SCENE 3. _Within the castle. Stephen, Baldur, Godric, and other

soldiers talking and drinking._

_Ste._ [_Draining his glass_] As good liquor as ever wet an oath since Noah was a vintner.

_Bal._ Vintner? An you put him in the trade the bishop will have you up for it.

_Ste._ A groat for your bishop, and that off your grandam's eyes! I'm no little king Henry pulled to mincemeat by his bishops and barons. "I'll take off your mitre," roars he to his bishop. "An you take off my mitre, I'll clap on a helmet, by the lord," says my bishop. "I'll have your castle!" shouts he to his baron. "An you take my castle, I'll give you London tower," says master baron. Ay, and he would, with the keeper thrown in.

_Bal._ And you too, if you bite not a bit from your tongue.

_Ste._ By the mass, I'll drink the king's ale, and I'll take the king's money, but I'll fight for none but Hubert de Burgh!

_God._ And he for the king--so you.

_Ste._ I care not how you make it. De Burgh is my master. I'll fight for him and with him and after him, but I'll wear a red sword for no bishop or baron or little king Harry in Christendom!

_Bal._ That may be so with more of us than you, but stop your mouth with good ale and let words alone.

_Ste._ And I'll go with him to the French court and pull Louis off the king's stool!

[_Sings_]

Hear, boys, hear! O, hear our captain call! We'll away, boys, away! For the love o' the sword and the love o' the money, We'll on to the wars, my brave fellows all, An they take our Jack they will leave our Johnny. Away, boys, away!

[_Enter Hubert and Roland_]

_Hub._ What cheer, my men? A fair morning for brave hearts. Can you keep this castle for me till I've had a bout at sea?

_A soldier._ That we can, sir!

_Ste._ I'll go with you, sir, by your leave. The castle will wait for us, I give you my word, sir.

_Hub._ You have seen the bottom of your glass too often to-night, Stephen.

_Ste._ God bless you, sir, there's where a soldier keeps his oath to serve God and his country, and he can't look it over too often. Take me wi' you, sir, and I'll prove you who lifts his glass the highest will wave his sword the longest. [_Kneels_] I was your father's soldier, sir, and hope to die yours.

_Hub._ Nay, I must leave trusty souls behind me. Let those who love me least fight under my eye, but I'll trust nay good Stephen around the world.

_Ste._ [_Rising_] Ay, sir! Rain arrows, hail bullets, we'll keep the castle against all weather!

_Hub._ [_Presenting Roland_] Then here's your brave captain. Follow him now, and farewell, good fellows--farewell, all!

[_Soldiers start out slowly, following Roland_]

_An old soldier._ [_Turning_] But you'll come again, sir?

_Another._ Ay, we'll see you back?

_Another._ An you come or come not, I kiss my sword to you, Hubert de Burgh, the bravest knight in all England!

_Hub._ Why, my hearts, would you start the liquor in my eyes? I go where there's brine enough. Twelve hours' sail with fortune will bring me back--but if I come not, remember your king!

[_Exeunt soldiers_]

They know 'tis death--they know 'tis death. And what Is that? We are all guests in God's great house, The Universe, and Death is but his page To show us to the chamber where we sleep. What though the bed be dust, to wake is sure; Not birds but angels flutter at the eaves And call us, singing.

[_Enter Gersa_]

Gersa, what success?

_Ger._ The bags are all aboard, sir.

_Hub._ And portioned to every vessel?

_Ger._ Ay, sir.

_Hub._ Well despatched?

_Ger._ The men heaved as though the sacks held all the pope's treasury and they were to take their pay out of it.

_Hub._ Yet they found the contents not so heavy as gold, I hope.

_Ger._ Nor so light as feathers, sir.

_Hub._ But I pray they'll fly as well, and more to the purpose. Aboard with you now. I'll not be long behind you.

[_Exit Gersa_]

If this, my careful stratagem, should fail, God help the friendless boy on England's throne! Now Pembroke's noble strength must e'en to coffin; And Isabel across the sea cares not, But happier in a gentler husband's love Takes little thought of John of England's heir, Who has his father's beauty, not his heart,-- Just so much of that proud and guilty blood As makes him kingly nor corrupts his own. ... But, come, my soul! Prepare thee for a world Of rarer breath, lest thou too rudely go To th' high conclave of spirits. Father?

