True Stories of Girl Heroines

Late in the day, conducting a ghastly company of maimed and mutilated men, who had been bold stalwart soldiers a few days before, rode Raoul into the courtyard, the blackness of night upon his brow; and Emma rushed forth to clasp her husband to her heart, scarce knowing yet what was the meaning of the things she saw and heard.

"It means ruin to our hopes of life and liberty, if we cannot yet change defeat into victory," said the young Earl, as he let his bride divest him of his heavy armour, whilst he told the tale of his overthrow at the hands of Bishop Odo.

"Many died of their wounds; but some few I rescued, and have brought them hither to thee, my sweet bride. But for myself I may not linger. Our only hope now lies in getting help from beyond the sea. I must take ship with all speed to mine own domains in Brittany, and there, when this tale is told, methinks they will rise to a man in the defence of their brethren, in answer to my call, in the hope of vengeance and plunder! I will return with an army at my back, and William, the so-called Conqueror, shall yet learn to quake at the names of Raoul de Gael and Roger Fitz-Osborn!"

"And my brother? – what of him?" asked Emma, "will he go with thee? And wilt thou take me too?"

"Nay, my life, I must leave thee here to hold this fortress for me. Roger is penned in the west; albeit he will break loose I doubt not ere long, and march day and night to thine assistance. But our Breton garrison must needs serve under one they can trust and love. Sweet, my bride, hast thou the courage for the task? Though thou art so young in years, thou hast the heart of a soldier. Wilt thou hold the castle here against proud William's forces, till I or Roger come to thine aid?"

She looked him full in the face.

"Thou dost think that they will follow and lay siege?"

"They are so close behind me, that with the first dawn of the morning I must be gone, else I shall be too late to escape them!" answered Raoul; and his eyes rested with anxious questioning upon Emma's face. "Our poor Bretons are treated with savage ferocity by the English," he added. "If I lead them forth hence, and they fall into the Bishop's hands – well, thou hast seen with thine own eyes how their brethren have fared."

The fire flamed in Emma's eyes; she threw back her head with her own queenly gesture.

"Go, then, my husband, and I will guard thy castle for thee. I will keep safe those thou dost leave with me. Go! fly over the water, and return with the friends of the cause. Thou shalt find thy castle here, safeguarded as though thou thyself wert at the head of thy soldiers. The pitiless Bishop shall not lay hands on one of our Breton boys!"

So the brave young bride was left for the second time alone in the grim castle, to hold it for her lord till he should arrive with succour. But this time she was quickly ringed round with foemen, who, in the King's name, bade her surrender; and when she fearlessly refused, they laid close siege to the castle, vowing to serve every Breton they should henceforward take as those hapless creatures had been served, some of whom she was tending now with her own hands within the walls of the grim old keep.

Emma had grown up inured to perils, to hardships, to the sights and sounds of warfare, and warfare is always cruel. But her soul revolted against needless cruelties; and the sufferings of the poor maimed followers of her husband, who had been rescued and brought back by him, nerved her to every effort to keep from a like fate those who served her faithfully here, and looked to her to save them from it.

Parted from her husband upon their very wedding day, wife only in name as yet, the brave daughter of William Fitz-Osborn played the hero's part during those three long months of siege. Every day she made the circuit of the fortifications, careless of the flights of arrows that often made such exposure of her person a perilous matter; she spoke words of encouragement to the archers and watchmen; she devised ingenious methods of frustrating the various attempts made by the wily and determined foe for cutting off supplies, and for forcing an entrance into the castle.

When it was known that a woman was in command, many devices were practised for intimidating her and her soldiers; but all in vain; and free promises of pardon for herself if she would but betray her trust were answered with indignation and scorn.

