Mary of Burgundy; or, The Revolt of Ghent

by G. P. R. James

The storm had, nevertheless, abated considerably already. The rain, it is true, continued to pour down in torrents, and an occasional flash of lightning still broke across the sky; but it was dim, as if half extinguished by the deluge through which it glared. The thunder followed, too, at a longer interval; and each succeeding flash was at a greater and a greater lapse of time from the one that preceded it.

Thus about an hour and a half passed away, during which the different members of the falconing party amused themselves as they best might; the groom talking with the falconers about the gallant horses they had tied at the top of the hill, lamenting the fright and drenching they must have been exposed to, and expressing some apprehension that the good gentleman in green, who had hurried them away so fast from the chapel, might take advantage of their absence to carry off their good horses, the worst of which, he declared, was worth fifty golden crowns of Florence at the lowest computation. The falconers, on the other hand, who had taken care to bring away their birds with them, busied themselves actively in providing for the comfort of their hawks; and each administered to the falcon under his special charge a small ball of choice medicaments, extracted from a pouch that every one carried by his side, in order to guard the stomachs of those noble fowls from any evil as a consequence of the storm.

The old gentleman, who might be considered--what we should call in the present day--the chaperon of the party, stood by the side of the princess, and addressed to her, from time to time, with sweet unmeaning smiles and courtly language, a variety of easy flowing sentences, very pleasant and harmonious, but signifying nothing. Alice, on her part, generally remained silent and thoughtful, though seemingly a little agitated, and perhaps, not displeased, at the probability of revisiting the castle of Hannut. Sometimes she would sit at the side of the princess, and talk to her, with all the light gaiety of her character; but at others, she would fall into long pauses of deep and silent thought; or would stand at the mouth of the cave, and watch the diminishing rain and the storm as it passed away. Every minute it decreased in some degree; and even the poor girl who had fallen from her horse, and who was clearly the most timid of the whole party, began to look up, and to venture an occasional word to those around her.

At length, when the day was somewhat far advanced, a low whistle was heard at a considerable distance, was taken up by some one nearer, and then repeated from more than twenty places in the wood, till at last it sounded close by the cave. All then relapsed into profound silence; but at the end of about ten minutes more, a distant trampling sound was heard; and, on looking forth from the mouth of the cave, Alice perceived, winding up from the extreme of the valley, a gay cavalcade, consisting of a couple of horse litters, escorted by about twenty spearmen on horseback, bearing the colours of the Lord of Hannut.

CHAPTER XVII.

The sight of the approaching party was very acceptable to every one of the persons in the cave, who were not a little tired of their situation, after having waited for nearly two hours, watching the dying away of a thunder-storm, which, even then, left no better prospect than that the hard leaden clouds which had poured forth the lightning would soften into the showery haze of an unsettled autumn night.

The troop, however, seemed to approach but slowly; every now and then pausing and looking round the valley, as if doubtful of the exact place to which their steps should be directed. At length, Alice took an impatient step out into the shower, and was followed by one of the falconers; who soon attracted the notice of the horsemen by one of the long and peculiar whoops practised in his vocation. The moment after, a young cavalier, habited in the furs and embroideries which designated a man of noble rank in the county of Flanders, dashed forward from the rest; and the next instant Hugh de Mortmar was by the side of his fair Alice.

A few words of explanation sufficed. A strange horseman, he said, whom the warder described as bearing the appearance of one of the free companions who infested the country, had given notice at the barbacan of the castle, that the Princess Mary and her train were storm-stayed in that valley which in the forest bore the name of "The Valley of the Marsh;" and that, of course, he had instantly set out to render service and assistance.

The young gentleman then, with deep respect, tendered his aid to the princess. Mary and her attendants were soon placed in the litters, or mounted on the spare horses; and, as it was too late to think of returning to Tirlemont, the whole party wound onward towards the castle of Hannut. At the earnest request of the chief groom, however, as the road by the chapel was not longer than that by which the young noble had come, it was preferred in returning to the castle, in order to relieve the horses which had been left tied in the neighbourhood; and, choosing a longer but easier ascent than that which had been trod so rapidly by the Vert Gallant some hours before, the princess was soon once more on the spot from which she had been carried in the thunder-storm.

The scene that she there beheld was not a little awful. Three of the walls of the chapel, indeed, remained, but that was all; and the time-dried wood-work which had supported the tall conical roof, now lay on what had once been the floor, still blackened and smouldering, though the fire which had been kindled by the lightning was well nigh extinguished by the subsequent rain. The chapel itself, however, though it showed how terrible her own fate might have been, was not, perhaps, the most fearful object that the spot presented. The tall, majestic tree which had stood alone, a few yards in advance of the building, was rent to the very ground; and, amidst the shivered boughs and the yellow leaves with which they were covered, lay motionless the beautiful horse that had been tied there, with its strong and energetic limbs, but a few hours before full of wild life and noble fire, now cold and stiff; the wide expansive nostril, small and collapsed, the clear eye, dim and leaden, and the proud head cast powerless down the bank. There are few things show so substantially the mighty and awful power of death as to see a noble horse killed by some sudden accident. The moment before, it stands at the sublimest point of animal existence--as if the living principle were yielded to it in a greater share than to any other thing--and the next it is shapeless carrion.