University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

The Lords in Council.
FIRST LORD.
Methinks the holy abbot tarries long.

SECOND LORD.
King Cenulph loves his son. It were not easy,
Perchance, to bring him to the point we wish.

ALWYN
(eagerly).
King Cenulph was the father of his people!
Then how much more the father of his child!
Ere Baldred practised on declining age
To sow dissension—

THIRD LORD.
Hark! I heard their steps.

Cenulph enters with Baldred. They all rise. He takes his seat with due ceremony.
CENULPH.
Have ye, my lords, each several charge prepared
Against this woman? that she may appear,
And answer for her crime?

MORDRED.
We have, my liege.

CENULPH.
We do not wish that she be hardly dealt with,
Nor would we pluck up by the roots a flower
Our son has sometime foster'd with fond care,
But rather place it, rich in blooming sweets,
An offering on the shrine of public good.
[The lords bow assent.
Bring in the prisoner!
[Ina is brought in, guarded.
Holy abbot, speak!

BALDRED.
Daughter of Sigiswold, thou art summon'd hither,
To answer to high charges brought against thee!
Thou hast, by subtle and unlawful arts,
Wrought on the royal heir of Wessex' throne,
And drawn him from his true allegiance;
That he hath broke the faith the king, his father,
Had pledged for him, and thereby brought on us
A bloody war, and on the throne dishonour.

CENULPH.
Speak, Ina, nor dissemble; thy confession
May win stern justice to commit thy cause
To mercy's hands. Say, was't by flatteries,
By honied words thou didst so far prevail?

INA.
My king, my royal master! ever gracious!
Thanks for thy gentler speech, that gives me time
To wake and rouse my senses to these horrors,
So new, so strange, around me, conjured up
To terrify my weakness!—
[A pause.
My confession,
And my defence, are one. On simple truth
I rest. For my good father's services,
Most honour'd Cenulph, and his happy death
(For that he held it happy his last words,
As ye all know, declared), I was advanced
To attend your late loved consort. In her presence
I often saw the prince, but practised nought
Of what ye charge me with. I am not skill'd
In arts unhallow'd, lords, nor even practised
The arts less blamed of courtesy and smiles.
Nay, when through all the realm one voice was heard
Of gratulation on his martial deeds,
Oh! when the widow's tears were dried to bless him!
When age shook off its weight of years for joy!
And children gambol'd round his homeward steps,
While checking his proud steed he smil'd upon them!
And when his boundless heart to all went forth,
To age with filial love! to glowing youth
With all a brother's warmth! To the fall'n foe
With sadden'd grace, as though he blush'd at conquest!
I still was silent—though sweet tears would gush
To hear his praises from a nation's lips!

[She appears overcome.
ALWYN.
It was a glorious triumph for a prince
So young in war's dread lore!

BALDRED.
Such deeds more justly
Had in a simple maid raised distant awe,
Not the ambitious thought to match with him.

INA.
Still was I happy in my secret homage,
(To blame alone in that it border'd much
On what were due to Heaven) nor knew a wish
Beyond what each ensuing hour now gave,
To see him, hear him, and retain each word
His gracious lips let fall; when, on a day,
(How fortunate esteem'd till now!) the queen,
For some slight instance of my duteous care—
The prince assisting—said, “My children, thanks!”
I met Prince Egbert's glance—it bore my fate!
Confused, I hasten'd from the royal chamber.
He follow'd me, and pour'd forth all his soul!
For in those words he read the queen's consent;
Nor did I otherwise interpret them,
Who had no power to think but as he thought.
You, royal Cenulph, then were on the borders,
To treat with Ethelbald. When you return'd
With Mercia's princess—I was Egbert's wife.

CENULPH.
Thy father's services are not forgotten,
With which thou artfully dost usher in
Thy tale of innocence. Although thy deed
In any other were as treason censured,
The worth of Sigiswold shall gloss it over,
And I will pardon thee, if thou retire
Within the walls of some far monastery,
And take the holy vows that sever thee
For ever from the world and all its ties.
This, by thy free consent, and presently!
Declaring void th' unsanction'd marriage.

INA.
King!
I am a wife, and mother of a prince,
Who must not blush, in riper years, to hear
His mother's name.

BALDRED.
Dost thou, perverse and thankless,
Turn from the outstretch'd hand of royal mercy?
The law to death has doom'd thee. But the king
Would snatch thee from thy fate, and we, his council,
Applaud his deed; while thou, ungrateful woman!—

INA.
My lords, the sentence you declare as law
I cannot have incurr'd. The prince is free:
He is a man, and has the privilege
Ye none of you would yield, to choose his mate!
But if the claims of state demand my death,
I, for my country's weal, can lay my head,
Calmly as any of ye, on the block.
A death so glorious, by my countrymen
With grateful tears acknowledged, will not stain
The name of her who bore your future king.

