“Alas! my Lord, why put such questions to me,” said Eleanor imploringly, “unless, as I would fain hope, thou dost but jest?”
“Do I speak jest, Gourdon?” said Edward, regarding Adam with a lion-like glance.
“’Tis all true,” growled Adam.
“And,” proceeded the Prince, “if thy gentle lips refuse to utter the doom merited by such deeds, what wilt thou say to hear that, not content with these traitorous deeds of his own, he fosters the treason of others? Here stands a young rebel, who would have perished at Evesham, but for the care and protection of this Gourdon—who healed his wounds, guarded him, robbed for him, for him spurned the offer of amnesty, and finally, set on thine own husband in Alton Wood—all to shelter yonder young traitor from the hands of justice! Speak the sentence he merits, most just of judges!”
“The sentence he merits?” said Eleanor, with swimming eyes. “Oh! would that I were indeed monarch, to dispense life or death! What he merits he shall have, from my whole heart—mine own poor esteem for his fidelity, and our joint entreaties to the King for his pardon! Brave man—thou shalt come with me to seek thy pardon from King Henry!”
“Thanks, Lady,” said Adam with rude courtesy; “but it were better to seek my young lord’s.”
“My own dear young cousin!” exclaimed Eleanor, laying aside her assumed judicial power, and again holding out her hands to him, “we deemed you slain!”
“Yes, come hither,” said Edward, “my jailer at Hereford—the rebel who drew his maiden sword against his King and uncle—the outlaw who would try whether Leicester fits as well as Huntingdon with a bandit life! What hast thou to say for thyself, Richard de Montfort?”
“That my fate, be it what it may, must not stand in the way of Adam’s pardon!” said Richard, standing still, without response to the Princess’s invitation. “My Lord, you have spoken much of his noble devotion to me for my father’s sake; but you know not the half of what he has done and dared for me. Oh! plead for him, Lady!”
“Plead for him!” said Eleanor: “that will I do with all my heart; and well do I know that the good old King will weep with gratitude to him for having preserved the life of his young nephew. Yes, Richard, oft have we grieved for thee, my husband’s kind young companion in his captivity, and mourned that no tidings could be gained of thee!”