The hard part of it to the brave young chatelaine was the uncertainty of what was passing elsewhere. Penned within the four walls of her eastern fortress, she knew nothing as to the fate of her brother in the west, nor how the rebellion against the Conqueror was spreading in the ranks of the disaffected Norman barons and the dispossessed Saxons. It had seemed to her, upon their wedding feast, as though all the realm was weary of the rule of "the Norman." Yet if that were so, if the revolt were ready to break forth all over the kingdom, why did none come to her aid? Surely her brother and others must know of the peril in which she stood. Why did not some of them seek to raise the siege? Why did not Raoul himself return with his Breton reinforcements?

As the long summer days went by, one after another, and weeks dragged on to months, brave Emma's cheek grew pale, and her eyes took a wistful yearning gaze, as of one whose heart is sick with hope deferred. But her vigilance was never for a moment relaxed. Her courage never faltered. Day by day she was to be seen upon the ramparts, speaking brave words to the weary soldiers, hurling lightning glances of defiance at the lines of the besiegers, and gazing with eager, expectant eyes in the direction of the sea, asking of the birds of the air whether they had seen the white sails of the coming vessels that should bring relief to her.

At last the voice of rumour reached even this beleaguered castle. First it was an isolated whisper, then other whispers followed. Bit by bit the story of woe was pieced together, and a fugitive from the west, who had been sent with dispatches for the Lady Emma, contrived to gain entrance, and to tell all the tale.

It was said that the treacherous Judith, wife of Earl Waltheof, had learned the secret from her husband and had instantly betrayed it. The rebellion had been quelled almost ere it broke out. In the west the son of Fitz-Osborn had been taken captive, and was awaiting his doom on the return of the King. Others had been taken or slain; Norwich alone was holding out. Raoul had sent word that to return from Brittany was now impossible. It would be but to fall into the hands of an implacable foe. His word to his bride was to secure such terms as she could for herself and her garrison, and to make her way across the sea with all speed to join her husband there.

With whitening cheek and sinking heart Emma heard and read all this evil news. Her brother a captive, her husband an exile, their friends scattered and dispersed. Surrender inevitable! But what was she to surrender? This very messenger brought horrid tales of mutilation and cruelties of all sorts inflicted on hapless prisoners by their bloodthirsty conquerors. Was she to give up to such a fate the brave men who had learned to look to her and trust in her? For the castle she cared little. Where her husband was, there was her home. But her soldiers and servants, were they to be given up? Never! Never! Never!

"I will go forth and die at their head, fighting to the last, sooner than that!" she cried.

The Bishop had many times sought to open negotiations with the brave Emma, but hitherto fruitlessly. Now, with her own hand, she penned him a missive, offering to surrender to him the castle and its munitions of war, but only on the condition that every living creature within its walls went forth unharmed, and that they should be permitted to take ship unmolested for the shores of Brittany.

"Else will I never give up whilst one stone remains upon another. You shall see how long the daughter of William Fitz-Osborn can bid defiance to the man whom her father made England's King."

Was it chivalry, was it admiration for the spirit of the brave woman, or was it the policy of a soldier wearied by a long three months' siege of a fortress that seemed no nearer falling now than it had done upon the first day?

Whatever was the motive for the concession, the answer that came back was courteously, even generously worded. The brave young wife rode forth at the head of her whole garrison, and the Norman soldiers who had fought against the rebels in other places raised a shout of admiration as she appeared. She sat her horse like an Amazon, and returned the salutation with a dignity worthy of her name and race.

Saluting and being saluted by the Bishop, and lustily cheered by the soldiers, she passed through the town on her way to the coast, where vessels were awaiting her, while her men marched boldly behind her, singing the songs of their native land to which they were about to return, and chanting aloud the praise of the beautiful Emma to whose courage and resolution they owed their lives.

She and her band of devoted Bretons were thus permitted to march to the coast with all the honours of war, and to take ship for her husband's domains in Brittany without receiving insult or violence of any kind.

How high her heart was beating as she sighted the shore, and knew that her lord was awaiting her there, in that home which she had never yet seen! True, she was sad for her brother, and for the cause which had been lost in England; but after all, was not her husband safe, and waiting for her to rejoin him? and might not the tide turn some day, and they return to England in triumph, to help to overthrow the rule of Norman William, against whom they had sought to incite this rebellion?

