Chapter XXXV: Act III: Scene I.--A platform before the Citadel. Knights entering

_Her._ (_to one of the Knights._) You would plead for him?

_Knight._ Nay, remember all
His past renown!

_Her._ I had a friend in youth--
This Aymer’s father had _him_ shamed for less
Than his son’s fault--far less!
We must accuse him;--he must have his shield
Reversed--his name degraded.

_Knight._ He might yet--

_All the Knights._ Must his shame cleave to _us_?
We cast him forth--
We will not bear it.

Rainier _enters_.

_Rai._ Knights! ye speak of _him_--
My brother--was’t not so? All silent! Nay,
Give your thoughts breath! What said ye?

_Her._ That his name
Must be degraded.

_Rai._ Silence! ye disturb
The dead. Thou hear’st, my father!
[_Going up indignantly to the Knights._
Which of ye
Shall first accuse him? He, whose bold step won
The breach at Ascalon ere Aymer’s step,
Let him speak first!
He that plunged deeper through the stormy fight,
Thence to redeem the banner of the Cross,
On Cairo’s plain, let him speak first! Or he
Whose sword burst swifter o’er the Saracen,
I’ the rescue of our king, by Jordan’s waves--
I say, let him speak first!

_Her._ Is he not an apostate?

_Rai._ No, no, no!
If he were _that_, had my life’s blood that taint,
This hand should pour it out! He is not _that_.

_Her._ _Not yet._

_Rai._ Not yet, nor ever! Let me die
In a lost battle first!

_Her._ Hath he let go
Name--kindred--honour--for an infidel,
And will he grasp his faith?

_Rai._ (_after a gloomy pause._)
That which bears poison--should it not be crush’d
What though the weed look lovely?
[_Suddenly addressing_ Du Mornay
You have seen
My native halls, Du Mornay, far away
In Languedoc?

_Du Mor._ I was your father’s friend--
I knew them well.

_Rai._ (_thoughtfully._) The weight of gloom that hangs--
The very banners seem to droop with it--
O’er some of those old rooms! Were we there now,
With a dull wind heaving the pale tapestries,
Why, I could tell you----
[_Coming closer to_ Du Mornay.
There’s a dark-red spot
Grain’d in the floor of one--you know the tale?

_Du Mor._ I may have heard it by the winter fires,
--Now ’tis of things gone by.

_Rai._ (_turning from him displeased._) Such legends give
_Some_ minds a deeper tone.
(_To_ Herman.) If _you_ had heard
That tale i’ the shadowy tower----

_Her._ Nay, tell it now!

_Rai._ They say the place is haunted--moaning sounds
Come thence at midnight--sounds of woman’s voice.

_Her._ And you believe----

_Rai._ I but believe the deed
Done there of old. I had an ancestor--
Bertrand, the lion-chief--whose son went forth
(A younger son--I am not of _his_ line)
To the wars of Palestine. He fought there well--
Ay, all his race were brave; but he return’d,
And with a Paynim bride.

_Her._ The recreant!--say,
How bore your ancestor?

_Rai._ Well may you think
It chafed him--but he bore it--for the love
Of that fair son, the child of his old age.
He pined in heart, yet gave the infidel
A place in his own halls.

_Her._ But did this last?

_Rai._ How _should_ it last? Again the trumpet blew,
And men were summon’d from their homes to guard
The city of the Cross. But _he_ seem’d cold--
That youth! He shunn’d his father’s eye, and took
No armour from the walls.

_Her._ Had he then fallen?
Was his faith wavering?

_Rai._ So the father fear’d.

_Her._ If _I_ had been that father----

_Rai._ Ay, _you_ come
Of an honour’d lineage. What would you have done?

_Her._ Nay, what did _he_?

_Rai._ What did the lion-chief?
[_Turning to_ Du Mornay.
Why, _thou_ hast seen the very spot of blood
On the dark floor! He slew the Paynim bride.
Was it not well?
(_He looks at them attentively, and as he goes out exclaims--_)
My brother must not fall!

Scene II.--_A deserted Turkish burying-ground in the city--tombs and stones overthrown--the whole shaded by dark cypress-trees._

_Mor._
(_leaning over a monumental pillar, which has been lately raised._)
_He_ is at rest;--and I!--is there no power
In grief to win forgiveness from the dead?
When shall I rest? Hark! a step--Aymer’s step!
The thrilling sound!
[_She shrinks back as reproaching herself._
To feel _that_ joy even _here_!
Brother! oh, pardon me!

