Richard watched till dawn. Sometimes he started up to walk to and fro, beating his bosom, and wringing his hands in agony. Anon he threw himself prostrate in the stupor of despair. At the first carol of birds in the forest, sleep surprised his weary senses, and the peace of the innocent settled upon his features.
Side by side lay the brothers, alike in form, alike even in feature. But in heart they bore no mark of the resemblance of kindred. Envy of the elder-born early possessed the soul of Robert, like a base fiend; first had it driven thence love, and lastly honor.
Does no one seek for the absent lord of the castle, while the weary hunters return to be his guests? Keeps no one anxious vigil, the live-long night? The unloving is not loved. But he hath a king beneath his roof; a king and lords of high degree sit at the morning board, and shall none but vassals be hospitably proud and busy?
Ladies of rank were there, and among them, pale and silent, sat Bertha, looking on the king, it seemed, with an upbraiding eye. An angry gloom sat upon his grimly compressed lips, and sadness was upon his brow; for kingly power was naught, since remorse could not undo a wrong done to one who no longer lived, and vengeance could not reach its absent object. Richard's innocence had come to light, and Robert, albeit he knew it not, was now the dishonored outlaw.
Ere the clock of the distant minster rung the hour of ten, the royal cavalcade wound from the gates of the castle. At the same hour Count Robert awoke, and saw that the sun was already very high. It shone upon the calm face of Richard, tempered with quivering shadows from the leafy canopy above.
"Up, brother Richard!" cried the Count; "thou wast ever a sluggard." And Richard, at his bidding, filled his hunting-pouch with provisions for the way, and went before, leading the little Northern nag, which the Count bestrode. He bore himself bravely under the weight of a rider whose feet nearly grazed the turf on each side.
Slowly they wound through the tangled wood. "Stay, I will lighten thy burden for thee," said Robert, "if thou hast not left the bottle behind. Here's to the fair Bertha. What, thou wilt not drink? Then thou hast resigned her;—she is not worth a thought. Thou wilt not peril thy life to see her again, the false one who careth not for thee. Now depart, and when the king's wrath is overpast, I will beseech him for thee. Leave thy cause in a brother's hands." But Richard went not back, though, when they came to the edge of the wood, they beheld the king's train advancing in the broad highway.
"Fly, Richard; escape while thou mayest!" cried Robert, yet offered he not the horse for the greater speed. "Found on English ground, thou diest a felon's death. Disgrace not thy family. Carest thou not for life?" he cried, pursuing Richard, who stinted not, nor stayed, at the sight of the king, but the rather hasted forward.
"What is life to me?" said Richard. "Let the king do with me as he will." He strode onward proudly, with folded arms, offering himself to the view of Edward, who as yet saw him not, or only as a forester.
"Halt at least that I may spur on and implore for thee," said Robert, for he hoped that he might deliver him a prisoner to some one in attendance, that he should not come to speech of the king.