It was a night of wildering snow, dark and gloomy. The soft, dry, powdery material found its way in at each crevice, and the wind made the tapestry, which hung on the walls of the presence chamber of the "Lady Maude," oscillate to and fro with each blast.
Robert d'Oyley was alone in deep consultation with his royal mistress.
"Then if I can escape, thou wilt surrender?"
"Nought else is to be done; we are starving."
"They will burn the castle."
"There is little to burn, and I hardly think they will attempt that: it will be useful to them, when in their hands."
"It is near the midnight hour: the attempt must be made. Now summon young Alain and my faithful knights."
They entered at the summons, each clothed in fine mail, with a white tunic above it. The Empress bid adieu to her handmaidens, who had clad her in a thick white cloak to match: they wept and wailed, but she gently chid them—
"We have suffered worse things: the coffin and hearse in which we left Devizes was more ghastly; and God will give an end to these troubles also: fear not, we are prepared to go through with it."
A small door was opened in the thickness of the wall; it led to the roof, over a lower portion of the buildings beneath the shadow of the tower; and the knights, with Alain and their lady, stood on the snow-covered summit.