_Rai._ (_entering, and slowly looking round._)
A gloomy scene!
A place for----Is she not an infidel?
Who shall dare call it murder?
[_He advances to her slowly, and looks at her._
She is fair--
The deeper cause! Maid, have you thought of death
Midst these old tombs?

_Mor._ (_shrinking from him fearfully._) This is my brother’s grave.

_Rai._ _Thy_ brother’s! That a warrior’s grave had closed
O’er _mine_--the free and noble knight he was!
Ay, that the desert-sands had shrouded him
Before he look’d on thee!

_Mor._ If you are _his_--
If Aymer’s brother--though your brow be dark,
I may not fear you!

_Rai._ No? why, _thou_ shouldst fear
The very dust o’ the mouldering sepulchre,
If it had lived, and borne his name on earth!
Hear’st thou?--that dust hath stirr’d, and found a voice,
And said that thou must die!

_Mor._ (_clinging to the pillar as he approaches._)
Be with me, heaven!
You will not _murder_ me?

_Rai._ (_turning away._) A goodly word
To join with a warrior’s name!--a sound to make
Men’s flesh creep. What!--for Paynim blood
Did _he_ stand faltering thus--my ancestor--
In that old tower?
[_He again approaches her--she falls on her knees._

_Mor._ So young, and thus to die!
Mercy--have mercy! In your own far land
If there be love that weeps and watches for you,
And follows you with prayer--even by that love
Spare me--for it is woman’s! If light steps
Have bounded there to meet you, clinging arms
Hung on your neck, fond tears o’erflow’d your cheek,
Think upon those that loved you thus, for thus
Doth woman love! and spare me!--think on them;
They, too, may yet need mercy! Aymer, Aymer!
Wilt _thou_ not hear and aid me?

_Rai._ (_starting._) There’s a name
To bring back strength! Shall I not strike to save
His honour and his life? Were his _life_ all----

_Mor._ To save his life and honour!--will my death----
[_She rises and stands before him,
covering her face hurriedly._
Do it with one stroke! I may not _live_ for him!

_Rai._ (_with surprise._) A woman meet death thus!

_Mor._ (_uncovering her eyes._) Yet one thing more--
I have sisters and a father. Christian knight!
Oh! by your mother’s memory, let them know
I died with a name unstain’d.

_Rai._ (_softened and surprised._)
And such high thoughts from _her_!--an infidel!
And she named my mother!--Once in early youth
From the wild waves I snatch’d a woman’s life;
My mother bless’d me for it
(_slowly dropping his dagger_)--even with tears
She bless’d me. Stay, are there no other means?
(_Suddenly recollecting himself._) Follow me, maiden! Fear not now.

_Mor._ But he--
But Aymer--

_Rai._ (_sternly._) Wouldst thou perish? Name him not!--
Look not as if thou wouldst! Think’st thou dark thoughts
Are blown away like dew-drops? or I, like him,
A leaf to shake and turn i’ the changing wind?
Follow me, and beware!
[_She bends over the tomb for a moment, and follows him._

Aymer _enters, and slowly comes forward from the background._

_Aym._ For the last time--yes! it must be the last!
Earth and heaven say--the last! The very dead
Rise up to part us! But _one_ look--and then
She must go hence for ever! Will she weep?
It had been little to have _died_ for her--
I have borne shame.
She shall know all! Moraima! Said they not
She would be found here at her brother’s grave?
Where should she go? Moraima! There’s the print
Of her step--what gleams beside it?
(_Seeing the dagger, he takes it up._) Ha! men work
Dark deeds with things like this!
[_Looking wildly and anxiously around._
I see no----blood!
[_Looking at the dagger._
Stain’d!--it may be from battle; ’tis not--wet.
[_Looks round, intently listening; then again examines the spot._
Ha!--what is this? another step in the grass!--
Hers and another’s step!
[_He rushes into the cypress-grove._

Scene III.--_A hall in the citadel, hung with arms and banners._

Rainier, Herman--_Knights in the background, laying aside their armour._

_Her._ (_coming forward and speaking hurriedly._)
Is it done? Have you done it?