[_Enter friar Sebastian_]

_Fr. Seb._ Son, Art ready for the sacrament?

_Hub._ I lack A prayer of thine to make me so. Give me Such blessing as you'd lay upon me were Death couchant for my heart, and on my brow Drop thou the holy unguent that doth fit The body for the last touch of the soul.

_Fr. Seb._ My love is to thy mortal frailty bound, And first I'll bless thee as an earthly father, Praying that thou mayst smite thine enemies.

[_Re-enter Roland_]

_Rol_ Your pardon, Hubert. Lady Albemarle Is here, and begs for instant sight of you.

_Hub._ My sister? I will see her. [_Exit Roland_] Wait you, father. The world must still intrude on Heaven's affairs.

[_Exit friar through large folding doors rear as lady Albemarle enters left_]

_La. Alb._ Brother! Is Glaia here?

_Hub._ She is. But why This eagerness?

_La. Alb._ My lord says that you go To meet the French. Is 't true?

_Hub._ In one hour's time I count myself at sea.

_La. Alb._ Then what--O, where Shall I hide Glaia?

_Hub._ Hide? Is 't evermore hide That spotless maid, born but to be a star To human eyes?

_La. Alb._ Nay, born to be my shame, And constant, killing fear!

_Hub._ She will be safe. Roland de Born, who now will guard this castle, Holds Glaia as the heart in his own body. Ay, she is safe,--but if the danger nears, She'll be conducted back to Greenot woods----

_La. Alb._ Roland de Born? What knows he?

_Hub._ Only this, That Glaia, weary of skies, rests foot on earth.

_La. Alb._ He does not love her, Hubert? Say not that!

_Hub._ Thy daughter is so honored.

_La. Alb._ No!

_Hub._ She has His noble love, and he my happy wish That he may make her wife.

_La. Alb._ Then thou art false, And I look on my grave.

_Hub._ What, Eleanor?

_La. Alb._ You know my place, and how I queen the court, A virtuous mark that lords point out to wives, Bidding them walk as Albemarle's good dame. Now let me take my seat on the lowest step, And none too humble to mock me going up.

_Hub._ What's this to do with Roland's love for Glaia?

_La. Alb._ O, let them scorn! Tis nothing! But my husband-- Brother, I never dreamed thy cruelty Would give me to his vengeance.

_Hub._ Cruelty?

_La. Alb._ O, see me at his feet--bleeding and broken----

_Hub._ Not while I wear a sword! But how have I Disturbed thee? What have said? I've threshed my words, But find no devil in them.

_La. Alb._ O, this Roland, If he wive Glaia must ferret out my shame-- Pry her life ope--who is she?--whence she came?-- Till all my secret blushes 'fore his eye.

_Hub._ Though he learn all, thy honor in his breast Is safe as gem that at earth's centre burns.

_La. Alb._ Nay, I'll not live! You know not Albemarle! He'll scourge me through the court in rags to match My tattered virtue,--then the rack--fire--screws-- The Scotch boot--O, the world's not dear enough To purchase so. I will not live!

_Hub._ I swear That Roland cares so much for Glaia's birth As to be glad she's born. And at my word He will receive her questionless and dumb, Nor ever doubt, or weigh his promised faith.

_La. Alb._ Why, is there such a man in all the world?

_Hub._ He sees her as one looks upon a rose, And thinks not of the mould that bore it, or what The tale that dews and winds could tell.

_La. Alb._ 'Tis strange.

_Hub._ As strange as truth.

_La. Alb._ I must--I do believe you.

_Hub._ And bless his suit?

_La. Alb._ Ay, let him wed her straight. What waits he for? Let her be lost in him, This rare, this unmatched wonder of a man, And I will cast this shadow from my life, Heave off the weight that seventeen years I've borne, And walk the lighter, for I've known what 'tis To step high 'neath a load. O, let them wed As soon as may be, Hubert. Why not now?

_Hub._ He waits to win her heart.

_La. Alb._ Cares he for that? You can command her, Hubert.

_Hub._ But will not. She is a plant of Nature's tenderest love, And must be won to bloom by softest airs, Else shall we risk the gentle life and see No buds unfold.

_La. Alb._ I understand her not, Nor try. She is a part of strangest days, That like to burning dreams bewilder as They scar the recollection. She's more kin To those strange creatures of the wood that peeped About my shelter when she lay a babe Than to my blood. Yet she is mine--my daughter.

