Chapter XXXIV: Act II: Scene I.--A room in the Citadel

Rainier, Aymer, _Knights_, _assembled in council_.

_A Knight._ What! with our weary and distracted bands
To dare another field! Nay, give them rest.

_Rai._ (_impatiently._) Rest! and that sleepless thought----

_Knight._ These walls have strength
To baffle siege. Let the foe gird us in--
We must wait aid; our soldiers must forget
That last disastrous day.

_Rai._ (_coming forward._) If they forget it, in the combat’s press
May their spears fail them!

_Knight._ Yet, bethink thee, chief.

_Rai._ When _I_ forget it----how! you see not, knights!
Whence we must _now_ draw strength. Send down your thoughts
Into the very depths of grief and shame,
And bring back courage _thence_! To talk of _rest_!
How do they rest, unburied on their field,
Our brethren slain by Gaza? Had we time
To give them funeral rites? and ask we now
Time to _forget_ their fall? My father died--
I cannot speak of him! What! and _forget_
The infidel’s fierce trampling o’er our dead?
_Forget_ his scornful shout? Give battle now,
While the thought lives as fire lives!--_there_ lies strength!
Hold the dark memory fast! Now, now--this hour!
--Aymer, you do not speak!

_Aym._ (_starting._) Have I not said?
Battle!--yes, give us battle!--room to pour
The troubled spirit forth upon the winds,
With the trumpet’s ringing blast! Way for remorse!
Free way for vengeance!

_All the Knights._ Arm! Heaven wills it so!

_Rai._ Gather your forces to the western gate!
Let none forget that day! Our field was lost,
Our city’s strength laid low--one mighty heart
Broken! Let none forget it!

[_Exeunt._

Scene II.--_Garden of a Palace._

Moraima.

_Mor._ Yes! his last look--my brother’s dying look
Reproach’d me as it faded from his face.
And I deserved it! Had I not given way
To the wild guilty pleadings of my heart,
I might have won his freedom! Now, ’tis past.
He _is_ free now!

Aymer _enters, armed as for battle_.

Aymer! you look so changed!

_Aym._ Changed!--it may be. A storm o’ the soul goes by
Not like a breeze! There’s such a fearful grasp
Fix’d on my heart! Speak to me--lull _remorse_!
Bid me farewell!

_Mor._ Yes! it _must_ be farewell!
No other word but that.

_Aym._ No other word!
The passionate, burning words that I could pour
From my heart’s depths! ’Tis madness! What have I
To do with love? I see it all--the mist
Is gone--the bright mist gone! I see the woe,
The ruin, the despair! And yet I love,
Love wildly, fatally! But speak to me!
Fill all my soul once more with reckless joy!
That blessèd voice again!

_Mor._ Why, why is this?
Oh! send me to my father! We must part.

_Aym._ Part!--yes, I know it all! I could not go
Till I had seen you! Give me one farewell,
The last--perchance the last!--but one farewell,
Whose mournful music I may take with me
Through tumult, horror, death!

[_A distant sound of trumpets._

_Mor._ (_starting._) You go to battle!

_Aym._ Hear you not that sound?
Yes! I go _there_, where dark and stormy thoughts
Find their free path!

_Mor._ Aymer! who leads the foe?
(_Confused._) I meant--I mean--my people! Who is he,
My people’s leader?

_Aym._ Kaled. (_Looking at her suspiciously._) How! you seem--
The name disturbs you!

_Mor._ My last brother’s name!

_Aym._ Fear not _my_ sword for him!

_Mor._ (_turning away._) If they should meet!
I know the vow he made.
(_To_ Aymer.) If thou--if _thou_
Shouldst fall!

_Aym._ Moraima! then your blessèd tears
Would flow for me? then you would weep for me?

_Mor._ I must weep tears of very shame; and yet--
If--if your words have been love’s own true words,
Grant me one boon!

