Brian Fitz-Count: A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey

by A. D. Crake

So the Empress and her train departed, and crossing the river at Culham, made for the distant hills of Synodune, across a country where the snow had obliterated nearly all the roads, and even covered the hedges and fences. So that they were forced to travel very slowly, and at times came to a "standstill."

However, they surmounted all difficulties; and travelling along the crest of the hills, where the wind had prevented the accumulation of much snow, they reached Wallingford in safety, amidst the loudest of loud rejoicings, where they were welcomed by Maude d'Oyley, Lady of Wallingford—the sister of the Lord of Oxford and wife of Brian.

How shall we relate the festivities of that night? it seems like telling an old tale: how the tables groaned with the weight of the feast, as in the old ballad of Imogene; how the minstrels and singers followed after, and none recked of the multitude of captives who already crowded the dismal dungeons beneath. Some prisoners taken in fair fight, some with less justice prisoners held to ransom, their sole crime being wealth; others from default of tribute paid to Brian, be it from ill-will or only from want of means.

But of these poor creatures the gay feasters above thought not. The contrast between the awful vaults and cells below, and the gay and lighted chambers above, was cruel, but they above recked as little as the giddy children who play in a churchyard think of the dead beneath their feet.

"My lady," said Brian, "we shall keep our Christmas yet more merrily, for on the Eve we hope to welcome thy right trusty brother of Gloucester and thy gallant son."

The mother's eyes sparkled.

"My good and trusty subject," she said, "how thou dost place me under obligations beyond my power to repay?"

"Nay, my queen, all I have is thine, for thy own and thy royal father's sake, who was to me a father indeed."

The festivities were not prolonged to a very late hour; nature must have its way, and the previous night had been a most trying one, as our readers are well aware. That night was a night of deep repose.