University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—The Castle at Tonbridge.—Leolf's Army encamped around it.
Oscar and Leolf's Seneschal.
Oscar.
I would that Wulfstan might have staid behind;
He hath the Heretoch's ear, and though he's wise
His wisdom is not for the camp; we march
As with a drag-chain.

Seneschal.
Nay, good Oscar, nay;
Further we cannot yet; the force in front
Hourly increases; our reserves are late;
And nothing comes from Wessex. Enter Wulfstan the Wise.

Worthy Sir,
Your daughter, as I hear, is married. Well,
It is a blessing if her choice be yours,
And if it be not, still the father's heart
Will give the child God-speed.

Wulfstan.
Assuredly.
I did but bid her be less mutable,
Telling her that the past, or worse or better,
If driven in her and experienced home,
Might be as piles whereon to build the future,
Else insecure. I bade her be resolved,
Her choice now planted, forth of it to bring
The fruits of constancy; for constancy
On all things works for good; the barren breeds,
The fluent stops, the fugitive is fixed
By constancy. I told you, did I not,
The story of the wind, how he himself,
The desultory wind, was wrought upon?

Oscar.
Yes, Sir; you told it twice.

[Exit Seneschal.
Wulfstan.
The tale was this:
The wind when first he rose and went abroad
Through the waste region, felt himself at fault,
Wanting a voice; and suddenly to earth
Descended with a wafture and a swoop,
Where wandering volatile from kind to kind
He wooed the several trees to give him one.
First he besought the ash; the voice she lent
Fitfully with a free and lashing change
Flung here and there its sad uncertainties:
The aspen next; a fluttered frivolous twitter
Was her sole tribute: from the willow came,
So long as dainty summer dressed her out,
A whispering sweetness, but her winter note
Was hissing, dry, and reedy: lastly the pine
Did he solicit, and from her he drew
A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep,
That there he rested, welcoming in her
A mild memorial of the ocean-cave
Where he was born.

Enter Leolf, with Emma, Ernway, and Grimbald.
Leolf.
Unhappy news! last night—
Sorely I grieve—ay, bitterly repent—
Had I been in my place—oh, weak recoil—
But it avails not.—Yesterday, my friends,
Was fruitful in events; the King was crowned,
Was married, was o'ermastered by the monks;
The Queen the while to Chester carried captive,
Earl Athulf to the Tower.

Oscar.
In one short day
All this befell?

Wulfstan.
Oh, woe-bewildered day!

Grimbald.
A shout—a hubbub in the camp—our ears
Are but fool's ears, and yet they hear a shout.

Leolf.
A welcome to some friend; as each arrives
They hail him thus, and as the force he brings
Is more or less, so measure they the cry.
This is the loudest I have heard. Look out.

Ernway.
I see no force, my Lord; and but one man,
Who hurries hitherward, and as he comes
They crowd him, and with clapping of their hands
And shouting bring him on. See!

Athulf enters hastily.
Athulf.
Oh, my friend . . .
Leolf . . . Alas! . . . What, Grimbald with you! . . . Nay,
You know it then already. Think no worse
Of us or of our fortunes than they are.
This half-faced treason will not touch the life.
Ill-starred ambition! Oh, my luckless sister!
But think her not endangered.

Leolf.
And yourself?
How came you hither? Were you not in ward?

Athulf.
The Princess with a signet of the King's,
Gold of her own, and promises and tears,
Wrought on my guards. They follow me. Oh, Leolf!
You are avenged. My sister, oh, my sister!
She is not and she could not be forgiven!
God's justice . . .

Leolf.
Athulf, say no more but this;
She stands within the keeping of God's love.
For earthly aid, 'twill reach her with such speed
As earthly love can minister. The light troops
Shall march with me to Cheshire, leaving you
With the main body of my force and those
That soon will join you, to relieve the King.
So shall I check the rising in the West,
Which we must look for else, and so provide
Against extremities and accidents
That else might hurt the Queen. They muster now
And wait me on the ramparts.

Athulf.
I am with you.

[Exeunt Leolf and Athulf.
Oscar.
These are sad tidings.

Emma.
With a frightful force
They tear Earl Athulf, for his hopes were high
And he was crowding canvas. To his friend,
Whom in a foggy grief they found becalmed,
They come but as a vivifying gust
To quicken what was dead: from this time forth
A cry is in his heart, a trumpet-call
That sounds a summons to the rescue: see
If he obey it not.

Oscar.
A settled gloom
Was in his face before.

Emma.
A seated pain
Preyed on him inwards.

Wulfstan.
Ah! that inward pain!
A lobster, should his limb . . .

Grimbald.
Ho! Holla! Ho!
The camp is all in motion. Look! Behold!
The banners fly i' the wind.

Emma.
A token this
That we are soon to march. Get we afoot.

[Exeunt Emma, Oscar, and Grimbald.
Wulfstan.
A lobster, should his limb have eating sores,
Or his articulate coat of mail be pierced,
Snaps the offending member at the joint
And casts it off—such surgery is his;
And as by instinct he, so we by art
Of amputation, easily discard
The outward seats of pain—

Emma
(from behind the scene).
Come, father, come.

Wulfstan.
The outward seats of pain—I will, my child.