These were fond hopes not destined to be realised. The courage and state-craft of William the Conqueror carried him safely through all the plots which assailed him during his stormy reign. Raoul de Gael knew where he was safe, and abandoned his claims upon English soil.

"I did well indeed to entrust my castle to the keeping of my bride!" cried the proud husband, when he held her in his arms once more; and the answer that went up from a thousand throats was a shout of admiration and praise in honour of their lord's fair young wife, the brave Emma Fitz-Osborn.

ELIZABETH STUART

A princess, yet a captive in the hands of her father's foes; those foes who were already whispering their fell intention of putting him to death!

This was the situation of the youthful Elizabeth, the second daughter of the ill-fated monarch, Charles I. Her mother and her eldest brother were beyond the seas, having made good their escape from Cromwell and his Roundheads; but she, with her two brothers, James, Duke of York, and Henry, Duke of Gloucester, were captives in the power of the Parliament, and though treated with courtesy and a certain kindliness, they were permitted no liberty to come and go, or even to write to their friends. Every action was carefully observed, and their persons were so closely guarded that there was little hope of evading the many watchful eyes that were ever bent upon them.

"If I could but reach my brother and our mother!" was the exclamation ever on the lips of James, when he and his sister were alone together. It seemed to the high-spirited boy that once free from these encircling walls and the vigilance of his warders, once across the sea to join the others of his name and race, he must surely achieve some great thing for the deliverance of his father; his restless mind was ever pondering this theme. The thought of making good his escape was never absent from his mind night nor day.

Perhaps he plotted almost too much for his own success; for a day came when he was summoned to an interview with certain of the Parliamentary authorities, and he returned to his sister's apartments with flushed face and flashing eyes. Elizabeth saw that he had been deeply angered by what had passed, and she quickly got rid of her attendant, that she and her brother might speak in peace together. This liberty was the only one accorded to the Royal captives. Their rooms were guarded; they never went abroad unwatched and unattended; but within the precincts of the palace they had some privacy permitted to them, and they could speak together without being overheard, though never without a fear of possible eavesdroppers.

"Sister, I have been grossly insulted!" cried James, with flashing eyes; "they have intercepted my letter to our sister of Orange; they said they had discovered treasonable matter in it."

"Treasonable matter!" echoed Elizabeth, her breath coming and going. "They dare to talk of treason! – They!"

"Ay; that was the very word – treasonable matter! They saw, or thought they saw it, in my desire to quit the country – to escape to Holland – "

"But the letter was in cypher," interrupted Elizabeth. "How could they read it when they had it?"

A dark frown clouded the brow of James.

"That I did not condescend to inquire; but I heard some talk between those knaves themselves. I gathered that they had got the letter, and had then sent for the Earl of Northumberland, and had shown him how we had evaded his vigilance; had warned him, that if he could not find the key of the cypher in which it had been written, he should be committed to the Tower. Did I not tell you the other day that I was certain my effects had been ransacked? I did not miss the cypher key. I know it so well that I scarce ever have to look at it now. Doubtless they found and took it away; but I did not observe it."

"And they were angry with you, James?"

"Angry? Ay, that they were. They dared to threaten me with the Tower, too, if they found me plotting escape again!"

Elizabeth clasped her hands closely together, her face worked with the emotion she strove to master. She came and stood beside James, and laid her soft cheek against his.

"Jamie, Jamie," she cried piteously, "if they were to take you from me, I think that I should die!"

He put his arm about her, and they stood together, looking out of the window, thinking and pondering deeply.

"But, sister, you would have to learn to live without me if I were to escape this thraldom, and win my liberty. Could you bear to let me go for that?"