_Hub._ Wilt you not see her?

_La. Alb._ No.

_Hub._ You will find her up.

_La. Alb._ Why should I see her? Give a stranger's kiss, And hear her stiffly say "Your ladyship"? If she would love me!

_Hub._ Do not weep.

_La. Alb._ You think I do not suffer.

_Hub._ I've no wish to think so.

_La. Alb._ I'm nearly mad at times! But I must go.

_Hub._ [_Hesitating_] How is--the princess?

_La. Alb._ Margaret? O, well, But every day more full of starts and whims. Last night the king was with us----

_Hub._ Ah, the king?

_La. Alb._ She gave him stinted welcome. Then my lord Came in with news of the advancing fleet, And danger to the throne, concluding with Your aim to put to sea, and at that point She swooned quite prettily and pleased the king.

_Hub._ She swooned?

_La. Alb._ Most properly, the king being by To know it was for him.

_Hub._ O--ay, for him!

_La. Alb._ Who else? I hope they'll soon be wed.

_Hub._ Be wed? Henry is young.

_La. Alb._ But old enough being king. And Albemarle is pressing for the marriage. 'Tis now ten years since Margaret came from Scotland To be his charge. A pretty child--do you Remember? But now grown from beauty, pale And fanciful. You've seen the change?

_Hub._ To me She never changes but to show herself More beautiful.

_La. Alb._ You have not seen it? Pah! Now I must go. Good brother, fare you well. You've given me comfort. [_Kisses him_]

_Hub._ Farewell, Eleanor.

[_Exit lady Albemarle_]

Art gone, my sister, and no word of love For one who looks on death? It is the fear That keeps so constant with her makes her hard And unlike woman--unlike Margaret. ... Last night the king was with her--and she swooned. But not for him. By Heaven, 'twas not for him!

[_Sits by table, bowing his head upon it_]

O Margaret! Not one dear word? Not one?

[_Enter Margaret, veiled_]

_Mar._ Ah! [_Steps toward him, throwing off her veil_] Hubert?

_Hub._ [_Starting up_] Princess! Here? You here?

_Mar._ Couldst think I'd let thee go till I had said "God save thee" to thy face?

_Hub._ You risk too much!

_Mar._ Risk, Hubert?

_Hub._ O, what have you done?

_Mar._ What done?

_Hub._ The king will think----

_Mar._ The king will think as I do, That 'tis most natural to pay adieu To friends.

_Hub._ But Albemarle----

_Mar._ Approves our friendship. I do not understand.

_Hub._ Yet you came veiled.

_Mar._ 'Twas early--and the air was pricking chill. I--thought--do you go soon?

_Hub._ That you should come!

_Mar._ Soon, Hubert?

_Hub._ Ay, at once.

_Mar._ At once. Why then, Farewell.

_Hub._ Stay! Ah--I mean--why did you come?

_Mar._ My soul! I think I came that you might wish Me back again. Was it so wrong of me? Are we not friends? And if I came in hope To ease adieu with unction of a tear I know none else would shed----

_Hub._ O, Margaret! Pray God that I deserve this! Now I go So light I'll hardly need my ship's good wings To bear me.

_Mar._ The earl doubts not your victory. How many ships go with you?

_Hub._ All we have. The ports hold not a single vessel from me.

_Mar._ And the enemy's? I hope they are enough To make your victory noble.

_Hub._ I've no doubt They count up bravely.

_Mar._ Not too many, sir!

_Hub._ The battle will not shame me.

_Mar._ But how many?

_Hub._ As yet we have no word but rumor's.

_Mar._ Ah! Tell me you'll win.

_Hub._ Then help me by not doubting.

_Mar._ I must not doubt--for if--I did----

_Hub._ What then?

_Mar._ Nay, I'll not stay to tell you. I must go. I keep you from the battle and your fame. You have forgiven me my morning ride? Faith, but you frowned!

_Hub._ I thought how many eyes Were on the king's betrothed.

_Mar._ Choose better words, My friend. I am not yet the king's betrothed, And I--had you the time----

_Hub._ Nay, all my life Is yours.

_Mar._ Hear then. I will not wed the king.

_Hub._ A princess can not choose.

_Mar._ Then I'll not be A princess!

_Hub._ Margaret!

