between the battlements;
And now du Chastel brings his ladders up.

COUNTESS.
Sir Michael Brace?

SOLDIER.
The while he turned to speak,
A bolt sped betwixt the shoulders.

FITZWALTER.
Run, Sir Paul,
Take every man ye meet with by the way.

SIR PAUL.
Best void the Barbican?

FITZWALTER.
Are all come in?
Then hoist the bridge.

(Enter soldiers, bearing the Seneschal.)
SENESCHAL.
Lay me down here awhile

COUNTESS.
His mail is rivetted—what, help!

SENESCHAL.
Drink! drink!
No matter for the mail—come nearer me—
I would not waste the little breath I have,
Nor carry hence a lie as toll for hell.
Mahel is Earl of Brecon—Witness this!
I saw the marriage—Baldwin keeps the pacts—
A year, or more, before his birth it was.
Give me some wine—drink! drink!

COUNTESS.
Already too much.
Ye mark, his wits are gone.

SENESCHAL.
When I upheld
Those shameful frauds they left me. Send for Ralph—
Search Baldwin for the vouchers.

FITZWALTER.
Hear him out.

SENESCHAL.
The Earl of Brecon—Mahel—witness for me.

(dies.)
FITZWALTER.
Heaven's peace and mercy be with thee!

MARGARET.
Alas!
A fearful death!

FITZWALTER.
It matters little now,
Except for truth's sake, whose the earldom is.
If lies and fraud have lent it me a month,
They were not mine—nor shall I profit by them.
Geoffrey of Builth is here to arbitrate.

COUNTESS.
I care not—better he the Earl than Mahel.
Let might and valour take their sovereignty.
The earldom was not founded by the base,
Nor for the base.

BERTHA.
That dying man spake truth!

COUNTESS.
Ay, like a dying man he did—he dared not
The while he lived. I speak it when I please.
Truth, mistress! Canst thou tell me what it is?
The craven-hearted hind they called my son
Was basely born by nature. Who regards
The time he came—whether too soon or not?
It must have been too soon, whene'er it was.
He heard his mother's honor hooted at—
His own and sister's bastardy! He stood
A patient witness in his father's hall
The while Builth called me harlot! He an Earl
Who did not dare to lift the gauntlet up?
That milk-faced page, my son? A gospeller!
If cowardice be base, he is a bastard!—
Who shame their parents must be born too soon.
Truth! Well then, truth is henceforth on my side:
Even now thou canst discern scarce half of it.
Didst hear that thirsty stammerer talk of pacts?
Of marriage vouchers? Baldwin's testimony?
They are, and have been, ready when I pleased.
While Mahel's bones are bleaching on the hills,
And Milo's head is hidden in Hereford—
I can maintain my honor here at Brecon—
Ay, here and everywhere.

(Enter Soldier.)
FITZWALTER.
What news dost bring?

SOLDIER.
Builth was upon his knee when I came in.

FITZWALTER.
His knee—to whom?

SOLDIER.
The same that freed my lord,
Has filled his place, since then, with better luck.

FITZWALTER.
Not man to man?

SOLDIER.
He seems the stouter one.

FITZWALTER.
Who is he?

SOLDIER.
He that cleared the gate of Builth—
So saved us once before to-day. He gives
The same both grace and breathing time.
Enter SIR GILES.
Stand back!
The Earl of Hereford is Earl of Brecon—
He has no more competitors. The last
Wants nothing this side heaven but room to lie in.
Even that is begged for him. Sir Philip de Breos,
Sir Humfrey Uske, Sir Reginald, Sir Hugh—
The best on both sides, join their hands ungloved,
And all are friends again. Here comes the conqueror
Sore wounded, as it seems, and in a swoon:—
But twice to-day he saved us all.

Enter Barnabas and Soldiers, bearing Mahel, followed by Father Stephen.
COUNTESS.
He is
Best soldier here on either side. Our knights
Are rescued by our grooms!

BARNABAS.
Off with his helm!
He shall not die so soon, whoe'er he is.
The bowl there, lady.

COUNTESS.
Stand thou back, Sir Knave.

BARNABAS.
I stood in front of those who rescued him.

SIR GILES.
He did so, truly. Let him loose the casque.

BARNABAS.
Nay, let the Countess loose it.

COUNTESS.
So I will.
'Tis honor for the noblest here. Give room—
Lift his head higher.

BARNABAS.
The water, Lady Bertha!
Have water ready when his face is bare:
Bring it, and hold it nearer to him, lady.
(Bertha brings a vessel of water.)
A ring upon his finger! What bodes this?
Is he a knight—or how?

(The helmet is removed.)
BERTHA.
Mahel!

COUNTESS.
My son!

BARNABAS.
Ay, lover, brother, son, but dead withal!
Cry runaway and craven in his ear:—
I did that loved him so. Wake, hollow-heart!
Out with the bastard from his father's gate!
Off, vagabond! He will not heed or hear me!

STEPHEN.
The fugitive has fled beyond disgrace!
Loud tongues have spent their outcries! He came back
To look upon the cruel once again,
And die at home.

BARNABAS.
Thrust out the vagabond!