XXIII

Turning from the bride beside him to his stern and martial train, From their midst he summoned to him the brothers of Germain; At the word they stepped before him, nine strong warriors brave and true, From the youngest to the eldest, Enguerrand to mighty Hugh. “Sons of Germain, to your keeping do I yield my bride today. Guard her well as you do love me; guard her well and holily. Dearer than mine own soul to me, you will hold her as your life, ’Gainst the guile of seeming friendship and the force of open strife.” “We will guard her,” cried they firmly; and with just another glance On the yearning and despairing in his young wife’s countenance, Gallant Beaufort strode before them down the aisle and through the door, And a shadow came and lingered where the sunlight stood before. Eight long months the young wife waited, watching from her bridal room For the coming of her husband up the valley forest’s gloom. Eight long months the sons of Germain paced the ramparts and the wall, With their hands upon their halberds ready for the battle-call. Then there came a sound of trumpets pealing up the vale below, And a dozen floating banners lit the forest with their glow, And the bride arose like morning when it feels the sunlight nigh, And her smile was like a rainbow flashing from a misty sky. But the eldest son of Germain lifting voice from off the wall, Cried aloud, “It is a stranger’s and not Sir Beaufort’s call; Have you ne’er a slighted lover or a kinsman with a heart Base enough to seek his vengeance at the sharp end of the dart?”