A little tremor ran through the girl's slight frame. She was very frail and delicate, this gentle, young Elizabeth; little fit to bear the buffets of outrageous fortune, to stand alone in her strange captivity; cut off from father, mother, friends, and kindred, and beset with so many cruel anxieties and fears on behalf of those she loved best. Her greatest solace in these sorrowful days was the companionship of her brother James, who, being a year or more her senior, and endowed with robust health, seemed like a tower of strength to the frail girl, hardly more than a child in years, though misfortune had given a strange maturity to her mind and disposition. It could not but be a dismal thought to lose the constant companionship of this brother, to send him forth into the perils of the great world without, where so many foes awaited him. She might well have sought to keep him beside her, fearing the perils of any project of escape; but despite her natural fears and shrinkings, and the delicacy of her frame, the spirit of kings and warriors was within her, and that spirit rose to meet the sacrifice which might be required of her.

"I would bear to let you go for that, Jamie," she answered. "But it would break my heart were you taken from me to be immured within the walls of the Tower."

"It may come to that one of these days," said James, "if I be not able to effect my escape. I cannot show the patience that you are able to command; and I am not a child like Harry, there, of whose words and acts no special note is taken. And did not our father bid me use every effort to regain my liberty, and reach the side of our mother and brother? It may be that already they are planning how to invade these shores, summon all loyal hearts to join them, and set my father on the throne once more! Oh! if such a thing were to happen, I must be there to help."

His eyes kindled, his frame seemed to expand and grow tense; and an answering thrill ran through that of the young Princess.

"Ah, Jamie, Jamie, if only it might be!" she cried.

"And why not, sister, why not? Other captives have escaped from far stricter bondage than any we suffer from. What one has done another may do. Why not?"

"But they were men, and we are so young. We are scarce more than children, albeit often I feel so old – so old!"

"You are old enough to have the ready wit of a woman!" cried James; yet even in his stress of feeling and excitement he kept his voice pitched in a low key. "I have thought and thought and planned, but everything falls to the ground; or we are betrayed into the hands of our enemies, and threatened with stricter captivity than this. Elizabeth, put your wits to work! Can you think of nothing? In bygone days it has been the women sometimes who have done the thinking, whilst the men have done the acting. Why should it not be so now?"

The boy's dark, strenuous face looked earnestly into the fair spiritual one of his sister, and into the cheeks of the young Elizabeth a faint colour stole.

"Oh, Jamie, I will try: I will try!" she answered. "But even could I think of some stratagem or plan by which you could gain the freedom of the world without, who is there outside that would dare to help you away across the sea, whom we could dare to trust with such a secret?"

"There is Colonel Bamfield," answered James promptly. "He is the man whom I would trust for that."

"Colonel Bamfield?" echoed Elizabeth doubtfully. "He who turned traitor to our father's cause when all was lost? Would you trust such an one as he?"

"He is not a traitor at heart," whispered James eagerly. "He is the staunchest friend we have. He has but feigned adherence to the Parliamentary cause that he may the better serve us. I have had speech with him, sometimes, for a few minutes. I trow he is to be trusted. And as our enemies know that none is so bitter as a renegade, they think he is our deadly foe. They do not suspect him as they would suspect others. He plays his part right cunningly. He rails upon the King and his brood most lustily; but all the while he is on the watch to serve us. I know, could I once escape from these walls, that he would make all the rest easy."

There were footsteps without, and brother and sister started apart, as the attendants entered the room on some pretext. They were well used to this sort of thing. They were seldom left long alone together. The little Duke of Gloucester, who had been playing quietly in a corner whilst his brother and sister were talking, now came running up, and begged for a game of hide and seek.

This was one of the favourite sports of the Royal children; but to-night Elizabeth excused herself on the plea of fatigue, and the two young Dukes played alone, running hither and thither, and forgetting their troubles for awhile, in the interest of the game.

Elizabeth sat alone with her face hidden in her hands, thinking, thinking, thinking, till it seemed as though her brain would scarcely stand the strain of the mental conflict going on within her. She was roused from her reverie at last by little Henry, who came and pulled impatiently at her dress.