BALDRED.
Consider well. Delay is not allow'd.
To-morrow, or the scaffold or the cloister!

INA
(with terror).
And must I then, my lords, prepare for death?
Nor see my husband—more?

BALDRED.
Thou never wilt see him thou hast named thus,
Which e'er thou choose.
[Seeing her overcome.
Think of that tender frame,
Moved thus by ills, as yet but faintly imaged!
Oh! how will it sustain the real horrors
Of infamous and public execution?
While the outrageous populace throng round thee
With curses loud, or haply, coarser pity?
I marvel not to see thee shrink appall'd!
Yes, shroud thy timid softness in the cloister,
Where sister saints shall fold thee to their bosoms,
From the rough world and all its ills secure.

INA.
Mock not, my lord, what nature's various hand
Stampt on the weaker sex to set off yours!
The finer texture of our nerves will thrill
At horrid sounds: the changeful cheek will blanch,
Though not with fear; or glow with crimson hue,
Though not a thought less pure have stain'd the mind:
And, though I tremble, lords, nor can support me—
Nor can distinctly mark this awful presence
(For in amazement swims my troubled vision);
Yet does this frame, so fragile, bear a soul
More constant than ye think, where youthful pride
Both knows to make the choice which virtue prompts,
And by that choice abide. 'Tis death, my lords;
Dishonour never!

BALDRED.
Thou wilt think otherwise;
Thou art not firm to meet the law's full rigour.

INA.
Baldred, I am! If what thou say'st be law:
I must live honour'd as Prince Egbert's wife,
Or must not live: and, when ye shed my blood,
Remember, 'tis Prince Egbert's wife ye murder.
May I retire, my liege, and wait my sentence?

CENULPH.
Attend her hence, Lord Oswald. Ina, mark,
'Tis thou who hast rejected offer'd mercy.
[Exit Ina.
Alwyn, thou see'st how vain it is to strive
Against her firm resolve.

ALWYN.
Most firm, my liege,
In honour's mid-day course. I thought no less
Of one, though of the weaker sex, and gentlest
Ev'n of the gentle—sprung of Sigiswold!

BALDRED.
Alwyn would say, the father's loyalty
Sanctions the offspring's treason.

CENULPH
(to the lords, rising).
In your hands
I leave my seal: affix it to the sentence
Your steadier judgment prompts.

[Exit.
OSWALD.
Harsh the decree, howe'er expedient, lords;
And pregnant too with danger that ye mark not.
Prince Egbert holds the soldiers' hearts, and may
Be driven to extremes. Though justice doom her,
And the public safety, yet remorseful
Be the stroke; nor chains, nor loathsome dungeons
Add gloomier terrors to untimely fate!
Be her own house her only prison, lords;
And though ye place a trusty guard around it,
Let her not be control'd in aught, save what
Might furnish means to escape:—this mercy asks.

LORDS.
And justice yields.—No one objects to this.

BALDRED.
The impending danger, nay, the sure destruction
Of this ill-fated land, if we avert not
The sword of war, and this the only means,
Have been well weigh'd before. Alas! my friends,
The public danger suffers not delay.
The child must die with her, or nought is done.
Are we not all agreed?

ALWYN.
No. I, my lords!
I dare protest against the bloody sentence!

BALDRED.
Alwyn, beware! 'Tis well known thou hast been
Base pandar to Prince Egbert's worst excesses.
What by my holy office I declare
To be most just—most necessary—thou,
Bold as thou art, wilt thou, at thy life's hazard,
Vainly oppose? I do take shame, my lords,
That this man's taunts should thus have moved my temper;
I who have thrown aside the ruthless sword
To bear the pastor's crook! who did forego
The pride and pomp of war—the shout of triumph,
For humble beads, and the low voice of prayer!
Would I, my friends, would I have doom'd this lamb,
Pride of my flock! but for the good of all?

SECOND LORD.
None doubt your pious motives, holy Baldred.

BALDRED.
In the fair cause of peace, 'tis Heaven's decree.

ALWYN.
I tell thee, proud remorseless priest—that Heaven,
Thou would'st make 'complice of thy cruelty,
Will baffle thee. Yes—the red bolt of vengeance
Will find the guilty head beneath the cowl,
As surely as the bare and houseless ruffian's,
Who spoils the nightly traveller!—nor waits
The swifter fire till tardy thunders warn!

[Exit.
[The scene closes on them as they are signing her sentence.