_Mar._ A princess? Nay, I'll be no more a woman, if that means To cage my soul in circle of a court And fawn on turnkey humor for my life! Scotland is lost to me. I'll not go there To meet my dangerous brother's wrath. No, no! But there are forests--I can fly to them, And dig my food from Nature's generous earth, Thrive on her berries, drink from her clear streams, Sleep 'neath the royal coverlet of her leaves, And make some honest friends 'mong her kind creatures That we call dumb because, forsooth, they speak By eye and touch and gibber not as we! ... So silent, sir? Come, will you not advise me?... There was a day before the day of kings When maidens looked where'er their hearts had sped And found them mates who had no need of crowns To make them royal, and such a day the world May see again, but I, alack, must breathe The present time, and crave the help of state And craft and gold to get me married! O, The judgment angel gathering up our clay Will know this period by its broken hearts! ... Hast not a word? Now should I wed the king?

_Hub._ He is a gentle youth, and in your care Would blossom brave in virtues.

_Mar._ Nay----

_Hub._ All hope For this poor land lies in your grace.

_Mar._ Ah, Hubert, Where is there woman strong enough to save Fair Henry from his flatterers? Not here. Wouldst cast me to the pool where he must drown?

_Hub._ Where canst thou hide thy beauty, Margaret? This is wild talk of forests. Where couldst flee? What land would shelter thee from England's love And Scotland's rage? My own--my Margaret-- Where could we go?

_Mar._ O, Hubert, we?

_Hub._ I'm mad. Peace to thee, maiden. I go to my ships.

_Mar._ Forgive me! I'll be gone.

[_Re-enter Gersa_]

_Hub._ What! Not aboard?

_Ger._ Your pardon, sir. We have confirmed reports The French outnumber us by triple count. Eighty large ships, the double of our own, Besides two score of galleons and small vessels That in themselves would match us. And 'tis sure Le Moine, the pirate, leads the fleet.

_Hub._ Are all Now ready?

_Ger._ Ay, we wait for you.

_Hub._ Grant me A bare half hour--no--not so much. I shall O'ertake you ere you reach your ship.

[_Exit Gersa. Hubert turns to Margaret and finds that she has fainted_]

My lady! Is this, too, for the king?

_Mar._ [_Reviving_] You shall not go!

_Hub._ I must--and now. Let me but press your hand----

_Mar._ No, no, my lips! Hubert, let us be true. Death watches now and will report all lies To Heaven. Now I must see you go from me, Out of my eyes as stars go from the sky, And never, never see you come again, Let me once hear you say you love me, Hubert, And all the years that I must weep for thee I'll keep the words as a sweet golden bell To sound whene'er my ears want music.

_Hub._ Thou art the king's.

_Mar._ Nay, I will lay my head Upon the block, ere pillow it by his.

_Hub._ Then we'll be mad together, Margaret. To go one step in this is to go farthest. Ah, yesterday I saw a knight I loved Sink in his blood; but when he called the name Of his dear bride, and died as it made sweet His lips, I thought of you and envied him. And now, so soon, his fortune is my own. [_Calls_] Come, father! [_To Margaret_] Art afraid?

_Mar._ Ah, yes, afraid That I may lose thee!

_Hub._ Is it hell, or Heaven?

[_Re-enter friar Sebastian_]

Good father, when two souls have kissed so close They in each other lose the form of self, And neither body knows its own again, Wouldst join them mortally, that being one They can not go amiss?

_Fr. Seb._ If they be free, My son, to take the vows.

_Hub._ Thou knowest us.

_Fr. Seb._ I've blessed ye both as children.

_Mar._ I am free By my soul's right, and though a princess born, Here choose my lord.

_Fr. Seb._ My daughter, thou art noble, And must be written fair though envy keep The beadroll of thy faults, but 'tis poor rank Not thee stoops to this choice.

_Mar._ I know it, father. Though it should cost my fortune, name and place, I'd give them all to be his wife one hour.

_Fr. Seb._ Then, by my sacred vows, as I believe Love is from Heaven, and 'tis God himself Who fosters its sweet growth through all the blood Till action, thought, yea, life, do hang upon it, I'll bind ye in the dear eternal bonds, And bless your union with the holy feast. Come in with me. [_Exit, rear_]

_Hub._ [_Embracing her_] 'Tis Heaven, Margaret!

[_Curtain_]