"Come and help me to find Jamie," he begged. "He has hidden so well we can none of us find him. You come and try!"

Elizabeth rose quickly to her feet; she suddenly felt as though some inspiration had darted into her heart. At the moment she did not pause to examine it. She felt that when night came, and she was alone in the darkness, she must take out this thing that had forced itself with lightning rapidity into her being, and examine it at leisure. Might it be that already the clue was in her hands?

The Royal children were, at this time, under the care of Algernon Percy, the Earl of Northumberland, and his Countess, and it was the desire of both to make the captivity of the Princess and her brothers as little irksome and trying as possible. At the same time, since they were held responsible for their safe-keeping by the Parliament, they dared not but use every precaution; and it was no easy matter for any of the children to escape the vigilance of their guardians.

A short time before this they had been at Sion House, and when there had paid several visits to Hampton Court, to see their father who was in confinement there. Once, not long since, they had spent two nights with him in that Palace, to their great and mutual happiness.

Now they had been removed to the Palace of St. James's, then on the outskirts rather than actually in London itself, and surrounded by pleasant gardens, in which the Royal children took exercise in fine weather. They were very kindly treated by the Earl and Countess, and all the servants of the household were instructed to show due and befitting respect to the children of the King. So, in one sense of the word, their life was not an unhappy one; but the shadow lying over their father's fate, and the knowledge of their own inability to go to him or to go anywhere, save at the will of their captors, made life somewhat bitter to all, and roused a fierce sense of revolt in the heart of young James.

It was during the children's sports that they were permitted most liberty; and certainly James had found a clever place of concealment this evening, for neither brother nor sister nor attendants could find him; and it was only when Elizabeth called his name aloud from the different corridors, and the great bell for supper clanged, that the boy made his appearance, dusty and half covered with cobwebs, and laughingly told Harry that he had found a fine hiding-place up near the roof, and would show it him another day.

The spring days were beginning to lengthen out now. A little while ago it had been dark when they rose from supper, now it was growing lighter every day. There was that promise of spring in the air that makes glad the hearts of all young things. But it is hard to be a captive, penned within walls and gates, when nature itself seems calling aloud upon men to rejoice and to come forth into the gay free world without.

"If it goes on much longer, Elizabeth, methinks I shall go mad!" spoke James one day, when he and she were alone together.

Then it was that, with bated breath and beating heart, Elizabeth whispered into her brother's ear the thoughts and plans which had given her so many sleepless nights of anxiety.

"Jamie, have you ever noticed when we have passed Benyion's cottage, the great key that hangs beside the door? That is the key of the outer garden leading down to the river. I have seen him use it many times as we have walked in the gardens."

"Yes, I have seen him unlock that gate too. What of it?"

"Jamie, if you had that key some evening at dusk, and if we had hidden out yonder in our hollow tree some of my clothes, made to fit you, so that none could suspect you were a boy, could you so arrange that Colonel Bamfield should be awaiting you at the river side with a wherry to take you to some vessel bound for Holland? I have still left a little of the gold that our father entrusted to me. And I am told that seafaring folk will brave much for gold. Colonel Bamfield could arrange all that."

"But how, how could I gain that key and use it at such an hour?" questioned James, in an eager whisper. "How could such a thing be? Are we not followed and watched everywhere?"

"Yet have you not eluded all watchful eyes times without number in your games with Harry? Have we not often searched the house for an hour, and then have had to call you to come to us? If you can elude watchful eyes in play, why not in earnest some day, whilst they think the play is going on, and will make no marvel of missing you for an hour or more? The days are getting long. Let us have our game after supper instead of before. Let us so play night by night for a week or more, that they will not dream we have any motive in the change. Let our friend the Colonel, if he is to be trusted, make his plans. Then, upon a certain night, when all is in readiness, and the boat is lying waiting for you, we will play our hide-and-seek with a difference, and whilst brother and servants are seeking for James within the house, and even the gardens – he will be far down the river, making for the vessel that is to carry him hence."