[_Trumpet sounds again._

_Aym._ Hark! I must hence. A boon!
Ask it, and hold its memory to your heart,
As the last token, it may be, of love
So deep and sad.

_Mor._ Pledge me your knightly faith!

_Aym._ My knightly faith, my life, my honour--all,
I pledge thee all to grant it!

_Mor._ Then, to-day,
Go not _this_ day to battle! He is there,
My brother Kaled!

_Aym._ (_wildly._) Have I flung my sword
Down to dishonour?

[_Going to leave her--she detains him._

_Mor._ Oh! your name hath stirr’d
His soul amidst his tents, and he had vow’d,
Long ere we met, to cross his sword with yours,
Till one or both should fall. There hath been _death_
Since then, amongst us; he will seek _revenge._
And _his_ revenge--forgive me!--oh! forgive!
--I could not bear _that_ thought!

_Aym._ Now must the glance
Of a brave man strike me to the very dust!
Ay, this is _shame_.
[_Covering his face._
(_Turning wildly to Moraima._)

_You_ scorn me too? Away!--She does not know
What she hath done!
[_Rushes out._

Scene III.--_Before a gateway within the city._

Rainier, Herman, _Knights_, _Men-at-arms_, &c.

_Her._ ’Tis past the hour.

_Rai._ (_looking out anxiously._) Away! ’tis _not_ the hour--
Not yet! When was the battle’s hour delay’d
For a Chatillon? We must have come too soon!
All are not here.

_Her._ Yes, all!

_Rai._ They came too soon!
[_Going up to the knights._
Couci, De Foix, Du Mornay--here, all here!
And _he_ the last!--_my_ brother!
(_To a Soldier._) Where’s your lord?
(_Turning away._) Why should I ask, when that fair Infidel----

Aymer _enters_.

The Saracen at our gates--and _you_ the last!
Come on, remember all your fame!

_Aym._ (_coming forward in great agitation._) My fame!
--Why did you save me from the Paynim’s sword,
In my first battle?

_Rai._ What wild words are these?

_Aym._ You should have let me perish _then_--yes, _then_!
Go to your field and leave me!

_Knights._ (_thronging round him._) Leave you!

_Rai._ Aymer!
Was it _your_ voice?

_Aym._ _Now_ talk to me of fame!
Tell me of all my warlike ancestors,
And of my father’s death--that bitter death!
Never did pilgrim for the fountains thirst
As I for this day’s vengeance! To your field!
--I may not go!

_Rai._ (_turning from him._) The name his race hath borne
Through a thousand battles--lost!
(_Returning to_ Aymer.) A Chatillon!
Will you _live_ and wed dishonour?

_Aym._ (_covering his face._) Let the grave
Take me and cover me! I must go down
To its rest without my sword!

_Rai._ There’s some dark spell upon him! Aymer, brother!
Let _me_ not die of shame! He that died so
Turn’d sickening from the sun!

_Aym._ Where should I turn?
[_Going up abruptly to the knights._
Herman--Du Mornay! ye have stood with me
I’ the battle’s front--ye know me! ye have seen
The fiery joy of danger bear me on
As a wind the arrow! Leave me now--’tis past!

_Rai._ (_with bitterness._)
He comes from _her_!--the infidel hath _smiled_,
Doubtless, for this.

_Aym._ I should have been to-day
Where shafts fly thickest, and the crossing swords
Cannot flash out for blood!--Hark! you are call’d!

[_Wild Turkish music heard without. The background of the scene
becomes more and more crowded with armed men._

Lay lance in rest!--wave, noble banners! wave!
[_Throwing down his sword._
Go from me!--leave the fallen!

_Her._ Nay, but the cause?
Tell us the cause!

_Rai._ (_approaching him indignantly._)
Your sword--your crested helm
And your knight’s mantle--cast them down! your name
Is in the dust!--our father’s name! The cause?
--Tell it not, tell it not!
[_Turning to the soldiers and waving his hand._
Sound, trumpets! sound!
On, lances! for the Cross!

