Then Sir John Clavering, who all
this while had been listening like a man in a dream, suddenly stepped
forward.
"Hugh de Cressi," he said, "tell me, does the King's writ run against
John Clavering?"
"Nay," answered Hugh, "I told his Grace that you were an honest man
deceived by a knave."
"Then what do you, slayer of my son, in my house? Know that I have just
married my daughter to this knight whom you name traitor, and that
I here defend him to the last who is now my kin. Begone and seek
elsewhere, or stay and die."
"How have you married her?" asked Hugh in a hollow voice. "Not of her
own will, surely? Rise, Eve, and tell us the truth."
Eve stirred. Resting her hands upon the altar rails, slowly she raised
herself to her feet and turned her white face toward him.
"Who spoke?" she said. "Was it Hugh that Acour swore is dead? Oh! where
am I? Hugh, Hugh, what passes?"
"Your honour, it seems, Eve. They say you are married to this traitor."
"I married, and in this red robe! Why, that betokens blood, as blood
there must be if I am wed to any man save you," and she laughed, a
dreadful laugh.
"In the name of Christ," thundered old Sir Andrew, "tell me, John
Clavering, what means this play? Yonder woman is no willing wife. She's
drugged or mad. Man, have you doctored your own daughter?"
"Doctored my daughter? I! I! Were you not a priest I'd tear out your
tongue for those words.
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