_Rai._ (_with disgust._) What! you thirst
For blood so deeply?

_Her._ (_indignantly._) Have you struck, and saved
The honour of your house?

_Rai._ (_thoughtfully to himself._) The light i’ the soul
Is such a wavering thing! Have I done well?

(_To_ Herman).

Ask me not! Never shall they meet again.
Is ’t not enough?

Aymer _enters hurriedly with the dagger, and goes up with it to several of the knights, who begin to gather round the front_.

_Aym._ Whose is this dagger?

_Rai._ (_coming forward and taking it._) Mine.

_Aym._ Yours! yours!--and know you where--

_Rai._ (_about to sheath it, but stopping._)
Oh! you do well
So to remind me! Yes! it must have lain
In the Moslem burial-ground--and that vile dust--
Hence with it! ’tis defiled.
[_Throws it from him._

_Aym._ If such a deed----
Brother! where is she?

_Rai._ Who?--what knight hath lost
A Ladye-love?

_Aym._ Could he speak thus, and wear
That scornful calm, if----No! he is not calm.
What have you done?

_Rai._ (_aside._) Yes! she shall die to him!

_Aym._ (_grasping his arm._) What have you done--speak!

_Rai._ You should know the tale
Of our dark ancestor, the Lion-Chief,
And his son’s bride.

_Aym._ Man! man! you _murder’d_ her!
[_Sinking back._
It grows so dark around me! She is dead!
(_Wildly._) I’ll not believe it! No! she never look’d
Like what could die! [_Goes up to his brother._
If you have done that deed----

_Rai._ (_sternly._) If I have done it, I have flung off shame
From my brave father’s house!

_Aym._ (_in a low voice to himself._)
So young, and dead!--because I loved her--dead!

(_To_ Rainier).

Where is she, murderer? Let me see her face.
You think to hide it with the dust!--ha! ha!
The dust to cover _her_! We’ll mock you still:
If I call her back, she’ll come! Where is she?--speak!
Now, by my father’s tomb! but I am calm.

_Rai._ Never more hope to see her!

_Aym._ Never more!
[_Sitting down on the ground._
I loved her, so she perish’d!--All the earth
Hath not another voice to reach my soul,
Now hers is silent! Never, never more!
If she had but said farewell!--(_Bewildered._) It grows so dark!
This is some fearful dream. When the morn comes I shall wake.
----My life’s bright hours are done!

_Rai._ I must be firm.

(_Takes a banner from the wall, and brings it to_ Aymer.)

Have you forgotten _this_? We thought it lost,
But it rose proudly waving o’er the fight
In a warrior’s hand again! Yours, Aymer! yours!
Brother! redeem your fame!

_Aym._ (_putting it from him._) The worthless thing!
Fame! _She_ is dead!--give a king’s robe to one
Stretch’d on the rack! Hence with your pageantries
Down to the dust!

_Her._ The banner of the Cross!
Shame on the recreant! Cast him from us!

_Rai._ Boy!
Degenerate boy! _Here_, with the trophies won
By the sainted chiefs of old in Paynim war
Above you and around; the very air,
When it but shakes their armour on the walls,
Murmuring of glorious deeds; to sit and weep
_Here_ for an Infidel! My father’s son,
Shame! shame! deep shame!

_Knights._ Aymer de Chatillon!
Go from us, leave us!

_Aym._ (_starting up._) Leave you! what! ye thought
That I would stay to breathe the air _you_ breathe!--
And fight by you! Murderers! I burst all ties!
[_Throws his sword on the ground before them._
There’s not a thing of the desert half so free!

(_To_ Rainier.)

You have no brother! Live to need the love
Of a human heart, and steep your soul in fame
To still its restless yearnings! Die alone!
Midst all your pomps and trophies--die alone!
[_Going out, he suddenly returns._
Did she not call on me to succour her?
Kneel to you--plead for life? The Voice of Blood
Follow you to your grave!
[_Exit._

_Rai._ (_with emotion._) Alas! my brother!
The time hath been, when in the face of Death
I have bid him leave me, and he would not!
(_Turning to the Knights._) Knights!
The Soldan marches for Jerusalem--
We’ll meet him on the way.