[_Military music. As the knights march out,
he looks back at_ Aymer.

I would not now
Call back my noble father from the dead,
If I could with but a breath!--Sound, trumpets, sound!

[_Exeunt knights and soldiers._

_Aym._ Why should I bear this shame? ’tis not too late!
[_Rushing after them, he suddenly checks himself._
My faith! my knightly faith pledged to my fall!

[_Exit._

Scene IV. _Before a Church._

_Groups of Citizens passing to and fro._ Aymer _standing against one of the pillars of the church in the background, and leaning on his sword_.

_1st Cit._ (_to 2d._) From the walls, how goes the battle?

_2d Cit._ Well, all well,
Praise to the Saints! I saw De Chatillon
Fighting, as if upon his single arm
The fate o’ the day were set.

_3d Cit._ Shame light on those
That strike not with him in their place!

_1st Cit._ You mean
His brother? Ay, is’t not a fearful thing
That one of such a race--a brave one too--
Should have thus fallen?

_2d Cit._ They say the captive girl
Whom he so loved, hath won him from his faith
To the vile Paynim creed.

_Aym._ (_suddenly coming forward._) Who dares say _that_?
Show me who dares say that!
[_They shrink back--he laughs scornfully._
Ha! ha! ye thought
To play with a sleeper’s name!--to make your mirth
As low-born men sit by a tomb, and jest
O’er a dead warrior! Where’s the slanderer? Speak!

A Citizen _enters hastily_.

_Cit._ Haste to the walls! De Chatillon hath slain
The Paynim chief!
[_They all go out._

_Aym._ Why should they shrink? I, I should ask the night
To cover me! I that have flung my name
Away to scorn! Hush! am I not alone?
[_Listening eagerly._
There’s a voice calling me--a voice i’ the air--
My father’s!--’Twas my father’s! Are the dead,
Unseen, yet with us? Fearful!

(_Loud shouts without, he rushes forward exultingly._)

’Tis the shout
Of victory! We have triumph’d!--_We!_ my place
Is midst the fallen!

[_Music heard, which approaches, swelling into a triumphant march. Knights enter in procession, with banners, torch-bearers, &c. The gates of the church are thrown open, and the altar, tombs, &c. within, are seen illuminated. Knights pass over, and enter the church. One of them takes a torch, and lifts it to_ Aymer’s _face in passing. He strikes it down with a sword; then, seeing_ Rainier _approach, drops the sword, and covers his face_.

_Aym._ (_grasping Rainier by the mantle, as he is about to pass._)
Brother! forsake me not!

_Rai._ (_suddenly drawing his sword, and showing it him._)
_My_ sword is red
With victory and revenge! Look--dyed to the hilt!
--We fought--and where were you?

_Aym._ Forsake me not!

_Rai._ (_pointing with his sword to the tombs within the church._)
Those are proud tombs! The dead, the glorious dead,
Think you they sleep, and know not of their sons
In the mysterious grave? We laid _him_ there!
--Before the ashes of your father, speak!
Have you abjured your faith?

_Aym._ (_indignantly._)
Your name is mine--your blood--and you ask _this_!
Wake _him_ to hear me answer!--Have you? No!
--You have not _dared_ to think it.

[_Breaks from him, and goes out._

_Rai._ (_entering the church, and bending over one of the tombs._)
Not yet lost!
Not yet _all_ lost! He shall be thine again!
So shalt thou sleep in peace!

_Music and Chorus of Voices from the church._

Praise, praise to heaven!
Sing of the conquer’d field, the Paynim flying,--
Light up the shrines, and bid the banners wave!
Sing of the warrior for the red-cross dying--
Chant a proud requiem o’er his holy grave!
Praise, praise to heaven!
Praise!--lift the song through night’s resounding sky!
Peace to the valiant for the Cross that die!
Sleep soft, ye brave!