Part 45

"I was the King," he said, in a voice that was but a whisper.

Hildebrand caught at the admission exultantly.

"You hear him? Secure him!"

All his supporters, save Hieronymus, ebbed away from Robert. Two of Sigurd's soldiers seized him. Whatever chance there might have been of rescuing Perpetua was lost.

Hildebrand went on, triumphantly:

"Against witchcraft no sanctuary prevails. Let no man hinder the King's justice on pain of death."

Lycabetta, who had crept near to Perpetua, whispered in her ear:

"My lord Flame is a fierce lover. He clings close and he kisses quick and he will not spare your modesty. You will burn like a bright torch."

Then Lycabetta went out of the church as she had come in, with a smile on her face.

Perpetua called to Hieronymus. "Is there no help?"

"There is no help," Hieronymus answered, despairingly.

"Then I will go to death holding my head high," the girl said, valiantly.

"Take her away," Hildebrand ordered; and at his order Perpetua was borne away in the midst of a guard of soldiers and followed by Hieronymus. "Clear the church."

The remaining soldiers drove the crowd into the streets.

"Fling the fool on the altar steps. I think he will have a praying fit on him."

His captors cast Robert roughly on the altar steps, where he lay like one dying.

"Now leave me."

The two soldiers went out, the sea-door closed, and Hildebrand and Robert were left alone.

Hildebrand went slowly over to where Robert lay and talked mockingly to him.

"How mulish a woman may be! Here is a great country girl, who has never lain soft nor known cheer, never worn silk and never sported a jewel, and yet when great men scuffle for her, she will rather die than serve them and herself. Yes, friend Diogenes, your sweetheart will be burned as a witch."

Robert lifted his head. "Pray Heaven you lie!" he moaned.

"I am more truthful than an oracle," Hildebrand retorted. "When the wood-wench flouted him, our good King vowed that she should burn for her virtue."

Robert shuddered at the memory of his own words, of his own purpose.

"Oh, God, have mercy on my wicked soul!" he prayed.

Hildebrand mocked him with a false compassion. "Yet all is not lost, friend Diogenes. If your wit saved her before, your valor may save her now."

Robert turned to him again.

"If your heart holds any pity, speak," he entreated, hoping against hope for some leaven of charity in the heart of Hildebrand.

"She can appeal to the ordeal of battle," Hildebrand said, calmly. "And if she finds a champion valiant enough to overthrow the King's man, who shall accuse her, then she is free."